I debated back and forth about writing on this subject. But it’s been bugging me since yesterday (Thursday) so it’s probably better to get it out. Have you ever had someone you know, who knows you well enough to know better, assume something terrible about you and just run with it? Hurt feelings follow, assumptions are made that lead to a tangle of other assumptions, and at the end of it all there’s a 300lb gorilla in the room I didn’t know about. It feels awful, but worse than that. There aren’t enough adjectives…
I think I jinxed myself. I wrote a post mentioning I’d only offended one person. Now I’ve done it again. Technically it’s still one cuz it’s the same person, but I want to make it clear to that person in particular and everyone else in the world who might stumble across this blog:
I don’t write to hurt you or anyone.
I’m not an angry, malicious, secretly vicious, or otherwise nasty person. It goes against my inner, happy hippie nature and my theory of go along and get along. I’m the one who doesn’t retaliate because I don’t want to stoop to that level, plus I’ll feel shitty about it later. So it shocked my socks off that this particular person thought I was stabbing at him via the aforementioned post, when in truth and aside from the first paragraph, it had nothing to do with him. When I said life wasn’t about pleasing people and ‘you’ weren’t on the list anyway, I meant ‘you’ collectively, including everyone on the planet. Here’s a little further explanation if it’s still not clear:
I was raised as a pleaser. Making my folks proud and receiving affection became based on how I performed at school or on the soccer field. A ‘B’ in math earned a frown and a ‘C’ in reading was unacceptable. They tried to stage an intervention when I got a ‘D’ in college calculus, despise my having been in the hospital for a week during that term. I became the one who could always be depended on to work overtime even if I had plans. You can’t always do what makes others happy, and you shouldn’t do things you normally wouldn’t just for that reason. It turns into a huge mess eventually.
I’m 28 years old and I’m just now becoming my own person, realizing that I have a right to set boundaries and say ‘no’, and that people who would rather hurt than help, or refuse to respect my happiness have no place in my life. That’s what I meant when I said life wasn’t about pleasing people.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me being the first person I need to please either. That’s not selfish, and if you (anyone) disagree we’ll have to agree to disagree on that point. I’m not out there getting my jollies by stomping on the dreams of others. Pleasing me doesn’t hurt anyone. I deserve to be happy, and for me, a lot of that is an internal struggle with old, very deeply rooted issues.
This blog is helping me with some of those issues, especially the ones about expressing myself. Not all my thoughts are cute bunnies and fluffy clouds, but what I wrote is how I felt at the time and I needed to get it out. There are too many emotions careening around inside and damages are imminent if I keep stuffing them down. I won’t apologize for having thoughts or feelings that offended someone, because I had them, ugly or not. But I didn’t post them to hurt anyone and I’m never going to post something intentionally hurtful in the off-chance that the person might read it. That’s too grey. If we have issues, rest assured I’ll be contacting you (anyone) to discuss them directly.
Anyway, that’s the general jist. If I’m still not being clear, please COMMUNICATE that to me.
WTF
Picture me heaving a huge sigh, possibly shaking my head, cycling through a myriad of emotions…sadness, anger, frustration. One voice in my head says “just be done with the whole mess”. Another says “why can’t you just say what needs to be said?” A third says “those two are practically one and the same”. The last one says “this sucks”.
I’ve had a friend for 18 years. Well, let me rephrase…I’ve known someone whom I’m friendly with for 18 years. The count for actual solid friendship is several years fewer. We walked nearly identical paths for a long time, and then mine did the veer and hers came to a dead end at a race track.
She’s stuck. She’s miserable. And I think she’s broken.
I’ve been slighted, ignored, avoided, and dismissed. The part of me that’s just getting the hang of enforcing abuse limits is starting to chatter in my ear, asking what exactly I’m doing here. Because I’m a great friend. The kind who’ll bail you out of jail or come to the rescue when your car breaks down (distance not withstanding); who’ll let you crash on my couch indefinitely so long as you help with groceries, and has been known to loan out underwear in extreme circumstances. You call, I’ll be there.
