Tag Archives: daily prompt

Wheel

Wheel of time Wheel of fortune Wheel of life Wheel alignment… How many words contain wheel… Wheelbarrow Cartwheel Pinwheel Wheelchair… Thousands I guess. Most of them I never heard before or have seen use in a sentence. Life is a circle. A never ending circle. A wedding ring supposed to be symbolizing forever though the symbol of eternity and infinity as we all know isn’t always a ring. The shape of a sideways figure eight, the Ouroboros (or Uroboros) and the Endless Knot, are also symbols of infinity and eternity to name a few. The Armenian symbol of everlasting celestial life looks like a pinwheel and the Egyptians sign for it is the Ankh, or the “Crux Ansata” or ‘cross with a handle. Whatever we think is appropriate symbol of  eternal life and rebirth, it is still containing a circle in the middle. It got to be. Life never sit still. It turns and turns with time. And time is infinite. Our life is limited but time on its own is infinite… 

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Commit

My father used to say: Once you commit yourself to something, you have to give it all, heart and soul or otherwise don’t do it at all. I abide to that rule since day one and still live by it. A source of ongoing conflict between me and D. He has an irritating ways of doing everything halfheartedly, especially those that don’t interest him and I can tell you nothing interests him much. Aside of course for the things that directly and personally concern him like technology and chocolates. No, I am not complaining. Just trying to make an example I can vouch for. Like yesterday, I asked him to kindly deadhead a rose bush- just one rose bush- by the fence in the front garden (gardening doesn’t interest him) because it has climbed higher than I can reach. This morning looking out I saw that the dead flowers are still hanging on the canes. When I asked him about it he said he removed the spent blooms that was hanging outside the fence and will do the rest in the near future. There was only one flower outside the fence, the rest are inside, and since he was busy with it anyway why not cut all the dead effing flowers?  

But that is D. He is fond of procrastinating, waltzing around, and only doing things you assigned him to do if he likes to do it. He is lost without manual and in most tasks you even have to hold his hand and guide him through it and if you are impatient like me, you will end up doing everything by yourself. I can’t take his words at face value because what he says and what he does are completely different things. I’m talking about simple things like locking the doors, windows, setting the alarm, putting the car inside switch off the cooker and so on. Little things that can have irreversible damage if something goes wrong and believe me it did already in the past. There were other big negligence caused disasters that costed us money which can be avoided if he only commit himself of not doing the same mistakes over and over again. “Next Time” is his favorite excuse. Always next time. But although if I’m lucky he will indeed not do the same exact mistake again, he will do it other way- same MO different concept. Mind blowing. 

He drives me crazy (and probably I do the same to him with my goal-oriented perfectionist ways of doing things) but we are married to each other. We made a commitment a long time ago to stay together for better or for worse. He is a sweet guy. You can’t argue with him because he doesn’t say a thing and just stands there. Fights cannot escalate when it’s only you doing the talking. His most endearing qualities are the ones that can also make me want to sign a divorce paper blindfolded, like being passive and childish, accommodating, nonchalant and diffident. Sometimes I really want to give up but I am stubborn. Once I commit myself into anything I see to it that I did already everything possible for the cause to work out before throwing in the towel. So when I close the door there will be no regrets and no self-reproach later on. That’s why probably it took me twenty years to walk out from my first marriage even though it was a living hell. My tenacity for holding on while others would have already jump off ship could also be my downfall.

I’ll take a shower now before I get carried away again. This evening I will be attending the premier of my favorite movie of all times: Transformers. See yah later…

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Paper

What would we do without it? Even in this time of ultra- modern technology paper is still indispensable, especially in the western society where people prefer to use it in the little room to clean what needs to be clean instead of just using the more hygienic alternative- water. Don’t get on your high horse so fast because I am not on mine either. I am just telling the simple fact and the simple truth. Don’t look for meaning behind it. I have my own stock of kitchen rolls in the garage too, something which is unthinkable where I came from. We air dry dishes and only have one dish cloth and one rag to clean every surface. Now, I have boxes and boxes of paper hankies for my chronic sinusitis and ongoing allergies. And I still prefer good old fashioned books than E-books and still holding on to little notebooks and post it notes to record my old school thoughts.

I used to have a collection of expensive multi-colored stationery which I hardly use. I bought them because I like the way they look, feel and smell. Reminds me of the beginning of the school year when I was young and my oldest sister shopped school supplies for me and my siblings. Those were the happiest times in my life. Going to school was so important to us the worst punishment my parents could inflict on us was to make us stay at home on school days to clean the house. Corporal punishment was preferable than missing a day of school. 

I don’t know if our modern technology has a positive effect on deforestation or it’s the other way around. I hope those stories about sustainable forests is not just a myth. I love paper and its various forms but not in the cost of the environment. As of now, we are experiencing a heat wave for two consecutive weeks now it is forbidden by our government to even water our own gardens and fill pools so our kids could swim. And it looks like it will continue towards the next week for the time being. Record shows that the number of days with highest temperature in history have increased double in the last couple of years. I wonder how long those unbelievers could deny the reality of global warming.

Here I am getting side tracked again. Do you think living without paper is possible in the near future? Or is it like asking if we could exist without the existence of plastic and God knows what other engineered products we think indispensable to our lifestyle and survival.

I’m off now to have a few seconds under the shower to cool off. I guess the government will not fine me for trying to still alive. They don’t keep track of what I’m doing anyway. Or they will arrest me for sitting here typing this article butt-naked (or it is buck-naked?) Anyway, I’m out of here and maybe see you later. (P.S. It’s too hot to edit. You know what I mean)

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Loop

Let’s put our cards on the table: some women are stuck with men who don’t deserve them, yet we often fail to take the necessary steps to leave them.

