gossip

The tongue is our most handy and powerful organ. We use it to savour different tastes and flavours, to swallow, and to form words. Some people get creative and use it for other purposes, but I won't get into that now. The tongue can be sensitive, sensual, practical, and destructive. At its harshest, it can tear down people, start rumours, destroy reputations, and spread nasty gossip. In its beneficial mode, it can lavish praise, deliver great presentations, give support, and mend fights.

Perhaps the most destructive use of the tongue is to spread gossip. Gossip exists everywhere, and the popularity of soap operas confirms its power and influence. Gossiping is bad because bits and pieces of information are passed on like a game of Chinese Whispers; each person involved adds their two cents, turning an innocent comment into a major scandal.

I'm guilty of this habit, and although I may think it's harmless and mostly driven by boredom, it might one day lead to something serious. It would be unrealistic of me to say I'll never gossip again, but I will try to think before I pass on any information that might hurt someone else. On that note, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. It irritates me when people criticise others, make unnecessary harsh comments, or mock someone just for the sake of it. It makes my blood boil when I witness this, and I wonder if these people speak just to make noise. There is no such thing as constructive criticism.

Everyone should be comfortable in their own skin, and the world would be a better place if we could all just be kind to each other. Group hug, everyone!

"All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles, and creatures of the sea are being tamed and have been tamed by man, but no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison."  - James 3:7-8

full in a box

Anthony gets a ton of text messages every day. I know, because I’m the one sending them. Every time I have a thought, a funny idea, or read something interesting, I drop everything and shoot him a message. Vodafone must love me.

He’s received gems like: “My throat is sore,” “I just bought a slurpy drink. Is it normal to crave sugar this early?” and “I’m falling asleep at work.” Most of my texts are brief, but occasionally, I’ll send him quotes or Bible verses. Despite the barrage, he claims my dozens of texts per hour don’t bother him. Either he really likes me, or he finds it comforting to know someone is constantly thinking about him.

I’m starting to miss his face. He’s gone interstate for a scout camp and won’t be back for another eight days. To keep myself distracted (not that it's hard, given my 12-hour shifts at a mind-numbing job), I reminisce about our time together. Unfortunately, my timing for daydreaming is terrible. My mind always seems to drift when I’m driving at night. The other night, I was on the road, replaying a conversation we had, and I laughed so hard I nearly crashed my car. So, if you ever see a black hatchback with someone laughing behind the wheel, it’s probably yours truly.

bum chums

Yesterday, Anthony and I were watching our favourite show, Friends. The episode was about the different stages of a relationship. I looked at him and asked if our honeymoon period was over, wondering if we’d become too comfortable. He assured me we were still fun and happening.

This, of course, after he’d spent his day teaching Sunday school and furniture shopping with his family, while I was slogging away at work. We met up after church for dinner at a local restaurant because driving too far would delay the eating process.

He was sitting next to me watching TV while I listened to a sermon on my laptop. The only things missing were knitting needles, a rocking chair, and some false teeth. That’s when we realised our lives were truly riveting.

I could wallow in despair, wishing we were suddenly more interesting people, but at some point, you have to embrace who you are. Anthony and I have crazy work schedules, and as insane as it sounds, we like to spend our free time doing my favourite activity (eating) or watching DVDs together.

I was perfectly content with this arrangement, but he thought we needed to pick up a sport as a new hobby, trying to convince me that a bit of exercise wouldn’t kill us. After all, he was a fit person before meeting me, so I’m guessing he’s starting to miss the outdoors. I have a talent for turning perfectly healthy and athletic people into couch potatoes.