There are limits. And I’m rubbing against them. I don’t think it’s the least bit selfish to expect something in return. Not only am I not getting near what I give, I’m not getting anything, and that includes the time of day. I am playing second fiddle to a 6-month old relationship involving a de-virginized Mormon who’s hell-bent on marriage at the first opportunity. He’s her world, because there’s control. I get the logic: when you’re whole life is spiraling beyond your grasp, you hold on to what you can control, fiercely. The problem is he’s not helping her get a better grip on anything else, he’s just distracting her so she can pretend reality’s not happening.
And as you can imagine, the few occasions I do get time with her they inevitably include him. I can’t stand him. He’s the least informed and most opinionated person I’ve ever met. My dad, being the most opinionated person ever, at least had the decency to do his research. This one is something else. And he whines. Constantly.
The dilemma is: how do I get time with her without him; closely followed by: is it worth it, considering I’m the only one fighting for this relationship? When I’m angry, the short answers are “don’t waste your time” and “no”. There’s a soft spot somewhere though (damnable soft spot!) that reminds me we’ve known each other longer than anyone else (outside of family which is a whole other cluster fuck) and there’s history there. It should be as simple as talking about it.
It’s not.
In my experience with this particular person, talking is harder than it has any right to be. Mostly because everything said could be the one thing that ends it all. She likes truth far less than she likes reality, and the people around her have found it easier to sugar-coat things or simply let them go. No one is attempting to break the cycle, not even me, though I’m beginning to feel that the consequences would be worth it. I’m a Leo – it’s impossible for me to hide when I’m angry. Anyone who’s actually looking at me can tell what kind of day I’m having.
Earth to Friend: Look at Me!!
She wanted to get together tonight. I blew her off. Two months without a word, then a weird chipper message about $4 pizza deals. My door’s always open, anytime she’s free to get together. No response. I can’t even get penciled onto the calendar cuz something better might come up. I’m not gonna beg for anyone’s time.
I don’t feel better. I don’t know what to do…whether I should fight for 18 years of history, be it patchy in places, or let it slowly fade into nothing. I miss my friend, the person she was when I was worth her time. I guess she’s not that person anymore.
I’ve had a friend for 18 years. Well, let me rephrase…I’ve known someone whom I’m friendly with for 18 years. The count for actual solid friendship is several years fewer. We walked nearly identical paths for a long time, and then mine did the veer and hers came to a dead end at a race track.
She’s stuck. She’s miserable. And I think she’s broken.
I’ve been slighted, ignored, avoided, and dismissed. The part of me that’s just getting the hang of enforcing abuse limits is starting to chatter in my ear, asking what exactly I’m doing here. Because I’m a great friend. The kind who’ll bail you out of jail or come to the rescue when your car breaks down (distance not withstanding); who’ll let you crash on my couch indefinitely so long as you help with groceries, and has been known to loan out underwear in extreme circumstances. You call, I’ll be there.
There are limits. And I’m rubbing against them. I don’t think it’s the least bit selfish to expect something in return. Not only am I not getting near what I give, I’m not getting anything, and that includes the time of day. I am playing second fiddle to a 6-month old relationship involving a de-virginized Mormon who’s hell-bent on marriage at the first opportunity. He’s her world, because there’s control. I get the logic: when you’re whole life is spiraling beyond your grasp, you hold on to what you can control, fiercely. The problem is he’s not helping her get a better grip on anything else, he’s just distracting her so she can pretend reality’s not happening.
And as you can imagine, the few occasions I do get time with her they inevitably include him. I can’t stand him. He’s the least informed and most opinionated person I’ve ever met. My dad, being the most opinionated person ever, at least had the decency to do his research. This one is something else. And he whines. Constantly.
The dilemma is: how do I get time with her without him; closely followed by: is it worth it, considering I’m the only one fighting for this relationship? When I’m angry, the short answers are “don’t waste your time” and “no”. There’s a soft spot somewhere though (damnable soft spot!) that reminds me we’ve known each other longer than anyone else (outside of family which is a whole other cluster fuck) and there’s history there. It should be as simple as talking about it.
It’s not.
In my experience with this particular person, talking is harder than it has any right to be. Mostly because everything said could be the one thing that ends it all. She likes truth far less than she likes reality, and the people around her have found it easier to sugar-coat things or simply let them go. No one is attempting to break the cycle, not even me, though I’m beginning to feel that the consequences would be worth it. I’m a Leo – it’s impossible for me to hide when I’m angry. Anyone who’s actually looking at me can tell what kind of day I’m having.
