This is what it really looks like...

A few years ago, I rebuilt the engine in my car. Tonight, I saw that my cyberbuddy, The Feral Irishman had put up a post on Babes and Cars. Now, I think that Pissed, as the Feral Irishman calls himself, knows better than to believe that these gals were actually working on the cars even though some of the pictures try to make it seem like that. Some of these ladies might actually work on cars.

Pissed, I hate to break your heart if I was mistaken but women who work on cars do NOT work on cars dressed like that. I'm sorry. Disappointment stings. I have a bit of truth for you.

First, a caveat: I do not, nor have I ever, claimed to be a babe. In fact, I'm probably old enough to be the mother of most of those women. That said, this is what a real gal looks like when she's working on her car.


Sorry, Pissed. It's not glamorous or sexy but it is real. ;-)

*Oooh... breaking into new territory here. Half of my face instead of just the quarter. My online anonymity is evaporating!

Winning Isn't Everything

I won! I won? Really? I re-entered the numbers from the slip of paper in my hand. I clicked the “Search” button. According to the Powerball website, I was the winner. I had just won forty-one million dollars. I felt light-headed. The corners of my vision started to turn fuzzy and grayish. I reminded myself that breathing was going to be crucial for continued consciousness.

Okay. Deep breath. I won? I won! First realization: I don’t have to work. What am I going to do now? The question came quickly. The answer came just as quickly as the question: I’m going to write. I am going to write.

The other details started crowding in about making sure my kids were taken care of and paying off my brother’s house and buying my parents a place in Gulf Shores. Sure, I was going to take care of my family but throughout the random “taking care of folks” thoughts, my brain’s town crier was waving a flag and shouting, “I’m going to write! I’m going to write!” I don’t know if I was more excited about winning $41 million or having the freedom to write.

Winning the lottery meant that I would be able to devote my time and energy to the activity that brings me joy. I called my parents. After repeatedly telling them that I was not joking, that I had really won, they told me they were on their way to my house. My daughter was in the front yard with her boyfriend. I went out and told them the good news. We jumped up and down in our excitement. They came back into the house with me and I showed them the proof of my incredible luck. Still, not believing what was right in front of me, I entered the numbers again. There was no doubt. I had entered the winning numbers.

I realized I had other numbers on the slip of paper and thought to myself, “What the hell, I’ll check these, too.” I entered the second line of numbers, clicked on the search button and waited. What? This isn’t possible. This just isn’t possible. Twice? I won twice? Fuzzy. Gray. Breathe, woman! Breathe! Forty-three million dollars? This, on top of the forty-one million I’d already won? I checked the third line. Winner. The fourth. Also, a winner. The fifth? Indeed, that one was also a winner. They were all winning numbers. They were all winning numbers. Slowly, mortifyingly, the light began to come on in my head. Winning numbers. I looked at the slip of paper again. Sure enough, right there, on the slip of paper, it said, “Winning Numbers.” Apparently, I’d picked up a print-out of the recent winning numbers. This wasn’t my lottery ticket.

I wasn’t a winner. I was an idiot. I was an idiot who wished she could crawl under the floor and die of embarrassment. Despite hair follicles that exude golden strands, I’m usually pretty damned smart. This, however, was The Ultimate Blonde Moment of All Time. I like making people laugh. I like bringing joy to others. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

It’s been seven years since I “won” the lottery. The story is still bringing joy to my family and making them laugh. What that experience taught me, even more than some much needed humility, was that what I love is writing. I will write.

I still occasionally buy lottery tickets. I don’t pick up print-outs of the winning numbers.

I will write.

Thought Garden

Have you ever seen what passes for dirt in Alabama? It’s ugly. It’s a reddish-orange, dense, clay-like ground that somehow manages to get a coating of green every year. Weeds seem to have no problem growing in it but good things struggle to strive in this inhospitable environment. The earth packs down and turns brick-hard in the hot southern summers.



It’s hard to grow anything in this hateful soil.

My attempts to grow myself are hampered by a similar dense, clay-like soil. Sure, there is some growth but weeds grow more readily than nourishing plants.

