Love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. I'm not hearing any heart. Run the risk, if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love - well, you haven't lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived". [William Parrish] from the movie, Meet Joe Black (1998)
Sound Reasoning
Sleep Walking
I need a vacation from my vacation and I am missing my bed terribly...
Why I'm still awake, I've yet to know. But here I am, trying to make good on writing just a wee bit more than I have well, lately.
Visited my Grams in the hospital today. Mom and KC disappeared for a short while, and I wasn't really sure what it was that they were doing, although I was placing odds that somehow the somewhere involved a revolving door my daughter has decided is the coolest thing ever... A good example of what the big city has to offer.
Honestly however, I'm too tired to write much more. My eyes are closing. My brain is shutting down. And I'm quite certain, I'm already asleep.
Why I'm still awake, I've yet to know. But here I am, trying to make good on writing just a wee bit more than I have well, lately.
Visited my Grams in the hospital today. Mom and KC disappeared for a short while, and I wasn't really sure what it was that they were doing, although I was placing odds that somehow the somewhere involved a revolving door my daughter has decided is the coolest thing ever... A good example of what the big city has to offer.
Honestly however, I'm too tired to write much more. My eyes are closing. My brain is shutting down. And I'm quite certain, I'm already asleep.
Dead Drops
There are moments such as these when you give up on sleep as sleep has pretty much given up on you.
I've been thinking for the last twenty minutes that I should probably just suit up and head over to the gym. Waking up early after all doesn't have to be a curse when it could just be a gift horse in disguise.
Still I can't put my finger on what exactly it was that pulled me from my bed this morning. I could blame my dog, but then again, we get up at least once most every night so she can do her business, and normally getting back to sleep is a non-brainer.
But not this morning...
It may have something to do with the dream I just had, or the small amount of stress I'm feeling this morning, or the laundry list of concerns, things to do, and things I should have already done being so much on my mind that my mind can no longer focus on the importance of sleeping.
Either way it seems as if I'm up for the long haul and there's no point now in trying to deny it, regardless that it's the first day of my vacation and here I am, up with the birds as if I'm going to work.
And work be damned...
I need a week off from that place to regain what little bearing I have left as of late.
I am convinced that I can attribute much of my energy drain on a windowless office, and a desk decked out with an invisible chain. Many negative vibes and the job I used to love is more like the job I loathe, and the only time I marginally like it is on payday when they grease my palm.
Still it would be nice to do something I love... Then again, I'm not really at a place in my life where struggling writer sounds like a wise career move. And though I do what I can when I can, I've got to admit that I'm on a snail trail for completing the things I really want done.
Last night I went to bed thinking about what I refer to as the dead end drop. The point in a story where the author has weaved their tale from the initial plot, to the but it has to end here somewhere part. Or much like my accidental dip in the water, the point where the ride was going smoothly until you hard stick your paddle into the water and end up all wet.
The dead drop is sudden. Unexpected. An ending so quick you had no idea that you were even being led up to it, convinced that the pages still left to go hold some sort of words of explanation rather than more author acknowledgements for why they suddenly cast their characters so harshly from the boat.
I too am guilty of the dead drop. The point in the story where my brain just says, "Okay, Stacey. Time to bring this to a close. We don't have all night, you know."
And I hate to do it. Hate the lazy way it just seems to say, I couldn't think of any other way to end it all. It leaves the reader unsatisfied. Stuck if you will inside a story that forces them to imagine an ending other than the one they were forced to abruptly accept.
As writers we have a responsibility to work an ending until the ending turns out right. Though don't confuse my statement as an argument for a happy ending. More often than not, the happy ending is a worn out cliche. Not that I want to end every book I read with a box of Kleenex by my side and a raging migraine just to prove my point that some endings require darkness rather than light.
Every story has to answer to its own end. And when it doesn't, the reader knows. Sensing the deception that has been passed off as completion, they close the book with less satisfaction than any writer would want them to.
An unfinished story is like a Picasso half painted. A great masterpiece lost to an even greater ambition to please the masses when all that matters at the time of its conception is pleasing yourself.
It makes sense if given some thought.
And this is why we write. Why a painter paints. Why a musician composes. It's not, as some would believe because it's what we want to do. When we're called, it's a summons that refuses be ignored. Not even at four in the morning when it calls us from our beds, and wakes our mind with endless possibilities.
It's for the love of the creation. The sound of a thousand words on our lips. The thirst we have to impart whatever knowledge it is we believe we've gained. An attempt to reach, to touch, to be a part of this great big world. To make you laugh, to make you cry, to make you remember from where it was you came, and push you to go to the places you've just begun to dream to go.
We are a destination. And an invitation.
A journey that begs you come explore.
I've been thinking for the last twenty minutes that I should probably just suit up and head over to the gym. Waking up early after all doesn't have to be a curse when it could just be a gift horse in disguise.
Still I can't put my finger on what exactly it was that pulled me from my bed this morning. I could blame my dog, but then again, we get up at least once most every night so she can do her business, and normally getting back to sleep is a non-brainer.But not this morning...
It may have something to do with the dream I just had, or the small amount of stress I'm feeling this morning, or the laundry list of concerns, things to do, and things I should have already done being so much on my mind that my mind can no longer focus on the importance of sleeping.
Either way it seems as if I'm up for the long haul and there's no point now in trying to deny it, regardless that it's the first day of my vacation and here I am, up with the birds as if I'm going to work.
And work be damned...
I need a week off from that place to regain what little bearing I have left as of late.
