It’s possible that I recently learned a valuable lesson. I qualify that statement because there are certain lessons I’ve learned three hundred times in my life, and if I took an honest look, I’d have to say I need to brush up on them again. I’m even missing those bits of wisdom we were supposed to have gathered in kindergarten. Yes, I wash my hands before I eat, and I try not to hit people or steal their stuff. But the truth is, I learned only two things in that first year of school.
First, I managed to figure out my right hand from my left. I did this with the help of a file cabinet, which stood over in the right front corner of the classroom. When we faced the flag, the file cabinet helped me remember which hand to put over my heart during the Pledge of Allegiance. Then over Christmas break, the custodian rearranged the room and when we came back, the file cabinet was in a different place, so I had to revert to the five-second pause and sneaking glances at my classmates. That was the day I stopped trusting furniture, and custodians.
Second, I figured out that if Michael Lucatelli grabbed the brown crayon, he was never letting it go, and I’d be coloring the cows purple again. These were the extra-thick crayons, the kind that made it difficult to stay inside the lines because you had to wrap your whole fist around them, as if you were coloring with a cucumber. They were blunt on the ends, too, I guess so a five-year-old didn’t take out somebody’s eye with them. (I heard this warning at least once a week from my mother. Apparently, anything you could hold in your hand — butter knife, pencil, stick, wooden spoon, even a straw — was a potential menace just waiting for the chance to pluck out an eye. The fact that none of us knew anyone who’d lost an eye in this manner seemed to not mean much.) If you wanted to break one of these crayons, you’d have to lean it against a wall and step on it really hard. But one day, Michael noticed the brown crayon was snapped in half, hanging by its wrapper like a broken arm inside a shirt sleeve. “Hey,” he said while glaring at me from across the table. “Look what you did!” With no interest in the pursuit of justice, at least at that moment, the teacher told me to gather my things. Then she changed my seat, sending me into exile at the other end of the room. That was the day I stopped trusting authority, and Michael Lucatelli.
When I was a teenager, I learned not to cut my own hair. It may not occur to most people to even attempt something like that, but I did. We had a barber in the family, my mother’s eighty-year-old uncle, whose heavy Italian accent and a bullet wound to the throat incurred during World War One made his speech nearly incoherent. His tools included the first pair of scissors ever made; they’d been hand-forged by a blacksmith during the Middle Ages, and had never been sharpened. They looked to be just the kind of instrument that might be used to persuade someone to change religions against their will. The scissors weren’t capable of cutting anything, so my uncle resorted to closing them around the hair and pulling with a sudden jerk of his wrist. Any wriggling, flinching, or screams of agony were met with a loud scolding, which I tried to obey even though I couldn’t understand a word of it. The session would end when he grew tired of either the pulling or the flinching, and I’d run to the bathroom to examine the bare spots and patches of blood.
One day, hearing that my uncle was coming for Sunday dinner, I decided to try my hand at cutting my own hair. Looking into the mirror, I trimmed around the front of my head, which was the only part I could see. Then I reached around back and began blindly snipping away. A few days later, my father took me to a barbershop to repair the damage. When the barber asked me what I’d done to my hair, I lied and said I hadn’t done anything to it. He called two of his colleagues over and said, “Look at this. He said he didn’t cut his hair.” They all laughed, as I sank into the chair and wondered why haircuts didn’t include some form of anesthesia. That was the day I stopped trusting barbers, and mirrors.
As I said, there are many lessons I’ve learned repeatedly. And yet, I somehow remain as blunt as those kindergarten crayons, as dull as my uncle’s scissors. The left side of my brain doesn’t seem to know what my right hand is doing, or even where it is. My mind is a bad haircut that no one else can see. For example, I believe, with great delusion, that I understand my insurance policies, extended warranties, and the details of my checking account fees. I continue to purchase things I’m sure are on sale, but, it turns out, are not. I trust that if the sign says I’ll receive double points today, that I actually will. And when the phone rings at dinnertime and the person on the other end asks me if I have three minutes to participate in a brief survey, I always say yes.
But as I also said, I think I learned a valuable lesson recently. And this time, it may actually stick, because lately I’ve been sharing it with others. In other words, I’ve been giving advice, which is a shocking development in itself.
The lesson came as a result of meeting, however briefly, a lot of fellow bloggers over the past three weeks. I noticed how many of them expressed a lack of confidence, an overwhelming sensitivity to criticism, and a strong sense of doubt about ever connecting with readers. I picked up on these beliefs because I’ve struggled with the same issues for most of my life. But I’ve arrived at this conclusion: The world is never going to love me. Most of the world will never know I exist. And that’s okay, because that isn’t what I should be aiming for. My goal is to do what it takes for me and my potential audience to find each other. I don’t know how big that audience is. It may be seven individuals, or seventy thousand. But there are now seven billion human beings in the world. I can’t possibly connect with all of them. The best I can hope for is a slice, and probably a thin one.
In truth, this is yet another old lesson, revisited. I took a novel writing course in college, and my professor told us that a bestseller doesn’t mean universal acclaim. In fact, he said, you could reach the top of the bestseller list, then spend the rest of your life going door-to-door, searching for someone — anyone — who’s read your book, or has even heard of it.
So the lesson I want to share is that there is an audience that will want to hear what you have to say, and will like the way you say it. But they can’t find you if you’re not out there giving them something to find. For many of us, this is the hardest part. I don’t feel comfortable with most people, mostly because they don’t seem comfortable with me. And yet, I have a need to connect with at least a few of them. So I write, and I interact with strangers. I know that some won’t like me, and most of those will simply walk away. A few, though, will stick around long enough to tell me what a useless jerk I am. But here’s the thing: those people are not part of my slice. They wandered in by mistake and are already on their way out. I need to let them go quietly so I can get back to my real guests.
There was a time when I gave the harsh critic more attention than he deserved. I thought to myself, “This is what I’ve been worried about. A smart person has shown up, someone who sees through my facade and can tell that I’m a fraud.” But that unfairly discounts the people who like what you’re doing. It assumes that the spiteful feedback is somehow more valid than the praise. And it fails to acknowledge that there are people who, for no good reason, seek to tear down what others have tried to build.
I’ve received my share of disapproval. In fact, I got a comment recently that bordered on cruelty. I chose not to dwell on it, but rather to keep it in perspective. Plus, the comment was written in brown crayon, so I’m pretty sure it was just Michael Lucatelli, at it again.
I hope this is the day you stop trusting critics — the ones out there, and the one inside your head. Your audience is waiting.
Carl D'Agostino
November 1, 2011
I never understood why they gave us those dopey fat crayons. What ,the fat ones are for kids and the regular ones for adults? But adults don’t use crayons. You grandfather’s scissors were not unique. None of those things they issued cut anything either. I do cut my own hair. Just set the thing at 1 inch and buzz away. Occasionally I have to find someone to square up the back. I still do that left/right pause but mine is 10 seconds not five so you are a swifty.
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bronxboy55
November 1, 2011
I have a little trouble with East and West, too. I have to picture a map of the United States in my mind. That one also takes me only about five seconds because, as you said, I’m a swifty.
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Susan Avello
November 1, 2011
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and life lessons. I stumbled upon your blog about two weeks ago and am so grateful. You make me laugh and are so relate-able. I can so relate especially to this recent post and the line “A smart person has shown up, someone who sees through my facade and can tell that I’m a fraud.” I have felt like that for, hmmm… almost a year now. Again, thanks.
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bronxboy55
November 1, 2011
I appreciate your thoughts, Susan. I think that most people, at some time or another, fear being exposed as a fraud. It isn’t always easy to admit it, though.
