Getting What You Want

"Be careful what you ask for.  You might get what you want. [You stupid monkey fighter.]"

This typical refrain to statements that begin with, "I want..." follows most of us, or at least me, all over the place.  A year ago, celebrating an annual marker of sorts, I said of the upcoming year, "Bring it on!" If I were Sherlock Holmes and had an arch enemy, she would have begun laughing: "Mwah ha ha."  (On the same anniversary this past September, I avoided any statements that might antagonize the universe.)

So, what's the lesson here?  Never ask for what you want?  Figure out how to tap into your 90-year old self with its lifetime of wisdom before you speak?

Perhaps all of us should proceed with caution--but without becoming cynical.  Over the past month and a half, I have begun to receive exactly what I asked for.  The gifts could not be any better: a library card, many wishes to "sleep tight", laughter, requests to make plans a month from now, public displays of affection (ranging from holding hands to Facebook announcements), and countless other instances of "as you wish."  

The only similarity this instance of getting what I want has with others that have made me cringe is that the results are nothing like I expected.  I'll admit that I am sometimes terrified.  I want what I have asked for (keep it coming!) but don't always know how to accept it.  Life seems to work the other way around, usually.  I look down and think, "There's a pile of poo in my lap.  Do I really have to take time to figure out how to clean it up?"  After using up countless paper towels and taking many hot baths, I move along and attempt to behave as though I am one experience wiser.

Now, though, all the usual lessons, fraught with the threat of "you're going to regret doing this," are lined up on the windowsill.  What I need to do is pull out a duster and push them outside.  Instead of detailed analysis of every possibility, the dual meanings of every word, the possible outcomes five days or five years from now, I realize that I need to spend less time being careful.  

And, you know what?  At least for now, I don't seem to have asked for too much.  

Bring it on, baby.  I'm not always going to know what to do, but I suspect it's time to learn some life lessons about being happy and sharing experiences with someone who contributes as much, if not more, just because he wants to.  Imagine that.

Sometimes, you get exactly what you ask for, and it's one sweet deal.

Life is Like a Cupcake

Musings created during a writing activity with students calle "Life is..."

Life is Like a Cupcake


Life is like a cupcake, a concoction of ingredients topped with frosting that becomes something unique. The liner represents our beginnings – the place from which we each come. Some cupcake liners are pink; others are yellow. Still others are silicone. Each of us has a different background and upbringing, and it is this structure that shapes us into who we are.

The recipe for making cupcakes is like life’s rules. Instead of adding three eggs and beating until frothy, we follow the Golden Rule and determine whether each of our actions is appropriate for the situation at hand. The resulting batter, poured into the paper liners and baked in the oven becomes a cupcake, which is like each person. It’s size, shape, texture, and appeal is determined by which ingredients have been added to the batter.

Each cupcake, no matter how carefully made, turns out slightly different. Each of us is unique, though like cupcakes, we come in batches. We grow up in a community, a society at large, just as cupcakes come in groups of 12 or 24. In addition, the texture of cupcakes is neither liquid smooth nor teeth-cracking hard. Life isn’t either; events, situations, and feelings can be described in shades of gray, with right or wrong, true or false hard to define.

The frosting on top of the cupcake defines the cupcake as more than a muffin – it becomes dessert. The frosting is like our families and friends, the people who make life worth living. The sprinkles and cherries represent those joyous moments in life that are sometimes spread far apart. They exist, nonetheless, and make life worth living and the cupcake worth eating.

Life is like a cupcake, a combination of separate ingredients that, when combined, become rich and exciting.