I am convinced that I can attribute much of my energy drain on a windowless office, and a desk decked out with an invisible chain. Many negative vibes and the job I used to love is more like the job I loathe, and the only time I marginally like it is on payday when they grease my palm.
Still it would be nice to do something I love... Then again, I'm not really at a place in my life where struggling writer sounds like a wise career move. And though I do what I can when I can, I've got to admit that I'm on a snail trail for completing the things I really want done.
Last night I went to bed thinking about what I refer to as the dead end drop. The point in a story where the author has weaved their tale from the initial plot, to the but it has to end here somewhere part. Or much like my accidental dip in the water, the point where the ride was going smoothly until you hard stick your paddle into the water and end up all wet.
The dead drop is sudden. Unexpected. An ending so quick you had no idea that you were even being led up to it, convinced that the pages still left to go hold some sort of words of explanation rather than more author acknowledgements for why they suddenly cast their characters so harshly from the boat.
I too am guilty of the dead drop. The point in the story where my brain just says, "Okay, Stacey. Time to bring this to a close. We don't have all night, you know."
And I hate to do it. Hate the lazy way it just seems to say, I couldn't think of any other way to end it all. It leaves the reader unsatisfied. Stuck if you will inside a story that forces them to imagine an ending other than the one they were forced to abruptly accept.
As writers we have a responsibility to work an ending until the ending turns out right. Though don't confuse my statement as an argument for a happy ending. More often than not, the happy ending is a worn out cliche. Not that I want to end every book I read with a box of Kleenex by my side and a raging migraine just to prove my point that some endings require darkness rather than light.
Every story has to answer to its own end. And when it doesn't, the reader knows. Sensing the deception that has been passed off as completion, they close the book with less satisfaction than any writer would want them to.
An unfinished story is like a Picasso half painted. A great masterpiece lost to an even greater ambition to please the masses when all that matters at the time of its conception is pleasing yourself.
It makes sense if given some thought.
And this is why we write. Why a painter paints. Why a musician composes. It's not, as some would believe because it's what we want to do. When we're called, it's a summons that refuses be ignored. Not even at four in the morning when it calls us from our beds, and wakes our mind with endless possibilities.
It's for the love of the creation. The sound of a thousand words on our lips. The thirst we have to impart whatever knowledge it is we believe we've gained. An attempt to reach, to touch, to be a part of this great big world. To make you laugh, to make you cry, to make you remember from where it was you came, and push you to go to the places you've just begun to dream to go.
We are a destination. And an invitation.
A journey that begs you come explore.
The Kayak Story... Many Weeks Later
When you're swimming for shore, it's best not to be in the middle of the lake...
This is a life lesson I learned just a few weeks ago when my sister Jo and I went on a kayaking expedition.
It was one of those perfect bright blue sky, big white puffy pillow cloud kind of days with just enough of a breeze to keep us from feeling like fried eggs sizzling on a sidewalk. Blingy sunglasses, bathing suit top (bottoms implied) and lunch stored safely away in the waterproof compartment of Jo's kayak, we launched ourselves off, into the great blue yonder.
Yonder being in front of my Father's friend's camp with them waving from above, safely up on shore.
This would be a good time to mention that I'm slightly wary of water. And believe me when I tell you that's there's not enough therapy in this world to combat the irrational fears of my childhood. (And no, I'm still not over that damn cartoon Hobbit movie my elementary school made us watch every year as if it were some kind of treat! Frodo Bagins be damned, I was scared of ring wearing frogs and goblins I was convinced lived in my basement.)
Rewind to one really bad perm, a tin can disguised as a boat, and a girl completely clueless as to how to get herself back in to shore, and you've got yourself a serious situation. In other words, a completely inappropriate time for those posing as responsible adults to merely watch the events unfold as if it's comedy night at the Improv and I'm the star attraction.
Yeah... Not impressed. Not then. Not now. And pretty much never hits the mark on me finding anything about that moment in time to laugh about. Which reminds me that whoever took that picture belongs high up on my shit list! I mean hello, abject terror, fear and more tears than the lake had in it is not my idea of a Kodak moment, Mom!
So who could blame me for being more than a bit freaked out about putting myself in a craft that could pretty much land me in the drink without the slightest provocation on my part?
I am however a great believer in doing the things I'm scared to do... One cannot be a role model for one's saucy mouthed daughter if one doesn't prove that it can be done by sheer force of will and fortitude of spirit. Luckily for me, I fear a great many things so I've lots of options to explore on quite a regular basis.
Karaoke kindly is not on this list... Been there, done that and did it quite badly. Then again, whoever thought Me and Bobby McGee should go country ought to be tarred, feathered and dropped into an eel infested pit, right along with the big belt buckle wearing boy whose bright idea that was.
But I'm digressing.
It was a bright blue day, the sun was warm, and the water was cold as we cut a sharp path through the water, taking the small waves from motorized passersbys. And we'd gone far. Two miles perhaps. To a little island populated by sand ants, and more dog shit than I've ever seen on an island so small. Yet it was here we decided to bank and have ourselves a little lunch. After all, islands don't come around all that often and quite frankly I was beginning to feel my arms turning to mush.
Satiated and well rested, my confidence was soaring high. "Here I am," I remember thinking, "Practically a pro. And seriously, who needs these stinking water shoes anyway? I can just take them off and store them away for later."
You know when you watch a movie, and you're really rooting for the good guy or in this case girl but you can see the calamity that they can't, and you clutch the seat of your chair, close your eyes, shake your head and wish you could just bop them in the side of the head to get them to wake up to the stupidity all around them?
This was exactly that moment.
The one I couldn't see coming...