I’m struggling to figure out how I’ve allowed my foundation to turn into something hard and averse to growth. I’ve become stagnant and infertile. I used to engage in self-discovery. I believed I would make a difference. Instead, I’ve allowed complacency and procrastination and fear keep me from being who I am. Whether it was deliberate or unintended, I’ve allowed so many other external activities to crowd my head that I didn’t have time to think about what was happening to me. I’ve compromised myself, not because it was demanded or requested or expected, and I’m trying to figure out why and how I can change it.

This is my thought garden.

This is hard. There’s lots of digging. I’m pulling up roots and rocks and trying to put good things in their place. I’m amending my soil soul.

To do that, I have to indulge in some more of that do-it-yourself psychoanalysis. I have to admit my faults. It involves some wallowing… I guess that’s the right word. I have to go back and visit those hard places. I have to re-examine those times in my life where I went off my path - where I abandoned self in the name of peace or obligation or fear or laziness.

Arrggh!!!

I hate to post this now because it will push down the post I did about Jane's Divine Inspiration but since this is for her - and for me - it seems like it might be okay.

Dar Williams
This Is Not The House That Pain Built

My house is hard to find, but I'll give you directions,
You can visit sometime, down where all that I built surrounds me
Just make sure your car's got good shocks
There's steep hills, there's potholes, there's rocks
I work in the garden, my son plays around me
Close the gate behind you, there's a horse that can't get out
I will see you first, is that all right
And can you remember, can you remember

This is not the house that pain built
This is not the house that pain built
I was drowning in something, I jumped in the rift
And you knew me back then, when I spat on my gift, but no

It's tough and it's tiring when you go it alone
I learned about wiring, I learned about stone
The building is done but the work's never through
And I won't give up, no how, it reminds me of who I am and where I am now
I remember myself, that's the work that I do
On a spring night when the snow is melting
You'll see two sets of footprints walking
Look at all the stars, and turn around, and walk home,
Slowly walk home.

This is not the house that pain built
That is not a house that pain built
My friends all think that I holed up and hid
But I tell them I didn't, you know I don't think I did, no.

And this is where I let my pain go
This is where I let my pain go
This is where the footprints dance in the snow


I've run my ooh-ick-trojan-pop-up-virus-dealio and it didn't yell at me but visit this link at your own risk if you'd like to hear the song.

Inspiration

There are certain people who inspire me. Oftentimes, they are people I’ve never met: writers/bloggers, activists, politicians (rarely, but still). I’m also inspired by people I know: coworkers, family, and friends. Very recently, inspiration came from a blogger/writer who I also consider a friend.

Duchess Jane is that person.

She’s also known as Beth but she is and always will be royalty, in my opinion, so I love the “Duchess” moniker. I’d like to tell you why.

Jane writes about what is real. She writes about what is hard. She digs down deep into her soul, her heart, and her pain. She describes what she discovers in ways that evoke emotion – strong, life-changing emotion – and in ways that inspire those of us who don’t/can’t find that truthfulness in our writing.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t live truth. I do. I try really hard to always be honest with myself and my feelings. I try to not be false or dishonest in anything I do. Unfortunately, I sometimes find that I don’t write about my truth. The reasons for that vary but, usually, it’s associated with not wanting to hurt people. I worry that sharing my experience puts other peoples’ experiences out there for others to examine. I worry, even if I don’t name names, that people will assume they know who I’m discussing. That’s one of the dangers of non-anonymous writing. People who know me in real life read what I write. They will see themselves whether or not I’m writing about them.

I have been a coward.

Jane is not. (I tried, but can not find, the link to Jane's post about how people should not assume but should ask if a certain post is about them.)

Yesterday, Jane wrote about how Empires Weren't Built Here, Part 1. I read it today and, once again, I was in awe of her ability to yank feeling out of words. She talked about dying and what would be left. What would her last words be… out there in the ether on the Internet. Would it be something meaningful? Would people look at her last status update? Her last blog post? Her last Tweet? What if something tragic happened and she survived? Would people look at that and what she wrote?

