Have you ever read something really wonderful that totally resonates with you and it worms its way into your head and you think about it all the time but then when you try to explain it to other people they look at you blankly, then with horror, then slowly back away from you while you keep insisting it’s the greatest thing you’ve read while stomping your feet and turning fourteen shades of purple? Yeah, me either.
I also don’t have to google “it’s vs its” every time I write a frickin blog post.
Did I mention my head is killing me because it’s (pause to google and confirm correct usage, again) packed full of snot which might be allergies, but allergy meds aren’t really working so I tried some “cold and sinus” thing last night…to no avail, so I just added some migraine narcotic thingies in this morning for good measure? Mmmhmmm, it’s (got that one right first try) going to be one of THOSE posts.
Right! So I was reading Oprah Magazine and…STOP JUDGING ME. Say what you want about Oprah, but I lurv her magazine. I think I’ve watched all of two episodes of her show (one of them being this live thing in NYC with *shudder* Mariah Carey) during her entire run, but I always read the magazine in its (oops – fucked that one up, all better now) entirety. I swear I end up tearing out two to three articles each month.
Let’s try this again…
So I was reading Oprah Magazine and they’ve added a new columnist named Donna Brazile. In her first piece, Donna shares her “Smartest Advice I Ever Got.” Most of them were pragmatic and level headed, very sound advice. But only one made me snap to attention – “Be the Buffalo.” I ripped it out and folded it into a tiny square then promptly lost it.
I spent the next week trying to tell no less than four people how fucking cool I found this little sentiment.
I also spent the next week watching people’s faces slowly change from disinterest, to annoyance, to horror.
But yesterday, I found the tightly folded square of paper – inside one of the canisters inside my oven. (I tend to fling things about when I have less than fifteen minutes to get the house ready for a potential buyer. That’s probably why I also found a carrot peeler in my sock drawer this morning.)
Anyway, since I can’t seem to do it justice, I’ll just retype it verbatim.
Be the buffalo. Wilma Mankiller, the first female principal chief of the Cherokee nation, once told me how the cow runs away from the storm while the buffalo charges directly toward it – and gets through it quicker. Whenever I’m confronted with a tough challenge, I do not prolong the torment. I become the buffalo.
If I wasn’t always distracted by unicorns and glittery vaginas and I actually took the time to describe my approach to life, I think it might have sounded something like this – but with worse grammar, more wine references, and a few curse words, of course.