Heading back in the direction of which we came, Jo just a bit farther ahead from where I was, my kayak suddenly decided that it wanted to go a different way then where I was headed. And me not wanting to find myself turned around (and without much thought for the frailness of my existence) dunked my paddle in hard to correct my motion. Only it didn't correct it at all. It stopped me, it turned me and then it did exactly what I was hoping it wouldn't do...
In a split second, I was sitting in my kayak upside down talking to the fishes. It took me about three seconds to slip out, surface and sputter in what was a combination of warm body hitting cold water and the sudden realization that I was seriously screwed.
Jo, equally freaked out by me being freaked out, quickly turned back to come to my rescue. Treading water, clutching my life jacket, and feeling something slimy slip across my leg, I immediately began cursing my own idiocy.
I won't repeat exactly what it was that I said, but I can assure you that the "F" word was used with great abandon!
But to be honest, I couldn't help myself. I laughed. And kept laughing until a little water in my mouth reminded me that this wasn't exactly what the moment called for, at least not when the water was threatening to take my kayak under to the same (may they rest in peace) place my favorite pair of sunglasses and bright orange water shoes now call home.
So I did what any good kayaker would do. I righted the kayak, kicked up my heels, grabbed on to the toe handle and started swimming... Very slowly.
Karma being the bitch goddess she is known to be, made damn sure that the moment my stupidity put me under, I was also dead center in the middle of the lake. Thankfully it's not all that big of a lake. I was however far from shore, and completely freaking out everytime I felt something plant/fish like touch my legs. I am against all things slimy!
But swim I did... Swim, swam, swum... You name it. I did it. And when I tired, I grabbed on to my sister's kayak and let her paddle me in. And no, I'm not ashamed to admit that the closer that we got to shore, the more I body hugged the bottom of her vessel and prayed that the rocks scraping against the small of my back wouldn't leave too many a damaging mark.
I do after all have a little dignity left to hold onto...
Though at this point, it's much less than what I started out with.
This is a life lesson I learned just a few weeks ago when my sister Jo and I went on a kayaking expedition.
It was one of those perfect bright blue sky, big white puffy pillow cloud kind of days with just enough of a breeze to keep us from feeling like fried eggs sizzling on a sidewalk. Blingy sunglasses, bathing suit top (bottoms implied) and lunch stored safely away in the waterproof compartment of Jo's kayak, we launched ourselves off, into the great blue yonder.
Yonder being in front of my Father's friend's camp with them waving from above, safely up on shore.
This would be a good time to mention that I'm slightly wary of water. And believe me when I tell you that's there's not enough therapy in this world to combat the irrational fears of my childhood. (And no, I'm still not over that damn cartoon Hobbit movie my elementary school made us watch every year as if it were some kind of treat! Frodo Bagins be damned, I was scared of ring wearing frogs and goblins I was convinced lived in my basement.)
Rewind to one really bad perm, a tin can disguised as a boat, and a girl completely clueless as to how to get herself back in to shore, and you've got yourself a serious situation. In other words, a completely inappropriate time for those posing as responsible adults to merely watch the events unfold as if it's comedy night at the Improv and I'm the star attraction.Yeah... Not impressed. Not then. Not now. And pretty much never hits the mark on me finding anything about that moment in time to laugh about. Which reminds me that whoever took that picture belongs high up on my shit list! I mean hello, abject terror, fear and more tears than the lake had in it is not my idea of a Kodak moment, Mom!
So who could blame me for being more than a bit freaked out about putting myself in a craft that could pretty much land me in the drink without the slightest provocation on my part?
I am however a great believer in doing the things I'm scared to do... One cannot be a role model for one's saucy mouthed daughter if one doesn't prove that it can be done by sheer force of will and fortitude of spirit. Luckily for me, I fear a great many things so I've lots of options to explore on quite a regular basis.
Karaoke kindly is not on this list... Been there, done that and did it quite badly. Then again, whoever thought Me and Bobby McGee should go country ought to be tarred, feathered and dropped into an eel infested pit, right along with the big belt buckle wearing boy whose bright idea that was.
But I'm digressing.
It was a bright blue day, the sun was warm, and the water was cold as we cut a sharp path through the water, taking the small waves from motorized passersbys. And we'd gone far. Two miles perhaps. To a little island populated by sand ants, and more dog shit than I've ever seen on an island so small. Yet it was here we decided to bank and have ourselves a little lunch. After all, islands don't come around all that often and quite frankly I was beginning to feel my arms turning to mush.
Satiated and well rested, my confidence was soaring high. "Here I am," I remember thinking, "Practically a pro. And seriously, who needs these stinking water shoes anyway? I can just take them off and store them away for later."
You know when you watch a movie, and you're really rooting for the good guy or in this case girl but you can see the calamity that they can't, and you clutch the seat of your chair, close your eyes, shake your head and wish you could just bop them in the side of the head to get them to wake up to the stupidity all around them?
This was exactly that moment.
The one I couldn't see coming...
Heading back in the direction of which we came, Jo just a bit farther ahead from where I was, my kayak suddenly decided that it wanted to go a different way then where I was headed. And me not wanting to find myself turned around (and without much thought for the frailness of my existence) dunked my paddle in hard to correct my motion. Only it didn't correct it at all. It stopped me, it turned me and then it did exactly what I was hoping it wouldn't do...
In a split second, I was sitting in my kayak upside down talking to the fishes. It took me about three seconds to slip out, surface and sputter in what was a combination of warm body hitting cold water and the sudden realization that I was seriously screwed.