Earth to Friend: Look at Me!!
She wanted to get together tonight. I blew her off. Two months without a word, then a weird chipper message about $4 pizza deals. My door’s always open, anytime she’s free to get together. No response. I can’t even get penciled onto the calendar cuz something better might come up. I’m not gonna beg for anyone’s time.
I don’t feel better. I don’t know what to do…whether I should fight for 18 years of history, be it patchy in places, or let it slowly fade into nothing. I miss my friend, the person she was when I was worth her time. I guess she’s not that person anymore.
Let's Be Honest
I was thinking this morning, for some unknown reason, about the one time (so far) that someone was offended by my blog. I had an opinion and someone I know had … an adverse reaction to it. I pulled the post down; retrospectively I shouldn’t have.
I guess it’s a result of too much time with my hubby, the man who sees all situations in simple black & white. Grey makes things muddy, confusing, and unnecessarily complicated; black & white cuts through the bullshit. I’m learning to think this way – it’s a double-edged sword though. It minimizes the drama, helps decision-making become easier, and simplifies many things. It also shows people for what they are, not how they’re trying to be, and everything becomes about truth, not perception. It’s blunt, hard, sometimes cold, yet simple and quite honestly, refreshing. What’s all this mess with feelings everyone insists on having? I say, yea for the happy feelings and screw the rest. Nowhere is it written that your life must include misery, conflict, and sadness, so I’ve decided to pass on those as much as possible.
Anyway, the point is now I’m blunter than I once was. I say what I mean, as opposed to a sugar coated version someone else can swallow easily, and it’s not always received well (shocker!). Life’s not all about pleasing people. There are only two people in this world that I’m interested in pleasing, and one of them is me. So if you’re offended, keep in mind you weren’t on the list to begin with.
There was some other point I was going to make and I've since lost it....another time perhaps.
I guess it’s a result of too much time with my hubby, the man who sees all situations in simple black & white. Grey makes things muddy, confusing, and unnecessarily complicated; black & white cuts through the bullshit. I’m learning to think this way – it’s a double-edged sword though. It minimizes the drama, helps decision-making become easier, and simplifies many things. It also shows people for what they are, not how they’re trying to be, and everything becomes about truth, not perception. It’s blunt, hard, sometimes cold, yet simple and quite honestly, refreshing. What’s all this mess with feelings everyone insists on having? I say, yea for the happy feelings and screw the rest. Nowhere is it written that your life must include misery, conflict, and sadness, so I’ve decided to pass on those as much as possible.
Anyway, the point is now I’m blunter than I once was. I say what I mean, as opposed to a sugar coated version someone else can swallow easily, and it’s not always received well (shocker!). Life’s not all about pleasing people. There are only two people in this world that I’m interested in pleasing, and one of them is me. So if you’re offended, keep in mind you weren’t on the list to begin with.
There was some other point I was going to make and I've since lost it....another time perhaps.
Bad Juju
I was getting it together finally. The holidays last year were the first good ones I can remember since leaving home all those years ago. There was no depression, moodiness, crying for anything/nothing, or feeling like an abandoned waif one second and a raging bull the next. I’d said my peace – a letter full of my very small voice choking out what needed to be said, probably falling on deaf ears. We were better.
.
.
.
.
Then the box arrived.
.
.
.
It felt a bit like our first road trip with the Rover, when I could see a rock coming at us like a javelin but couldn’t avoid it. It made such a big chip I jokingly called it the ‘North Star’. So too, when the most unlikely messenger came waltzing into the shop saying she had a box for me – I could see her coming, knowing it could only bode ill, but helpless to get out of the way. I accepted the box, shouldn’t have. She said it’d been mailed 2 years ago to my old address but I’d moved. She left, leaving me with a deep sense of foreboding.
I almost didn’t open it. I knew who it came from, there was no one else, and a wicked bitterness welled in my stomach knowing it was all my fault. I should’ve talked to Honey, should never have made that phone call, or agreed to meet. Should’ve known no good could possibly come from it. Should have left well enough alone. Now, the door I had been trying for so many years to keep chained and later to slam completely was open again.
.
.
.
*sigh* Live and learn I guess.
.
.
.
