I love reading self help books, they fascinate me and I actually do find them super helpful.
...yes they can be a little cheesy at times, but they are really so great.
I have this one, that looks like it could be from the 70's or 80's, and it's about flirting.
I love it!
The intro to this lovely gem reminds its readers that a true flirt isn't viewed by others as a flirt. This I like! Stealthy flirting, genius!
Basically a truly talented flirt is simply a friendly person. They're not creepy and don't obviously flirt, they're just nice, pleasant people.
Here's the other thing I found interesting, this book says to flirt with everyone. Again, it's really genius. See here's the thing I'm learning about flirting is you don't just flirt for romantic purposes.
Flirting offers a way to connect with people and build a network. And of course, there should be some romantic flirting, but not with everyone.
The cool thing, is that by building this huge network of people, you have a bigger pool of people to choose from, when you're ready to dive in romantically.
Pretty cool idea, and it makes sense.
This is the end of the lesson for today, no worries, I'll have more soon!
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Dear Heart
Sweety pie, hunny buns, muffin cakes, lovey dove, pumpkin, love, cherished one, babe....
Pet names.
There are so many. I love hearing them. I love seeing couples call each other by them.
I confess, when a man uses pet names, I get a little week in the knees.
There's something magical about a special name that your love has for you. You and only you.
When that name is spoken the little butterflies in your tummy start fluttering.
I always imagine that couples that use pet names stay together longer, and are happier. Maybe because it's flirtatious, and I think that's an important part of a healthy relationship. I also think it's incredibly tender.
I remember when I was little, my dad would call my mom "Dear Heart" from time to time. Ah, I loved it when he called her that.
I felt like I was witnessing a magical, intimate moment between my parents, I felt like they must be so in love.
I wanted that.
I still want that.
Pet names.
There are so many. I love hearing them. I love seeing couples call each other by them.
I confess, when a man uses pet names, I get a little week in the knees.
There's something magical about a special name that your love has for you. You and only you.
When that name is spoken the little butterflies in your tummy start fluttering.
I always imagine that couples that use pet names stay together longer, and are happier. Maybe because it's flirtatious, and I think that's an important part of a healthy relationship. I also think it's incredibly tender.
I remember when I was little, my dad would call my mom "Dear Heart" from time to time. Ah, I loved it when he called her that.
I felt like I was witnessing a magical, intimate moment between my parents, I felt like they must be so in love.
I wanted that.
I still want that.
Part 2: Well oiled machine
(Refer to previous post "Well oiled machine" --- if you're not sure what I'm talking about here.)
So what if you find yourself with a broken down machine?
A dead relationship?
Like creatures out of a horror film, dead relations seem to be able to "live" forever!
Like the undead creatures they are, they suck the life out of everything -- everyone.
When someone finds themself in a dead relationship, it's a heartbreaking realization.
Often one will question how this could even happen. A relationship once so alive, now drains life, like an oozing ulcer.
Once this realization occurs, a choice must be made.
-Stay in the lifeless hell hole, accepting it for what it is.
-Repair the broken machine.
-Escape the hell.
Even with inaction, you are making a choice.
But a choice--nonetheless.
And choice gives you power.
So choose wisely.
So what if you find yourself with a broken down machine?
A dead relationship?
Like creatures out of a horror film, dead relations seem to be able to "live" forever!
Like the undead creatures they are, they suck the life out of everything -- everyone.
When someone finds themself in a dead relationship, it's a heartbreaking realization.
Often one will question how this could even happen. A relationship once so alive, now drains life, like an oozing ulcer.
Once this realization occurs, a choice must be made.
-Stay in the lifeless hell hole, accepting it for what it is.
-Repair the broken machine.
-Escape the hell.
Even with inaction, you are making a choice.
But a choice--nonetheless.
And choice gives you power.
So choose wisely.
Well oiled machine
In relationships, we are always making mistakes, well, in life too.
We're humans.
But particularly in relationships, we have to be aware. We have to repair damage as we create it.
And on the other end, we have to be patient, willing to forgive, when we are the recipients of hurt.
It's a constant give and take. And it takes a lot of work.
But just like a machine that goes without oil, if the give and take, repairing and forgiving, doesn't occur, it all breaks down.
Sure, pieces of the machine may function, in a way. But it will never be what it needs to be, what it can be.
Relationships require a delicate balance. There can't be only one person giving, while the other only takes. There can't be only one damaging (or only one acknowledging damage), while only one forgives. Both have to offer the same, take the same, forgive the same.
It has to stay balanced.
Or it breaks.
And dies.
We're humans.
But particularly in relationships, we have to be aware. We have to repair damage as we create it.
And on the other end, we have to be patient, willing to forgive, when we are the recipients of hurt.
It's a constant give and take. And it takes a lot of work.
But just like a machine that goes without oil, if the give and take, repairing and forgiving, doesn't occur, it all breaks down.
Sure, pieces of the machine may function, in a way. But it will never be what it needs to be, what it can be.
Relationships require a delicate balance. There can't be only one person giving, while the other only takes. There can't be only one damaging (or only one acknowledging damage), while only one forgives. Both have to offer the same, take the same, forgive the same.
It has to stay balanced.
Or it breaks.
And dies.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Wait! You forgot to close!
Imagine:
Your heart doesn't work quite like it should.
Perhaps it's stone cold and it takes a lot of muscular effort to get the blood pumping through it. Or maybe it's just too small, and has to work overtime to get the blood pumped to the tips of your toes and ends of your fingers.
Now, imagine that you are offered the chance to have a transplant. This would be great right? Keep in mind, however, you've had this bum heart for quite some time, it's not the ideal heart, but you're used to it. You know how to compensate for it's flaws. But it's flaws have the potential to end your existence early.
What do you do?
Do you keep the old classic, though not perfect/potentially lethal heart? Or do you shoot for the chance of getting a new, young, perfect heart...but a heart you don't know, one you're not familiar with?
Well, for the sake of arguing, let's say you opt in for the chance to have a new heart.
There you are, the day of surgery, so excited you can hardly keep from wetting yourself!
This is your chance, a new lease on life, a possible extension even. What a great day! How can you not be anything but elated?!
Hours later, you find yourself in recovery. You groggily open your eyes, stretching out your fingers and toes, already this new heart feels amazing!
You feel like a new person! No more compensating for that bum heart! Wow, this is just great!
You have to remain in the hospital for a few weeks, and you are told not to fiddle with your bandages. Both are simple requests you willingly oblige, you're so caught up in how good you feel, you could care less.
Well...time has passed, you've never felt so good, you're ready to take on the world, and you are free to go.
As you finish checking out, the nurses tell you it's time to remove your bandages.
Layer by layer, they remove the gauze. With the removal of each layer you feel more and more exposed.
Awkward.
Uncomfortable.
Raw.
You look down. Your chest is still cracked. No stitches in place. You can see your new, young heart, beating quickly, as if it were willing your chest to close in around it.
"Wait! You forgot to close!" You shout at the nurses.
They don't even acknowledge your presence anymore.
You are ushered from the building. There are many more people waiting for their new heart, and you're in the way now.
There you are. Once protected, now fully exposed. You try desperately to pull yourself together. You're frantic.
How did it come to this? It wasn't suppose to be this way.
Sure, you have a new heart, but what good does it do you, if you can't protect it?
Now you find yourself having to compensate again. At times you put up a shield, to cover your heart. And other times, it's just there, completely open.
Each morning and each night you try to stitch the gaping hole back together. It'll get there...but the progress is slow. The closing moves in such tiny increments, you hardly ever notice the change.
Until, one day. You wake up. And you're finally whole again, finally healed, after daily efforts to put yourself back together.
Was it worth it?
That is only for you to decide.
What is better? A bum heart or new heart, exposed?
Your heart doesn't work quite like it should.