She wrote about writing of experiences and whether she should chronicle those encounters. She wrote about her anxiousness concerning that. She wrote, “…would I succumb to this fear of being viewed as a pillager of my own tragedies and betrayer of my family, peddling their pain for pennies on the internet?”

I understood this all too well.

It seems so lame to say, “Me, too!” “I know!” “I feel that!” “Yes, yes, YES!”

I waited until my blog reader updated; thankfully, it was quickly. Empires Weren’t Built Here, Part 2 showed up soon after. This one was harder for me. I’m going to change the way I describe this. Writing is good but it felt like Jane was talking, confessing, exposing and confiding. So, I’ll now say that she spoke to me. She talked about love. She talked about hopes and dreams and joining. She also talked about losing ourselves in relationships. She talked of dreams lost and compromises and stagnation.

I can’t blog from work. That’s probably a good thing.

I can read. Sometimes, I can comment on some blogs but not on others. I will check out my favorites when I take a break or eat lunch.

Today, after I read Jane’s blog, I did something very uncharacteristic. I am a workaholic. I keep my life very compartmentalized. I am all business when it comes to my job. Today was different. I closed my door and I put my “teleconference” note on the door.

I cried.

I.do.not.cry.at.work.

Well, okay, I did once at my last job and I’ll probably (thanks to Jane) write about that one day.

Why did I cry today?

I saw myself in her words. This is not to say that any other person is to blame for what happened to me. Actually, I blame only me for what I did to myself.

There is a very fine line between compromising for the sake of a relationship and sacrificing what is integral to our souls. I made sacrifices that were not asked of me.

I’ve known that I wanted needed to write since I was nine years old. I’ve wanted to write about fun. I’ve wanted to write about self-exploration. I’ve wanted to write to entertain. I’ve wanted to write to be understood.

I work in a job where my writing is technical. It doesn’t satisfy my heart and soul. I created this blog so I could write about what matters to me. I found myself shackled by frustration and compassion and fear and kindness. I lost a little a lot of myself in that.

I need to say this: MrWurdi always encouraged me to write. He encouraged exploration of my soul and my heart and my dreams. I’ll always love him for many reasons but, especially, because of that. The restrictions that were on me were those I placed all on my own.

I used to work on my car. I used to go to the range and shoot. I used to hunt. I used to build things. I used to be more social. I don’t know that I stopped these activities because of relationships. Did I get lazy? Did I get complacent? Did other things become more important? Those are questions that I will be asking myself for some time to come.

Do-it-yourself psychoanalysis is hard. It means that you have to revisit those experiences that are hard. It means digging down into your pain, wallowing just a little bit, and understanding it. It means overcoming the pain – again – and growing because of your understanding.

There is something important that I learned today. I learned that I need to be like Jane. I need to write about what is real. I need to write about what is hard and painful and meaningful. That means that I might write about things that are uncomfortable. It means that I may write about things that make other people uncomfortable. That is really hard for me.

I want and need to be honest. It is part of who I am.

Stay tuned. There will still be ridiculous posts and random thoughts but I think this blog may change a little bit.

Thank you, Jane.

Unsympathetic

A ramble...


As the voice droned on, my mind drifted and I wondered what in this woman’s childhood had led to the outlook she had on life. Was it just that she’d never been taught to take responsibility for her own actions? Was there real psychological illness? A failure of the synapses in her brain to fire and connect? A chemical imbalance? Or was it simple blame-shifting, the disease of the 80s that had found its way, thanks to Sally Jesse, Phil, Oprah, Jerry and the rest, through to the following decades? “It’s not my fault, I had a tough childhood.” “We were poor, I had to steal.” “I was afraid, I had to lie.” “My mother was immoral.” “I didn’t have a dad.” I didn’t know whether to feel irritated or compassionate. I think it was a combination of both. Should I try to help? Should I just listen? That was hard. She didn’t want to hear it if she was wrong and I had a hard time keeping it to myself when I knew I was right.

