Don’t be a Lemming

I bet when you started reading this post, you were thinking, “Ah yes. Here we go. A diatribe about being yourself and not going with the crowd, yadda yadda yadda.” Although those are great things you should already know, this is much more mind-blowing.

Did you know that the popularized “fact” that lemmings will commit mass suicides is a complete farce? Although many will remember seeing the depictions of this “behavior” in Disney’s “White Wilderness” (which won an Academy Award, people) it was a fabrication.

Let that sink in for a second.

And thus, I want you to heed a more true lesson from these cute little fuzzballs: don’t let anyone tell your story for you. Do you think right now those lemmings are losing sleep, pondering over the fact that people believe they are getting ready to fling themselves out into the void? Do you think they are looking into their little lemming mirrors, saying, “Why do people think I’m such a conformist?” No. They are way too busy living life to the fullest. And sure, that life may basically be “eat, sleep, run around, repeat” but it’s not one that’s being wasted concerning one’s self over the misconceptions of others.

Defy expectation. Break every standard and stereotype. You do you. Follow the crowd if you want. Make your mark every day. And question every single documentary. I dare you.

May Haikus: 21-30

Respecting writers
Means accepting mastery
While expecting flaws.

A big city life
Means compromising your space
For promised culture.

Through the dappled wood:
Our footsteps a steady beat
Accented with breath.

Sundays are the best
When Monday is not in sight.
Save work for Tuesday.

Fireworks, cookouts:
Celebrations in order
To recall great lives.

The shoes of adults
Are not meant for the barefoot;
Laces too binding.

Darkest before dawn,
The deep breath after the sobs.
Come on. Time to work.

Lots and lots of wings:
A Pittsburgh delicacy
Best served in small hills.

Sushi for dinner
And a Target run for fun?
Weekend preamble.

May springs into grass,
Forget looking for it now.
June? Rabbit rabbit.