I also think your blog is well written, and filled with helpful information and insight.
http://theworkingcaregiver.org/
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Susan Avello
November 2, 2011
Thank you, Charles – I appreciate the plug 🙂
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The Sandwich Lady
November 1, 2011
You have connected with me! Don’t let the Lucatellis drag you down. This post really moved me because I struggle with so many of the same things…worrying about what my worst critics will think. You make many people smile and I am glad I became part of your slice.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Thank you, Kris. I really hope you’ll stop worrying and start blogging again. I’d like to be part of your slice, too.
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Anonymous
November 1, 2011
I struggle with doubt all the time when it comes to my writing. However writing, for me, is therapeutic, so I can’t let criticism get to me. Writing is like Yoga. If you feel it, you’re doing it right. (..unless you’re doing it for $$$, then you’re at the mercy of the folks that hold the dollar).
Oh, and my advice to you? Say NO to the telemarketers. Dinner is better when it’s hot!
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Funny that you should compare writing to yoga — I’ve been talking about trying yoga for months.
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Being Jewish in Hawaii
November 2, 2011
I really enjoyed this post. It helped me appreciate my small slice of the pie and the connection it creates. Here’s a great blog that I enjoy. It combines writing and yoga!
http://journalpractice.wordpress.com
Aloha.
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Kai
November 1, 2011
Brilliantly said. I have begun my blog recently, only a week old, and can appreciate this thought as I try to grow my readership an. Not lose myself for the sake of the reader.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
That’s a good point, Kai. If you’re constantly trying to be what people expect you to be, you’ll have to keep changing as your readers come and go. I think the secret is to find your own voice and maintain it, and see who listens.
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tamariez
November 1, 2011
I love how your lessons come together at the end to teach others a very valuable lesson. Always enjoy reading your posts. =)
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Thank you, Cat. I appreciate your comments.
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Carol Deminski
November 1, 2011
The lesson I take from this is, if you have a NY Times best seller, don’t go door to door asking people if they’ve heard of you. It’d be depressing to find out that they never bought your book. (That is, unless you’re also going to bring extra copies of the book to sell. Then it might be worth it.)
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Carol Deminski
November 1, 2011
Oh yeah, one more thing – I require anesthesia for everything I do. Getting my car washed, taking a train into Manhattan, eating a donut. You should try it; it’s very soothing.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Sometimes eating a donut is anesthesia.
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Carol Deminski
November 2, 2011
Only when it’s frosted with…
(c’mon, you fill in the blank)
LOL
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Edith
June 28, 2012
Haha, the best anesthesia I ever known. I love donuts!
Nice to know about this, thanks.
Edith
My blog : frigo camping
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Ursula
November 1, 2011
my, my my, Charles. Do not jump to conclusions. Or maybe that is what freshly pressed does to you with hundreds of new “friends”. I will concede that you availed yourself admirably of answering most of them (possibly all? I am not checking any longer), even the most insincere. Naturally, you didn’t acknowledge my commiserations. Didn’t I warn you? Yes, the naysayers. They are your true friends. Charles, do not worry have no fear: I will keep you on your toes.
Take heart: I feel comfortable with you. Particularly at a distance. Though no doubt would relish your company across a table laden with I don’t know, say, Tapas and a carafe. Or at least a bowl of olives – and a carafe. Was 1955 a good vintage?
My dear Charles, the harsh critic is the one to be cherished beyond all others. I don’t write in brown crayon. It’s crude, and I prefer green or violet. Have you lost the plot? Who on earth could ever think of you as a “jerk”? Snap out of it. Self pity does not become you.
Not jaded, just caked,
U
PS I won’t charge you: Send any commentators you don’t like my way (no, not me. I try and avoid talking to myself). However, we all need an outlet for what comes natural to us. Hugs and kisses – and can I please see copy of that “bordering on cruelty”?
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Dear Ursula,
I agree with you that criticism can be a valuable source of feedback. But only if the critic has taken the time to analyze, consider, and offer sincere opinions — both positive and negative. The critics I was talking about in this post are the destructive ones. They are as insincere as the flatterers, and their opinions are equally useless. Visit any website that includes “reviews,” and you’ll see what I’m talking about. You can easily find people out there trashing books, hotels, restaurants, music, theater, and just about anything else that requires work and creativity. The tip-off, usually, is the lack of balance. Few things are completely terrible or totally wonderful. I’ve never read a piece of writing — or produced one — that was either.
I think 1955 was an excellent year, although much of it remains hazy.
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Carol Deminski
November 2, 2011
Really? Uh oh, some of my works are completely horrible and should never see the light of day. Then again, I could say that about much of what is in my closet too. Hmmm.
No seriously, I agree, if you don’t have some balance to an opinion you can appear fanatical, and we know where that can lead, right? (Most likely too many Star Trek conventions.)
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charlywalker
November 3, 2011
I think Ursula needs to retreat back to the sea….
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Kate
November 1, 2011
I think that you may be eligible to call yourself a guru; you are distilling the wisdom that you have garnered and sharing with those of us blundering through cyberspace. Thanks for another entertaining view of life as you have experienced it Kate
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Thanks, Kate, but if you ever see me calling myself a guru, either I’ve lost my mind or you’re reading the wrong blog. (Actually, it could be both.)
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Carol Deminski
November 2, 2011
Actually I heard that you prefer the title Swami, which, let’s face it – doesn’t fit for a guy who came from the Bronx. Now, as I am from New Jersey, Swami could work. That or diva goddess, I’m open to either.
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worrywarts-guide-to-weight-sex-and-marriage.com
November 1, 2011
Thank you.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
I like the title of your blog, as well as the content. I just read a couple of posts, and thought they were excellent.
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Joseph M Kurtenbach
November 1, 2011
Charles, thanks for the encouraging words. As I’ve just recently been getting into blogging and the social media, I’ve been amazed at how it seems to have flipped a switch in my brain. All of a sudden I’m virtually addicted to seeking an audience and consumed with my stats, despite having been a proud introvert my whole life. This potential opportunity for some degree of fame offered by the internet is a potent drug. But we each have to get our own individual dosages right. Perspective is certainly in order.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
As a fellow introvert, I have to say that you may not find fame to be very appealing. For me, the allure of blogging has been the chance to establish a few solid relationships, rather than a large number of superficial connections. It’s like the idea of friends on Facebook: how many can you have before the numbers start to become all-important? But as you said, “we each have to get our own individual dosages right.”
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Joseph M Kurtenbach
November 2, 2011
There you are probably right. Fame is a tricky word, and very relative. Fame for its own sake, if there is such a thing, is probably only fun in daydreams . . . and even then I insist on gobs of money to go along with it.
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Snoring Dog Studio
November 1, 2011
And that should be enough, shouldn’t it? To have the audience you have, the audience to whom you speak to like no other writer – is it really necessary to want more, more, more? I don’t think so. I’m grateful for all the people who read my blog. I’m hurt when someone leaves a snarky comment – especially when it’s not even on topic, but I get over that quickly. But I’m thrilled -absolutely thrilled – that people are subscribing to my blog! I’d give them all a hug if I could. They have good taste, I think. I strive not to disappoint them. You’ve acquired a massive following, Charles, through no other reason than you provide endless humor, delightful insights and much wisdom. You don’t have to pay for your following. That is good and that’s enough.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Thank you, SDS. I don’t know about the massive following, and I’m sure there’s very little wisdom here. But I’m grateful for the people I’ve met and the friends I’ve made, including you. I’m also happy to be one of your tasteful readers, and your blog has never disappointed me. True, I’ve left one or two snarky comments, but those had to do only with your questionable choice of desserts.
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Snoring Dog Studio
November 2, 2011
You know that only drives me to eat more pumpkin pie, don’t you?
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Margie
November 1, 2011
I like the lesson about not trusting furniture. My daughter, when she was in kindergarten, knew when to get off the bus because it was the stop after the house that had a van parked in front. I suggested to her that she might want to find a more permanent fixture, which she did right after the day the van wasn’t there and she had to walk an extra 4 blocks to get home.