Perhaps it's stone cold and it takes a lot of muscular effort to get the blood pumping through it. Or maybe it's just too small, and has to work overtime to get the blood pumped to the tips of your toes and ends of your fingers.
Now, imagine that you are offered the chance to have a transplant. This would be great right? Keep in mind, however, you've had this bum heart for quite some time, it's not the ideal heart, but you're used to it. You know how to compensate for it's flaws. But it's flaws have the potential to end your existence early.
What do you do?
Do you keep the old classic, though not perfect/potentially lethal heart? Or do you shoot for the chance of getting a new, young, perfect heart...but a heart you don't know, one you're not familiar with?
Well, for the sake of arguing, let's say you opt in for the chance to have a new heart.
There you are, the day of surgery, so excited you can hardly keep from wetting yourself!
This is your chance, a new lease on life, a possible extension even. What a great day! How can you not be anything but elated?!
Hours later, you find yourself in recovery. You groggily open your eyes, stretching out your fingers and toes, already this new heart feels amazing!
You feel like a new person! No more compensating for that bum heart! Wow, this is just great!
You have to remain in the hospital for a few weeks, and you are told not to fiddle with your bandages. Both are simple requests you willingly oblige, you're so caught up in how good you feel, you could care less.
Well...time has passed, you've never felt so good, you're ready to take on the world, and you are free to go.
As you finish checking out, the nurses tell you it's time to remove your bandages.
Layer by layer, they remove the gauze. With the removal of each layer you feel more and more exposed.
Awkward.
Uncomfortable.
Raw.
You look down. Your chest is still cracked. No stitches in place. You can see your new, young heart, beating quickly, as if it were willing your chest to close in around it.
"Wait! You forgot to close!" You shout at the nurses.
They don't even acknowledge your presence anymore.
You are ushered from the building. There are many more people waiting for their new heart, and you're in the way now.
There you are. Once protected, now fully exposed. You try desperately to pull yourself together. You're frantic.
How did it come to this? It wasn't suppose to be this way.
Sure, you have a new heart, but what good does it do you, if you can't protect it?
Now you find yourself having to compensate again. At times you put up a shield, to cover your heart. And other times, it's just there, completely open.
Each morning and each night you try to stitch the gaping hole back together. It'll get there...but the progress is slow. The closing moves in such tiny increments, you hardly ever notice the change.
Until, one day. You wake up. And you're finally whole again, finally healed, after daily efforts to put yourself back together.
Was it worth it?
That is only for you to decide.
What is better? A bum heart or new heart, exposed?
Nothing tastes the same
People can go a lifetime eating sub par food, in fact, I believe most of us do.
And we're okay with it. We don't know any better.
Occasionally we may taste a slightly better drink or a better cheese, and we love it.
But when we experience a full course meal, of pure wonderful...a meal with handmade sauces, exotic seasonings and rich flavors blended together perfectly, nothing will taste the same again.
When we eat the bland, dull food again, we feel we are betraying our taste buds. They know what great food is now. How can we feed them crap? And get away with it.
Even decent food isn't good enough. Even good food isn't good enough.
We are ruined, we want the best.
But nothing will ever taste the same again.
And we're okay with it. We don't know any better.
Occasionally we may taste a slightly better drink or a better cheese, and we love it.
But when we experience a full course meal, of pure wonderful...a meal with handmade sauces, exotic seasonings and rich flavors blended together perfectly, nothing will taste the same again.
When we eat the bland, dull food again, we feel we are betraying our taste buds. They know what great food is now. How can we feed them crap? And get away with it.
Even decent food isn't good enough. Even good food isn't good enough.
We are ruined, we want the best.
But nothing will ever taste the same again.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Be your own hero
The knight rounded the castle steps, sword in hand, the fire breathing dragon nipping at his heals. As he reached the landing he turned on his pursuer, and lunged. The dragon screeched in agony as the sword landed between his eyes going straight through, and pinning the monster to the castle wall. The knight began his accent while the wailing dragon wrestled with the blade penetrating his gruesome face.
Reaching the top, the knight paused momentarily, to locate the maiden. There she lie, a feeble heap in the corner of the room. The knight approached, and gently spoke her name. Awaken from her tearful reverie, the maiden looked up in awe at the gallant knight, come to rescue her. The maiden took his extended hand and he lifted her into his arms.
Quickly, yet carefully, he carried the maiden down the castle stairs, avoiding the reaching claws of the still trapped dragon. His white horse awaited as he they escaped the castle walls. And climbing atop the beautiful creature, the knight and the maiden rode away.
Wouldn't that be nice?
In a way, or rather momentarily it probably would, but let me point a few problems here. The maiden is sitting in the corner, a feeble, crying mess. How the hell can anyone get out of a sticky mess, like a dragon attack, if they are hiding in the corner. Now, don't get me wrong, it's important to take a moment and be sad over things...but not when you're in the thick of it.
That is when you have to fight.
Other problem, why is the knight rescuing the maiden? Why isn't the maiden rescuing herself? The knight can be there, for sure, he can be back up, but if the maiden really wants to get out of this mess, she is going to have to find herself a sword or a bow and quiver of arrows and she's going to have to face that dragon.
She got herself in this mess, she needs to get herself out.
The idea of someone coming in and rescuing us from our problems sounds all too magical. It's hard to be strong. It's hard to fight. But we won't be strong and we won't fight, if we are lying feebly on the floor, waiting for someone to come rescue us.
We have to be our own hero, our own knight in shining armor.
So, let's try this again...
The knight rounded the castle steps, sword in hand, the fire breathing dragon nipping at his heals. The maiden stood on the landing and reached in her quiver, pulling out the razor sharp arrow. With precession and speed, the maiden shot the scaly beast between the eyes. He wailed out in agony and charged towards the two, his anger boiling. Swiftly the maiden shot two more arrows at the ever approaching beast, who screeched as the arrows landed in his heart.
Yet the dragon continued to inch towards the maiden.
There they stood, face to face. The maiden stared into his black eyes, without flinching, she reached for the dagger at her side and lunged towards the fire breathing monster. Plunging the dagger in the dragons head, the maiden swung herself around and slid down the dragon's arm. Reaching for the arrows in the dragons heart, she caught hold and with all the power inside her, she thrust the arrows deeper into his heart, killing the giant beast.
Pulling herself away from the slumped, dead heap, the maiden looked up at the knight. Exhausted from battle, the two reached out, meeting halfway. Bolstering each other up, the two paused a moment. Then, catching their breath, they walked hand in hand through the castle gates. Their stallions stood, waiting for their masters return. Each climbed atop their beautiful beasts, and rode away, into the starry night.
The beautiful thing about rescuing yourself, is you don't lose your love by being your own hero. The maiden still ends up with the knight in the end. And the relationship is more balanced, both are strong, both can hold their own.
And who doesn't love a person who is strong? ....I think the knight does.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Just a child
What do you do when the little bit of luck you thought you had runs out? And everything comes crashing in?
I'm not sure.
But what I'd like to do is curl up in a ball on my mommy's lap, and cling to her neck, just like a little child.
And that would make it all better.
Because when it comes down to it, we're all just little kids, who need an occasional hug and the reassurance that everything is going to be okay.
I'm not sure.
But what I'd like to do is curl up in a ball on my mommy's lap, and cling to her neck, just like a little child.
And that would make it all better.
Because when it comes down to it, we're all just little kids, who need an occasional hug and the reassurance that everything is going to be okay.
Unsolicited advice
Whenever anyone is going through anything big in their life, people are always chomping at the bit to throw in their two cents on the situation, whether we want to hear it or not.
They want to tell us what we should do, and what we shouldn't do. They want to tell us how we should feel, and that we're crazy if we don't feel a certain way.
We all do this, we all have this need to chime in. We can't help it.