Jo, equally freaked out by me being freaked out, quickly turned back to come to my rescue. Treading water, clutching my life jacket, and feeling something slimy slip across my leg, I immediately began cursing my own idiocy.
I won't repeat exactly what it was that I said, but I can assure you that the "F" word was used with great abandon!
But to be honest, I couldn't help myself. I laughed. And kept laughing until a little water in my mouth reminded me that this wasn't exactly what the moment called for, at least not when the water was threatening to take my kayak under to the same (may they rest in peace) place my favorite pair of sunglasses and bright orange water shoes now call home.
So I did what any good kayaker would do. I righted the kayak, kicked up my heels, grabbed on to the toe handle and started swimming... Very slowly.
Karma being the bitch goddess she is known to be, made damn sure that the moment my stupidity put me under, I was also dead center in the middle of the lake. Thankfully it's not all that big of a lake. I was however far from shore, and completely freaking out everytime I felt something plant/fish like touch my legs. I am against all things slimy!
But swim I did... Swim, swam, swum... You name it. I did it. And when I tired, I grabbed on to my sister's kayak and let her paddle me in. And no, I'm not ashamed to admit that the closer that we got to shore, the more I body hugged the bottom of her vessel and prayed that the rocks scraping against the small of my back wouldn't leave too many a damaging mark.
I do after all have a little dignity left to hold onto...
Though at this point, it's much less than what I started out with.
Writer's Block
I've been wanting to write something. But lately everything I really want to say is having a hard time coming out the way I want it said. I blame distractions. All of them! Like KC sitting in the living room with the TV on, driving me crazy with nothing but noise when all I really want is silence.
And yet I can't send her to bed. Not when she's waiting up to see my Mom come walking through our door with open arms and a hug to spare. Instead she burns the midnight oil, sketching quietly in her notepad while blaring my eardrums out with programming not worth paying any attention to regardless of the fact that I'm having absolutely no success in the ignoring.
I've become old.
Noise for the sake of noise, no longer impresses me. And though I have great skill and talent for blocking just about anything annoying out, right now I'd gladly throw a shoe, or whatever I have on hand, at my coveted flat screen just to shut it the hell up.
(Fast forward forty years from now and I'll bet the last few dollars in my bank account that I'll also be that cranky old lady who stands scowling behind thick, dark curtains just waiting for some young whippersnapper to make the mistake of stepping on my lawn...)
Not a pretty image. And yet, what I would do for quiet right now surprises me. But then again, not really...
Maybe I should just order KC off to bed. Or put up my latest foreign movie Netflix film. Hell, if I could figure out where Connect Four last got put away, I'd grab that out and challenge mini-me to a game.
I should probably just go to bed...
I have nothing to say.
And yet I can't send her to bed. Not when she's waiting up to see my Mom come walking through our door with open arms and a hug to spare. Instead she burns the midnight oil, sketching quietly in her notepad while blaring my eardrums out with programming not worth paying any attention to regardless of the fact that I'm having absolutely no success in the ignoring.
I've become old.
Noise for the sake of noise, no longer impresses me. And though I have great skill and talent for blocking just about anything annoying out, right now I'd gladly throw a shoe, or whatever I have on hand, at my coveted flat screen just to shut it the hell up.
(Fast forward forty years from now and I'll bet the last few dollars in my bank account that I'll also be that cranky old lady who stands scowling behind thick, dark curtains just waiting for some young whippersnapper to make the mistake of stepping on my lawn...)
Not a pretty image. And yet, what I would do for quiet right now surprises me. But then again, not really...
Maybe I should just order KC off to bed. Or put up my latest foreign movie Netflix film. Hell, if I could figure out where Connect Four last got put away, I'd grab that out and challenge mini-me to a game.
I should probably just go to bed...
I have nothing to say.
Good and Going
I am exhausted.
I seem to spend my days doing. Running here, running there. Logging on the miles with my feet and with my car. Going, going, going...
I can't remember the last time I spoke to Brenda on the phone. Can't remember the last time I took the time to read a good book. Can't remember the last time I allowed myself to sleep the morning in.
I've gone from being a possibly maybe kind of girl to a count me in even if I don't really want to go gal. And though I'm overjoyed to finally be living life to its fullest, I'm quite convinced that a little down time needs to be on my docket soon.
And as usual, finding the right balance is far easier said than done.
And there are moments when I have to right myself from turning the wrong way, or keep myself from making new choices more reminiscent of the old. So much so I've become my own best reminder of what it takes to get where you want to be.
After all, I know exactly what I won't ever settle for again...
I seem to spend my days doing. Running here, running there. Logging on the miles with my feet and with my car. Going, going, going...
I can't remember the last time I spoke to Brenda on the phone. Can't remember the last time I took the time to read a good book. Can't remember the last time I allowed myself to sleep the morning in.
I've gone from being a possibly maybe kind of girl to a count me in even if I don't really want to go gal. And though I'm overjoyed to finally be living life to its fullest, I'm quite convinced that a little down time needs to be on my docket soon.
And as usual, finding the right balance is far easier said than done.
And there are moments when I have to right myself from turning the wrong way, or keep myself from making new choices more reminiscent of the old. So much so I've become my own best reminder of what it takes to get where you want to be.
After all, I know exactly what I won't ever settle for again...
Trapped
Ten minutes ago I was carefree. Relaxed. Reading a book with no thought of anything to trouble me before sleep.
Now I'm wide awake. Stressed. My mind scrambling with information in a drunken shell shocked way.
And all I can think to myself is, "Not again."
I can't live with this again.