But like most lessons, the uncomfortable bits are sometimes the most valuable ones.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
So we shouldn’t trust vans either. Thanks, Margie. I’m just sorry I had to learn this lesson at your daughter’s expense.
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kroessman
November 1, 2011
STOP TRUSTING CRITICS???!!!! Way to put me out of a job! Seriously though, you’re right about building your audience through content. My blog has taken two years of hard work to get an average of 100 readers a day, but it helped me get a job writing as the lone liberal at a conservative website, where I get to write articles which piss people off … AND get PAID for it! Talk about reinforcement 😉
I think most of us are natural born narcissists anyway, and having blogs just helps us fuel this obsession in audience-seeking 😉
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
As a professional critic, you no doubt have opinions that are informed and well-reasoned. That isn’t at all what I was talking about. (Really? The lone liberal? I have to check that out.)
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Diane Nero
November 1, 2011
the first step in ferminininzation thearpy is determining at what the individual had to come t0o the us for complete ferminininzation and desired a medical programs that would achieve thier goals goals quickly while maintain ones good health naturally in day to day practice there are many varaitions on the theme here are looking at typical regiems that would complete ferminininzation the maxiumum in the shortest period of time the fewest undesirable side-effects both physical and emotional when looking at the process achieving female attributes such as element development fulness in the hips softer texture in the skin etc and ridding oneslf of male attributes such as excessive muscalar upper body development body patten hair loss of scalp beard growth etc resounces for transgender healthcare programs job placement iam experincing discrimination support group network group http://www.transgenderhealthcare.com web-site register
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madamfickle
November 2, 2011
You didn’t actually read the post did you? (P. S. That was rhetorical. We already know the answer.) Where are your manners?
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
I wish someone could explain this to me. Anyone? The link isn’t even real.
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planetvivacious
November 1, 2011
Hi, I see an email from your blogsite and I stop whatever I m doing and stop thinking about what I m supposed to be doing next and read the post. They are mind-blowing. I like your style of writing, articulation is excellent and the choice of words …well, I have no words to say. Absolutely adorable. Thanks.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Thank you very much, Vimala. Your comment has made my day.
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heather
November 1, 2011
fantastic…..as much as I love to write I had to realise very quickly I wasn’t doing it for everyone else. I was doing it for me….and if they “got it” then SCORE! I done good! And if they didn’t, well it wasn’t for them! It always makes me giggle when someone who CLEARLY has no sence of humor A.) Takes the time to read my entire post. Then B.) Takes the time to leave a scathing comment. One misanthrope here and there won’t stop me from finding humor and hope in a life that can only be appreciated by those WITH a sence of humor and hope. Keep writing, it helps the rest of us keep our hamsters on their wheels!
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Thank you, Heather. Sometimes it takes a little while to adjust to another person’s sense of humor, and some people are a little too quick to comment.
By the way, clicking on your name doesn’t take me to your blog. There’s a misspelling in the link.
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charlywalker
November 3, 2011
sence of humor….. I love it!
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magsx2
November 1, 2011
Hi,
Another great post.
It’s amazing how those 3 minute surveys always seem longer than 3 minutes. 😆
I had to laugh, my Mum was always saying “be careful you could poke someone’s eye out with that” I would instantly be afraid that I may hurt someone, and I would drop whatever it was. I think it’s just part of a parents DNA. 🙂
I think most bloggers gets one of “those comments” every now and then, it’s just part of having a blog I feel, I never worry too much about it though.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Mags, I can’t imagine anyone having anything negative to say about you or your blog. It’s always fun to visit.
http://magsx2.wordpress.com/
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Diane Henders
November 1, 2011
Wonderful wisdom, as usual, Charles. I find it hard to deal with the fact that some people choose to be cruel for no apparent reason. But the faithful few who are kind enough to tell me they enjoy what I’m doing are the “keepers”, and they’re the only ones who matter to me.
I laughed out loud at your right hand/left hand dilemma. I have a vivid memory of standing in line, peeking at my classmates when the teacher told us to raise our right hands. I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about; I guess I’d been sick the day they taught that. Shortly thereafter, I started to wear a ring on my right hand. (Ring=right). To this day, I still sometimes mix them up. This leads to all sorts of helpful directions: “Turn right. No, no, your *other* right!”
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
Yes, Diane, you were absent the day they taught that. I use that excuse a lot myself. I like your trick with the ring, though.
I’m glad to be one of your keepers. Although it doesn’t sound right when I say it.
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Joseph Gilmore
November 1, 2011
I’m not going to comment on this post, not because it isn’t good, It is, it’s even great, but because you get so many comments that it must be hard for you to, I mean with your obsessive, or is it compulsive, (I always mix those up), urge to reply to every comment.
Seriously, well done Sir Charles. We’re fist pumping for you dude. 🙂
s’il vous plait ne pas repondre.
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bronxboy55
November 2, 2011
As you wish, Joseph. I’m going to completely ignore the fact that you took the time to read this long post and leave a nice comment. I won’t even say thank you. (And, hey, what do you mean? I’m not obsessive.)
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speaker7
November 1, 2011
Did no one ever tell you that you can make an L with the index finger and thumb of your left hand? That is how I’m able to surreptitiously tell my left hand from my right. It is a life saver.
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
I did eventually learn that. But I’m not sure I even knew what an L was in kindergarten, or which way it was supposed to face.
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Jessica Sieghart
November 1, 2011
Oh, boy! I actually know someone who lost an eye due to shenanigans with an every day object. Your mom was right, it does happen! I tell my left hand from my right by extending my thumb and forefinger. The left hand makes an L. 🙂
I think your words of wisdom couldn’t ring more true. I think anyone who puts their thoughts out there for everyone to read worries what others may think of them. In order to write these things, you have to reach deeper and open up more than you may in face to face conversation, and that leaves the writer in vulnerable territory. I remind myself-if I don’t have that worry about something I’ve written, I haven’t told enough. It’s a fine line.
Where’s that kid with the brown crayon? I’ll squish him with my Catboots. (I missed that comment. Now I’ll have to re-read all of them looking for it.) Some are just miserable, Charles. When my first column ran, I saw the very first comment pop up and it was negative and horrible. Thank goodness the other 99% aren’t 🙂
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
I remember that about your first comment, and I don’t think you’ve had another negative one since. That doesn’t surprise me, though. Your columns are always thought-provoking and funny. And those Catboots are pretty scary.
Keep up the great work, Jessica. Thanks for the comment, and for being a good friend.
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looks.so.fine
November 1, 2011
Thank you for so eloquently speaking your thoughts. I enjoyed your fresh perspective on life lessons. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn until about 2 years ago that I should never cut my hair either. Like ever again. And the sad thing is that I should have learned this when I did it the first time in high school. Sigh. I obviously still have a lot to learn.
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
I don’t think we should be held accountable for anything we were supposed to learn during the high school years. But I still want to know why your blog doesn’t have a mob of readers. It’s really good!
http://lookssofine.wordpress.com/
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charlywalker
November 1, 2011
Bronx boys don’t cry…….they hop in the bull ring without a cape….
Life in the Freshly pressed lane……snap out of it…you done good…
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
I have no interest in the bull ring, but I never leave the house without my cape.
Thanks, CW. It’s always good to hear from you. And I like your new Gravatar. (Or did you already change it back?)
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charlywalker
November 3, 2011
I let that other personality slip out of the closet….
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Cathleen Barnhart
November 1, 2011
A great and inspiring blog. Thank you for sharing your experiences and the tough lessons you’ve learned – and for doing it with humor and style. I always enjoy your posts.
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
I feel the same about your blog, Cathleen. (Except for the post about pickled cauliflower. I refused to read that one.)