I remember getting tons of unsolicited advice when I got divorced...a lot of it unwanted, a lot of it bad, a lot of it good, most of which I didn't realize was good until later.
I'm the kind of gal who has to try things out myself. Crazy I know, but it's just how I work.
I had a lot of people tell me I shouldn't date right away, a lot. But I didn't listen, I jumped right in.
I craved the acceptance I hadn't had in a long time. I wanted to see some hope that I was still valuable as a human being.
I did finally learn that I have a lot of value as a human being. But I didn't learn that entirely from dating. It actually came when I learned to accept myself, which lesson has been extremely important in my life.
I found that I wouldn't get acceptance from any guy, until I could accept myself. I'd never feel I had any worth to him, until I felt it for myself.
I probably could have figured all that out sooner had I not been dating. I also could have saved myself a lot of additional stress and heartache.
But.
I learn differently. And I took a different path. And I accept the path I took, as the path for me.
And this path has brought me to a point, where I feel the need to give unsolicited advice... Which is: newly divorced (and certainly not officially divorced) individuals shouldn't date. You've got so much you need to work through, and even if you're stable, you're a wreck.
But.
I never listened to such advice. And I turned out okay.
I guess the real important nugget here is, whether divorced, going through a divorce, single, widowed, or whatever, find your own path, whether it's a heavily traveled one or you're blazing a new trail. And, learn to accept yourself. Learn to value yourself.
Learn to be amazed by yourself. Because you're amazing, I promise.
And have no regrets. There is something you can take from every situation, whether it's a new friend, a new perspective or lesson learned.
Even if your path doesn't end up where you intend, there is something valuable from taking the journey.
....but that's just my two cents.
They want to tell us what we should do, and what we shouldn't do. They want to tell us how we should feel, and that we're crazy if we don't feel a certain way.
We all do this, we all have this need to chime in. We can't help it.
I remember getting tons of unsolicited advice when I got divorced...a lot of it unwanted, a lot of it bad, a lot of it good, most of which I didn't realize was good until later.
I'm the kind of gal who has to try things out myself. Crazy I know, but it's just how I work.
I had a lot of people tell me I shouldn't date right away, a lot. But I didn't listen, I jumped right in.
I craved the acceptance I hadn't had in a long time. I wanted to see some hope that I was still valuable as a human being.
I did finally learn that I have a lot of value as a human being. But I didn't learn that entirely from dating. It actually came when I learned to accept myself, which lesson has been extremely important in my life.
I found that I wouldn't get acceptance from any guy, until I could accept myself. I'd never feel I had any worth to him, until I felt it for myself.
I probably could have figured all that out sooner had I not been dating. I also could have saved myself a lot of additional stress and heartache.
But.
I learn differently. And I took a different path. And I accept the path I took, as the path for me.
And this path has brought me to a point, where I feel the need to give unsolicited advice... Which is: newly divorced (and certainly not officially divorced) individuals shouldn't date. You've got so much you need to work through, and even if you're stable, you're a wreck.
But.
I never listened to such advice. And I turned out okay.
I guess the real important nugget here is, whether divorced, going through a divorce, single, widowed, or whatever, find your own path, whether it's a heavily traveled one or you're blazing a new trail. And, learn to accept yourself. Learn to value yourself.
Learn to be amazed by yourself. Because you're amazing, I promise.
And have no regrets. There is something you can take from every situation, whether it's a new friend, a new perspective or lesson learned.
Even if your path doesn't end up where you intend, there is something valuable from taking the journey.
....but that's just my two cents.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Time to look at things differently
About two years ago, my daddy remarried. This came four years after my mom passed away, a reasonable amount of time, I suppose.
I didn't want this to happen.
I was pretty upset when it did. And was upset for a good while after, basically until just this week, and I still am a little, but I'm working on it.
It wasn't that she was taking my mom's place, well, maybe a little, I felt like she tried to in a small way.
I think it came down to the fact that I thought her being in my dad's life, would take my dad out of mine. And in some ways, that has been the case.
With a new wife, my dad didn't call as much as he had before. And that was hard for me, especially while going through a divorce. I needed that support from my dad, and I didn't know how to tell him. With my mom, she would have just known, and in a way I placed some of that responsibility on my step-mother, I expected her to encourage my dad to call me, reach out. But it didn't really happen.
I miss the talks my dad and I used to have. And I will always love that crazy old man, always seek his approval, love and respect, probably till the day I die.
Anyway…back to what I was saying. So my dad remarried, and I was not happy about it.
That was my perspective.
Then…
The thing that got me thinking though, was something a friend said to me this week. His parents had divorced when he was very young, and his mother remarried. He said he didn't particularly like the guy at first, but he told me he holds a great amount of respect for the man today.
I may not love my step-mom today, I may never, but I feel I have come to a point where I should give her my respect. She is married to my dad, and oh that dear man has to be a handful, and however I feel about their relationship, they are happy, and my dad isn't alone. And for giving my dad that, I will respect her.
And just a side (somewhat related thought)... families are changing, and having a more open mind is not a bad thing, especially when it comes to accepting people.
Yoga
I just started doing yoga this January. It was something I had been wanting to do for some time and I was excited to start something new, as I always am.
But when I signed up for the class, I didn't realize how much I would fall in love!
And I really did, I fell in love with yoga. I fell in love with the way it made me feel.
I fell in love with the connectivity and clarity it brought into my life.
My very chaotic, disjointed life.
I haven't had as much opportunity to participate in yoga since the semester's end. But a couple of days ago I did, and all that love came rushing back.
I remembered why I loved it so much, and I'm still remembering today, days later...I love the way it makes me feel.
I love the focus I am able to achieve through practicing yoga.
And all I can think about right now is doing yoga when I get home this evening. I can't wait.
But when I signed up for the class, I didn't realize how much I would fall in love!
And I really did, I fell in love with yoga. I fell in love with the way it made me feel.
I fell in love with the connectivity and clarity it brought into my life.
My very chaotic, disjointed life.
I haven't had as much opportunity to participate in yoga since the semester's end. But a couple of days ago I did, and all that love came rushing back.
I remembered why I loved it so much, and I'm still remembering today, days later...I love the way it makes me feel.
I love the focus I am able to achieve through practicing yoga.
And all I can think about right now is doing yoga when I get home this evening. I can't wait.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Rock it!
I spent my weekend at the beautiful Lake Powell, it was my first time spent on it's lovely shoreline.
I know, silly for an Arizona native to experience such a delight for the first time at 27, but hey, I have experienced it!
While there I slipped into my oversized swimsuit (from last summer) and hit the sandy beach.
My dear friend and travel budding on this little adventure said something that really got the old brain cogs turning.
And this is what they've spun out...
...none of us are perfect. I mean it! No one! Even that one guy or that one girl, that you think is perfect...well, they're not. Sorry to burst your bubble.
So if none of us our perfect, why the hell shouldn't we rock, what we got?!!
Well, I say we should.
And I personally am going to!
Plus, for me, it's those little perfections that become so endearing. The little belly that one guy has. Or that one girl's stubby toes. Even the big hands on that other guy, and the hips that one girl has.
We all have flaws, maybe it's time we flaunt them, be proud of the fantastic, working machines, that are our bodies.
It's time to rock it! ...babe! (felt like that needed to be there)
I know, silly for an Arizona native to experience such a delight for the first time at 27, but hey, I have experienced it!
While there I slipped into my oversized swimsuit (from last summer) and hit the sandy beach.
My dear friend and travel budding on this little adventure said something that really got the old brain cogs turning.
And this is what they've spun out...
...none of us are perfect. I mean it! No one! Even that one guy or that one girl, that you think is perfect...well, they're not. Sorry to burst your bubble.
So if none of us our perfect, why the hell shouldn't we rock, what we got?!!
Well, I say we should.
And I personally am going to!
