I HAVE GREAT TASTE AND SO DO YOU…

I have really great taste. I decided that way back in early 1970 when I worked in the women's fashion business in Denmark. European fashion critics, observers and related magazines kept hammering on everybody, telling us what good taste was and what was bad taste. I all of a sudden realized that I was not comfortable being told by anybody what I should think concerning my tastes, good or bad. So I decided that whatever taste I had was good; it was actually great – for me.

Tastes and opinions about anything and everything are in my book of references very personal. Nobody can tell me otherwise anymore. The downside is that I have to respect other people's “tastes”, not meaning that I agree with what they are, but I still have to respect their choices, because according to my own rules, they also have great taste. Of course when we see this hideous person’s mind-numbing outfit (in a really bad way), we wonder what the heck she has been sniffing, snorting, inhaling or eaten. But when we consider that she actually checked herself in the mirror before she went out that morning and was very pleased with what she saw, we have to respect her taste, don't we? You see, based on my decision of the early 1970’s, individually we all have great taste, it's our own and it's unique. Makes you feel kind of warm and cuddly inside, huh?

We are constantly bombarded with how we should think, feel, like, buy and use from advertising and commercials, friends, family and surroundings, from all over the blooming place 24/7. I’m actually fine with that, as I have learned to filter out the blatant lies, avoid being pulled in and told where to go, this way negating being manipulated. So whatever they hit us with, we are now able to decide on our own, choose what WE like and not what THEY want us to like, wear and drink. With hidden messages they even threaten us, that if we don't do what they want us to do or buy or think, we are unfit for society and will die lonely, poor, sorry and sad; that's what they tell us - more or less. But you and I? We are strong because we take a stand by telling them that we are in control and that we know what good taste is; we are in charge - so take that!

Amongst so many other things concerning this, I have a bone to pick with art. Again THEY (whoever the heck they are) tell us what good art is and what art is bad. But the simplicity is, that if I think it’s good, it’s good, even if they keep telling me it's bad; don't they get it? Same with movie critics. Here we have one person telling us what movie we should go see or not, by the quantity of those stupid little stars they attach to their opinions. Does it make sense to go see a movie or not, based on the opinion of only one person? No, it really doesn't make sense. I knew you would agree. (See, I assumed your opinion; manipulation is a piece of cake)…

Okay, I admit I have not fine-tuned this whole concept yet because my immature reactions are still forthcoming, showing their ugly heads. Example: I see the woman in that hideous outfit and instead of respecting her taste in clothing and accept her choices, (and when nobody is listening), I pretty much go: “What the heck is her problem; that outfit sucks sky high.” Well, so much for respect and acceptance. But then again, did I state anywhere above that I’m perfect? I do feel I am allowed to express a little disdain for other people’s real bad taste (when nobody is listening). I can do that because I have such great taste to compare it with – and so do you. We shouldn't have a problem with that, should we? I knew you would agree...

 

Thought of the week:

When each of us respect diversity, we all get stronger - together.

Make it a good one, please...

MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL

Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all? Most of us remember that scene when the queen asks the mirror to confirm she is still more beautiful than Snow White. By the way, as a kid I wanted so bad to fall in love with Snow White, but I couldn't; it was due to that rather irritating high-pitched voice of hers. I had the same problem with Bambi... Only kidding. - Well, back to the mirrors.

I have never had a good relationship with mirrors; seems like they all have something against me, or at least something against the image of me. It doesn't matter what side of me I try to reflect, it's always the same result: Oh no, not again... Sure there are the few times I get a glimpse of a ruggedly handsome Mr. Steiness; I gloat a bit, smirk, walk away, but hurry back to make sure I wasn't just seeing things - but for the most I am; he was gone as fast as he had appeared - dang it...

Can we assume George Clooney doesn't suffer my mirror problems? In my opinion, he is top-of-the-list handsome. But does he ever stand in front of the mirror, smiling that charming smile of his and utter: "I am still more handsome than Tom and Brad." I think he does. I could utter the same thing, but would unfortunately not be referring to the same Tom and Brad.

I have always found it fascinating watching people in front of mirrors watching (admiring?) themselves. Some leave shaking their heads, some with tears of joy, others pump their fists, a few have smirks on their faces and some, like me, simply avoid mirrors all together. Don't misunderstand me, this is not a call for help from Mr. Low-Self-Esteem, not at all. In other areas I am rather sure of myself (when I recall what any of those other areas are, I'll let you know). And that brings up photographs.