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patricemj
November 1, 2011
This is nice. What is it with critics? They must suffer in a special way. Anyone who aims to induce self-doubt in a writer of all people must have pretty low aspirations.
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
Good point. Most writers don’t need any help stirring up self-doubt.
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oneenglishteacher
November 1, 2011
I liked the insight about critics; it is true that we discount the valuable praise of those who do surround us when we let the critics be the ones with the spotlight. I’m glad I stumbled across your blog.
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
I’m glad I stumbled across your blog, too. I enjoyed your recent post about used book sales.
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earthriderjudyberman
November 1, 2011
Our insecurities do throw stumbling blocks in the way, giving us multiple excuses not to write. I am often my own worst critic. Your advice is spot on: “I hope this is the day you stop trusting critics — the ones out there, and the one inside your head. Your audience is waiting.” My audience might be small, but I now take pleasure in just writing. Thanks for your encouragement. Your blog is a real pick-me-up and funny, too.
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
Thank you, Judy. Your writing is polished and effective. Give it some time. I liked the ghost story.
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earthriderjudyberman
November 3, 2011
Thank you, the ghost story is one I share with my students. (It’s from an interview I did with Rosemary Nesbitt who told it to me.) I appreciate your thoughtful comments and am amazed how you reply to everyone who writes. Keep up the great work on your blog.
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Govind
November 1, 2011
What if you don’t know your left from your right
you know pretty well how to write
you have earned your admirers alright
and as for the critics ignore their spite.
I never seem to learn from life’s lessons, especially when it comes to people seeking charity and people who want me to participate in a survey.Your writing is so simple and yet sometimes I get a feeling that it is in a different plane unattainable to me,but it always tugs at the heart. so what does it make me, your severest critic or your greatest admirer?
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
I’d settle for fellow writer.
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winsomebella
November 2, 2011
So glad to be a small part of your slice. Very helpful, very positive, and very enjoyable to read these lessons. And to laugh a bit too 🙂
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
Thank you. That could easily be a description of your blog, too.
http://winsomebella.wordpress.com
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Miss Demure Restraint
November 2, 2011
I understand you may still be overwhelmed with responses to your posts (I think this #33 or there abouts), so expect no reply. I simply hope you have an opportunity to read this comment. I want to say thank you . . . truly thank you so very much for this piece as it strikes at the heart of the insecurities many of us struggle with. To hear you have had the same doubts and fears is heartening.
BTW – If it weren’t for a scar on my right hand, I still wouldn’t know which is which.
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
To hear that so many intelligent and talented people have trouble remembering right from left is also heartening. So thank you.
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Jezzmindah
November 2, 2011
Charles, your posts warm my heart. Feels like I got a blog-pappy out there issuing good advice and generous praise 🙂
Glad to be part of the slice that’s picking up what you’re putting down 🙂
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
Blog-Pappy. Okay. I feel like I just lost all my teeth. Blog-Pappy? I’ll remember that, Jess.
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somkritya
November 2, 2011
Love reading your posts but this one was amazing, hilarious, I learned quite young that all homeworks suck..lol
I have a very small audience and they have been amazingly warm and encouraging, as for critics I appreciate anyone who takes out time to read what I write.
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
I hope you have a few thoughtful, sincere, and well-meaning critics. I also hope that for every critic, you have a hundred loyal readers who can’t wait for your next post.
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souldipper
November 2, 2011
Charles, may I please have a reservation front and center in your audience hall?
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bronxboy55
November 4, 2011
Of course, Amy. I’ll be sitting right next to you. Who’s speaking, anyway?
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madamfickle
November 2, 2011
I heart you Charles.
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bronxboy55
November 4, 2011
I want to say I heart you back, but I’m afraid to commit. I think it’s your name.
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Damyanti
November 2, 2011
I hope this is the day you stop trusting critics — the ones out there, and the one inside your head. Your audience is waiting.
Amen.
I don’t mind the ones outside so much, they almost always have some sort of point. The ones inside my head are the ones I battle. I hate my stories, and no amount of praise from anyone at all makes me love them.
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bronxboy55
November 4, 2011
I know I’ve said this to you before, but I don’t think it’s going to change. I’ve been trying to talk myself out of those thoughts forever, and they won’t go away. But just because we have to hear them doesn’t mean we have to believe them. Maybe we need to tune them out and get back to work. What do you think?
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Damyanti
November 8, 2011
I shut them out when writing the first draft. But boy do they come in handy when editing etc!
I again shut them out if I do re-writes or re-visioning, and let them back in for the edit rounds.
If you’ve read Stephen King’s On Writing…he talks about the same thing. I’m not a fan of his writing, only his stories, and he often does not take his own writing advice—but this shutting out and letting in of the inner critic is something I have to thank him for.
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Arindam
November 2, 2011
I love the way you share your life lessons & experience with fun. Every time i read your post a smile automatically comes on to my face.So thanks for not only making us smile but also for making us part of your thoughts.
I have to thank you for another reason- i am new to blogging, so neither i have enough readers to read my posts nor getting too much comments on them to cheer about. But i am happy that at least I am getting a chance to read posts of wonderful writers like you & getting a chance to comment on them. So thanks a lot for giving me something to cheer about in this blogging world.
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bronxboy55
November 4, 2011
Keep writing, Arindam. You’ll have plenty of readers, and sooner than you think.
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Arindam
November 4, 2011
Sir you made my day! For this moment, i am waiting from a long time…. now i am jumping on my desk, after getting a comment from you! your comment means a lot to me, i am sure i will not get this much happiness, if ever i will be in that freshly pressed list. Thanks a lot for giving me this moment! I am going to cherish this moment for a long time….
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figmentsandimagination
November 2, 2011
Hi, I reallyenjoy your blog, I have added you to my blogroll, is that OK?
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bronxboy55
November 4, 2011
I’m honored, Sharon, especially given the extremely important work you’re doing in South Sudan.
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SanaVd
November 2, 2011
Thank you for writing this Charles. I hope your words stay with me forever. Thank you again.
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bronxboy55
November 4, 2011
I’m glad you got something out of it, Saara. I hope you’ll keep working on the wonderful blog you’ve started. Your writing is sensitive and honest.
http://saaranaveed.wordpress.com
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neelthemuse
November 2, 2011
Look forward to your posts Charles! So fun:) I’m new to the blogging scene too….and this is such a find! There are some good places to visit and you are one of them.
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bronxboy55
November 4, 2011
Thank you, Neel. I like your poems, and your photographs, too.
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Betty Londergan
November 2, 2011
Charles, I love the way you make me laugh and then zap me with your penetrating insight!
And — quite frankly, I am in AWE of the way you not only land on the Freshly Pressed page so frequently (and deservedly) — but that you take that high platform as an opportunity to praise, uplift and connect others. It’s really quite unselfish — and given that every writer I know is neurotic beyond belief over whether or not he/she even deserves to be called a writer … this is truly humanitarian work! And in the end, I believe we are all writing because we need to — not to get rich and/or famous. Although if anybody deserves both, I vote for you!!
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bronxboy55
November 4, 2011
I’m humbled by your comment, because everything you’ve said applies much more to you than it does to me. I only hope that when you’re rich and famous, you’ll still remember me.
Thank you, Betty, for always being so encouraging. How are things in Uganda?
P.S. I agree with the part about being neurotic.
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She's a Maineiac
November 2, 2011
Charles, you’ve done it again. I read this at around 6 am and have so many things I’d like to say to you, but I need more coffee to articulate them. This is a post I will reread and share with my other writer friends. You’ve conveyed what we all feel with such humor and sincerity. You’ve also given us solid advice so that we may have a chance to break that cycle of listening to critics (whether inside or outside our heads) Thank you!
But I will ask you these two questions: How did you get inside my head?