All fun and kidding aside, noisy neighbors are one thing, but a noisy neighbor with a boyfriend who comes complete with a level three sex offender level rating just three seconds from my backdoor, that I can't live with. Not for a minute. Not for a second. Not at all...
I'm out of answers on what I should do. Contact my landlord who in his usual clueless way will do nothing until something forces his hand? Start looking for a new place to call home and hope to God I can afford it? Or cross my fingers that this problem will go away all on its own...
I'd feel numb if I didn't feel so much like throwing up.
Now I'm wide awake. Stressed. My mind scrambling with information in a drunken shell shocked way.
And all I can think to myself is, "Not again."
I can't live with this again.
All fun and kidding aside, noisy neighbors are one thing, but a noisy neighbor with a boyfriend who comes complete with a level three sex offender level rating just three seconds from my backdoor, that I can't live with. Not for a minute. Not for a second. Not at all...
I'm out of answers on what I should do. Contact my landlord who in his usual clueless way will do nothing until something forces his hand? Start looking for a new place to call home and hope to God I can afford it? Or cross my fingers that this problem will go away all on its own...
I'd feel numb if I didn't feel so much like throwing up.
Self-Banning: Not a Significant Source of Your Recommended Daily Amount of Fiber
I'm putting myself on a book ban, right along with everything else that has just got to go. Because I can't be trusted. Not with ice cream in my freezer. Not with a tall man sitting on my couch. Not with the kind of book that only encourages bad hanging on behavior when the key to moving on is really having to let go.
And far be it from me to feel the need to point out each and every one of my flaws to you. But honestly there are just some things you're absolutely going to need to know if we're to continue going on the way we've been.
Things I won't admit like sometimes being scared of the dark. Or covering my mouth with my hand while I'm driving in my car so people won't catch on to the fact that I'm singing. Or that I talk far too much when I'm nervous but even less than that when I'm upset.
Or that I'm over someone I'm absolutely not, that I'm interested in someone I shouldn't be, and that if I had to choose I'd go with the guy who took my heart two years ago and never came back to claim the rest of me.
And should anyone come across this smarmy bastard, smack him for me with the knowledge that he is owed...
This is where I should say that it's his loss. Not that he ever admitted it beyond his one attempt to say something I didn't quite understand that went a little something just like this, "I'm not the scared little bitch you think I am right now, but I am scared." (And a bitch! And yes, I added that last part on.)
God forbid I ever figure out what that means. It's like a riddle that no one, not even the one who spoke it, can solve...
Bunny Boy notwithstanding, I'm not getting any better at figuring out the puzzle. I know men think they've got it bad trying to figure out women speak, but damn if we women don't have it worst trying to figure out intentions.
Do they have them? What do they mean? And for the love of God what am I supposed to do?
(Side note: If anyone has any answers to any of the aforementioned questions, please contact me directly via the comment section. It would be awfully nice to be in the know on some of these things.)
Back to what I was saying...
It's all about avoidance.
Avoiding temptation, avoiding heartache, avoiding boy brought on depression, avoiding the freezer with the ice cream still calling out my name, avoiding everything and anything that I absolutely want, but can't and shouldn't have...
Avoiding Temptations
My kitchen is completely off limits. A danger zone without bright blinking yellow lights to warn me off from going in. Which is why I'm hiding out in my living room. Hoping against hope that the more I try to distract myself from thinking about the ice cream that is practically screaming my name right through the freezer door, I'll be able to resist the temptation of that one little spoonful which will surely lead to two if I allow myself just one...
And I've been doing so good. Well enough to say that ice cream hasn't crossed the threshold of my home for over five months until my daughter decided to make a fuss over her right to eat ice cream regardless of the ban I've put on it myself.
I've got to admit, I'm not a big fan of my kid being right. But mostly I'm not a big fan of keeping temptation close at hand when it's far easier to live without having to worry about it at all.
Ice cream, much like men you know are absolutely no good for you, are both best kept at a discreet distance. In other words, out of your freezer, off of your couch and certainly not when accompanied by a bottle of wine.Then again I do have a knack for ignoring my own good advice as long as my friends don't remind me to remember what I'd say to myself if I weren't myself at all. And I do hate it when they're absolutely right...
Damn common sense and self control!
Two Days Off, Too Many Days On
Is it really almost Monday?
Or is this some kind of sad, sick joke?
I wish it were Friday night all over again, Saturday afternoon once more... Except maybe this time a little more dry and a little less wet, and a whole lot closer to shore.
But that's a story that requires more time than I have right now to tell.
Tomorrow?
Well, maybe...
Or is this some kind of sad, sick joke?
I wish it were Friday night all over again, Saturday afternoon once more... Except maybe this time a little more dry and a little less wet, and a whole lot closer to shore.
But that's a story that requires more time than I have right now to tell.Tomorrow?
Well, maybe...
At Your Disposal
I draw the line at picking up after my neighbor. Specifically, her garbage which she left sitting out on her side of the house simply because she was too lazy to walk to the front yard and retrieve the garbage receptacle that was still out by the road from this morning's pick-up.
Garbage I might add that would not have been picked up at all had I not woken up at five something this morning to bring it out to the curb... And wasn't I so glad to come home from work - dreadful place really - pull in my driveway and see that it was still there, right where I had left it, waiting for me to return it to its proper place.
Though this doesn't explain the piles of magazines left at my front door. Magazines which weren't for me, weren't anything new, and were obviously part of someones recyclables that somehow, someway, and annoyingly made their way to where they became my problem...
But I have no problem tossing that right back into the recyclable bin and waving them a brief and permanent good-bye. After all, there's no article in Cosmo or Glamour worth reading anyway. Sometimes I wonder how they can sell the same information month after month after month...