“… and that’s why I’m miserable. I have no control over my life…” From experience, I knew she could go on for hours on the topic of herself but didn’t seem aware of the fact that I wasn’t paying complete attention. This was the umpteenth time I’d heard this speech. I must have been nodding my head and making the appropriate murmurs on cue. She wanted someone to tell her what to do, just so long as they were telling her to do what it was she wanted to do. A collaborator in her actions. Someone to blame if it was the wrong thing; someone who would remember that she had made a good decision if it turned out okay.

Love is...

Get something to drink and go empty your bladder. This is a long one.

Do you remember those “Love is…” cartoons from so long ago? A woman named Kim Casali came up with the one-frame cartoons in the 1960s and her son now does the strip. Some were cute, others cheesy, most not very realistic.

I have my own feelings about what Love Is and one-line cartoons of naked folk don’t play much of a part in them. Love is too complex for one-liners. Sometimes, love is too complex to write about without help. So, this post will have a lot of quotes. As Somerset Maugham said, “I quote others only in order to better express myself.”

Since I’m stalled, I’m going to start off with a couple of quotes.

“There comes that mysterious meeting in life when someone acknowledges who we are and what we can be, igniting the circuits of our highest potential.” Rusty Berkus

“One is taught by experience to put a premium on those few people who can appreciate you for what you are.” Gail Godwin

MrWurdi not only acknowledges and completely accepts who I am, he encourages me to avoid complacency in that. He encourages me to continue to explore who I am and who I can be. It took a long time before I became confident enough in his love and acceptance to live truthfully and openly and share who I was and who I was becoming. I realized how freeing and beautiful it is to have a person in your life you can share every thought and every feeling. That’s real. That’s love.

Society has programmed us to keep certain feelings locked away, to be polite, to be tactful and diplomatic. We’re taught not to show our weaknesses, our flaws, our anger, our darkness. Sometimes, being truthful and open is difficult. Difficult, painful conversations end up being a result of all that truthful openness. The honesty is worth it, though. It means there isn’t subterfuge or keeping feelings locked away. There’s less resentment – not no resentment because, let’s face it, we’re human. But the honesty, well, the honesty is a type of love. It’s real. If you don’t have honesty in communication, you’re just playing. If there’s something you can’t share about yourself with someone you love, then you’re just playing at love. It’s not real.

“Some people will not tolerate such emotional honesty in communication. They would rather defend their dishonesty on the grounds that it might hurt others. Therefore, having rationalized their phoniness into nobility, they settle for superficial relationships.” Author unknown

So, just what do you do when you find someone who can handle your truth and is willing to share their truth with you? You celebrate it, revel in it, and appreciate every moment of it.

One problem I’ve seen in some of my past relationships and in those of my friends is the loss of self. Is it grand passion for the other person? Lack of esteem in oneself? Fear that if we are different, we will not be loved?

“Love is union with somebody, or something, outside oneself, under the condition of retaining the separateness and integrity of one's own self.” Erich Fromm

My aunt shared some words of wisdom with me recently. She said that no matter how good things are or how bad things are, “It will change.” Boy, howdy, was she right! And it’s not just those things external to us that change – jobs, other people, weather, finances, home – we do. Every single experience or interaction or observation changes something in us. I love what Anaïs Nin said about this.

She said, “Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”

One of the biggest difficulties in relationships is that when we fall in love with a person, we fall in love with them as they are in that moment and as we are in that moment. People change. They can’t help it. Sometimes, we change in ways that are complimentary to our significant other and their changes. That’s pretty darned cool when it happens.

Sometimes, the changes put distance between us. When that happens, we can end up angry with each other – angry that what was once so perfect isn’t anymore. We’re angry that the beautiful, passionate, amazing, perfect romance has changed into something else. We grieve its loss. We are angry at the person who is responsible for making it go away.

“In real love you want the other person's good. In romantic love you want the other person.” Margaret Anderson

Sometimes, it’s hard remembering that the beautiful truth and openness and honesty that was the foundation of your relationship is still there. The anger and grief cloud the fact that you still have a beautiful, open, truthful connection with that other person.

