Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.
— Mark Twain—

I was driving through a busy, tourist-filled parking lot when it happened. A man pulled out right in front of me. I quickly slammed the brakes to avoid a collision, but still ended up so close, I could clearly make out his facial expression. I saw him mouthing something and immediately thought, “What a jerk.” As he pulled around me, he rolled down his window and stopped. “I am so sorry,” he said, sincerely. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” I responded and smiled.

Micromanaging never works. It’s demoralizing. It oppresses the talented and shuts down the oppressed. Rarely does it inspire new solutions, encourage open mindedness, or stimulate positive collaboration. More often than not, experience has shown that when people are micromanaged, an insurmountable amount of alienation, pushback, and non-productivity is created. Basically, micromanaging breeds negativity, which is highly contagious.

Micromanaged employees form alliances fueled by the hatred of their micromanager. Usually, these frenzied alliances are nourished by incessant discussions about the micromanager’s perceived kingdom, where negativity—poor conditions, poor decisions, feeling unheard, feeling undermined, feeling unappreciated and disrespected—abounds. In fact, as “watercooler” talk increases, the negativity escalates, even if nothing has changed. Left untended, the situation can grow to monstrous proportions.

She was the type of girl
the moon chased and
the stars wished for.
— K.K. Lall —

The theme of this month’s magazine is #LiveOutLoud. It’s a euphemism for: Be a badass. When I think of the stereotypical image of a female badass, I think of singers Pink and Madonna, Venus and Serena Williams, Wonder Woman, or some helmet-covered, platinum blonde barreling down I-95 on her own damn Harley—not on the back of his. The truth is all of these women’s lives scream badassery—they definitely live out loud!

However, I think there’s more to it …

If you’re lucky enough
to live near the beach,
then you’re lucky enough.
— Anonymous —

When I was 13-years-old, I prayed to move to Hilton Head Island. Though I meant right then, my prayers were answered 10 years later for a short stint, and again 14 years after that, for a total of 18 years so far. Even at age 13, I discerned that life in the Lowcountry was different. I knew it was a place I wanted to call home.

By the time a little girl reaches age two, the process and ritual of making friends is well underway. Even in its most infantile state, socialization among others is of utmost importance in our development as human beings. When you’re that little it doesn’t matter who you play with, girls or boys, it’s all just fun.

But by the ripe old age of four-or-five-years-old, we begin gravitating to our same gender for friendship. It’s because we inevitability have more in common, and usually don’t get ridiculed for doing “girl things” by other girls (at least at that age).