Honestly, I guess I just don't get how many different sexual positions for achieving your maximum orgasm while making your guy feel like he's the king of the world, while knowing how to handle your annoying co-workers, mother-in-laws, or ex-best friends articles you have to read before you can consider yourself a bonafide pro...
Metamorphosis
I want to bottle up everything I've heard, all that I've seen. And I want to carry this feeling inside me so that every time I forget what it feels like to feel, I'll always have this to remind me.
It seems like nonsense. But you can go on so little for so long, that you stop expecting more from anything or anyone. And maybe this is why I've been putting myself through the ringer these past few months. Pushing myself as hard as I can push to break through this invisible barrier that separates me from the world.
I get pissed at myself when I think of all the time I've wasted, living in a self-made cocoon all because the unexpected took me by surprise. Things I never thought would happen to me, places I never thought to find myself, things that I was too young to know how to handle and then too used to living with in silence.
I've tried to put my brave face on, and I've tapped into my strength, even when my reserves were low. But I've never managed to get pass that line that separates failure from success, joy from profound sorrow. I guess I never even thought to consider that I was the only key that needed turning. That I have always been the one true lock that has kept me where I am, on the inside looking out and on the outside looking in.
Life isn't perfect. Far from it. But I know what the things are that I need, and I know that there are some things that can be had but aren't worth taking. You grow up when you know when to say to when, when to say yes, and when to let the whole thing just pass you by.
I'm a slow learner... But sometimes I do actually heed the lesson.
"All you need is already within you, only you must approach your self with reverence and love. Self-condemnation and self-distrust are grievous errors. Your constant flight from pain and search for pleasure is a sign of love you bear for your self, all I plead with you is this: make love of your self perfect. Deny yourself nothing -- glue your self infinity and eternity and discover that you do not need them; you are beyond".
- Nisargadatta Maharaj
Something Rather Than Nothing
A quick something to say so I can get it said and get myself to bed...
Things accomplished today:
1. Forced myself to go to work and not have a pretend sick day.
2. Three miles on the treadmill. All uphill.
3. Made dinner for tomorrow tonight.
4. Two loads of laundry, one load of dishes and grocery shopping.
5. Did not maim anyone today.
6. Played with the pint sized pup.
7. Made KC clean the cat litter.
Things not accomplished today:
1. Did not call and make KC an appointment with the dentist.
2. Did not color my hair as I have been meaning to do for the past two weeks.
3. Did not clean out my car and it's plethora of water bottles in need of recycling.
4. Did not make bed.
5. Did not maim anyone today.
6. Did not talk to the new lady downstairs about the ridiculous volume level of her television which she leaves on every night, all night.
7. Did not take Lucy for her walk.
I know as far as lists go, this one is so close to lame that I can't even say it's bordering on it. But this whole getting back into the swing of things is a bit hard after too much time off for bad cable behavior.
Still something is always better than nothing and just as soon as I succeed in making a complete and total ass of myself, I guaranty that you'll be first to know.
Things accomplished today:
1. Forced myself to go to work and not have a pretend sick day.
2. Three miles on the treadmill. All uphill.
3. Made dinner for tomorrow tonight.
4. Two loads of laundry, one load of dishes and grocery shopping.
5. Did not maim anyone today.
6. Played with the pint sized pup.
7. Made KC clean the cat litter.
Things not accomplished today:
1. Did not call and make KC an appointment with the dentist.
2. Did not color my hair as I have been meaning to do for the past two weeks.
3. Did not clean out my car and it's plethora of water bottles in need of recycling.
4. Did not make bed.
5. Did not maim anyone today.
6. Did not talk to the new lady downstairs about the ridiculous volume level of her television which she leaves on every night, all night.
7. Did not take Lucy for her walk.
I know as far as lists go, this one is so close to lame that I can't even say it's bordering on it. But this whole getting back into the swing of things is a bit hard after too much time off for bad cable behavior.
Still something is always better than nothing and just as soon as I succeed in making a complete and total ass of myself, I guaranty that you'll be first to know.
Missing Her Mom
She falls apart and I feel helpless to help her. Watching as she tries to hide her tears and suffer through a movie too good not to like, but too hard to watch when the subject matter has literally hit too close to home.
I understand her distance. The safety of pretending not to need anyone or anything when everything is just too much, too hard to comprehend. There is no getting around the finality of death. And you can't help but remember every moment of the last moment. A family holding hands, ushering life to death with love, trying so hard to let her go in the sudden recognition of everything they were losing, unable to know just how hard the coming months would be.
Everything is a reminder of what is not where it should be, of who is missing. An equation that refuses to measure up. A conversation you begin and end when you realize you are standing there in an empty room speaking to yourself and waiting for a reply.
It is emptiness longing to be filled.
She turns to me and I feel I must apologize for allowing sadness to find her on a Friday night. She shakes her head, mumbles it's okay and readies herself for the drive she has to go back to home.
I worry about her. My youngest sister. Holding so much in, keeping so much to herself. Inside an emotional tsunami getting ready to let go.
I understand her distance. The safety of pretending not to need anyone or anything when everything is just too much, too hard to comprehend. There is no getting around the finality of death. And you can't help but remember every moment of the last moment. A family holding hands, ushering life to death with love, trying so hard to let her go in the sudden recognition of everything they were losing, unable to know just how hard the coming months would be.
Everything is a reminder of what is not where it should be, of who is missing. An equation that refuses to measure up. A conversation you begin and end when you realize you are standing there in an empty room speaking to yourself and waiting for a reply.