Plus, for me, it's those little perfections that become so endearing. The little belly that one guy has. Or that one girl's stubby toes. Even the big hands on that other guy, and the hips that one girl has.
We all have flaws, maybe it's time we flaunt them, be proud of the fantastic, working machines, that are our bodies.
It's time to rock it! ...babe! (felt like that needed to be there)
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Good friends and good food
All I will say about this weird, weird, long day, is that at the end of it, it was so nice to enjoy a few laughs and some good food, with some great friends.
Sometimes that's all you need.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
We are scattered: but one
With each new relationship we give a piece of ourselves, naturally.
And with the ending of each encounter, a portion of our heart remains a part of the person exiting our lives.
Whether it is a friendship or a romantic love affair, we extend that piece.
Even when we meet a stranger, and share a smile, a laugh, a ride on the bus, we extend a tiny portion.
As relationships develop the pieces we share become bigger, or more numerous. Sometimes at the end we may feel we cannot offer any more pieces, that there is nothing left.
But just as removing dead blooms from a rose bush will allow the nutrients to be used elsewhere and spur new growth, shedding the dead pieces of our hearts will allow our hearts to grow, stretch.
And when we encounter someone new, we will find we do have enough to share.
Over our lifetimes we may directly share our hearts with hundreds, possibly thousands of people who will carry a pieces of us to their graves.
As when a piece of our heart is given, it will meld with the receivers heart, who will then share a piece of their newly formed heart, and in essence, share a piece of us with those they meet.
It would be interesting to see how far our hearts have scattered across the globe, as hearts mix and fuse, and spread, and mix and fuse and spread, constantly blending, constantly creating anew.
At the very end, it would seem, we all have one heart.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
The wild card
Spontaneous, yet strategic. Eclectic, yet stylish. Funny, smart, ambitious, driven...unsettled.
These are a few of the traits a wild card possesses.
Everyone knows at least a few.
Some have even dared date one. But in the end, most people go with the "safe, predictable" pick.
A wild card is high risk.
Yet, so exciting.
Most people want a taste of life with the wild card, it's exhilarating!
But, most people can't do a lifetime with a wild card. It's hard to settle down with someone, so unsettled.
So they dabble. They try it. Just to say they tried. They begin things, knowing from the beginning it'll never work, it's a wild card, the risks are too great for them to REALLY go all in.
For the few, oh the very very few, that stick, that dive in, head first, and put all their money on the wild card...they end up with a life of magic! Everyday, is bright, a mystery, an adventure! Yeah, they may hit a "safe, yet boring" stride every now and again. But if they let the wild card fly, without having to hold onto the strings, they will have the rare opportunity to experience an ocean deep love.
When it comes to relationships though, wild cards are often hesitant. They fear their freedom will be taken away, their creativity stifled. But once they are assured, once they know that someone is invested in them, for the long haul, they are the most loyal and faithful lovers.
I consider myself a wild card. High risk. With a huge pay out for the one who, not tames me, but chooses to soar beside me.
Are you a wild card? Have you ever dated a wild card? Or better yet, are with a wild card now? I'd love to hear about it!
-- Post From My iPhone
These are a few of the traits a wild card possesses.
Everyone knows at least a few.
Some have even dared date one. But in the end, most people go with the "safe, predictable" pick.
A wild card is high risk.
Yet, so exciting.
Most people want a taste of life with the wild card, it's exhilarating!
But, most people can't do a lifetime with a wild card. It's hard to settle down with someone, so unsettled.
So they dabble. They try it. Just to say they tried. They begin things, knowing from the beginning it'll never work, it's a wild card, the risks are too great for them to REALLY go all in.
For the few, oh the very very few, that stick, that dive in, head first, and put all their money on the wild card...they end up with a life of magic! Everyday, is bright, a mystery, an adventure! Yeah, they may hit a "safe, yet boring" stride every now and again. But if they let the wild card fly, without having to hold onto the strings, they will have the rare opportunity to experience an ocean deep love.
When it comes to relationships though, wild cards are often hesitant. They fear their freedom will be taken away, their creativity stifled. But once they are assured, once they know that someone is invested in them, for the long haul, they are the most loyal and faithful lovers.
I consider myself a wild card. High risk. With a huge pay out for the one who, not tames me, but chooses to soar beside me.
Are you a wild card? Have you ever dated a wild card? Or better yet, are with a wild card now? I'd love to hear about it!
-- Post From My iPhone
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
We're not your barbie dolls
I like men.
Who doesn't? They're funny, spontaneous, adventurous, rough and rowdy. They're cool under pressure and can often be quite chivalrous.
But.
Some guys can be real jerks.
I can find something beautiful about [almost] every person I meet, male or female. And sadly, I have encountered a few fellas lately who can't see real beauty when it's looking them right in the face.
It's mostly sad for the one who can't see, they're missing out.
They see a pretty girl and can't find the beauty in her brain. Or they see a girl (who by societies standards isn't that pretty) and they completely fail to see the beauty in her creativity, her wit, her laughter.
I think guys forget that we (women) are more than the shells that surround our personalities.
So here's a reminder, dear boys, look for the beauty that every woman has, and I promise you'll find it. You'll find so much more than big boobs, great legs and a fine ass.
You'll find a beautiful woman!
Because all women are beautiful, despite what our outer shells may look like.
Who doesn't? They're funny, spontaneous, adventurous, rough and rowdy. They're cool under pressure and can often be quite chivalrous.
But.
Some guys can be real jerks.
I can find something beautiful about [almost] every person I meet, male or female. And sadly, I have encountered a few fellas lately who can't see real beauty when it's looking them right in the face.
It's mostly sad for the one who can't see, they're missing out.
They see a pretty girl and can't find the beauty in her brain. Or they see a girl (who by societies standards isn't that pretty) and they completely fail to see the beauty in her creativity, her wit, her laughter.
I think guys forget that we (women) are more than the shells that surround our personalities.
So here's a reminder, dear boys, look for the beauty that every woman has, and I promise you'll find it. You'll find so much more than big boobs, great legs and a fine ass.
You'll find a beautiful woman!
Because all women are beautiful, despite what our outer shells may look like.
As promised...
Here is my first letter to Teresa, it's from June 25, 2010 at 3:48 pm.
Letter 1
Dear Teresa,
It's been 5 years, 5 months and 17 days.
I wonder where you are, I wonder what it's like where you are. I wonder if the trees there have peacock feathers on them, instead of leaves. I wonder if you can ride your bike on the clouds, and if the birds singing in the trees sometimes turn into drawings as you ride passed them.
Do you get to take naps by the river bank? Do you even need to sleep?
I wonder how time works over there. Time is slow here, and at the same time, it flies, and I often feel like I'm in the middle of the ocean, treading water, trying to keep up with time. Sometimes I think of time as a little elf or imp, that runs away from me, laughing, just so it can enjoy watching me panting as I run after him. Oh, the little devil. Truth be told, I often enjoy the chase, it helps me keep my mind occupied. In my mind I chase Mr. Time through a massive forest, where the leaves are actually peacock feathers. And sometimes I run passed a group of peacocks, and their feathers are actually leaves.
Sometimes I picture time as the little white rabbit from "Alice in Wonderland". And then my mind wanders. I think about how when I was 13, I played Alice in the school play. That was a high point in my life. I felt like I was shining then, sadly after 13 more years, that shine has become dull. Then I get sad, when I think about losing my shine. I should have kept myself polished, oh how can I get that shine back?
I know if you were here, well, I know if you could answer me when I talk to you in my mind, you would know the right thing to say. You would tell me to...
...I am not exactly sure what you'd say, I guess that's why I am so lost. Perhaps I got lost chasing Mr. Time through the forest. Maybe I got distracted looking at the beautiful peacock feathers and the shadows they cast on the ground as they sway gently in the breeze.