And when are you getting off my couch? My kids want their blue bunny blankie back.
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bronxboy55
November 4, 2011
I don’t mean to sound like an adviser, Darla. I need the advice as much as anyone. Maybe we can all just keep reminding each other.
And I’m not sure how I got inside your head. But, man, what a weird place. Is it like that all the time?
Something tells me this blankie thing is never going away.
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Joe
November 2, 2011
Truly insightful. How you manage to turn everyday events and thoughts into ponderous eye-openers, I’ll never know. It’s like you’re some kind of mind freak; constantly probing the minds of your readers and articulating what we only generally think about in fear of being exposed.
I’ll take a lot away from this article and appreciate every word that was typed.
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bronxboy55
November 4, 2011
You’re too kind, Joe. Thank you for the nice words.
I’m assuming “mind freak” is a good thing.
It is, right?
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Joe
November 4, 2011
Yes Charles, I would take being called a “mind freak” a compliment in this situation. Your ability to take what’s in most people’s mind and lay it out in your own very unique way is incredible. To me, that makes you a “mind freak”…a good thing!
Take care.
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Yulia
November 2, 2011
Hi Charles, Now I realize that I am so lucky that you were willing to drop by my blog, so that I come to know you and your blog.
This is a very nice post and I like it very much. I will follow your blog, Charles.
Thank you so much for letting me know you 🙂
Yulia
http://www.mylifeismyrainbow.wordpress.com
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
Thank you, Yulia. I would’ve included a link to your blog, but you did it for me.
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Anonymous
November 2, 2011
Thanks for the words of wisdom, Charles, presented–as usual–in your own inimitable style. As for the final cartoon, I found nine things that can potentially take an eye out. Do I win a prize?
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
Yes. A cheesecake is on its way.
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Lenore Diane
November 2, 2011
I missed the meeting! Did you have doughnuts? Doughnuts are friendly – round edges, keeping eyes safe.
Funny thing about the fat crayons… I preferred them. My coloring skills were not fine tuned, so I relied on the fat crayons to help me ‘hide’ my lack of skill. I still prefer medium point pens to fine point.
Thought of you last night, while I pondered which bunch of bananas to pick and put in my grocery cart. I went with the still green but turning a lovely shade of yellow bunch.
Excellent post, Charles. I’m content with the slices that make up my pie, because I know they are here with me for the duration. Thanks for being part of the pie.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
I was buying bananas a few days ago and thought of you, too. I think we’re linked forever by a tropical fruit.
I’m proud to be part of your pie, Lenore. And if it’s banana cream, even better.
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Today's Dad
November 2, 2011
That was a very inspiring and well weaved post (again). You have a gift for working your message in with your story. I truly enjoy reading your pieces. It’s true we are often our own worst critics. Every time I am about to hit publish I have this voice in my head that says “what if nobody likes it?”. I just read it again and decide that I like it, and that’s good enough.
At the risk of blowing too much sunshine just let me say thank you and keep it up. You’ve been an inspiration to a newbie like me.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
“What if nobody likes it?” I have that same thought, every time. You’re right, though: If you’re your own worst critic and you like it, how bad can it be?
I enjoyed your post about taking young kids out to eat.
http://todaysdadblog.com/2011/11/03/kids-and-restaurants-a-dads-guide-to-surviving-the-stares/
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rangewriter
November 2, 2011
Charles, who in the world could not adore you? I’m dumbfounded to learn that such an alien exists. This must be what comes of being freshly pressed, in which case,I’ll happily skip that ten seconds of fame. As I read the top half of this post I couldn’t wait to ask if you’ve contemplated compiling your amaziing observations about childhood and life in general into a book? I honestly believe it would be a best seller…although you still might not be famous…..
Maybe you already have published something like this. If so, can I buy an autographed edition? I’d Google you….but my internet connection is down and just writing this comment has worn out my droid patience.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
I’m actually about to publish a book of blog posts. I’m in the last stages of formatting and proofreading it now, and man, am I sick of reading my own stuff! But I’ll do some kind of small, self-conscious announcement when it’s available.
Thank you for the comment, Linda. I always appreciate your kindness.
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Anonymous
November 2, 2011
This is a keeper! I’m a bit of a pack rat, internet information included, but as you mentioned, some lessons have to be relearned and relearned. I look forward to reading this again.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
Thanks. I’m glad you got something out of it.
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mbartholomew1030
November 2, 2011
I came across your blog a few weeks ago, and have been reading ever since. I really enjoy your perspective on things. This blog takes me back and I catch myself laughing out loud saying, “Oh gosh I remember doing that too !” Such as the right hand left hand, coloring the cows purple due to the lack of proper colors, and especially trying to be your own hair stylist (My mom was not too happy with my bangs Easter morning 1992…probably because I cut them off). However, my absolute favorite piece of this is, “So the lesson I want to share is that there is an audience that will want to hear what you have to say, and will like the way you say it. But they can’t find you if you’re not out there giving them something to find.” I sincerely intend on writing this in the corner of my journal so every time I open it, I find that little hint of inspiration again that I have found right now while reading your work. An amazing quote that will forever be one of my favorites.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
Thank you, Michelle, for your thoughtful comment. You’re an excellent writer and I hope you’ll be able to work through the discouraging times; the rejection seems to be a requirement, so try not to take it personally (even though that’s exactly how it feels).
http://michellebartholomew.wordpress.com/
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A Morning Grouch
November 2, 2011
I love your advice. Sometimes we need to hear those simple truths, to remind us that things are okay the way they are. Also, for the record, I almost had my eye plucked out today by a student swinging a meter stick. It can happen!!
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
I know it can happen. I’d just rather not think about it or imagine it happening, so I pretend it can’t. I’m glad it didn’t happen to you.
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Kevin Glew
November 2, 2011
Thanks for sharing your lessons, Charles. The last lesson is particularly important. As a sportswriter, I know harsh criticism all too well. I’ve been called a lot of things over the past year. One day, I realized that as long as my editor was happy and I was happy with the effort I put forth in writing the columns, that’s all that really mattered.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
Sports fans can get a little crazy, especially when someone criticizes their team or one of its players. Be careful out there, Kevin.
http://kevinglew.wordpress.com
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Barbara Rodgers
November 2, 2011
Your post brought back a couple of kindergarten memories… I still remember feeling pretty clever the day I discovered that the hand I *write* with is my *right* hand.
Being a bit of a wallflower, I still feel some wonder whenever I blurt out something random on my blog and a number of people actually respond! I agree with your lesson – that there is an audience that will want to hear what you have to say, and will like the way you say it. It’s so true!
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
You haven’t been writing with your right hand lately, though, have you? I hope you will be soon.
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therealbryon-(gaysexandthecity)
November 2, 2011
I am so glad I discovered your blog. We all have been there, and lessons will always be learned. It’s strange that I can be introverted, but crave so much adoration. Writing is great therapy, as well as frightening exposure. I can indentify with your sense of humour, as well, as your insightful writing style. As always, you are bang on. Cheers.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
Thanks, Bryon. I’m glad you discovered it, too. And I guess all therapy involves some degree of exposure.
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Melinda
November 2, 2011
Wait! How could someone not love you?!! I am crying at the first pair of scissors ever made in the middle ages! *Crosses abdominal workout off list* Keep being the you that just doesn’t know how special and loved he is!!
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
Thank you, Melinda. I consider you one of the funniest bloggers out there, so a compliment from you means a lot. I just read your most recent post again, and liked it even better the second time.
http://findingthehumor.com/yep-thats-me/fall-car-gracefully/
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Almudena
November 2, 2011
wow, you have no idea how much i needed to hear this today. thank you. and i do love your writing and your blog.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
I appreciate that you took the time to read and comment, Almudena. Thank you.
