Sometimes you just have to take responsibity of patting yourself on the back. We all tend to be caught up in our own experiences, but it simply seems to be Murphy's Law that when you would like to be noticed, thanked, appreciated or just plain recognized as existing - there is no one to do it. This is when I've learned that I just have to extend my arm and reach around an pat my own back - no one else is going to. Most of my life, no one did. I used to make it mean that it was because I didn't deserve it, that if I had done a better job people would notice, people would like me enough to tell me. Then the dreaded thought - perhaps I just wasn't likeable enough - or at all - for anyone to bother to notice, or worst horror of all, to love. All this thinking is a sucky downward spiral into the toilet bowl of depression. Not a good place to go. There is no handsome Tidybowl man to pull me out, there is no cute yellow rubber ducky to buoy me up, it's clawing hand over hand through stuck, stubborn negative thoughts and looking for the truth in them, discarding the "crap" and keeping the facts for observation and re-evaluation. Not fun, but an invaluable experience if I can learn my lessons and then not repeat the downward mental dunk that got me in the first place.
Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't and spalsh, I'm in it again. The good news is that I am getting better at bringing my own applause and even better at letting go of all those who just can't wait to give me "helpful" suggestions to improve myself. Which I have realized, usually has more to do with them than me. I have alslo learned that to tell them this invites an argument concerning how ungrateful I am for not cherishing their wisdom and effort. So I would remind myself to celebrate my wins - no matter how small and to keep my mouth zipped when friends choose to "contribute" their wisdom to my life and just thank them for the "thought" and move on. Wouldn't it be nice if we could just take life for it's surface value - that everything said was meant, that everything meant was said, that everything promised arrived and trusts were never broken? In such a place we could, at all times, reliably step out of our own way and see the truth in every molicule of matter. Think how much less mental work we would have to do! I could flush the tank once and for all knowing it would never need plumbing again! So for today, I'm bringing my own applause. I can guarantee that tomorrow, or the day after or the week, month or year after that I'll need to call RotoRooter to get me out of a quagmire or two, but for today, I smile to myself - "Yahoo! Yippee, Hooray!"
Monday, May 10, 2010
Friday, October 2, 2009
Muse in the Juice
I love this picture - even a goddess can have a "bad hair day". Somehow it is comforting to think that even perfection can tumble off her pedestal!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
When does the Ordinary become the Extraordinary?
Today I am exploring my way around Flickr.com. A wonderful web site filled with original, creative and beautiful photos. It is so much better than the stock images found on other sites! I have used Flickr before, for Animoto clips especially. However this is the first time I have captured an image and added it to a blog - since I am a newbie at blogging.
Photographs...images of remarkable beauty caught in nano seconds. These wonderful images on Flickr are far removed from the photos I usually take. That is if I remember to take photos at all. Usually I am in the middle of the birthday party, Christmas day, vacation and suddenly remember "darn the camera!" Since I border dinosauer status these days; I only just got a digital camera last Christmas. I still don't know how to download the thing to my computer, did I say dinosauer? I usually reach into the kitchen "junk" drawer and pull out the old 35 milimeter. Point and click, ahhhhh, that I can get.
The photos I take look nothing like the Flickr images, Flickr photographers create art! My photos have red eyes, sometimes a head or feet are missing, not exactly Flickr material. God bless those talented folks who share their photo art, their music, their words...they give wing and form to our emotions. All those times I wish I could give form to my feelings and someone elses creation fits it perfectly- thank you . It speaks to the universality of mankind.
I paused mid-breath when I saw this photo, Umbrellas in the Air is what I called it. Ordinary umbrellas, an ordianary sunset - if any sunset can be called ordinary, put them together and magic happened. The ordinary became extraordinary. It got me thinking, when does that magic happen and why? When does one in a bijillion human beings become special? When does one particular cat or dog become different from the rest? When does a stranger turn into a beloved?
Of course love has something to do with it, but when does the love arrive?
If I combine the various ingredients for my poppyseed cake and put it in the oven at 325 for 60 minutes, what I get is a yummy poppyseed cake. But if I ony put in the eggs, salt and the poppyseeds what I get is a mess. When does the cake become a cake? When do we decide something or someone is special to us? Does it take 60 minutes to bake a relationship? Some people grow on us over time, some are love at first sight. I know what I choose, what I invest time and effort into usually becomes prescious to me.
I don't know the answer. I just know that the photo of the umbrellas in the night air at sunset caught my breath and for a moment I experienced beauty and something extraordinary. Thank you Flickr and the artist whose eye caught the moment. I think I'll go home and bake a cake, maybe take a photo of it and mount it on Flickr, ok, maybe not, but I still might bake a cake.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Whatever happened to the weather and your health?