“Life is a constant metamorphosis from one stage to another. But why do we live so hard against this fact? Why are we afraid? In truth, we never leave anything behind, but carry it inside. Nothing is ever lost, only when we try to hold on. Then all is lost. Our whole soul. But if we let go, then we can take everything with us, because we become strong in our own invisible centers, and the world becomes light.” Jim Ralston

While I don’t typically go into a lot of deeply personal stuff here, I feel the need to make an exception.

MrWurdi and I stopped being a couple almost a year ago. We still love each other but our relationship has changed. There's not any anger, in fact, we've had a very civilized year since we became single people. Not too many exes can share an address with each other. As with all things, this has changed, too. We live, we grow, we change, we move. Some people move several states away. ;-)

I will always love, erm, I guess MrWurdi isn't that appropriate now so I'll let him pick a new alias if he'd like. I want only happiness and abundance and good things for him and I believe he wants the same for me.

“We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other. To meet, to love, to share. It is a precious moment, but it is transient. It is a little parentheses in eternity. If we share with caring, lightheartedness, and love, we will create abundance and joy for each other, and this moment will have been worthwhile.” Deepak Chopra

So, remember when I said love is too complex for one-liners? I may have been wrong.

Love is truth.
Love changes.
Love is worthwhile.

It Ain't Easy Bein' Green

Over the course of the past few years, I’ve been making some greenish changes in my life (and not just the new blog color!). Along with the seemingly never-ending quest to eat less (making a smaller, leaner Ima), I’ve been trying to consume less in other ways. I want a smaller, leaner life. More balance, less excess. I’m making the move to a greener existence.

Food:
I’m buying less packaged foods. By focusing on the outer edges of the grocery store, I’m purchasing foods that have less packaging. I still hit the aisles because I do need some convenience items but I try to stay away from overly packaged goods. I’m buying in bulk when I can and when it makes sense. I’m fine-tuning my grocery shopping in an attempt to not throw away food because it’s spoiled. I could go on and on about my love of the FoodSaver for protecting food from spoilage and freezer burn but Duchess Jane has already covered that topic completely AND with pictures. I make stock from chicken, ham, and beef bones (shrimp is next!) along with peelings from my veggies. There are articles on easy stock making here and here. I’m buying some organic foods.

General shopping:
I’m purchasing less stuff. I’ve never been much of a shopper, so that helps. I use lists to keep me away from those impulse purchases. I try to only buy those things I need and/or love. My new peep-toe black pumps fall into both of those categories!

Gasoline Consumption:
I play a little game with myself since, admittedly, I drive one of those shame-inducing larger vehicles. I have a gauge that tells me what my current gas mileage is. Sure, it does the average, too, but by keeping my eye on the current number, I can see that gunning it makes it go down (duh) while a slow, steady pressure on the gas pedal has less of a bad effect on my mileage. It’s an ongoing contest with myself to see how high I can keep it. I try to figure out the shortest route to where I’m going and I combine trips as much as possible.

Electrical/Water Consumption:
I suck at this. I’m working on it. I leave the TV on when I’m going to sleep; although I do put it on sleep timer. I have a hard time remembering to turn the water off while I’m brushing my teeth but am working on that one, too. I’m slowly but surely replacing my light bulbs with these super-efficient, long lasting ones. They last for YEARS.

Existing Stuff:
I’m trying to give away much of the stuff I have in my home that I don’t need or love. If I feel “eh” about it, it’s going to end up at Hannah Home or Goodwill sometime soon. I’m not going all FlyLady about it (she scares me) but I’m trying to get rid of at least five things each weekday. MrWurdi’s son was talking last year about people who let their stuff own them. He’d been preparing to hike the Appalachian Trail and was, therefore, figuring his bare necessities so I suppose that had him pondering what he (we) really need. We end up accumulating so much stuff that we soon have to live in a bigger place or rent storage to keep up with all that stuff. We spend large quantities of our time maintaining and repairing our stuff. With all the time and money and effort we spend on our stuff, it ends up being our stuff owning us rather than us owning it. I will not be owned by my stuff.

