Tuesday, June 28, 2011
God Bless Americupcakes
For a blog entitled "Cupcakes and Musings," I've realized how pitifully scant my posts about cupcakes are. This is my attempt to remedy that. To cupcakes out there that I've failed to acknowledge, I apologize. I won't let it happen again. And to everyone else, happy early 4th of July :)
Saturday, June 25, 2011
The Calculation of Risk
Hello, dear friends! It's been a few weeks since I last posted here. The Texas summer heat has certainly arrived, bringing along hot breezes, mosquitos, and beautiful sunsets. For some lucky souls, summer is a time of refuge - days are spent at the pool, on vacation, or simply on the couch in the a/c. This summer, however, I'm working, volunteering, and taking 3 summer classes. Sound easy? A few months ago when I registered for classes, I thought so, too. Don't get me wrong; I love what I'm studying, and I'm eager to learn more. Still, I'm counting down the days til my last final of the summer: 48!
Today's topic is centered around the idea of risk. Andrew and I had a fun conversation about this today, and it really sparked my thoughts. Just how much risk is too much, and how much is too little? I'm sure there are people who would love to argue that there's no such thing as too much risk, and there's probably those of you who would love to say that risk is just too risky, and any bit is too much. There's so many thoughts churning through my poor graduate studies-drenched brain right now, it's hard to keep them all straight.
What motivates us to take risks? Before I could begin to ponder this, I felt that I needed a solid definition of "risk." According to Mr. Webster, risk is "the possibility of loss or injury, someone or something that creates or suggests a hazard," and several other ominous sounding things. I read these definitions, and I found myself wondering, why on earth would anyone want to take a risk if they're going to lose something? And then I realized the subtle cleverness of this definition: risk is the possibility of loss or injury. It's not a promise of a negative side effect, but the mere possibility. People don't take risks unless they feel like they have something to gain. People who take risks are dreamers; they probably know what's at stake, and they probably know the consequences of their actions if they fail. But if you succeed in reaching insert-your-personal-goal-here, the risk is worth it.
Some of us like to think that we're invincible, and we take lots of risks. We think, that'll never happen to me. And maybe it doesn't. Maybe we're lucky, and we live another day and another after that. Some of us like to think that we're incredibly vulnerable, and we shy away from risks. We worry about what could happen and what might happen. We live safe lives, but we probably always wonder what's out there.
Risk is everywhere. It's so easily apparent, it's easy to miss. How's that for a paradox? We take a risk when we fall in love, when we drive in a car, when we walk on the sidewalk. We take a risk when we sit on our couch (because all that sedentary activity might lead to obesity), and we take a risk when we go running outside (because you might overwork yourself and give yourself a heart attack). We take a risk when we learn to walk, and we take a risk when we apply for a job. We take a risk when we climb a mountain, and we take a risk when we share a secret with someone. Life is full of risk. Maybe life even is risk itself. (At this point, I've typed 'risk' so many types, it's looking like a made-up word)
And so, my friends, I have no answer for you. I don't know how much risk is too much, or if there is such a thing as too much. I can only say what I know to be true for myself. I can't avoid risk, so I must embrace it and all the possibilities it brings. I think 5 steps ahead, even though I know my plans will change. Still, I'd rather take a few risks than wait for life to develop on its own. I don't want to miss out just because I'm afraid of a possibility. As the great Michelangelo once said, "The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.”
Today's topic is centered around the idea of risk. Andrew and I had a fun conversation about this today, and it really sparked my thoughts. Just how much risk is too much, and how much is too little? I'm sure there are people who would love to argue that there's no such thing as too much risk, and there's probably those of you who would love to say that risk is just too risky, and any bit is too much. There's so many thoughts churning through my poor graduate studies-drenched brain right now, it's hard to keep them all straight.
What motivates us to take risks? Before I could begin to ponder this, I felt that I needed a solid definition of "risk." According to Mr. Webster, risk is "the possibility of loss or injury, someone or something that creates or suggests a hazard," and several other ominous sounding things. I read these definitions, and I found myself wondering, why on earth would anyone want to take a risk if they're going to lose something? And then I realized the subtle cleverness of this definition: risk is the possibility of loss or injury. It's not a promise of a negative side effect, but the mere possibility. People don't take risks unless they feel like they have something to gain. People who take risks are dreamers; they probably know what's at stake, and they probably know the consequences of their actions if they fail. But if you succeed in reaching insert-your-personal-goal-here, the risk is worth it.
Some of us like to think that we're invincible, and we take lots of risks. We think, that'll never happen to me. And maybe it doesn't. Maybe we're lucky, and we live another day and another after that. Some of us like to think that we're incredibly vulnerable, and we shy away from risks. We worry about what could happen and what might happen. We live safe lives, but we probably always wonder what's out there.
