Mar 18, 2015
I was 12 when I had my first date with a boyfriend. This “relationship” lasted a memorable week. We walked to the movies to see Urban Cowboy. He shoved his tongue down my throat. The End. Less than two years later, I was then willing to give my best and most special gift away to my boyfriend because I could. My first time was mine to give. Because no one could tell me otherwise.
I watched this same situation happen with the daughter of some former friends of ours. And I knew exactly what she was going to go do and why. Her body was hers to do with what she wanted and the more her mother begged her not to, the more she knew it was her decision to make against her mother’s wishes. Her and my destiny were based on doing the opposite of what we were told to do. And that made us feel more powerful.
As lost young women, we then quickly discerned our value to society. It was our bodies that held value. Whether we were putting on string bikinis and watching the boys watch us. Or dressing up to the nines to go out in a Saturday night clubbing, we liked being liked this way. And when I got a little hit of esteem juice from this, from the interaction and power I had just for being a beautiful girl, I wanted more.
My sexual power was all that I perceived I had from age 14 on. My parents had lost me in their battle to divorce. And I had found something that I was clearly in control of. And I used it. College was a blur of one night stands and bad relationships. And although I would become monogamous when I got married, I had lived a lifetime of promiscuity by then.
That fateful moment, in my boyfriends attic room with a Natty Boh and a Marlboro in my hands, I was the biggest bravest girl ever. With magazine ad pictures of Lamborghinis and Ferraris taped over the bed, my intention to follow through was unfailing. My tiny Gloria Vanderbilt jeans and blue Oxford shirt came off. And I would only vaguely remember the surprise that this wasn’t really what I had in mind when I’d agreed to this fateful night. And later I would find out that I wasn’t his first.
Mar 16, 2015
I am fascinated when I’m shown which pictures or posts or pins have been the most popular throughout the year on my social media.
I stumbled on my most popular repinned pictures from Pinterest and when I looked at the pictures, I see a theme.
There’s romance in our hearts. Details and scrolls and guild. Destinations and foreign cultures and worlds to discover.
Petticoats and ruffles and feathers and sumptuous walls that ooze with depth of multi-color washes and time.
Seems the world wants its “new” tempered with some good old-fashioned depth. And that ‘s just the way I will always want it too.
Because that is more interesting to me than white walls.
I can sit and linger in your depth, marvel at your details, and languish in your history.
We could enjoy each others’ company over a glass of absinthe in stemmed carnival glass glasses.
And reminisce about how great and deep we and the world used to be.
Mar 13, 2015
I am totally option gal. I hoard options like it is my given right as a free person. I love choices, love to multitask, and am multi-talented. I am also a child of the media generation. Homework with the radio and/or the TV on at the same time? No problem.
But as an adult with a multitude of mandatory jobs as a parent and a wife, and many other creative endeavors I aspire to experience and learn, I have long been overwhelmed by my possibilities.
I write again and again about my brimming to do lists. And have gotten to the point where I long to have a good long crafting day without worrying about how dirty the toilets are. Because they are dirty right now. And how could I possibly think of doing anything fun when I have a potential health safety issues to take care of in my bathrooms.
When possibilities become a problem, it’s time to take a hard look at why you’ve collected them and what it is that you need to let go of or embrace to make a how to move on plan.
If you can, separate them into different categories after you spill them. Perhaps you see a pattern of visits with people and cards to write. You could be in need of people intouch-ness. Crafting projects galore? You may need some creative time. Cleaning and fixing? You need a space that’s in order and unbroken. There’s nothing at all wrong with any of your needs. They’re asking for your compassionate attention.
Somehow, I have an unwritten rule book in my head about which things can happen before the other things happen. It’s a conscious unquestionable choice that I must have my kitchen cleaned before I get on with the rest of the day. Dirty bathrooms would make my Virgoan Grandmother roll over in her grave. But I can call myself on it and choose differently today. Because I am actually in charge of this vehicle called family and life. Don’t anyone try to tell me different. I can also say no thank you to anyone else trying to throw stuff down on my to do list without me choosing to put it there.
Now is the only time you’ll ever have. Make it possible to have the things that are most important happen in a “now” coming soon to you. Schedules and lives and priorities change. If the time isn’t now, do not however doubt that there will probably be a time in your future when you’ll be able to sit and knit. Or write your novel or just read a book. Mine. Sigh. A little faith here on the knowing-there-will-be-a-time will allow for the release of the anxiety of not being able to do so now. You may find that this perspective change will shift you into a place of permission to do it sooner. Or you’ll revel in the knowledge that you are not giving up, just allowing this to be a two-year from now goal.
Plop that bad boy right into you schedule. My husband says it’s harder to make an appointment than break it. When you get to that moment in your life, that day with that activity scheduled, it may be entirely possible that you may have to cancel. But it’s equally possible that you’ll have opened up a door to make progress.
Even the smallest activities can be scheduled as opposed to waiting for the “right time”. On your phone calendar or your wall calendar, you can write tasks in at 30 minute intervals. A half hour to clean/clear a closet. A half hour to wash all the fan blades in the house. A half hour to read. Keep your expectation about that task at that time and you may surprise yourself with your progress with this method.
I find when you are not actively involved in any of your possibilities, it can make you feel anxious. Take one action step towards any of your goals/activities, and you’ll feel so much better. Even one work-out always makes me feel proud. A half hour with some paper, glue, and markers to work on making a card for a friend and I’m invigorated.
When there’s too many important tasks, nothing’s important. When you overwhelmed by your options, or your obligations, you lose your priorities and your clarity. Perhaps it’s partly about the permission we give ourselves to move on. And maybe it’s also about our lousy methods to organize our thoughts and our time around what we feel we want to do and what we must do. I do think we can outsmart ourselves and using the above mentioned tasks as guides and inspiration, there’s more than a little chance that our possibilities can become the probabilities we want them to become.