I opened it. Confusion was the name of the game for the rest of the day. There was no note, no explanation. My high school diploma, old prom pictures, a couple year books, some blurry photos from middle school of people I don’t remember…a stuffed reindeer I’ve had forever and haven’t seen in about as long, a framed photo of an old soccer team. And at the very bottom, two scrap book pages, I’m sure made by me, with old Polaroid’s of my parents wedding reception, the animals I loved now gone, me kissing a rabbit and looking lanky and slightly like a Wild Thing, holding a soccer trophy in the front yard.
I don’t know the purpose of a package like that. The few happy memories were ruined by the black noxious cloud that clings to everything surrounding the sender. The woman is evil, I know it, but in that subtle, passive-aggressive way that’s so hard to spot and harder to combat. You don’t realize until later that she’s insulted the hell out of you to your face.
I called home. Afterward I felt worse, the whole scope of how bad this could get sinking in like poison. The postmarks said March ’09, the delivery confirmation signature had been removed, and the forwarding sticker from the post office was on it. It was addressed to ‘Ms’ and in my maiden name. (Our 7th anniversary is next month). I have no idea how the messenger got it.
I took the diploma to file with my taxes and one prom picture, the only picture in the box including my husband. And I Fed-Ex’d it back. I included a short note asking that no more boxes be sent, that I wouldn’t accept anymore packages from her messenger; I had no use for the contents so she could do with them what she wanted, trash or keep, and I didn’t want anything from them.
.
.
.
The things I once wanted are lost forever, spoiled with a legacy of bad juju.
.
.
.
.
Then the box arrived.
.
.
.
It felt a bit like our first road trip with the Rover, when I could see a rock coming at us like a javelin but couldn’t avoid it. It made such a big chip I jokingly called it the ‘North Star’. So too, when the most unlikely messenger came waltzing into the shop saying she had a box for me – I could see her coming, knowing it could only bode ill, but helpless to get out of the way. I accepted the box, shouldn’t have. She said it’d been mailed 2 years ago to my old address but I’d moved. She left, leaving me with a deep sense of foreboding.
I almost didn’t open it. I knew who it came from, there was no one else, and a wicked bitterness welled in my stomach knowing it was all my fault. I should’ve talked to Honey, should never have made that phone call, or agreed to meet. Should’ve known no good could possibly come from it. Should have left well enough alone. Now, the door I had been trying for so many years to keep chained and later to slam completely was open again.
.
.
.
*sigh* Live and learn I guess.
.
.
.
I opened it. Confusion was the name of the game for the rest of the day. There was no note, no explanation. My high school diploma, old prom pictures, a couple year books, some blurry photos from middle school of people I don’t remember…a stuffed reindeer I’ve had forever and haven’t seen in about as long, a framed photo of an old soccer team. And at the very bottom, two scrap book pages, I’m sure made by me, with old Polaroid’s of my parents wedding reception, the animals I loved now gone, me kissing a rabbit and looking lanky and slightly like a Wild Thing, holding a soccer trophy in the front yard.
I don’t know the purpose of a package like that. The few happy memories were ruined by the black noxious cloud that clings to everything surrounding the sender. The woman is evil, I know it, but in that subtle, passive-aggressive way that’s so hard to spot and harder to combat. You don’t realize until later that she’s insulted the hell out of you to your face.
I called home. Afterward I felt worse, the whole scope of how bad this could get sinking in like poison. The postmarks said March ’09, the delivery confirmation signature had been removed, and the forwarding sticker from the post office was on it. It was addressed to ‘Ms’ and in my maiden name. (Our 7th anniversary is next month). I have no idea how the messenger got it.
I took the diploma to file with my taxes and one prom picture, the only picture in the box including my husband. And I Fed-Ex’d it back. I included a short note asking that no more boxes be sent, that I wouldn’t accept anymore packages from her messenger; I had no use for the contents so she could do with them what she wanted, trash or keep, and I didn’t want anything from them.
.
.
.
The things I once wanted are lost forever, spoiled with a legacy of bad juju.
5 Rules to a Great Relationship
Let me start with the disclaimer: I don’t know everything, nor do I claim to, take it all with a grain of salt, or write me off as crazy and do it your own way…
But I’ve been with the same man for 11 years, neither one of us is dead as a result of the other losing his/her mind, and we’re happy. It’s a happy that’s evident to people who spend time with us, but without the over-the-top displays of public affection and sucking face that make most people gag. So here are my tips for a lasting, loving relationship:
1. Spend more time with your partner than anyone else.
2. Whatever you love to do, do it together.
3. Learn to argue well – that means without being needlessly vicious and reaching a resolution as expeditiously as possible.