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happykidshappymom
November 3, 2011
Great words of advice, Charles. And I’m happy you were brave, and ignored that critic, and shared these thoughts with the rest of us “in your slice” (neat).
I think writing is so hard because it’s so personal. It’s like showing someone a painting you did, when maybe you never went to school for art, but decided to express yourself anyway. Every single person who looks at it will see something different, and the important thing to remember, is that what they see will be a reflection of themselves. Including the critic.
What really matters, is what you see. Even your best friend may not read your blog, but clearly thinks you’re a great guy (he’s your best friend). So if you’re writing for people who aren’t even as close to you as your best friend — then the highest opinion on the quality of your work must come from within yourself.
I can’t help but call to mind the movie, “A Christmas Story.” You must have seen it. If not, look for it next month on TBS or TNT or whatever the movie channel is up in the Great White North. It’s set in the 1940s and is told from the perspective of a young boy. It’s one of my favorite movies of all time — and in it, what the boy wants for Christmas, more than anything else, is a Red Rider BB Gun. And over and over his mother tells him, “You’ll shoot your eye out.”
I won’t spoil the movie by telling what happens, but the threat itself — your post had me laughing. And this line, “The fact that none of us knew anyone who’d lost an eye in this manner seemed to not mean much,” is so true! And yet, I say the same thing to my own kids. “Don’t run with scissors,” “Put down the knife,” “Give Mommy the pencil sharpener.” (Now my kids sound like crazy people.)
I suppose there are some things we must say. Eye-laceration-risking or not. Because you’re right. Nobody learns a lesson the first time. And nobody learns to trust the first time. Especially when sharing something like their writing. But I’m glad you keep at it. If for no other reason than I had an aunt who cut my hair in a diagonal line and a grandmother who cut it every full moon and it’s great to recall those memories when I read your writing.
It is a work of art. And I’m glad it’s on display.
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bronxboy55
November 6, 2011
I may be the only person in the world who hasn’t seen A Christmas Story. I know it’s on every year, and I’ve caught glimpses of it, but it seems it’s always the same glimpse: the part when they get a flat tire. I’ll try to watch the whole movie this year.
Writing is personal. It’s exposing your mind to others, and that means exposing who you are. It can be uncomfortable, especially when the response is negative. But once in a while we connect with someone, and it all seems worthwhile. I’ll always be happy about my decision to start blogging, mostly because it’s allowed me to meet people like you.
Let me know when you’re back from LA.
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dearrosie
November 3, 2011
To ensure I’d know my right leg from my left I used a similar trick with furniture when I was four years old and taking dance classes, but I cant remember what it was. I think it had something to do with the mirror and the barre… One day I came to dance class and the furniture had been turned around and I was the idiot who raised the wrong leg 😦
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2011
Too bad I wasn’t in that class, Rosie. At least you would’ve had another idiot there with you.
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dimitiekendall
November 3, 2011
Thank you I love your post! Good advice and I will definitely use it.
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2011
I’m glad you liked it, Dimitie. Thanks for the comment.
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Xenia Freixas
November 3, 2011
I really enjoyed reading your article. Regards from Spain, Europe.
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2011
Thank you, Xenia. I hope to hear from you again.
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Allan Douglas
November 3, 2011
Good one Charles. I too struggle with the right-left issue. When we are driving, Marie often says, “Turn right here… no, no, the OTHER right.” Since I can’t put a filing cabinet in the cab of our truck, I just try to remember that when I’m behind the wheel, ‘Marie is always right.’
I’m sure glad your Uncle never came after me with his medieval shears. I thought Dad and his dull electric clippers were bad enough. These days Marie cuts my hair and I cut hers. I get the tougher assignment because she refuses to join me in wearing a crew cut.
I hear you on the criticism thing too. I’ve stopped looking at my blog traffic reports because doing so, and comparing that traffic to the number of comments left makes me feel like I’ve been talking to an auditorium full of people, but as I talk people are getting up and walking out – in droves. That makes it hard to keep yammering on and on…
I hope you keep yammering, Charles. I always find some great nuggets of wisdom tucked in behind the humor. And judging by the string of comments on every posting, your audience is faithful and interested. In any large sampling of people there will be one or two who tote a brown crayon. I think you’ve got the approach, just try to ignore them. Obviously those of us who like your work vastly outnumber them. Thumbs up my friend!
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2011
I think your experience with readers and commenters is typical, Allan. The vast majority of people who stumble upon my posts don’t leave a comment. I have no idea if they’re even sitting down before bolting from the auditorium.
Your trick for remembering who’s right sounds foolproof. I’m sure Marie agrees.
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Min
November 3, 2011
I love the way you described the crayons and your uncle’s scissors, and how you incorporated those images into your story. It makes your advice all the more memorable. Thank you!
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2011
And thank you for looking so closely, Min. It makes your comment all the more meaningful.
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Val
November 3, 2011
As usual, I’ve got as caught up in the mini-conversations in your comment area as I do in your post! (Posts, plural, that should be. My keyboard skills this morning are dire.)
I also had problems with left and right… still do sometimes, but then I’ve a touch of dyslexia (spelled several times differently til I got it right!)
You’re right about the quality of readership and in fact I commented on this in someone else’s blog just yesterday. I’d far rather have a few good commenters amongst readers who really feel the worth of my blog (and me, of course!) than loads who haven’t read my posts properly, have come over on a whim and who… and who… well, just ‘and who’. (It’s not just my keyboards skills that are dire this morning.)
By the by, I always cut my own hair. I’ve had it with the torture of the hairdresser (UK female equivalent of barber), so what if both sides of my mane aren’t the same length?
Your blog is one of the few I’ve seen in which some of the readers from your Freshly Pressed post/s have returned to read your unfreshly pressed posts. That has got to say more about your being a good writer than about the system of FP.
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2011
No matter how many new readers show up and stay (or don’t), it’s always good to hear from you, Val. And I would have never guessed that you cut your own hair. How does dyslexia work when dealing with a mirror?
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Val
November 8, 2011
Thanks Charles – you too, when you come by my blog. 🙂
Dyslexia with a mirror can be very confusing!
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sue
November 3, 2011
I am also one of your recent fans from your week of being freshly pressed. I don’t normally read any blogs other than my sons. He is teaching in Korea and writes under Stupid Ugly Foreigner. Your blog caught my eye and I am now a subscriber. Thank-you for the laughs. I am still smiling about Michael Lucatelli.
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2011
I like your son’s blog name. If I ever finish answering these comments, I’m going to check it out! I hope he’s doing well in Korea. Thanks for the comment.
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His Salt
November 3, 2011
Love your humor and presentation style – even some encouraging tips thrown in for good measure. Thanks! I’ll be back.
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2011
Thanks, HS. I hope to hear from you again.
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notesfromrumbleycottage
November 3, 2011
I counted eight items that can take your eye out if you include the kid. Knowing how active my kids are and the strength they possess, when possessed, I do include that kid.
But seriously, you are right. There is always someone willing to put you down because it makes them feel better and not because they want you to get better. Finding the supportive voices is the best thing a person can do for themselves.
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
Creative activities can be a lot of work. I guess it takes less energy to sit back and wait for someone else to create something, and then pick it apart. I can’t imagine it really feels good, though.
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Boy Mom Blogger
November 3, 2011
I’m loving this and needed to hear that since I’m new at this blogging thing! But I can’t believe you answer the phone during dinner and talk to those telemarketers! ugh … oh well … at least it gives you funny stories to tell! That first cartoon reminded me of my two-year-old! Thanks so much for the post and the encouragement…
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bronxboy55
November 3, 2011
Actually, the telemarketers have gotten smarter and now call a little later, around 7:30. I guess they learned that people weren’t answering the phone at dinnertime. (Even I stopped picking up.)