Now, you tell me what it is we like so much about being photographed - because that's what it's all about: images of ME. We force our way into any photo, then we turn on silly faces, we smile and will do anything to stand out. Don't worry, we are all a bit like that, and I have always wondered why that is. Are we that self-absorbed, so self-centered? I don't think so; I just don't know why - do you? Another thing is that after we push ourselves into the pictures and then see that image of ourselves on the LCD screen, on the paper, the monitor, the mobile, we scream: Gee, I'm so ugly, stupid, insane (or whatever). Sometimes we find a photo that actually is really good, where we do look handsome, charming, beautiful (or whatever), but this satisfied opinion we keep to ourselves; I mean, we are not that shallow, are we?
I only have one picture of me where I'm cute and adorable. It's a black and white photo from 1946, I was barely 3 months old; seriously, it is very cute - for the wallet (if I had one).

At times I ask my wife and very best friend ever, if I'm okay looking. She always answers: "I think you are". And in the end, that IS all that matters - for her and especially for me. The thing is that we NEVER see ourselves the same way other people see us. What we look like to other people is extremely different from what we think we look like, mirrors or no mirrors. So I certainly hope that people see something in me that I don't see myself.

Therefor my logical conclusion is that when they do look at Peter B. Steiness, they do actually see a lot of George Clooney - (well, you might if you try really hard - please!)

Make it a productive week whatever you are doing - legally.

Best Regards,

Peter

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY - SO, WHATEVER...

Certain annual events (that's "once a year" for those of you living in Aarhus, Denmark) are cool, really. Xmas being one of them - but that's about it for me. My birthday is coming up later this week, but I don't feel any of the excitement I felt as a little boy; it seems to fade away as we get older. It always felt awkward opening presents, trying desperately not sounding fake with the oohs & aahs as everybody looked on. The self-knitted woolen socks my grandmother gave me every bloody year; did she really hate me that much? My mother forced me to wear them; that's "conspiracy" if you ask me. And then there is the illogical cake bit...

You hit the mature age of one and get only one lousy candle on top of the cake. Now where the heck is the fun in that? We should establish an average life-expectancy, let's say 75 for males and a lot longer for females, of course. So the one year old boy should start with 75 candles on the cake (and garden-hose at the ready), and the 75 year old geezer would end up with just one candle, this way not having to blow out 75 candles while making a desperate wish that the dentures won't land in the frosting. Any birthday after 75 is a bonus - no candles at all... Makes sense to you? I thought so...

Paul McCartney and I celebrate on the same day. He's still a bit older than I, and I'm hitting 65. I'm more worried about Paul getting "so old" than I'm about my own age. I was a big Beatles-fan (still am) but in my ignorance through the years, I wanted the Fab Four to stay the same, and certainly not have John and George dead. And that's another part of "birthday" I don't care much about, when it becomes more so a reminder of... Oh well, let's finish on a happy note... So why only "birthday child" and not "birthday adult"?

On my upcoming birthday I will feel pampered simply by having my wife, our two sons and their terrific girlfriends together for a BBQ - and I tell you, that is a heck of a lot better than a pair of my grandmother's woolen socks.

Best Regards,
Peter B. Steiness

PS. Please make it a good week and why not give one compliment a day to somebody. They will like getting one as much as you will like giving one. I tried it, and that's how it works - really...

TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH - I don't know if I'm Lying

I'm very wary of people who says: "to tell you the truth" or use the terms: "quite frankly" or "honestly". I don't know about you, but doesn't that make you wonder how much truth has been communicated to you up till that point?

Let's get this straight: a lie is a lie, no matter what color is attached. Sure we all hide behind "white lies", white, assumed to be the color of innocence; so does that make it more acceptable? To me, a white one is still a lie.

But it's not your fault, it's our parent's fault, of course; they taught us how to do it, and when we become parents we do the same - well not I, of course. We tell our children that the "painting" they brought home from kindergarten is "beautiful" - is that really the truth only because we know nothing about art? We are asked several times daily: "How are you?" and for the most we lie: "Fine, thanks", no matter how awful we feel. And so forth.

If we could just tell the truth, things would be a lot easier and faster. In court: Judge: "Did you commit this crime? Alleged criminal: "Yes, Sir - and I'm sorry...". Friend: "How do you like my new dress?" Soon to be ex-friend: "It sucks and make you look fat and not very attractive." And the classic: "This car has only had one owner - a little old lady with blue hair...". You get the picture.

The disturbing part about this is two-fold: It seems we can't co-exist without lying, and that is sad. But what's even sadder is that we all accept lying to be part of our communication with fellow men, women and children; we are all lying and we all know we are lied to - and I think that's sad, to tell you the truth...

Make it a lovely week and maybe a more truthful one? I know, too much to ask - really.