4. Support each other, always, even if it’s insane.
5. Be as crazy/infuriating/frustrating as your partner – it creates balance and you’re both in it for equal amounts of BS.
Now, go forth and be romantic on this Valentine’s Day. Or you could do what we’re doing, which when you really think about it is an awesome alternative, going to a strip club and buying each other lap dances. ♥
But I’ve been with the same man for 11 years, neither one of us is dead as a result of the other losing his/her mind, and we’re happy. It’s a happy that’s evident to people who spend time with us, but without the over-the-top displays of public affection and sucking face that make most people gag. So here are my tips for a lasting, loving relationship:
1. Spend more time with your partner than anyone else.
2. Whatever you love to do, do it together.
3. Learn to argue well – that means without being needlessly vicious and reaching a resolution as expeditiously as possible.
4. Support each other, always, even if it’s insane.
5. Be as crazy/infuriating/frustrating as your partner – it creates balance and you’re both in it for equal amounts of BS.
Now, go forth and be romantic on this Valentine’s Day. Or you could do what we’re doing, which when you really think about it is an awesome alternative, going to a strip club and buying each other lap dances. ♥
Let them read CAKE
Also please note the updated link for the Cupcake Blog by Chockylit. If you have a sweet anything in your body - tooth, toe, every hair on your head - this blog is for you. It's like a dirty, slutty, sexually charged romance novel about cupcakes, made of things you've never dreamed about...bacon, toffee, chocolate anyone?
New Color!!
So how's everyone feeling about the new color scheme?
I've been stirring a few things lately on the blog, seemed a good time for a color change as well. This one is easier on the eyes.
It feels a bit like there are lots of things waiting to be done, but I don't know what they are. The complete collection of Sherlock Holmes stories is overdue by about 6 days. I folded some laundry. The issue with the printer has been reconciled, temporarily anyway. Do you think its bad form to go to the bar on your work-Monday night? Before you start speculating on my downward spiraling life, keep in mind that I don't drink and generally go to bars to look at hot women, who may or may not be sloppy drunk, and to laugh at my friends while they get drunk. Who says designated drivers never have any fun?
The humble abode is down to three, which I like better. If I'm going to clean up after someone, I'd prefer it was someone who acknowledges they've made a mess and appreciate it was cleaned - instead of someone who feels that's how it should be: a magically clean space for them to destroy repeatedly. That's for people with children, not me.
I heard on the radio this morning that in Europe somewhere they’ve published a study saying people who own cats are usually more educated than people who own dogs. Their reasoning behind this remark was that cats require less time, which is well suited to people working longer hours and with farther commutes…which of course is a requirement for anyone with a degree. I started laughing. The radio show also said it was looking favorable for Howard Stern to take Simon Cowells’ place on American Idol, not that anyone cares about that, including Howard Stern so Honey tells me.
I really miss fishing. I’m really gonna miss my boat the next time I go fishing. It seems crueler to take away a fishing boat than it does a car. I’m emotionally attached to the boat. *sigh* I’ve tried to explain it before, about fishing; how it’s not so much about catching fish, but getting away from everything else and spending long afternoons basking in the glory of nature and its tranquility. Nobody seems to get it. Too much television creates the need to constantly be entertained. As much as I love the internet and Tivo, sometimes I wish the whole thing would just crash. I hate to say it, but my dad was right: TV turns your brain into pudding. Just try holding a conversation with me when I’m watching Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives (my favorite food porn), you’d think I was dumb or something. Books do me the same way, except they feed the brain and turn me into a walking dictionary for my husband.
I’m gonna go get ready for the bar… :)
I've been stirring a few things lately on the blog, seemed a good time for a color change as well. This one is easier on the eyes.
It feels a bit like there are lots of things waiting to be done, but I don't know what they are. The complete collection of Sherlock Holmes stories is overdue by about 6 days. I folded some laundry. The issue with the printer has been reconciled, temporarily anyway. Do you think its bad form to go to the bar on your work-Monday night? Before you start speculating on my downward spiraling life, keep in mind that I don't drink and generally go to bars to look at hot women, who may or may not be sloppy drunk, and to laugh at my friends while they get drunk. Who says designated drivers never have any fun?