Risk is everywhere. It's so easily apparent, it's easy to miss. How's that for a paradox? We take a risk when we fall in love, when we drive in a car, when we walk on the sidewalk. We take a risk when we sit on our couch (because all that sedentary activity might lead to obesity), and we take a risk when we go running outside (because you might overwork yourself and give yourself a heart attack). We take a risk when we learn to walk, and we take a risk when we apply for a job. We take a risk when we climb a mountain, and we take a risk when we share a secret with someone. Life is full of risk. Maybe life even is risk itself. (At this point, I've typed 'risk' so many types, it's looking like a made-up word)
And so, my friends, I have no answer for you. I don't know how much risk is too much, or if there is such a thing as too much. I can only say what I know to be true for myself. I can't avoid risk, so I must embrace it and all the possibilities it brings. I think 5 steps ahead, even though I know my plans will change. Still, I'd rather take a few risks than wait for life to develop on its own. I don't want to miss out just because I'm afraid of a possibility. As the great Michelangelo once said, "The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.”
Sunday, June 5, 2011
A Bird's Eye View
I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine. (You know I'm desperate to get a puppy when I start naming the neighborhood wildlife... But that's another story for another time.) Today, I learned some unexpected lessons in family life from some mockingbirds.
About two weeks ago, two mockingbirds began building a nest in the woodwork above my backyard patio. I began to doubt that there would be any eggs waiting in this nest because it seemed so quiet, but the two birds busily continued to add twigs and weeds to their home. Days went by, and I kept checking for signs of baby birds to fawn over, but there was no such luck.
This morning, I awoke to the sounds of excited chirping from the backyard. The baby birds had finally arrived! All day, I've been fascinated with watching them through the window and from below on the patio. There's a tangible tingle of excitement in the air; I'm not even in the same species as these birds, and I can tell they're excited.
Like I said, I've been enamored with these birds all day. The mama and daddy birds were very clever with the placement of the nest - it's nearly impossible to get a good look at the new little birds. Being my curious, troublesome self, I was determined to get a long glimpse of these new babies, and I wanted to snap a photo. So I stood on a patio chair to get a closer look, making sure that the parent birds weren't in sight. Just when I was about to take a picture of the three most precious baby birds, one of the angry parents swooped at my head with lots of angry cries as the other watched closely nearby. Of course, I screamed and jumped off the chair and ran away. Really brave, right? As I retreated to the other corner of the patio to catch my breath, I realized that I had just witnessed some stellar parenting skills.
These mockingbirds are fierce protectors of their young, as I learned today. They plan ahead, and they're not impulsive. They're not helicopter parents, and they don't hover over the nest needlessly. They return every so often with some food for their little ones, and they strike swiftly at the first sign of trouble. The two parents work together as a team, and they both seem to have each other's back. I have to say, I admire that. Not being a parent myself, I can only imagine how difficult it is to strike that balance between protection and smothering. It seems like these mockingbirds have it right, though, and it's only their first day of parenting. Pretty impressive, I think.
About two weeks ago, two mockingbirds began building a nest in the woodwork above my backyard patio. I began to doubt that there would be any eggs waiting in this nest because it seemed so quiet, but the two birds busily continued to add twigs and weeds to their home. Days went by, and I kept checking for signs of baby birds to fawn over, but there was no such luck.
This morning, I awoke to the sounds of excited chirping from the backyard. The baby birds had finally arrived! All day, I've been fascinated with watching them through the window and from below on the patio. There's a tangible tingle of excitement in the air; I'm not even in the same species as these birds, and I can tell they're excited.
Like I said, I've been enamored with these birds all day. The mama and daddy birds were very clever with the placement of the nest - it's nearly impossible to get a good look at the new little birds. Being my curious, troublesome self, I was determined to get a long glimpse of these new babies, and I wanted to snap a photo. So I stood on a patio chair to get a closer look, making sure that the parent birds weren't in sight. Just when I was about to take a picture of the three most precious baby birds, one of the angry parents swooped at my head with lots of angry cries as the other watched closely nearby. Of course, I screamed and jumped off the chair and ran away. Really brave, right? As I retreated to the other corner of the patio to catch my breath, I realized that I had just witnessed some stellar parenting skills.
These mockingbirds are fierce protectors of their young, as I learned today. They plan ahead, and they're not impulsive. They're not helicopter parents, and they don't hover over the nest needlessly. They return every so often with some food for their little ones, and they strike swiftly at the first sign of trouble. The two parents work together as a team, and they both seem to have each other's back. I have to say, I admire that. Not being a parent myself, I can only imagine how difficult it is to strike that balance between protection and smothering. It seems like these mockingbirds have it right, though, and it's only their first day of parenting. Pretty impressive, I think.
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| Baby birds' nest (this was the closest I was allowed to get, haha) |
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| Mama Bird - "Scout" |
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| Daddy Bird - "Felix" |
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