Recycling:
We’re just getting started on this. Our local pick-up doesn’t have a large range of items they pick up for recycling but I suppose every little bit helps.

How Green Are You?
NPR has a neat, little quiz to help show you how green you are. The Consumer Consequences game asks questions about your lifestyle. While you play the game, it keeps up with how many planet "Earths" of natural resources it would take to sustain the 6.6 billion people on this one Earth - if everyone lived the way you do.


****************************************
I know I’m not going to live completely green. I drive an Avalanche and a ’77 Corvette (with a high performance engine). That’s not at all green. So, I make the changes I can and am willing to make. I also try to balance the “me stuff” by doing for others. Whether it’s raising funds for breast cancer research with Team GDT or donating goods or volunteering for a local clinic or goofing off, improving my vocabulary, and donating food to hungry people or just trying to help my family when I can, I try to make it all even out. Balance, not fanaticism about anything.

I’m always looking for ways I can be more green. Any ideas?

Namaste

I was reminded of this word and what it means earlier today and I wanted to share it with you.

"In India when we meet and part we often say,
'Namaste,' which means...
I honor the place in you where the entire universe resides,
I honor the place in you of love, of light, of truth, of peace.
I honor the place within you where if you are in that place in you
and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us. Namaste."

from Ram Dass, in Grist for the Mill

What A Bitch!

A few years ago, I was deliberately mean to someone.

I’m not talking about unintentionally hurting someone through a misunderstanding. Nor am I talking about physical hurt, either. For many, many reasons, I don’t do that. I’m talking about the deliberate, malicious, hurting of someone because that was my intent. I’m talking about hurting someone emotionally – of getting to that vulnerable part of someone and twisting them up inside in a way that hurts so badly they’ll never risk pissing you off again.

In my opinion, this particular woman had wronged me and she deserved whatever it was she got. So, I thought about it. I thought about what would hurt her the most and, when I had the opportunity, I did it. I really hurt her. I felt so justified in my meanness. I felt no guilt because, after all, she’d hurt me. That made it right; she deserved it. Right?

Wrong.

It took a few years before I realized I was wrong. In those years, I would gleefully recall my vindictive meanness. With pompous self-righteousness, I would justify my actions to myself and anyone who knew about what I’d done. I had every right – No, I deserved – to treat her as I did. I was still lily-white. She made me be mean.

One day, I dug a little deeper. I thought about what she’d done and what I’d done and how I’d justified it all those years. I thought about how I’d convinced myself that what she’d done made what I did okay. Except it didn’t. Sure, she hurt me and I’d used that as my excuse to hurt her – to be mean. She made me be mean? Bullshit. She didn’t make me be mean. That meanness was and is part of who I am. She was just the excuse for letting it out in the open.

I was horrified.

I’ve always considered myself to be a kind person. In high school, I was the teenage “Dear Abby.” I stood up for the underdog. I helped people. I rarely gossiped. I’d once written in a journal that if I died tomorrow, more than being funny or smart or anything else, I would want people to say that I was kind.

Kind people don’t maliciously hurt other people. No matter what.

It was a hard realization, this understanding that I could be that mean. I didn’t want to accept that about myself. Mean. Me. Hateful, spiteful, malicious, and mean. Me. Unfortunately, I’ve been on a never-ending quest for truth so I had to accept it.

When I got over the massive pity party of realizing I was so awful, I called the woman I’d hurt. I asked her if she’d consider meeting with me for a cup of coffee or something. She was, understandably, cautious but still agreed to come.

I apologized to her. I apologized sincerely and wholeheartedly. She, hesitantly, accepted my apology. She also tried to explain what she’d done and why and that she hadn’t meant to hurt me with her actions. Truth be told, I didn’t care about that. It didn’t matter whether she meant to hurt me or not. I can only be responsible for my actions. Only I can determine whether I will be kind or mean in any situation. Whether she meant it or not, I was hurt. That didn’t justify my being mean to her – or to anyone.