Do you think I will find you one day in the forest? Are you chasing after Mr. Time too? I hope we meet there someday. You could prop your bike next to a tree and we could watch the birds turn into drawings and the peacocks with their leaf feathers, as they strut through the forest. Mostly I would like to lay my head in your lap, and fall asleep, by the river bank, and not think about treading water in the ocean and chasing Mr. Time.
... maybe that's what you would say to me, stop treading water, and stop chasing Mr. Time. Would that be your advice?
I miss you.
Love,
Ang
Letter 1
Dear Teresa,
It's been 5 years, 5 months and 17 days.
I wonder where you are, I wonder what it's like where you are. I wonder if the trees there have peacock feathers on them, instead of leaves. I wonder if you can ride your bike on the clouds, and if the birds singing in the trees sometimes turn into drawings as you ride passed them.
Do you get to take naps by the river bank? Do you even need to sleep?
I wonder how time works over there. Time is slow here, and at the same time, it flies, and I often feel like I'm in the middle of the ocean, treading water, trying to keep up with time. Sometimes I think of time as a little elf or imp, that runs away from me, laughing, just so it can enjoy watching me panting as I run after him. Oh, the little devil. Truth be told, I often enjoy the chase, it helps me keep my mind occupied. In my mind I chase Mr. Time through a massive forest, where the leaves are actually peacock feathers. And sometimes I run passed a group of peacocks, and their feathers are actually leaves.
Sometimes I picture time as the little white rabbit from "Alice in Wonderland". And then my mind wanders. I think about how when I was 13, I played Alice in the school play. That was a high point in my life. I felt like I was shining then, sadly after 13 more years, that shine has become dull. Then I get sad, when I think about losing my shine. I should have kept myself polished, oh how can I get that shine back?
I know if you were here, well, I know if you could answer me when I talk to you in my mind, you would know the right thing to say. You would tell me to...
...I am not exactly sure what you'd say, I guess that's why I am so lost. Perhaps I got lost chasing Mr. Time through the forest. Maybe I got distracted looking at the beautiful peacock feathers and the shadows they cast on the ground as they sway gently in the breeze.
Do you think I will find you one day in the forest? Are you chasing after Mr. Time too? I hope we meet there someday. You could prop your bike next to a tree and we could watch the birds turn into drawings and the peacocks with their leaf feathers, as they strut through the forest. Mostly I would like to lay my head in your lap, and fall asleep, by the river bank, and not think about treading water in the ocean and chasing Mr. Time.
... maybe that's what you would say to me, stop treading water, and stop chasing Mr. Time. Would that be your advice?
I miss you.
Love,
Ang
Monday, June 13, 2011
Not like the movies
I have been listing to tons of Katy Perry these days, call me crazy, but I think she's great. You can listen to the particular song I'm referring to, "Not like the Movies," here, if you want to see how great it is.
But after listening to it, it just really got me thinking. (oh like so many things do, I know)
We believe someone out there was made perfectly for us. We desire not just a connection, but a soulmate. We crave someone who will make us whole, our missing half, the perfect fit.
Has love always been this way? Or do we, now, just require more?
I wish I knew.
Even though it wouldn't change how I feel.
I want fireworks.
I think that when you find that person, the one that fits you, there will be fireworks, but not like the movies portray.
I think when I find my partner, it will be simple, and beautiful and lovely. He'll hold my hand. He'll kiss that spot on my cheek. And those simple things will shoot off fireworks inside me, because I'll be with him.
So maybe love is the same, simple. But maybe it's not, maybe it's grand, like the movies depict. I think when I find my love, it will be grand, because it will be simple and it will be my own.
The Saboteur
The interweb tells me that a saboteur is someone who practices sabotage. (Yeah, obviously.)
I think that many of us humanfolk practice sabotage in our own lives. Now I don't think we necessarily mean to, all of the time. A lot of the sabotage is subconscious. (I think anyway)
I wonder why it is that we do this though? All [most] of us want out of life is to just be happy, right? So why do we sabotage ourselves? Why do we play the villain in our own lives? Surely there are plenty of people who are willing to play that wicked part in our lives, we don't need to.
-----
I think what it comes down to is that we are afraid of something being really great. Now, before you start flinging rocks, stop, think about it for a second.
-----
Here are a few reasons why we fear greatness...
-If we have something really great, or we are really great, that usually means we have had to overcome some incredible odds to get there, and most humans are naturally lazy and want something for nothing, so in that sense, having something great (or being great) may frighten us.
-If we have something great, something blow-your-mind great, and we lose that, that is a big loss, and the heartache attached to that huge loss can cause even the strongest to run for the hills.
-Should we taste greatness, even for a moment, we'll be ruined forever. Nothing but greatness will do after that, and we'll spend the rest of our lives searching for it. We'll have an insatiable desire for it, we won't be satisfied with mediocre, ever again.
There's three reasons, I know there are many more. I have been trying hard to stand aside and let that desire for greatness run free, but I know I get in the way all the time. And when I get that moment to look back, I kick myself for getting in the way again.
Silly me, the saboteur of my own happiness.
But here's the thing, I know I do it, I am aware. So I can watch it creep in, and I'm getting better at stopping fear in its tracks and sending it away with its tail between its legs.
And I'll conquer one day, I know I will. You just watch and see.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
1000th page view!
I feel like this is a big achievement or moment in my blog's life, maybe we should all have cake or something. But we've hit 1000 page views!
Hooray!
I'm not sure how many page views were happening before I put the counter up, but I'm pretty excited.
Also a strange discovery... I can't comment on my own blog. (I'll have my web people [me] look into that.) So if you have commented, please know that I am wanting to comment back, but can't at the moment, and I will as soon as I can fix this glitch.
I want to also take this moment to thank you all for reading, for sharing this strange journey with me. It has been a wild ride, but I have appreciated your presence in my life. Though it is a virtual presence for some, and a virtual and physical presence from others, just knowing that you are there has lifted me up.
So thank you for visiting this strange place that is my everyday life, haha. And please keep coming back.
Hooray!
I'm not sure how many page views were happening before I put the counter up, but I'm pretty excited.
Also a strange discovery... I can't comment on my own blog. (I'll have my web people [me] look into that.) So if you have commented, please know that I am wanting to comment back, but can't at the moment, and I will as soon as I can fix this glitch.
I want to also take this moment to thank you all for reading, for sharing this strange journey with me. It has been a wild ride, but I have appreciated your presence in my life. Though it is a virtual presence for some, and a virtual and physical presence from others, just knowing that you are there has lifted me up.
So thank you for visiting this strange place that is my everyday life, haha. And please keep coming back.
Friday, June 10, 2011
A good goodbye
Today was my last session of therapy. My therapist is leaving, and on top of that, I am in a place where I am okay. It was a sad, and yet very exciting session. It was wonderful to find myself in a place where I can care for myself, and work through hardships that come my way.
I consider this man, my therapist, a friend and wish him all the best in his life. He played a critical role in the process of my healing. He created a safe place for me to express myself, and as we discussed today, a place where he could witness my healing. One powerful thing he said was, "being connected to another person is what helps you find strength; it is being connected to yourself that helps keep strength."
In a previous session, we decided that this session should mean something, and take on a somewhat ceremonious feel to it, this was done for my sake. I have a hard time with goodbyes. For me, without a goodbye, the meaning of the interaction loses some of its meaning. And I didn't want this experience to lose any meaning. So as part of our goodbyes we both wrote letters about this experience, and today we shared them.
Here is mine:
One year ago I was broken. Like a large window pane, I felt as if everyone could see right through me. And yet, that task must have been difficult, as that glass was shattered, from top to bottom.
Walking into therapy was my last hope. But a hope I didn't believe in at the time. I'd done this so many times before, why would it work this time? But I went, exerting my last ounce of hope I carried.