Dating in one's older years is not for the timid. In fact it is downright masochistic! Yet there is something in each of us that spurs us to find a partner. Even when keeping the human species procreating is far from our minds and a long distant memory in our bodies; we keep searching. What is it that inspires us, draws us, makes us yearn for connection of a partner to partner kind? I am not talking sex here - though I suppose that is part of it. It sure beats pulling weeds - no DUH! But dating, especially as an adult, is ridiculous, humiliating, tedious and more awkward that that birds and bees talk between parent and child!
I am attempting to keep moving forward in a healthy fashion, to be reminded that I am a valuable and viable human being. While I may have a few miles on me, I view myself as a great catch. After the painful crash and burn of my last relationship - all of 8 years...I am out there dating again. Barfly is not one of my descriptors, nor do I want it to be. So the obvious solution is online dating. Don't believe all those glowing adds on TV, it's not so easy. For example, one site that takes great pains to match their members according to chemistry and personality compatability sent me Mr. X.
I met Mr. X last night for "coffee", though we had milkshakes instead. I personally believe in truthful advertising, not everyone does. My date professed to be 59, but I had to ask myself upon seeing him, "59 in which century, certainly not the 21st!" He had to be 70 if a day. In the 75 mintues of our date he occupied 65 of those minutes with his opinions, anecdotes and experiences. Which left me wondering why he bothered to aske me out in the first place, a miror would have been more appropriate. After my date's 65 minute monologue, I can now tell you exactly what goes into an ethonal chemical solution used to convert endless tubes of sluicing sewage to remain liquid enough to travel through Alaskan Tundra at 65 degrees below freezing to end up at it's destination - the waste disposal plant. I know what my date did - in graffic detail when this huge tube of goo clogged and stuck. And to think I thought I had it bad when my toddler flushed his rubber duckie down the drain! Draino and Rotorooter of that magnitude is not an option. What did my verbose date do, well imagine a giant hair dryer blowing warm heat down those endless tubes until gunk thawed and slipped on by and beyond. Somehow listening to this tale made watching him drink his brown coffee milkshake very difficult.
The remainder of the conversation had me trying to freeze an interested smile on my face as he explained how to conjugate Japanese verbs. If you are wondering, no I did not ask for this lesson, he volunteered, as he had volunteered with the previous frozen poop. When that monologue dwindled, in a fully self confident manner he inquired whether I thought we would have more conversations like this one? In other words, was I smitten? My mind reeled in horror, I saw myself mummified, much like Mother Bates in Hitchcock's movie "Psycho", and Mr. X, obliviously droning on and on and on. "I don't think we're a match" I said. I could see he was taken aback and asked "why?"
What could I say, my mind floundered helplessly grasping for any inspiration that was not outright rude. "I think you need someone more cerebral" I answered. To which he replied, "It's ok, I don't mind if you aren't as cerebral as I am. It doesn't take two smart people to be in relationship."
I give up, sometimes dating is just stinks. Some folks are single for a reason, and the rest of us wonder when paired with Clueless In Alaska here why I waited 75 minutes before I ran as quickly and as politely as possible, for the proverbial "hills". Onward, I have another "coffee" date next weekend with Mr. K, a former plumber now turned piano tuner...now where do you supppose that conversation could go??? Oh joy.
I am attempting to keep moving forward in a healthy fashion, to be reminded that I am a valuable and viable human being. While I may have a few miles on me, I view myself as a great catch. After the painful crash and burn of my last relationship - all of 8 years...I am out there dating again. Barfly is not one of my descriptors, nor do I want it to be. So the obvious solution is online dating. Don't believe all those glowing adds on TV, it's not so easy. For example, one site that takes great pains to match their members according to chemistry and personality compatability sent me Mr. X.
I met Mr. X last night for "coffee", though we had milkshakes instead. I personally believe in truthful advertising, not everyone does. My date professed to be 59, but I had to ask myself upon seeing him, "59 in which century, certainly not the 21st!" He had to be 70 if a day. In the 75 mintues of our date he occupied 65 of those minutes with his opinions, anecdotes and experiences. Which left me wondering why he bothered to aske me out in the first place, a miror would have been more appropriate. After my date's 65 minute monologue, I can now tell you exactly what goes into an ethonal chemical solution used to convert endless tubes of sluicing sewage to remain liquid enough to travel through Alaskan Tundra at 65 degrees below freezing to end up at it's destination - the waste disposal plant. I know what my date did - in graffic detail when this huge tube of goo clogged and stuck. And to think I thought I had it bad when my toddler flushed his rubber duckie down the drain! Draino and Rotorooter of that magnitude is not an option. What did my verbose date do, well imagine a giant hair dryer blowing warm heat down those endless tubes until gunk thawed and slipped on by and beyond. Somehow listening to this tale made watching him drink his brown coffee milkshake very difficult.