I’m glad you’re feeling encouraged. I visited your blog earlier today and saw that in just a few weeks, you’ve already begun to put together a collection of helpful ideas, articles, product reviews, and personal stories about the challenges of raising boys.
Also, I really liked the video of you discussing whether marriages should come with an expiration date. You packed a lot of humor and wisdom into those seven minutes:
http://boymomblog.wordpress.com/on-the-other-hand/
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heidit
November 3, 2011
What beautiful and eloquent advice, Charles. I don’t know how you manage to take a post about not listening to the critics and make it so humourous by including your lack of trust in furniture, but your writing is just magical to me. You make amazing connections in your post and they all seem to work beautifully. I’m sorry that you’ve dealt with cruel comments. It’s easy to say you should ignore them, but much more difficult to do when you’re on the receiving end.
Your quote, “This is what I’ve been worried about. A smart person has shown up, someone who sees through my facade and can tell that I’m a fraud,” is so spot-on as to what I think when I read something critical that I can’t think of a better way to phrase it. And no matter how many people tell you that you’re not a fraud or that your writing is fantastic, it’s hard to listen when someone is cruel.
Thank you for sharing this post, Charles. New bloggers are lucky to have someone as supportive as you out there. If you’re really concerned about cruel critics, send them my way. I’ll have a few choice words for them.
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bronxboy55
November 8, 2011
Because we’re self-critical, Heidi, it must be easier to agree with someone who says something negative. Their criticism sounds familiar — it may even be what we’ve been telling ourselves for years — so it also sounds true.
I’m not concerned. I know they’re out there. But if I get too many at once, I’ll be sure to send them over to you. Thanks, Heidi. You’re a great friend.
http://thehappyfreelancer.com
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teedleann
November 4, 2011
I love to read your blog. It never fails to brighten my day. Thanks for being you.
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bronxboy55
November 10, 2011
I couldn’t ask for a more perfect comment. Thank you.
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nectarfizz
November 4, 2011
Is it weird that I had this overwhelming urge to respond to this post…but have absolutely no idea how to express how it made the thoughts light up in my head? I am a learner and when this happens I get this feeling that I have just learned something valuable I am sure to need at some crucial point in the near future but have absolutely no idea how to explain in concrete sentences. I know this post amazed me. It made me contemplate this other mind I have encountered here by reading it. This mind, my mind whispered..is alive too! I guess that is the closest I can come to explaining what I mean. It’s just nice to know that I am not alone in this living in my head wandering the passageways of thought thing that happens constantly throughout the day. Anything else I say here sounds kinda lame actually..cause I haven’t the ability to just say “Nice post dude” and just leave it at that. No, I must express my bumbling thought process in a way that lets you know your post made me smile, consider and just plain like you. Ah me..I am a dork aren’t I? Ah well. Um…Nice post dude.
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bronxboy55
November 10, 2011
You’re definitely not alone, Bekki. And I think this is the main reason we write — to connect with the minds of other people. So thank you for letting me know that I’ve succeeded, if only in some small way. It makes it all worthwhile. And, no, you’re not a dork. You’ve been blogging since 2008. That’s a great accomplishment in itself!
http://ishallcallyouthemoon.wordpress.com/
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Priya
November 4, 2011
The critic in my head is the cruelest, Charles. She doesn’t let me write as freely as I could. And her voice is strong, determined. It blanks out all the other voices — the precious, appreciative ones, too. But I keep writing. To what end, I wonder.
However, I’ve found this slice you mention. I am not sure it’s going to get any thicker, but what I have is what I treasure. You see, being a performing artist (writing is performance, and an art, no?) has the same rider that any provider faces — no takers, no gains.
If I may say so, let me say that this post is by far your best, because it skillfully presents both your strengths — empathy and wit. Congratulations.
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bronxboy55
November 10, 2011
I’m familiar with the critic in your head, Priya, and as much as I want to shut her up sometimes, she serves a worthy purpose. She drives you to keep striving for improvement, and the result is always beautiful and thoughtful writing. At the same time, I do wish she would take some time off, if only to allow you to occasionally savor what you’ve accomplished. (For more than a day, I mean.)
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lostnchina
November 4, 2011
It’s as if you read my mind with handling the criticism. I feel like I have to be the Evil Knievel of bloggers: more tricks and bigger jumps with each blog post…and the pressure’s self-inflicted.
Today, I even had an “argument” with my only sister on Windows Live Messenger, because she didn’t like my latest entry “enough”.
Thanks for reminding us fellow bloggers that the fun is in writing and expressing ourselves in whichever way we feel most comfortable. It’s a joy to see all the different blogs, subjects and writing styles of the different bloggers out there. I always look forward to what tidbit you deign to throw our way each week.
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bronxboy55
November 10, 2011
I’m going to ignore the word deign and say that I share your enjoyment of finding so many of the talented writers out there in the blogging world. I would certainly include you in that description. Try to use your sister’s feedback as a source of motivation, not discouragement. And please keep writing — your posts from China are entertaining and enlightening.
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arborfamiliae
November 4, 2011
The challenge in my mind is to sort out the criticism that could be helpful from that which just discourages. I am a big believer in constructive criticism. I think if we never hear (or listen to) the comments that challenge our style or our methods, we have a hard time improving as writers (and human beings).
For me, the key is relationship. I will listen all day long to a person who I think knows me. I will listen to a person who shows they care for me as a person, even if the comments are challenging and somewhat negative.
I think we all need the person in our life who will tell us the day we put the mismatched clothes on, leave our hair uncombed by accident or have that huge rye seed stuck in our teeth. It’s a matter of finding him, her or—best of all—them.
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bronxboy55
November 11, 2011
I agree completely, Kevin. I also think one of the keys is balance. Very few things in life, especially creative efforts, are completely worthless; nor are they perfect. Having someone to help you see from many different angles is a priceless asset. I know you have that, and I’m glad you do.
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Astra
November 4, 2011
Found your blog a couple of weeks ago and love it! “My mind is a bad haircut no one can see” – perfect!
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bronxboy55
November 11, 2011
Thanks, Astra. When your mind is a bad haircut, it’s hard to know if its own self-assessment even makes any sense.
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KL
November 5, 2011
You are so right. It’s often difficult for writers not take criticism personally as writing is so very personal to us much if the time! Great attitude to have though, and I really like your writing!
KL
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bronxboy55
November 11, 2011
Writers tend to be their own harshest critics, KL. As someone has already suggested, pointing out the flaws in a written work almost seems redundant. Thanks for the comment.
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John Myste
November 5, 2011
Excellent points and I very well-done. I think most people would wish to be a part of your tiny slice if they new about it. If they experienced your tiny slice, it would be enormous, perhaps .00001 tenths of a inch, which is a lot of pie.
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bronxboy55
November 12, 2011
I’ve only recently figured that one out, John. We keep thinking we have to win over the whole world, but a small fraction would be more than enough to handle.
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Westchester Square
November 5, 2011
I just love being your secret admirer from high school- you didn’t even win “Most Likely to Succeed” and yet look at what a success you are!
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Marie
November 5, 2011
Well-written comment, WS! I think that’s exactly part of bronxboy’s problem–he might *look* at his success, but most of the time he doesn’t seem to *see* it. Good thing he has old admirers like us and more recent fans like the folks here to keep re-rooting him in this reality. You go, bronxboy!
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bronxboy55
November 12, 2011
Thanks, WS. I never told you this, but I was your secret admirer in high school.
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bronxboy55
November 12, 2011
And thank you, Marie. For you, my admiration was no secret at all.
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writingfeemail
November 5, 2011
I love this post. It has plenty of humor while showing the black hole of confidence that we writers succumb to. ‘Confidence’ was the single word answer to the question of what I wanted to get from participation in a writing school. And I can tell by all of the responses that you touched a lot of people with this one.