For the short time I attended before the summer, my hope was boosted. It was lifted enough to carry me through the summer. It could have been, because I finally was able to speak. The silence of my sorrow was broken, even if just slightly. I spoke the truth that I had promised never to speak.
I continued to speak, through the letters to Teresa over the summer, which kept my hope bolstered some. And then came fall, and therapy began again. And then I was fully rescued. Or rather, I was given the power to rescue myself.
Being completely honest with myself, about my situation saved me. I was no longer hiding behind the excuses I had been making for years. I spoke the truth. I told it like it was. And just speaking the truth gave me power. It left me even more exposed, however, than ever before.
As much as the pain of the situation ate at me, a new hunger filled me. The hunger to be free from the pain, and even more, the hunger to stop hiding. I wanted to be the great person that I knew I could be, no longer using my pain as a crutch for failure.
And I began to achieve. I dreamt, I spoke and I achieved. No more hiding. I took responsibility for my life.
And in that process, I found myself. The hard shell of self-pity, anguish and self-loathing began to shed itself away from me. Each time I spoke, released, it shed away more.
I began to emerge. The me that had always been there, but was buried so deep, through years of hiding and lying to myself. And it was all my doing. I covered myself, I buried myself alive. Because I wouldn't be honest, I wasn't true to myself. I had abandoned myself, and become a cruel, estranged friend.
But that is no more. Each week I opened up, each week I was honest with myself, the friendship repaired, the trust regained. I learned again, or perhaps for the first time, to trust myself. And, I learned to care for myself.
Therapy taught me how to heal myself. And I have come to realize my healing and growing will be a journey I embark on for the rest of my life, but I now have the confidence necessary to trust myself, to make decisions, to fall and to get back up, to heal, to live, to fly!
---------------------
I consider this man, my therapist, a friend and wish him all the best in his life. He played a critical role in the process of my healing. He created a safe place for me to express myself, and as we discussed today, a place where he could witness my healing. One powerful thing he said was, "being connected to another person is what helps you find strength; it is being connected to yourself that helps keep strength."
In a previous session, we decided that this session should mean something, and take on a somewhat ceremonious feel to it, this was done for my sake. I have a hard time with goodbyes. For me, without a goodbye, the meaning of the interaction loses some of its meaning. And I didn't want this experience to lose any meaning. So as part of our goodbyes we both wrote letters about this experience, and today we shared them.
Here is mine:
-------------------------
One year ago I was broken. Like a large window pane, I felt as if everyone could see right through me. And yet, that task must have been difficult, as that glass was shattered, from top to bottom.
Walking into therapy was my last hope. But a hope I didn't believe in at the time. I'd done this so many times before, why would it work this time? But I went, exerting my last ounce of hope I carried.
For the short time I attended before the summer, my hope was boosted. It was lifted enough to carry me through the summer. It could have been, because I finally was able to speak. The silence of my sorrow was broken, even if just slightly. I spoke the truth that I had promised never to speak.
I continued to speak, through the letters to Teresa over the summer, which kept my hope bolstered some. And then came fall, and therapy began again. And then I was fully rescued. Or rather, I was given the power to rescue myself.
Being completely honest with myself, about my situation saved me. I was no longer hiding behind the excuses I had been making for years. I spoke the truth. I told it like it was. And just speaking the truth gave me power. It left me even more exposed, however, than ever before.
As much as the pain of the situation ate at me, a new hunger filled me. The hunger to be free from the pain, and even more, the hunger to stop hiding. I wanted to be the great person that I knew I could be, no longer using my pain as a crutch for failure.
And I began to achieve. I dreamt, I spoke and I achieved. No more hiding. I took responsibility for my life.
And in that process, I found myself. The hard shell of self-pity, anguish and self-loathing began to shed itself away from me. Each time I spoke, released, it shed away more.
I began to emerge. The me that had always been there, but was buried so deep, through years of hiding and lying to myself. And it was all my doing. I covered myself, I buried myself alive. Because I wouldn't be honest, I wasn't true to myself. I had abandoned myself, and become a cruel, estranged friend.
But that is no more. Each week I opened up, each week I was honest with myself, the friendship repaired, the trust regained. I learned again, or perhaps for the first time, to trust myself. And, I learned to care for myself.
Therapy taught me how to heal myself. And I have come to realize my healing and growing will be a journey I embark on for the rest of my life, but I now have the confidence necessary to trust myself, to make decisions, to fall and to get back up, to heal, to live, to fly!
---------------------
Maybe therapy isn't for you, but it was for me. Because for me, healing was necessary, as I think it is for all of us. Whatever your path to healing takes, I hope that you can find your way. And I hope that you have someone who can witness your struggle, and ultimately, your growth.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Cutting out the cancer
I am no physician, that's for sure. But I have personally watched someone being eaten away at, and die from cancer.
It's scary.
A person with cancer can become a completely different person in such a short amount of time.
The cancer eats them alive, if they don't catch it soon enough.
With modern technology, there are many tests in place that can detect cancer before it gets too bad. And when it is caught early enough, a skilled surgeon can cut it out, giving that person the best chance for survival.
Through some serious introspection, I have discovered some cancers in myself. (Not real cancer, emotional/spiritual cancers, whatever you want to call it.) And I need to cut them out of my life.
Just like any surgical procedure, it takes planning, preparation and the area needs to be cleaned before the cancer can be cut out.
Once the surgeon and the patient are prepared, the cutting begins.
Even if a cancer is caught early, it still has attached itself to the person, and takes some effort to cut it away from the patient's body.
After it has been removed, the patient will need time to heal. And the healing won't be instant. But the healing will come.
And then, without the cancer eating at them, the person will have a renewed sense of health, strength, vitality.
Without the cancer, they are are now whole.
I need to be whole again.
PS: About the Letters to Teresa, I have decided I will post a few, rather than open them all up to the public. So look forward to those in the next couple of days.
It's scary.
A person with cancer can become a completely different person in such a short amount of time.
The cancer eats them alive, if they don't catch it soon enough.
With modern technology, there are many tests in place that can detect cancer before it gets too bad. And when it is caught early enough, a skilled surgeon can cut it out, giving that person the best chance for survival.
Through some serious introspection, I have discovered some cancers in myself. (Not real cancer, emotional/spiritual cancers, whatever you want to call it.) And I need to cut them out of my life.
Just like any surgical procedure, it takes planning, preparation and the area needs to be cleaned before the cancer can be cut out.
Once the surgeon and the patient are prepared, the cutting begins.
Even if a cancer is caught early, it still has attached itself to the person, and takes some effort to cut it away from the patient's body.
After it has been removed, the patient will need time to heal. And the healing won't be instant. But the healing will come.
And then, without the cancer eating at them, the person will have a renewed sense of health, strength, vitality.
Without the cancer, they are are now whole.
I need to be whole again.
PS: About the Letters to Teresa, I have decided I will post a few, rather than open them all up to the public. So look forward to those in the next couple of days.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Cold toes
I slept with socks on last night, and that helped. But most nights I have cold toes.
It's a daunting task to heat a whole bed by oneself.
The final product is usually just cold toes.
Freezing cold toes.
It's a daunting task to heat a whole bed by oneself.
The final product is usually just cold toes.
Freezing cold toes.
Letters to Teresa
Last summer, as part of my therapy, I started writing letters to my mom, Teresa. Yes, I do realize she is dead, but I needed to address them to someone, so I could write down what I was feeling, what I was experiencing, and in a way say it TO someone.
There are somewhere around 27ish letters to her over the summer, on a private blog. And today, I was bored. And I was also thinking about my last session of therapy, that will be happening this week. So I wanted to go back, and get a feel for the place I was in a year ago.
It was hard to read.
That place has become a sort of vague memory. Yet, as I read, I could remember feeling that way.
And also as I read, I felt so relieved. I can honestly say I'm not in that place any more. My life is so much brighter, fuller, happier.