The humble abode is down to three, which I like better. If I'm going to clean up after someone, I'd prefer it was someone who acknowledges they've made a mess and appreciate it was cleaned - instead of someone who feels that's how it should be: a magically clean space for them to destroy repeatedly. That's for people with children, not me.
I heard on the radio this morning that in Europe somewhere they’ve published a study saying people who own cats are usually more educated than people who own dogs. Their reasoning behind this remark was that cats require less time, which is well suited to people working longer hours and with farther commutes…which of course is a requirement for anyone with a degree. I started laughing. The radio show also said it was looking favorable for Howard Stern to take Simon Cowells’ place on American Idol, not that anyone cares about that, including Howard Stern so Honey tells me.
I really miss fishing. I’m really gonna miss my boat the next time I go fishing. It seems crueler to take away a fishing boat than it does a car. I’m emotionally attached to the boat. *sigh* I’ve tried to explain it before, about fishing; how it’s not so much about catching fish, but getting away from everything else and spending long afternoons basking in the glory of nature and its tranquility. Nobody seems to get it. Too much television creates the need to constantly be entertained. As much as I love the internet and Tivo, sometimes I wish the whole thing would just crash. I hate to say it, but my dad was right: TV turns your brain into pudding. Just try holding a conversation with me when I’m watching Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives (my favorite food porn), you’d think I was dumb or something. Books do me the same way, except they feed the brain and turn me into a walking dictionary for my husband.
I’m gonna go get ready for the bar… :)
Wabi Sabi quotes...and a beautiful direction for a long journey
Language...has created the word "loneliness" to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word "solitude" to express the glory of being alone.
- Paul Tillich
The secret of contentment is knowing how to enjoy what you have, and to be able to lose all desire for things beyond your reach.
-Lin Yutang
Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius - and a lot of courage - to move in the opposite direction.
-E.F. Shcumacher
Be content with what you have, rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.
-Lao Tse
Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.
-Epictetus
- Paul Tillich
The secret of contentment is knowing how to enjoy what you have, and to be able to lose all desire for things beyond your reach.
-Lin Yutang
Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius - and a lot of courage - to move in the opposite direction.
-E.F. Shcumacher
Be content with what you have, rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.
-Lao Tse
Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.
-Epictetus
Then and Now
I was reading a blog the other night, got re-directed to another blog, and subsequently discovered the person in stewardship of the first blog is what I would consider, at first glance and by one post, a completely self-absorbed bitch. Needless to say, I abandoned the desire to be a guest blogger. On the basis that her 800+ followers wouldn't go for me since I definitely don't go for her. More power to her and her lemings, but they're not for me.
Besides, I write for me. Because it's therapuetic and puts things into perspective, not because I have anything dazzling to say or because I think I'll gain friends. I've never been very popular - maybe that's why it's not one of my main life goals.
I made the mistake (again) of reading old journal entries to see where I was, mentally, on any given day. March 23, 2009, for example. That day in particular I was prepared, calm, and waiting for movement so I could move in turn. What ultimately happened: I got fired. So there I sat, 1000 miles from home, no money, no job, in an apartment lease 11 days old, and an overwhelming desire to tell a supervisor how poorly he'd handled supervising. I remember thinking how all the stars had aligned for us even to pick up and move to Portland, how in 9 days I'd driven 3000 miles to, back, and to again in order to start work on Monday. And how it all fell apart in 5 weeks, which didn't make sense to me at all.
Then, like now, not a lot makes sense. Maybe it's not supposed to. That's what they say, right? It's all part of a huge ineffible plan and we mere mortals aren't meant to understand. Well, I don't. I'll admit it so the rest of you will comfortable. For once, the entire world is in the same boat and just "doing what you can" is actually acceptable. I appreciate that.
Still chasing the dream. Dreams. Seems some days I want everything and I want it now. Making a living seems secondary to making sure my life is worth living and a good time. I'm skewed, what can I say. But I'm not wrong. I want to thrive, not just survive, which is what I've been doing most of my life, and probably you in yours. I'm taking it down to the basics of survival: food, water, shelter. Everything after that is a 'want', not a 'need'. I'm looking forward to donating everything I own when the time is right.