Your writing style is fantastic. I’m glad I found your blog.
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bronxboy55
November 13, 2011
A black hole is precisely what it is, Renee. And the more we feed it, the stronger it gets. I don’t know any writers who haven’t struggled with it. The good ones use it to their advantage, letting it push them to improve.
Thank you for the sweet words. I’m glad I found your blog, too.
http://writingfeemail.wordpress.com/
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safariuk
November 6, 2011
The harshest critic is usually ourself. Really enjoy reading your blog
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bronxboy55
November 13, 2011
Thank you Safari. And good luck getting the park ready for winter.
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lifesouvenirs
November 6, 2011
Inspiring post! Thanks for the wisdom and the laughs!
Sarah
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bronxboy55
November 13, 2011
I hope you’re inspired, Sarah, because I can’t wait to read about your trip to Nagasaki or Hiroshima. (Or both?)
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icedteawithlemon
November 7, 2011
There was so much I loved about this post (in fact, I’m adding it to my long list of bronxboy55 favorites!), but one statement in particular really resonated with me: “I don’t feel comfortable with most people, mostly because they don’t seem comfortable with me. And yet, I have a need to connect with at least a few of them. So I write, and I interact with strangers.” Wow. Once again, you have gotten inside my head–how do you keep doing that?!
I have very few critics “out there” (oh, I know they’re there–most are just too intimidated to voice an opinion), but the loud-mouthed critic inside my head more than makes up for their silence …
Thank you for yet another thought-provoking, delightful read.
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bronxboy55
November 13, 2011
I’m starting to notice a pattern here: my favorite bloggers are the ones with the harshest inner critics. Whenever I read one of your posts, Karen, my mind and heart always feel a little bigger. The recent one about your father was no exception:
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1of10boyz
November 7, 2011
Charles, I enjoy your writing and look forward to the notices when you have new posts. This one is particularly interesting as I pondered who my Michael Lucatelli was/is. Realized that it was more of a group than it was any one individual nemesis. I now wonder what that says about me. Thanks for the opportuntiy to reflect on my own twisted youth through the lens of your writing.
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bronxboy55
November 13, 2011
I would think that, as the oldest of ten brothers, you wouldn’t have to look far to identify possible suspects. And now you’re living in China? You must have a million stories to tell.
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Earth Ocean Sky Redux
November 8, 2011
One of the downsides of your newest-found popularity is scrolling down and down and down and down to the end of the comments. Phew.
Then by the time I get down to the place where I can add my two cents, I’ve forgotten what I was going to say, then have to scroll back up and up and up to try and remember which paragraph caught my eye to comment.
I agree that alot of people like to be heard, almost like having a 15 minutes of fame, but not on TV, but in the form of being a blog editor and critic. Let them blab away. You know who your friends are and who has your best interests.
BTW, do you still speak to Mike (wait, I have to scroll back up to find his last name….) Lucatelli?
PS: Was there some sort of bloggers convention where you met so many? My invitation got lost in the mail!! 🙂
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bronxboy55
November 13, 2011
I haven’t spoken to him in decades, and I changed his name just enough to hide his identity. My friend Angelo was in that class, and I’ve been waiting for him to tell me there was no Michael Lucatelli.
Freshly Pressed came calling on October 13 and stayed for a week and a half. I made a lot of new friends! But you were one of my very first blogging buddies, EOS. Thank you for sticking around.
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Lotta
November 11, 2011
I stumbled on your blog for reasons I can’t recall but I liked your writing immediately and signed up and ‘Hard Way’ was the first one I received but to busy, just read it. ‘Hard to grasp’ I read as soon as I got it, forwarded it to my dad who emailed me this morning that he’s signed up as well. I l o v e your work. Now I will have to check out the the other bloggers…………………so many blogs so little time.
Thanks heaps for making me laugh and totally green with envy and I mean that in the best possible way.
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bronxboy55
November 14, 2011
I agree, Lotta, that there’s so much great stuff out there. It’s impossible to keep up with it. I guess we have to enjoy the flood. Thank you — and please thank your Dad for me, too.
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John
November 12, 2011
The lesson stories were great and the advice was spot on!
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bronxboy55
November 14, 2011
Thank you, John. I appreciate your feedback.
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shamasheikh
November 12, 2011
Wisdom…eloquence and a great sense of feel-good knowing I am in good company when I mix up my right from my left! Thank you…
Belated congratulations on being so well deservedly Freshly Pressed…your writing is brilliant and a breath of fresh air…which often finds itself in the inner recesses of my mind…the strength and comfort in that is knowing once again…that I am in such good company…God bless…
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bronxboy55
November 14, 2011
Thank you, Shama. If you believe that you’re in good company, that feeling is certainly mutual. I enjoy your writing — your blog posts and your comments.
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thelightinyou
November 13, 2011
A good friend of mine had a very critical point about the content of my blog, the way I looked at the world and I felt discouraged for a long time. But recently I realized that if he was that critical of how I’m living my life, maybe he wasn’t that good of a friend to begin with. And I came to accept that he just wasn’t a good friend and there are plenty of followers of my blog who love what I do.
I loved when you said, “A few, though, will stick around long enough to tell me what a useless jerk I am. But here’s the thing: those people are not part of my slice. They wandered in by mistake and are already on their way out. I need to let them go quietly so I can get back to my real guests.” Thank you for sharing your views and your wonderful writing. Thank you!
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thelightinyou
November 14, 2011
I read a lot of your comments above and I just wanted to say you’re a wonderful man. Thank you!
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bronxboy55
November 14, 2011
What a nice thing to say. Thank you. And please remember that the critics will always be out there, like parasites looking for something to feed on. It isn’t so easy to ignore them, but it helps to know that everyone gets their share. Pick any book on the bestseller list, go to Amazon.com, and read the reviews. There will always be negative comments. It’s what some people live for.
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Living Waters
November 15, 2011
Thank you for your words, I really needed to hear them today.
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bronxboy55
November 15, 2011
Thank you for letting me know, LW. I hope all is well.
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mostlikelytomarry
November 15, 2011
It often seems it is so easy to let someone’s negativity seep in and, just the opposite, so hard to let in someone’s praises.
I appreciate the reminder about not getting hung up on who I am not reaching, but rather, value those few that keep coming back. Somehow, what I say matters to them and that is an amazing feeling.
Once again, I love your writing. Such a beautiful combination of humor and truth 🙂
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bronxboy55
November 16, 2011
Thank you, Tammy. You can certainly count me among the returning readers. Your blog is filled with ideas and advice that always ring true and sound obvious — those things that cause us to to think, “Of course. Why do I keep forgetting that?”
http://mostlikelytomarry.wordpress.com/
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Oracle of the Pearl
November 18, 2011
“This is what I’ve been worried about. A smart person has shown up, someone who sees through my facade and can tell that I’m a fraud.”
This can feel true about so very many things, can’t it? I encounter critics often, and often they are just being “helpful”. As often, they have an agenda, or are just mean. We know the difference. True and helpful critique does not demean, even while it may sometimes be hard to take; there is respect involved.
This is a wonderful post-I love your writing.
-Pearl
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bronxboy55
November 18, 2011
Thank you, Pearl. I haven’t spent enough time reading your blog, but the couple of posts I have read are incredible. I especially liked this:
http://oracleofthepearl.wordpress.com/2011/10/29/living-the-dream/
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mcgulotta
March 10, 2012
Charles, it’s amazing what you write. It is very inspiring and well written. You have a great gift to communicate with the facts of your life and twist a delightful humor to make someone laugh and or cry and there is always a lesson to your blogs.It’s true we are often our own worst critics. You have to see that you are loved. YO&OLW
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bronxboy55
September 27, 2012
Another comment I didn’t see until now (six months later). Thank you for being so supportive. I really appreciate it.
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