The remainder of the conversation had me trying to freeze an interested smile on my face as he explained how to conjugate Japanese verbs. If you are wondering, no I did not ask for this lesson, he volunteered, as he had volunteered with the previous frozen poop. When that monologue dwindled, in a fully self confident manner he inquired whether I thought we would have more conversations like this one? In other words, was I smitten? My mind reeled in horror, I saw myself mummified, much like Mother Bates in Hitchcock's movie "Psycho", and Mr. X, obliviously droning on and on and on. "I don't think we're a match" I said. I could see he was taken aback and asked "why?"
What could I say, my mind floundered helplessly grasping for any inspiration that was not outright rude. "I think you need someone more cerebral" I answered. To which he replied, "It's ok, I don't mind if you aren't as cerebral as I am. It doesn't take two smart people to be in relationship."
I give up, sometimes dating is just stinks. Some folks are single for a reason, and the rest of us wonder when paired with Clueless In Alaska here why I waited 75 minutes before I ran as quickly and as politely as possible, for the proverbial "hills". Onward, I have another "coffee" date next weekend with Mr. K, a former plumber now turned piano tuner...now where do you supppose that conversation could go??? Oh joy.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Blogging Newbie
Well hello, here I am learning how to Blog. God only knows why, it seems the faster I run to keep up the futher I fall behind; 21st Century living is not for the faint of heart nor the non techies! But I aim to refresh my technology skills! Perhaps, if nothing else it will stave off a sedentary brain and inactive fingers! I am certainly learning new things and if that keeps one young, well it will be good for me. Not to mention possible job security - nope probably not, but one can hope.
The problem so far with blogging, that I can see is that like much of the internet it feels private. I am typing away, thoughts are flowing and out they come. But unlike journaling - with which I am familiar, this will be "published" with the flick of a click and snap - public. Now grantted who in their right mind would find the meanderings of my absent mind interesting...good grief. In anoniminity there is safety - perhaps. But it is a blurring of bounderies and what is fit for public consumption and what should remain private. My mother's admonision of dirty laundry not being aired in public seems far away and quaint. What would you blog mom? Recipes, hints from Heloise? Or would it be "Peyton Place" pot boilers, I wonder? Well I will blog and we shall see what comes evolves. At this point I feel rather silly. But here goes, "hello" cyber world.
I have learned one thing so far about blogging. If I go looking for the spell check button I am apt to loose the whole darn thing and never find it again. So much for yesteday's 45 minute blog. Oh I assure you it was lovely, lyrical and completely irreplaceable. Once it was lost it was beyond resurrecting. I've never lost a journal entry. I like good old paper and pen, but the keyboard typing does keep better pace with my thoughts. But even for the ease of convenience, I prefer the more leisurly pace of actual writing on paper, seated under a spring cherry tree in full bloom, hidden thoughts and ink smudged pages, an absent minded scribble and doodle hiding in the corner, to be dashed off, poetry, deep thoughts, a love note or even a "to do" list - and then tucked in a book. It falls out years later and suddenly you are transported back in time to that exact moment, caught in the emotion and smelling the soft fragrance of cherry blossoms and the young boy who stole a kiss as he hurried past off to class. The memory caught in time and words. Something I can never see a computer capturing. Who ever heard of a leather, hand tooled lap top? Now a book, a journal is something else again. If only the ease and quickness of keyboarding came with them - the best of both worlds.
The problem so far with blogging, that I can see is that like much of the internet it feels private. I am typing away, thoughts are flowing and out they come. But unlike journaling - with which I am familiar, this will be "published" with the flick of a click and snap - public. Now grantted who in their right mind would find the meanderings of my absent mind interesting...good grief. In anoniminity there is safety - perhaps. But it is a blurring of bounderies and what is fit for public consumption and what should remain private. My mother's admonision of dirty laundry not being aired in public seems far away and quaint. What would you blog mom? Recipes, hints from Heloise? Or would it be "Peyton Place" pot boilers, I wonder? Well I will blog and we shall see what comes evolves. At this point I feel rather silly. But here goes, "hello" cyber world.
I have learned one thing so far about blogging. If I go looking for the spell check button I am apt to loose the whole darn thing and never find it again. So much for yesteday's 45 minute blog. Oh I assure you it was lovely, lyrical and completely irreplaceable. Once it was lost it was beyond resurrecting. I've never lost a journal entry. I like good old paper and pen, but the keyboard typing does keep better pace with my thoughts. But even for the ease of convenience, I prefer the more leisurly pace of actual writing on paper, seated under a spring cherry tree in full bloom, hidden thoughts and ink smudged pages, an absent minded scribble and doodle hiding in the corner, to be dashed off, poetry, deep thoughts, a love note or even a "to do" list - and then tucked in a book. It falls out years later and suddenly you are transported back in time to that exact moment, caught in the emotion and smelling the soft fragrance of cherry blossoms and the young boy who stole a kiss as he hurried past off to class. The memory caught in time and words. Something I can never see a computer capturing. Who ever heard of a leather, hand tooled lap top? Now a book, a journal is something else again. If only the ease and quickness of keyboarding came with them - the best of both worlds.
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