There may be a part of me that is hateful, spiteful, malicious, and mean but I get to decide if that’s how I will act. I have accepted that part of myself but I don’t let it define me or my actions. I choose, everyday, to be kind. Some days, that’s harder than others but the alternative is not acceptable to me.

I may be a wordy bitch but I am no longer a deliberate bitch.

Excuses, excuses

Have you heard of Eric Hoffer? During the time his peers were writing about the benefits of having good self-esteem, Hoffer wrote about the consequences of not having good self-esteem. He wrote about the danger of fanaticism and self-righteousness. He wrote about how important it is to have meaning in one’s own life to avoid obsessing about the other people and things outside of one’s control. He was a pretty smart guy.

I’d like to share with you what Mr. Hoffer said about excuses:

There are many who find a good alibi far more attractive than an achievement. For an achievement does not settle anything permanently. We still have to prove our worth anew each day: we have to prove that we are as good today as we were yesterday. But when we have a valid alibi for not achieving anything we are fixed, so to speak, for life. Moreover, when we have an alibi for not writing a book, painting a picture, and so on, we have an alibi for not writing the greatest book and not painting the greatest picture. Small wonder that the effort expended and the punishment endured in obtaining a good alibi often exceed the effort and grief requisite for the attainment of a most marked achievement.

I claim to write, yet days go by in which I write nothing. Why is this? Fear of failure? Perhaps. When I go back and read things I’ve written, I can always find room for improvement. When I put things out here for the world to read, I want for them to entertain or inform or inspire.

I always have a good excuse for not posting. I’m too busy at work or I’m sick (this week’s excuse).

Sometimes, I worry that what I have to say isn’t good enough. Oh, I usually get the grammar and spelling close enough but I know I switch tenses like I’m caught in a time machine gone mad. That’s not what I’m blathering on about…what if you come here and read what I’ve posted and it doesn’t do anything for you? What if ~gasp~ it bores you? What if you feel you wasted your time coming here? Horrors.

Sure, I do this blog thing for me and I’d probably do it even if no one ever read it or commented. It’s just that sometimes it’s a whole lot easier to make the excuses. If it weren’t for 55 Fiction Fridays, there would have been weeks without a new post. Stale blog = sadness blog. Thanks to those of you who’ve been playing along with 55 Fiction Friday, it doesn’t matter how busy or how sick or how filled with excuses I may find myself, I find time to make that one post a week. No excuses there.

I hesitate to do this. I can have a goal but as long as I don’t say it (post it) out loud, it doesn’t count (except in that whole internal debate/berate thing). So. Ehem. Um. Here it is.

I will post at least three times a week from this point forward. It might just be a quote or a haiku or who knows what but I will.

Feel free to publicly scold me if I fail to meet my goal.

BREAKING NEWS

I'm here today to report some Breaking News to you.






Here it is.





You're not going to believe it.





Seriously.




People Have Sex Because It Feels Good.





I

am

stunned.




Please forgive my labeling frenzy. I couldn't help myself.

What Are Ya Gonna Do?

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”
“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.
“I don't much care where –”said Alice.
“Then it doesn't matter which way you go,” said the Cat.
~ Lewis Carroll (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)


If you don’t know where you’re going, you’ll wander. If you don’t have a goal, how do you know where to aim? If you don’t know what you want, how will you ever get it?

Many times, I end up stressed about things over which I have no control. I fail to determine where I want to go, what my goal is, or what I want. I will have a vague idea of what I want; i.e., I want my life to be less complicated or I want to have less stress or I want my kids to be happy. I need to get down to the specifics or, at least, break each want or need down into smaller parts.

During a class I attended last August, I learned about One Minute Motivations. I’m sure someone deserves credit for that and I’ll check my materials when I get home and will edit this portion of the post to reflect the author. The OMMs work off four basic questions. They are: What would you like to have happen? What needs to happen? Can you? Will you?

Answering those questions helps me gain control over the situation or, if need be, let go of those things over which I have no control. It helps me focus.