I think about all the hard work I did to get here. And therapy was a huge part of it. So it saddens me to be ending such a great thing. But, I am so happy with how far I've come. It feels like a million miles, and maybe it was.
I have thought about opening that blog, or publishing a few letters here, what are your thoughts? Do you think it's too personal? Or would it be useful in anyway?
I want to hear your opinion, my dear friends.
-- Post From My iPhone
There are somewhere around 27ish letters to her over the summer, on a private blog. And today, I was bored. And I was also thinking about my last session of therapy, that will be happening this week. So I wanted to go back, and get a feel for the place I was in a year ago.
It was hard to read.
That place has become a sort of vague memory. Yet, as I read, I could remember feeling that way.
And also as I read, I felt so relieved. I can honestly say I'm not in that place any more. My life is so much brighter, fuller, happier.
I think about all the hard work I did to get here. And therapy was a huge part of it. So it saddens me to be ending such a great thing. But, I am so happy with how far I've come. It feels like a million miles, and maybe it was.
I have thought about opening that blog, or publishing a few letters here, what are your thoughts? Do you think it's too personal? Or would it be useful in anyway?
I want to hear your opinion, my dear friends.
-- Post From My iPhone
Monday, June 6, 2011
Witness
She's brilliant, lovely, creative, funny.
She loves to read, loves to sing. Loves to write and laugh.
But what if no one sees it?
What if there is no one, when she takes her last breath, who can say, "I witnessed her life. I saw her existence."
Not everyone will want to be famous or well known. But I believe everyone wants to leave a mark of sorts. Something that says, "Andrea (or whatever your name is) was here."
I think we all want someone to witness our lives, we want the universe to acknowledge that we lived.
The trick, is finding that person (or persons) to witness your existence. The person who will experience with you, the person who you will share moments with. And the person who you will tell your stories to.
And as a favorite song of mine says, "but these stories don't mean anything, if you've got no one, to tell them to."
If there is no witness to your life, what does your life mean?
She loves to read, loves to sing. Loves to write and laugh.
But what if no one sees it?
What if there is no one, when she takes her last breath, who can say, "I witnessed her life. I saw her existence."
Not everyone will want to be famous or well known. But I believe everyone wants to leave a mark of sorts. Something that says, "Andrea (or whatever your name is) was here."
I think we all want someone to witness our lives, we want the universe to acknowledge that we lived.
The trick, is finding that person (or persons) to witness your existence. The person who will experience with you, the person who you will share moments with. And the person who you will tell your stories to.
And as a favorite song of mine says, "but these stories don't mean anything, if you've got no one, to tell them to."
If there is no witness to your life, what does your life mean?
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Scarlet Letter D
Yesterday, I was officially divorced for 8 months. It's a bit of a strange thought. But here I am, nonetheless.
In those 8 long (and short) months I've learned a lot. I've learned a lot about myself and about the people around me. I've learned what I'm capable of. I've found some amazing strength that at times, blows me away. I've discovered the pure kindness and caring of others, BUT I've also been reminded of how cruel people can be.
Walking around with a crimson D across my heart, seared there through years of heartache, can feel like dragging a dead donkey through the desert sand. Trudging. Every step sucks me into the earth. Buried.
The neon sign seems to alert all I see. It warns them that I have lost value because of the Letter. It reminds on-lookers that I shouldn't be looked at, I should be invisible, because I'm not fit for their company.
I wish people understood.
But they don't. I have learned to love myself DESPITE all that. I've learned to deflect the negativity. My worn, tired skin has thickened in the hot desert sun and sand.
And I am learning how to embrace my brand.
What the Scarlet Letter D, for Divorcee, really is saying, is... I survived. My withered and dying soul had enough strength to walk away and revive itself. And I didn't allow myself to be swallowed up and vanish completely.
The D says I am STRONG.
So don't mistake a D for weakness, stupidity or worthlessness. Because let me assure you, you have no idea.
In those 8 long (and short) months I've learned a lot. I've learned a lot about myself and about the people around me. I've learned what I'm capable of. I've found some amazing strength that at times, blows me away. I've discovered the pure kindness and caring of others, BUT I've also been reminded of how cruel people can be.
Walking around with a crimson D across my heart, seared there through years of heartache, can feel like dragging a dead donkey through the desert sand. Trudging. Every step sucks me into the earth. Buried.
The neon sign seems to alert all I see. It warns them that I have lost value because of the Letter. It reminds on-lookers that I shouldn't be looked at, I should be invisible, because I'm not fit for their company.
I wish people understood.
But they don't. I have learned to love myself DESPITE all that. I've learned to deflect the negativity. My worn, tired skin has thickened in the hot desert sun and sand.
And I am learning how to embrace my brand.
What the Scarlet Letter D, for Divorcee, really is saying, is... I survived. My withered and dying soul had enough strength to walk away and revive itself. And I didn't allow myself to be swallowed up and vanish completely.
The D says I am STRONG.
So don't mistake a D for weakness, stupidity or worthlessness. Because let me assure you, you have no idea.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
The Grand Gesture
Movies are so wonderful. They make us feel happy, sad. They make laugh and they make us cry. They pull at our heart string and make us believe in soul mates and forever love.
Movies have mastered the power of emotion.
Tricky little
The story is always the same though. Girl meets boy. Girl falls for boy. Boy falls for girl. There's an insurmountable conflict. Then....my favorite part,
the grand gesture.
Whose heart doesn't skip a beat then? Who's heart doesn't sigh a little? It's a beautiful thing.
The grand gesture, the cure all, the final step before happy ever after.
But does it happen in real life? Oh sure, everyone would like to believe it, hope for it even.
Who wouldn't want someone to travel across the country in the middle of the night, or overcome a fear of heights to reach you? Who wouldn't want someone to come to their senses and in a grand moment, while you're holding a cat in a filthy ally way in New York City in the pouring rain, kiss you passionately and tell you all the things you've always longed to hear?
Who wouldn't?
But.
Movies have mastered the power of emotion.
Tricky little
The story is always the same though. Girl meets boy. Girl falls for boy. Boy falls for girl. There's an insurmountable conflict. Then....my favorite
the grand gesture.
Whose heart doesn't skip a beat then? Who's heart doesn't sigh a little? It's a beautiful thing.
The grand gesture, the cure all, the final step before happy ever after.
But does it happen in real life? Oh sure, everyone would like to believe it, hope for it even.
Who wouldn't want someone to travel across the country in the middle of the night, or overcome a fear of heights to reach you? Who wouldn't want someone to come to their senses and in a grand moment, while you're holding a cat in a filthy ally way in New York City in the pouring rain, kiss you passionately and tell you all the things you've always longed to hear?
Who wouldn't?
But.
A place of light
We're all wanderers.
When it comes down to it, that's all we are.
Whether we are literally wandering, by walking from one place to another, which we do everyday, or our souls are wandering....searching.
It's as if our hearts are guiding us at times. We seek to be complete. We are looking for a place of light.
After days of rain, we ache to sit in the sun, the warm light.
We often think about finding a way to carry that warm light with us everywhere. The task seems so daunting at times, so impossible. Life seems so unbearably hard at times.
But with every hard second and every hard minute, we stretch, we grow. Stronger. Taller. Closer to that warm light. Closer to a place where we can keep it.
And, for brief moments we touch it. We sit in it. We bask in it. Like a sponge we soak up the warmth like a starving animal devours its food.
Then it's hard again.
But, always in our minds, is that moment. The moment of warmth. Light.
So we keep moving forward.
Because we know that one day we'll stumble upon a meadow full of light. And we will sit. And the light will be ours, to keep. Forever.
And all the icy cold heartache will melt in the sun.
And we will be complete.
No longer wanderers.
When it comes down to it, that's all we are.