It is emptiness longing to be filled.
She turns to me and I feel I must apologize for allowing sadness to find her on a Friday night. She shakes her head, mumbles it's okay and readies herself for the drive she has to go back to home.
I worry about her. My youngest sister. Holding so much in, keeping so much to herself. Inside an emotional tsunami getting ready to let go.
Odd Girl Out
There’s something to be said about having to be right at any cost. And I’m convinced that anyone who utters the phrase "Not to be rude, but…" in preface to most everything they have to say is someone who uses mock politeness as an excuse to be absolutely intolerable.
Perhaps I seem to be coming across a little harsh. Intolerable after all is a word that doesn’t leave room for much improvement. Then again intolerable has the habit of wearing rose colored glasses and believing that there is no other way than their way and their way is always perfectly right.
In other words which can be interpreted in their words, "I’m wrong."
Not that I’m saying in the least that I think I’m right one hundred percent of the time, I just know in this instance that a lot can be gained from a little perspective when living in the real world.
I like to call it reality.
The absolute truth of everything.
The truth is that I can’t change who I am without becoming someone I don’t want to be. And if that means I can’t be perfect, then so be it. I don’t have to reach unfathomable expectations to be happy with myself. And I certainly don’t need to kick myself in the ass anytime I make a mistake just to prove I’m really sorry for having made a judgment call that turned out to be not exactly how I hoped it would be.
Alanis said it best, "You live. You learn."
And isn’t that just the way this world goes ‘round?
So for all of you out there who think it’s you’re God given right to critique and criticize as often as you draw breath, a little small word of advice…
Ease up.
Perhaps I seem to be coming across a little harsh. Intolerable after all is a word that doesn’t leave room for much improvement. Then again intolerable has the habit of wearing rose colored glasses and believing that there is no other way than their way and their way is always perfectly right.
In other words which can be interpreted in their words, "I’m wrong."
Not that I’m saying in the least that I think I’m right one hundred percent of the time, I just know in this instance that a lot can be gained from a little perspective when living in the real world.
I like to call it reality.
The absolute truth of everything.
The truth is that I can’t change who I am without becoming someone I don’t want to be. And if that means I can’t be perfect, then so be it. I don’t have to reach unfathomable expectations to be happy with myself. And I certainly don’t need to kick myself in the ass anytime I make a mistake just to prove I’m really sorry for having made a judgment call that turned out to be not exactly how I hoped it would be.
Alanis said it best, "You live. You learn."
And isn’t that just the way this world goes ‘round?
So for all of you out there who think it’s you’re God given right to critique and criticize as often as you draw breath, a little small word of advice…
Ease up.
Running From the Rain
White t-shirts, bright blue bras and rain storms don't mix. At least not when you're out and about in public. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that it pretty much ends the shopping trip. Or at least it does for those of us who occasionally remember what the word modesty means... Not that I'm modest much at all. But even I was staring at my wet plastered on t-shirt thinking, "Holy crap! Will you look at that there!"
Needless to say, I only completed two of the four errands I had on my agenda for tonight. Which is quite honestly nothing close to being a big deal since I am a true believer in the theory that what cannot get done today can always be done tomorrow. A theory better known as procrastination. And yes, I am a master of it. A black belt even.
I do have to say that I'm not sure just where to start tonight, well beyond the blue bra mishap that is. It's been so long since I've had the ability (also known as a working Internet connection) and the time (when I'm not spending each and every night trying to obliterate myself at the gym) to sit down (on my newly acquired and might I add cute and getting cuter by the day ass) to write anything (beyond my last will and testament of which there is really nothing to give to anyone at all other than my daughter and my dog, and I think my dog is fairing better than my daughter) that fills you in (on everything I've been meaning to tell you or have been conveniently trying not to mention) going on in my life right now and these past few months when silence has been a sore substitute for the written word.
This might also explain my penchant for run-on sentences... But I digress.
And then I yawn, look over at the clock on my desk and think that I don't have a lot more in me tonight to say much more... I could blame it on having to get up early. Or attribute it to going to the gym. But I think tonight I'll just fess up and tell you I'm just plain worn out down to my toes.
So maybe more tomorrow. If my connection is still connecting that is...
Waiting On Sooner Rather Than Later
Still lacking the necessities to get my Internet up and running... There is however a good chance that at some point this week, I may be able to change all that...
As for me right this second, right now, I'm off at a galloping pace... Always so much to do and it seems never enough time to do any of it at all!
More soon... I hope!
Fingers crossed.
As for me right this second, right now, I'm off at a galloping pace... Always so much to do and it seems never enough time to do any of it at all!
More soon... I hope!
Fingers crossed.
Naked With the Lights On is Online
Don't ask how... Don't even ask me why.
I'm too tired to explain all I had to do to get things back to what resembles normal around here... But take this one to bed with you tonight.
The blog break is officially over as of right here and right now.
That is, just as soon as I go catch a few hours of much needed rest and relaxation.
I'm too tired to explain all I had to do to get things back to what resembles normal around here... But take this one to bed with you tonight.
The blog break is officially over as of right here and right now.
That is, just as soon as I go catch a few hours of much needed rest and relaxation.
From The Library
No. I am not missing. Nor am I dead. I'm simply still without any viable connection to the Internet though one would think this sort of problem would be, well, fixed by now. But it's not. And here I am pounding away on the keyboard at the library, noting as I do just how loud my typing really is but deciding just the same to blame it on not being able to be at home on my own laptop in my own writing room or reading room, whichever you prefer or in reality whatever I feel like calling it, at the present time.
