Boor

Boor: (n) an unrefined, ill-mannered person.

Personal revelations are risky.Dictionary B

You may think you’re being transparent or even clever–but others might find you to be a boor.

In other words, distasteful.

But at the root of all comedy–which is really the best doorway to mutual human understanding–is a certain amount of surprising revelation.

Yet there is a reason we disdain bathroom humor, even though we all take a crap.

So what can we share without people squinting and expressing their disapproval over our candor?

Tricky business, huh?

For instance, I could tell you that I enjoy farting. It is very true. But there is a certain amount of my readership that would assert that such a confession is classless. They would feel superior to me. Even if I explained that I try to do most of my farting under the covers, and not welcome others to visit, or that the relief it gives to my tummy has an almost supernatural-salvation sensation, I would still be in danger of being cast into the role of the boor, who must be segregated from the decent folk.

So to keep from being an outcast, I would never, ever admit to you that I relish farting.

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Befit

Befit: (v) to be appropriate for; suitable.Dictionary B

Flirting with the possibility of overstatement, I will tell you that it was one of the greater revelations of my life. It struck me like a bolt of lightning (even though I have no true encounter with that sensation.) I think it would be better phrased that it was like waking up from a bad dream.

It was the day I realized that I was way too fussy about meaningless things and very mediocre about important ones.

The matters in my life that were insignificant I had turned into major issues, and the opportunities for me to be an individual and creative, I had relegated to the back burner, or worse, to the great pit of procrastination.

And so I started rating my activities from 1 to 10.

  • I’m buying a toothbrush today. In level of importance, shall we call that a 2?
  • I’m writing a letter to a friend in need. That sounds like an 8.
  • I’m paying my bills. Shall we give that a 5?

After doing this for about two weeks, I saw that I had been selecting to be bratty over small things in order to avoid improving my life in the more essential areas.

I realized that it did not befit me to be so nasty about the trivial, leaving the greater possibilities the scrubs of my time.

If it doesn’t make any difference, then make sure you don’t give it too much significance.

It does not befit a child of God to pretend that he or she is an orphan, worrying to the point of frustration.

I am able to discern the better portions of that which makes me a better person.

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