Whether we are literally wandering, by walking from one place to another, which we do everyday, or our souls are wandering....searching.
It's as if our hearts are guiding us at times. We seek to be complete. We are looking for a place of light.
After days of rain, we ache to sit in the sun, the warm light.
We often think about finding a way to carry that warm light with us everywhere. The task seems so daunting at times, so impossible. Life seems so unbearably hard at times.
But with every hard second and every hard minute, we stretch, we grow. Stronger. Taller. Closer to that warm light. Closer to a place where we can keep it.
And, for brief moments we touch it. We sit in it. We bask in it. Like a sponge we soak up the warmth like a starving animal devours its food.
Then it's hard again.
But, always in our minds, is that moment. The moment of warmth. Light.
So we keep moving forward.
Because we know that one day we'll stumble upon a meadow full of light. And we will sit. And the light will be ours, to keep. Forever.
And all the icy cold heartache will melt in the sun.
And we will be complete.
No longer wanderers.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Phone snob
I love technology.
It's always so exciting to see the new things that come out.
One of my favorite technological devises is the iPhone.
It does so many cool things!
I have actually gotten to the point where I sort of look down on people who have a lesser device. Like an android or blackberry.
I'm a bit of a phone snob.
It's always so exciting to see the new things that come out.
One of my favorite technological devises is the iPhone.
It does so many cool things!
I have actually gotten to the point where I sort of look down on people who have a lesser device. Like an android or blackberry.
I'm a bit of a phone snob.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Fools are cool(s)
Sometimes you have to be a fool. Sometimes it's the only way to enjoy life.
....and life is absolutely meant to be enjoyed!
So let loose!
Be crazy!
Sing!
Dance a jig!
Laugh till it hurts!
Skip down the street!
Smile at a stranger!
....be a complete fool,
and enjoy your life!
-- Post From My iPhone
Bucket list
I'm never really been a fan of the term "goal." It makes me think of my eager to please 12-year-old self, who wanted to conquer the world, one personal progress project at a time.
Now, don't get me wrong, I think goals are all well and good, but can we just call them something else?
Just like some people have an aversion to the word "moist," such is my disgust with the word "goal," it gives me shivers and makes me cringe.
I prefer the idea of bucket lists. One, because I like lists. There is something magical about a list of things (to do, to become, to see, to experience, etc.) It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
But I think that people should have more than one bucket list. There should be a short list, of things that can (are desired to) be done in one year to 18 months and another long list, which should be completed before one dies and often include larger adventures.
I will share some morsels from both my lists.
Short bucket list:
-Graduate college
-Go skydiving
-Visit New York
-Try out for Roller Derby
Long bucket list:
-Travel throughout Europe
-Life in New York City
-Write/Publish a novel
Those are just a few examples.
So what are some things on your short and long bucket lists?
-- Post From My iPhone
Now, don't get me wrong, I think goals are all well and good, but can we just call them something else?
Just like some people have an aversion to the word "moist," such is my disgust with the word "goal," it gives me shivers and makes me cringe.
I prefer the idea of bucket lists. One, because I like lists. There is something magical about a list of things (to do, to become, to see, to experience, etc.) It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
But I think that people should have more than one bucket list. There should be a short list, of things that can (are desired to) be done in one year to 18 months and another long list, which should be completed before one dies and often include larger adventures.
I will share some morsels from both my lists.
Short bucket list:
-Graduate college
-Go skydiving
-Visit New York
-Try out for Roller Derby
Long bucket list:
-Travel throughout Europe
-Life in New York City
-Write/Publish a novel
Those are just a few examples.
So what are some things on your short and long bucket lists?
-- Post From My iPhone
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
The scarlet letter D
Yesterday, I was officially divorced for 8 months. It's a bit of a strange thought. But here I am, nonetheless.
In those 8 long (and short) months I've learned a lot. I've learned a lot about myself and about the people around me. I've learned what I'm capable of. I've found some amazing strength that at times, blows me away. I've discovered the pure kindness and caring of others, BUT I've also been reminded of how cruel people can be.
Walking around with a crimson D across my heart, seared there through years of heartache, can feel like dragging a dead donkey through the desert sand. Trudging. Every step sucks me into the earth. Buried.
The neon sign seems to alert all I see. It warns them that I have lost value because of the Letter. It reminds on-lookers that I shouldn't be looked at, I should be invisible, because I'm not fit for their company.
I wish people understood.
But they don't. I have learned to love myself DESPITE all that. I've learned to deflect the negativity. My worn, tired skin has thickened in the hot desert sun and sand.
And I am learning how to embrace my brand.
What the Scarlet Letter D, for Divorcee, really is saying, is... I survived. My withered and dying soul had enough strength to walk away and revive itself. And I didn't allow myself to be swallowed up and vanish completely.
The D says I am STRONG.
So don't mistake a D for weakness, stupidity or worthlessness. Because let me assure you, you have no idea.
Walking around with a crimson D across my heart, seared there through years of heartache, can feel like dragging a dead donkey through the desert sand. Trudging. Every step sucks me into the earth. Buried.
The neon sign seems to alert all I see. It warns them that I have lost value because of the Letter. It reminds on-lookers that I shouldn't be looked at, I should be invisible, because I'm not fit for their company.
I wish people understood.
But they don't. I have learned to love myself DESPITE all that. I've learned to deflect the negativity. My worn, tired skin has thickened in the hot desert sun and sand.
And I am learning how to embrace my brand.
What the Scarlet Letter D, for Divorcee, really is saying, is... I survived. My withered and dying soul had enough strength to walk away and revive itself. And I didn't allow myself to be swallowed up and vanish completely.
The D says I am STRONG.
So don't mistake a D for weakness, stupidity or worthlessness. Because let me assure you, you have no idea.
Just a piece of pie
I've been reading some books lately (thank you Heather) and they've really got the ol' cogs in my brain a spinning.
While so much of what I'm reading feels like common sense, at the same time they are things I've neglected to incorporate in my life. Or rather, had forgotten about.
I sit there reading, and thinking, "dadgum, that completely makes sense, what was I thinking/doing?!"
So I'm on a mission, to not forget.
In one of the books, it talks about balance. I generally like to think I'm a fairly balanced person, but as I read, I realized I need to tweak a few things, which is fine, as this is a learning process.
When it comes to balance, there are often so many things on our plate. (let's say a whole pie) And you can't make any one thing in your life the whole pie. Each thing can only be a slice. Some slices are bigger than others, sure, but the bottom line...everything is just a piece of the whole.
This was a good reminder for me.
A pie is much more enjoyable one slice at a time, rather than having the whole thing shoved down your throat at once.
Also, when you make one thing your whole pie, it (or they) become overwhelming, which will also take all the fun out of piece.
So relax, and eat your pie and don't ever think that one piece is as big as the whole thing.
And heck, you can even throw some whip cream on top, of each little piece.
While so much of what I'm reading feels like common sense, at the same time they are things I've neglected to incorporate in my life. Or rather, had forgotten about.
I sit there reading, and thinking, "dadgum, that completely makes sense, what was I thinking/doing?!"
So I'm on a mission, to not forget.
In one of the books, it talks about balance. I generally like to think I'm a fairly balanced person, but as I read, I realized I need to tweak a few things, which is fine, as this is a learning process.
When it comes to balance, there are often so many things on our plate. (let's say a whole pie) And you can't make any one thing in your life the whole pie. Each thing can only be a slice. Some slices are bigger than others, sure, but the bottom line...everything is just a piece of the whole.
This was a good reminder for me.
A pie is much more enjoyable one slice at a time, rather than having the whole thing shoved down your throat at once.
Also, when you make one thing your whole pie, it (or they) become overwhelming, which will also take all the fun out of piece.
So relax, and eat your pie and don't ever think that one piece is as big as the whole thing.
And heck, you can even throw some whip cream on top, of each little piece.
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