Category: Guest Bloggers

Quotista Is Twitter For Quotes, Says Founder Jaana Metsamaa

This never happens to jeff noel (knock on wood), but if it ever happens to you…

Quotista.com is Twitter for quotes

Quotista.com is a social networking site for quote lovers. The idea behind Quotista is to both share and discover interesting content through quotes. If you see a good quote in your home feed from an user with similar interest to yours, you’d be motivated to also read the book or article. Instead of directly linking to a long article on Twitter, you highlight the most relevant part with Quotista browser bookmarklet and share the Quotista link instead.

Quotista emphasises the social experience of quoting – you can follow other users, requote and comment quotes. Quotista is tightly integrated with Facebook and Twitter, using those you can create an account and in the future share your quotations automatically to those networks. If someone comments or likes your quote on Facebook the comment also appears in your quote feed on Quotista.

Quotista was founded during a Garage48.org boot camp event in Estonia in August 2010. The team behind it sees it as a cool quote collection to browse but also as a tool for writers. Next time you’re writing a blog post or creating another Powerpoint presentation, go to Quotista, according to them there really should be a quote for every occasion. Since all the quotes are crowd sourced then most of the quotes are a bit different from your ordinary “50 000 quotes about life” collections. Currently the most popular topics are quotes on inspiration and startups.

Features

* Collect and organise your favourite quotes from any source:
* Books
* Movies
* Blogs and websites
* Music
* Real life
* Follow other Quotistas to discover great new content.
* Requote and one click quote share to Facebook and Twitter.
* Use our browser bookmarklet to share web quotes with an ease.

Founder Jaana emailed me recently and I finally registered today. You can use Facebook or Twitter to register for free. Amazing social platform for quote lovers.

Next Blog

Erase The Signs Of Aging, By Lorie Sheffer

Last week an elderly relative of mine confided in a small group of friends that her son doesn’t seem to understand that she can no longer do things she could do even ten years ago. A mutual friend of ours chimed in with what I realized is a quite reasonable explanation. “Logically he knows that you’re 90, but in his mind he sees you as about 45. I couldn’t understand why my mom couldn’t just go out and dig her own garden anymore. I saw her as middle aged, right up until she very visibly was suffering from dementia at age 80.”

I came home and got out some old photo albums. My great grandmother wore a flowered print dress, thick stockings, orthopedic shoes and a bonnet and apron. In contrast, the woman who had made the complaint about her son had been wearing a lovely pair of tailored slacks with a tailored shirt and a structured jacket. She carried a buttery soft leather bag and wore beautiful ballet flats.  Next I looked at photos from my parent’s wedding. Both of my grandmothers looked lovely. As a side note, neither ever learned to drive a car. The year was 1951, and they were true to the amazing style of that time. But they looked their age. I compared it to photos from my son’s wedding, and noted the difference between my grandmothers and us moms in the newer photo. My grandmas were wearing sensible shoes, while I was wearing stiletto evening sandals. In the newer photos the mother of the bride is out on the dance floor showing the kids a thing or two. I was also struck by the comparison between my mother and grandmother. Photos of my grandmother show an exceptionally pretty woman who was chubby and rosy cheeked; the quintessential Grandma. I vividly remember the first time we saw her wearing slacks instead of her usual dress. It was in the early 1970s and she decided she was going to jump on the new pantsuit trend. That in contrast to my mother, who at 77 years old had this past winter took to tucking her jeans into her knee high leather boots.

While I would never suggest that all those 60+-year-old fashionistas should revert to the days of housedresses and sensible shoes, I can see where there is some confusion.  Our style really does reflect who we are as a person, at least to some degree. When we see 65-year-old Helen Mirren looking spectacular in a red bikini, we see her as being not only confident, but also almost ridiculously physically fit. I don’t think that we would be concerned that she needs help with carrying her laundry upstairs. While all of the advances in skin care and cosmetics, and yes, Botox and Restylane, have erased the signs of age, the fact is they have not literally erased the years. Yes, we have medical advances that have enabled us to live longer and healthier lives, and that is great. But we have also blurred the line of perception so that when a 90 year old woman who looks decades younger than her chronological age asks for help, the response may not be as fast as she had hoped.

Zombie Invasion, By Lorie Sheffer

My grandson, in discussing the serious subject of who he would want to have on his team in the event of a Zombie invasion, laughed when my daughter suggested to him, “I’d want your LoLo on my team.”

Without missing a beat he shot back, “Momma, LoLo can’t run.”

Why should it bother me that an 11 year old would automatically assume I couldn’t run? This is the child with whom I spent nearly every day of his life from the day he was born until just last year, when his mother’s career change allowed her to get him off of the bus every afternoon. I was under the impression that he thought I was a super hero. I’m the one who hard boiled and packaged an egg for him that just few weeks ago beat out 70 others in some weird egg boxing match at his school. I have spent many summer days doing cannonballs into the pool with him. I was stunned that I would not be someone he would automatically want on his team should Zombies ever invade.

Today I went to my daughter’s house to help her prepare for a yard sale, and just in time to meet Carter as he got home from school. I challenged him to a race. I told him that I wanted to run across the front yards. He actually laughed at my crazy idea and me. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve actually moved faster than a brisk walk in at least 15 years.