A model just asked me if I was a writer. After a pause, I said Yes with a smile. One step closer to one of many dreams...
Besides, I write for me. Because it's therapuetic and puts things into perspective, not because I have anything dazzling to say or because I think I'll gain friends. I've never been very popular - maybe that's why it's not one of my main life goals.
I made the mistake (again) of reading old journal entries to see where I was, mentally, on any given day. March 23, 2009, for example. That day in particular I was prepared, calm, and waiting for movement so I could move in turn. What ultimately happened: I got fired. So there I sat, 1000 miles from home, no money, no job, in an apartment lease 11 days old, and an overwhelming desire to tell a supervisor how poorly he'd handled supervising. I remember thinking how all the stars had aligned for us even to pick up and move to Portland, how in 9 days I'd driven 3000 miles to, back, and to again in order to start work on Monday. And how it all fell apart in 5 weeks, which didn't make sense to me at all.
Then, like now, not a lot makes sense. Maybe it's not supposed to. That's what they say, right? It's all part of a huge ineffible plan and we mere mortals aren't meant to understand. Well, I don't. I'll admit it so the rest of you will comfortable. For once, the entire world is in the same boat and just "doing what you can" is actually acceptable. I appreciate that.
Still chasing the dream. Dreams. Seems some days I want everything and I want it now. Making a living seems secondary to making sure my life is worth living and a good time. I'm skewed, what can I say. But I'm not wrong. I want to thrive, not just survive, which is what I've been doing most of my life, and probably you in yours. I'm taking it down to the basics of survival: food, water, shelter. Everything after that is a 'want', not a 'need'. I'm looking forward to donating everything I own when the time is right.
A model just asked me if I was a writer. After a pause, I said Yes with a smile. One step closer to one of many dreams...
Your Attention Please!
Two things need your attention.
First: 2010 5th Edition of Canon Editor's Choice.
This is an excerpt that briefly explains what Editor's Choice is all about. Read the full article here.
"The idea behind Editor’s Choice is a simple one: a few times a year Canon photographers can submit their images for review by a leading photo editor. The guest editor then makes a selection of the best images, which are showcased on CPN with the reasons behind the choices explained. Sure, there has been the odd holiday snap or picture of a pet, but there have also been some outstanding work generating a huge amount of interest in the worldwide ‘Canon-using community’.
One of the 13 photos selected by this editions' editor belongs to my husband. See her presentation and explanation here. (You have to scroll down a bit and click the red "presentation" link; I can't link it directly, tried). There's a lot of content; be patient.
Second: Don't Tell Mama's
There is a piano bar in the East Fremont district of downtown Las Vegas and it's bursting with talent. All the employees of this hole-in-the-wall heaven can sing and/or play the grand piano. And I mean sang. It's also open mike, so if you can sing, you're welcome to and they'll play background for you. It's horribly under-promoted, but now that I've found it, I want everyone to know what a gem it is. If you're local, please stop by any day after 8pm and enjoy some local flavor.
First: 2010 5th Edition of Canon Editor's Choice.
This is an excerpt that briefly explains what Editor's Choice is all about. Read the full article here.
"The idea behind Editor’s Choice is a simple one: a few times a year Canon photographers can submit their images for review by a leading photo editor. The guest editor then makes a selection of the best images, which are showcased on CPN with the reasons behind the choices explained. Sure, there has been the odd holiday snap or picture of a pet, but there have also been some outstanding work generating a huge amount of interest in the worldwide ‘Canon-using community’.
One of the 13 photos selected by this editions' editor belongs to my husband. See her presentation and explanation here. (You have to scroll down a bit and click the red "presentation" link; I can't link it directly, tried). There's a lot of content; be patient.
Second: Don't Tell Mama's
There is a piano bar in the East Fremont district of downtown Las Vegas and it's bursting with talent. All the employees of this hole-in-the-wall heaven can sing and/or play the grand piano. And I mean sang. It's also open mike, so if you can sing, you're welcome to and they'll play background for you. It's horribly under-promoted, but now that I've found it, I want everyone to know what a gem it is. If you're local, please stop by any day after 8pm and enjoy some local flavor.
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