Some guy is reading this over my shoulder. Hi guy... Want to go away now? Or hey, how about a date? I'm single. Looking. And still slightly available. Well, that is unless you're a complete fuck up and then really, I have nothing at all to say to you. I am so done with those.
So honestly, I like want to blog forever tonight, but there has to be a limit. In fact, I'm even skipping the gym to be here so great was my need to say something into the emptiness that has become my blog.
I also wanted to update my Netflix Que but you didn't hear me say that. No. Tonight is all about you my dear readers. Or reader. Or anyone who happens to come across this page by pure accident.
I promise that as of tomorrow, I'm going to get this situation rectified. Heads will roll! Someone, somewhere at the big bad Internet connection place is going to get this corrected... Even if I have to fight City Hall!
Or threaten to write them a letter which won't do me any good at all considering that none of this is their problem in the least little bit.
I'm stressed.
I need to blog like a frog needs water. Like a balloon needs air.
Some guy is reading this over my shoulder. Hi guy... Want to go away now? Or hey, how about a date? I'm single. Looking. And still slightly available. Well, that is unless you're a complete fuck up and then really, I have nothing at all to say to you. I am so done with those.
So honestly, I like want to blog forever tonight, but there has to be a limit. In fact, I'm even skipping the gym to be here so great was my need to say something into the emptiness that has become my blog.
I also wanted to update my Netflix Que but you didn't hear me say that. No. Tonight is all about you my dear readers. Or reader. Or anyone who happens to come across this page by pure accident.
I promise that as of tomorrow, I'm going to get this situation rectified. Heads will roll! Someone, somewhere at the big bad Internet connection place is going to get this corrected... Even if I have to fight City Hall!
Or threaten to write them a letter which won't do me any good at all considering that none of this is their problem in the least little bit.
I'm stressed.
I need to blog like a frog needs water. Like a balloon needs air.
Letting the Sun Shine
There are a lot of things I can live without, but writing is not one of them. And this silence on my part, which quite frankly has not been a by my choice sort of thing but more because my Internet company can't seem to get anyone in house to come fix the problem at my house type of problem, has made me getting a word in edgewise absolutely impossible.
And believe me when I say that there are lots of things I have to say. Including some things I wish I could say, and some I know I just can't say, but oh so desperately need to say to get to some sort of level playing ground of existence.
And if after more than a month away you don't understand anything I just wrote, let's just come to the agreement that you and I, we have more than a lot of catching up to do.
A full blown discourse of a discussion on how I repeatedly find myself in odd situations at a complete loss for what the hell it is I'm doing. And it's no wonder I spend a lot of time smacking myself in the head when no one's looking...
At the moment however I'm not sure what I have to say for myself other than, "Ooops."
But that's a story I've got to save for another time when I (a) have more time and (b) figure out a way to tell it without (c) causing anyone, including myself, any trouble.
Not to worry though... I am an expert at making a mountain out of a molehill and the good news, should anyone be wondering if there might be any, is nothing illegal though something far exceeding my kind of normal happened.
Seriously, I should be a politician after saying all that... I mean really, how can a person say so much and nothing at all, all at the same time?
It's a gift...
In other news, I'm happy to say that my gym commitments is still going strong. Strong enough in fact that I get up before the sun rises and make my way out the door to put in a few miles before starting my day.
I can't believe it's come to this, but I can honestly say I like it. I like challenging myself to do more than I ever thought I could do a few months ago. And I like seeing progress. And it doesn't hurt that there's some seriously nice eye candy every once in a while to distract me from keeping a close eye on just how many more miles I've left to go.
But what I like best is the me I'm becoming again. Everyday I'm a little bit more of the me I remember and not the me so many outside influences and disturbances had over time forced me to become.
It's like being free.
And all those things I thought once mattered, well maybe they just don't matter quite so much anymore.
Stay tuned my faithful readers!
And believe me when I say that there are lots of things I have to say. Including some things I wish I could say, and some I know I just can't say, but oh so desperately need to say to get to some sort of level playing ground of existence.
And if after more than a month away you don't understand anything I just wrote, let's just come to the agreement that you and I, we have more than a lot of catching up to do.
A full blown discourse of a discussion on how I repeatedly find myself in odd situations at a complete loss for what the hell it is I'm doing. And it's no wonder I spend a lot of time smacking myself in the head when no one's looking...
At the moment however I'm not sure what I have to say for myself other than, "Ooops."
But that's a story I've got to save for another time when I (a) have more time and (b) figure out a way to tell it without (c) causing anyone, including myself, any trouble.
Not to worry though... I am an expert at making a mountain out of a molehill and the good news, should anyone be wondering if there might be any, is nothing illegal though something far exceeding my kind of normal happened.
Seriously, I should be a politician after saying all that... I mean really, how can a person say so much and nothing at all, all at the same time?
It's a gift...
In other news, I'm happy to say that my gym commitments is still going strong. Strong enough in fact that I get up before the sun rises and make my way out the door to put in a few miles before starting my day.
I can't believe it's come to this, but I can honestly say I like it. I like challenging myself to do more than I ever thought I could do a few months ago. And I like seeing progress. And it doesn't hurt that there's some seriously nice eye candy every once in a while to distract me from keeping a close eye on just how many more miles I've left to go.
But what I like best is the me I'm becoming again. Everyday I'm a little bit more of the me I remember and not the me so many outside influences and disturbances had over time forced me to become.
It's like being free.
And all those things I thought once mattered, well maybe they just don't matter quite so much anymore.
Stay tuned my faithful readers!