We stood side by side at the edge of the neighbor’s driveway. My daughter called the race, holding her hands out so that whichever of us slapped her hand first would be declared the winner. I gritted my teeth, dug in my feet and flew off the start, determined not to let this boy win. Arms pumping, I pushed off with every step, digging in and using my feet to propel the rest of me forward. My eyes squinted shut and I reached out toward my daughter’s hand, smacking it square in the palm. I then ran into my car, which was parked in the driveway. I turned around, panting and puffing, to see my grandson standing there with a look of disbelief on his face. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. I stopped on the way home for some lavender scented Epsom salts and a fresh bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. My breathing has since returned to normal.

Who do you want on your team of Zombie fighters now? Huh? Because what self respecting middle aged grandmother isn’t going to want to beat an 11 year old in a front yard footrace?

Things That Matter, By Lorie Sheffer

Sometimes it amazes me when I observe what stresses people out. Just the other day, a TV show came on and my father commented on how he can’t stand the host. He said she gets on his last nerve. Whenever I am at his house at that time of day, the TV is tuned to that channel and he is watching that show. The remote is right beside of him.

My husband and I were standing in line at a deli on Thursday afternoon and overheard two people talking about the Royal Wedding. Said they were sick of reading about it. Why read it, then, I wondered? I will often hear people complain about how depressing it is to watch the news, and I can’t help but wonder why they don’t just turn off the TV and go read a book or listen to music?

When my son was a teenager he wore his hair rather long. In fact, his ponytail ended at the middle of his back. More than once the comment was made to me that “MY son would never get away with that! I’d make him cut that hair!” When my daughter came home from school with her tongue pierced the comments were off the charts. Call me crazy, but it was just never an issue for me. Why get my shorts in a knot over things that really don’t matter? Eventually she got sick of the tongue jewelry and he cut his hair.

I was nearing 50 when I decided to find out what all the fuss was about; I got a tattoo. I sort of thought it would be fun. The biggest decision was should I get the Aerosmith logo or my husband’s name in a heart. I ended up getting the name in a heart for his birthday. What else can you get a man who has everything? After being asked what I had gotten Gary for his birthday, I actually had someone tell me that they HATE tattoos. “OK”, I replied. “Then don’t get one.” They were upset and bordering on angry with me over a small tattoo that they were never even going to have to look at. They behaved as if I had drugged them and inked them against their will. After calmly assuring them that it was perfectly fine with me that they didn’t care for tattoos, they still ranted on. Looking back, I think it upset them more that I was unaffected by their opinion.

Sometimes the answers to what is bothering us are simple. In fact, they can be as simple as “Turn the channel”, “Don’t read about it”, “It’s not hurting anyone and it will pass in time”, and “So don’t do it if you don’t like it.”  That TV host can’t hear you, the news is going to happen with or without your approval, even good kids find strange ways to express themselves, and why freak out over something another person does, especially if it really has no affect on you?  Why would anyone want to cause themselves stress over things that really don’t matter?

Dabble, By Lorie Sheffer

My shrink: What do you do for fun?
Me: Huh?
My shrink: What do you do for fun? Just for you? What do you enjoy doing? What’s your hobby or interest?
Me: God… I don’t know…. I don’t remember……. (panic sets in)
My shrink: You’re going to have to just dabble. Eventually you’ll know the answer.

Kids seem to know what it means to dabble. They naturally jump from one interest to another, often taking years before they find their true passion. When they hit it, they know. It’s the thing for which they don’t lose interest or have to be nagged into practicing. As adults, we are the ones who chauffer them from the practice field to the dance studio, from play practice to the ice rink. Along the way, it’s very easy to lose sight of our own interests. In the real life world of shuttling kids to their activities, trying to eat something besides drive through meals, and tending to work and home related chores, “me time” can take a back seat. Then one day, the kids are grown and our time is our own. When that happens, we may find ourselves wondering, “Now what?”

Several years ago I found myself with nothing to do. My daughter was grown and had a son or her own, and my son was in college 8 hours away from home. I could do whatever I wanted with this newfound free time. The problem was, so many years had passed since my children weren’t the center of my world that I couldn’t remember what I enjoyed doing that didn’t revolve around them. That was when I realized that I, too, would have to learn to dabble. I would have to revert to my childhood and try out new things until I found what spoke to me.

I tried out gardening and I fell in love with it. Thankfully I live only minutes from a large garden center, and I would sometimes get there just as they were opening for the day. I could spend the entire day just digging in the dirt, planting and transplanting. The trouble is, here in the northeast warm weather doesn’t last year round. Over the years, I found that I also enjoy painting. Not on canvas so much as on walls. My dad laughs and says that I have painted the rooms in my house so many times that they are noticeably smaller than when we first moved in. I learned to hang wallpaper, refinish furniture and hone my sewing skills. I found that yoga is the only form of exercise I look forward to. I am learning how I enjoy spending my time. Former President Jimmy Carter didn’t learn to ski until be was 62. I learned when I was in my early 20s, and although I became rather good at it, I never enjoyed it. Maybe I would have appreciated it more if I’d have waited.