What would you like to have happen?
This needs to be specific. “I want to have less stress” is not specific enough. I need to pick one part of that at a time and deal with each part. So, I’m getting specific. I want my home to be an oasis from stress. I want my home to be a place of peace.

What needs to happen?
My house needs to be clean. My bills need to be up-to-date. Stress needs to stop at the door (I can deal with the yard later). I need to be organized, have less clutter, have less things, refuse to allow arguments in my home. Sure, that’s several things but they’re all doable and they all need to be done to achieve my goal of having my home be a place of peace.

Can you?
Can I do what it will take to make my goal happen? When I get to this step, I have to look at all the excuses or reasons I have for this not to happen. If someone other than me leaves a mess, I can bitch and nag about it and hope they’ll pick up after themselves or I can clean up after them or I can ban them from my home until they’re willing to help me meet my goal. Can I get organized? Can I get rid of clutter? Can I get rid of anything that I don’t need or love? Can I shred anything sensitive that I don’t need? Can I simplify my life by getting rid of things? Can I get organized? Can I refuse to allow arguments in my home – either in person or on the phone? Can I step outside to deal with anything unpeaceful?

Will you?
WILL I do those things I’ve identified – those things that I CAN do? Will I ban someone from my house? No. Will bitching help me meet my goal? No. Will I pick up after them? If I want a clean house that is peaceful to me, I suppose I will. Since I've identified that, I can let go of my irritation (and stress) about it. The other things? Will I do them? Those things that apply just to me? I can and will do those things.


Those four questions can be applied to any situation. They can identify a destination, a goal, a want or a need. They can also help you decide if a vague wanting of something is important enough for you to pursue.

Piece by piece, one step at a time, I can and I will change my life.

Not So Wordy, After All - or, Truth in the Midst of Bullshit

I am not living up to my name. Life sometimes interferes with my desire to write. The bullshit and drama of life sometimes interfere with my truth. If I can't live truth, I don't feel I can write it, either.

I'm struggling to find a way past this moment. I hope by forcing myself to blog something, anything, it will help me break free of this inertia.

On Truth... and Change

Kahlil Gibran said:
Say not, 'I have found the truth,' but rather, 'I have found a truth.'

I am very nearly a fanatic when it comes to the truth. There are many reasons for for my stance on truth and I'll probably put them down here over time. I won't do that today, though. Suffice to say, I've learned that Kahlil was right. There isn't one truth. We all have our own truths. I'm learning that the only way I can truly be happy in this life is to live my truth. I must live honestly within my own world or everything else is tainted. I've also learned over time that my truth will change.

Eric Hoffer said:
We can never really be prepared for that which is wholly new. We have to adjust ourselves, and every radical adjustment is a crisis in self-esteem: we undergo a test, we have to prove ourselves. It needs inordinate self-confidence to face drastic change without inner trembling.

Lobsang Lhalungpa said:
A person recognizes his spiritual potential when he looks at the problems of his existence ~ growth, old age, sickness, death ~ and sees that these are things he cannot change. But what he can change is his own attitude, his own way of looking at life.

Carl Rogers said:
The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.

Will Garcia said:
The first step toward change is acceptance. Once you accept yourself, you open the door to change. That’s all you have to do. Change is not something you do, it’s something you allow.

I accept change. Sometimes, I don't realize that's what I'm struggling against but when I do, I welcome it. It's a chance to grow, to learn, to evolve. As long as I remain true to whatever my truth may be or become, I am alive. When I refuse to change, to accept a new truth, that's when I die. As I said at the beginning of this post, truth is a big deal to me. I love what others have said about truth. It inspires me to remain true to myself.

Miguel de Unamuno said:
I shall be asked, "What is your religion?"
And I shall answer that my religion
Is to seek truth in life and life in truth,
Conscious that I shall not find them while I live;
My religion is to struggle tirelessly
And incessantly with the unknown.

If you decide to read my words, you'll find truth to be a common thread. You'll also find an overabundance of quotes. I'm a voracious reader and I love the inspiration I get from the words and truths of other people. As William Somerset Maugham said, "I quote others only in order to better express myself."