Talking from personal experience, what used to comfort me was realizing there are many out there whose situations were just like mine, friends and strangers alike.

Let’s take Frida Kahlo for instance. She willingly stuck with Diego Rivera, yet everybody knew that he didn’t deserve her. Their story used to be my inspiration, back when I was stuck with a man I wanted to leave, but never felt I could. I tried to speculate: why did she stay with him, and how did it feel to stay while feeling miserable?

The reasons for staying are many, and each woman can only acknowledge her own. Still, I think we usually stay with men who don’t deserve us for four main reasons—and we won’t admit these to anyone but ourselves:

1. Fear—It can be fear of leaving and not finding another man we can profoundly love, or fear of leaving when there’s a chance he will change.

2. Attachment—Not only attachment to him, but attachment to the history together.

3. Hope—Believing that the man we love doesn’t deserve us can be devastating, so we keep hoping that things will get better.

4. Giving Up—Being with the wrong man depletes a woman of her energy.

Rather than taking the below crucial steps to fix my situation, I simply accepted my reality.

We know that leaving isn’t as effortless as some may think it is. Talk is easy, but when it comes to taking action, it can be the most complicated process, ever. We will have guilty thoughts accompanied with emotional loss. And the worst is being stuck with a man who manipulates us into staying every time we try to leave.

One thing I won’t say is this: “Leave, he doesn’t deserve you.”

I’ve personally heard that quite a lot, and frankly it never helped me with anything. As a result, I unconsciously stayed with my partner when I saw the whole world was against him.

Today, I will tackle the steps that helped me leave. Attachment to my partner and to my suffering blinded me then, but with great introspection and courage, I was finally ready to take the blindfold off my eyes.

1. Use the statement “talk to the hand, because the ears aren’t listening.”

Keep this in mind when people tell us why we should leave. Gently ask them to keep their opinions to themselves, or simply turn a deaf ear to them—maybe fantasize about an exquisite Martini on the beach while they’re talking. This can be difficult to do, especially since the people talking will mostly be our family and close friends, but it is crucial to develop our own opinions on the matter.

As long as we listen to what other people are saying, it will be impossible to prioritize our thoughts. Our actions will be based on other’s perceptions and not ours.

2. Be a recluse.

Once we’ve succeeded in doing step one, now it’s time to form our own line of thinking. In order to do this, we should stay away from everyone, including our man. Take a vacation for a week, if you must. We will get nowhere attempting to find our own thoughts with our man next to us. In other words, we shouldn’t be influenced by him.

Space is critical to know what we should do. Perhaps after spending some time alone, we’ll figure out a new way of dealing with him, other than leaving. Whatever the decision, it cannot be shaped unless we take space.

3. Introspection followed by making a decision.

Now it’s time to make a decision. But for us to take this step, we should pay a visit to the past. Sit quietly and go back to the beginning of your relationship. Note the good times, as well as the bad ones. With this introspection, we can come out with a decisive conclusion: If the bad times outweighed the good ones, it is a clear sign that deep inside us lies a whole lot of pain and it’s probably time to leave.

However, when going back to the past, our mind might draw the good times and hardly recall any bad ones. If this is the case, maybe it’s better to reconsider our decision.

4. Find stability within you.

Once we’ve decided to leave, we should find that place inside ourselves where we can lock our emotional stability, which is pivotal to sticking with your decision. Our man might try everything possible make us stay. If we aren’t emotionally stable, we will fall for the trap—just as I did, many times.

Remember: your emotional stability is your weapon, without it you can’t go to war with your man. He will fight you with all the beautiful words in the world and all the unforgettable history you both had. Fight back with your stability and you shall win.

5. Don’t push yourself.

Now that we know we want to leave, it is better not to draw a time frame—we can take all the time we need to do it. Maybe we will be ready in a week, and maybe in a year. Some of us might stay longer, to get over the relationship while staying with him. This way, once we’re not together anymore, we won’t suffer as much.

Take for instance people suffering from alcoholism or drug addiction. To refrain from their habits, some might slowly cut back before they are ready to completely stop.

6. Plan your future.

One thing we don’t want to happen after leaving, is to regret what happened. In order to prevent this, we should plan our future ahead of time. Maybe plan a trip, register for activities, programs, even meditation classes. Never leave yourself without any plans, at least at the beginning of your journey alone.

When a relationship ends, we should use our time wisely. To prevent feeling lonely or bored—and particularly regretful—we should keep ourselves busy so we don’t drown in negative thoughts.~

When using this guide women should keep in mind that they’re the only ones responsible for their own happiness. There is no such thing as “accepting reality”—we are the creators of our reality.

Love shouldn’t make us miserable or doubtful. If it does, then it’s not love. It’s only a false image of love that is controlled by ego, attachment and neediness. Never be weakened by fear. Fear is a liar. Follow your intuition, be strong, and remember: everything looks hard from a distance.

~Relephant Read: Via Elyane Youssef

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Meddle

Why this word prompt reminds me of two things: One is the Echoes, a signature track from Pink Floyd’s Meddle album which probably a reminiscent of my former life with my ex. The song goes like this:

Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves
The echo of a distant tide
Comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine

And no one showed us to the land
And no one knows the wheres or whys
But something stirs and something tries
And starts to climb towards the light

Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me
And do I take you by the hand
And lead you through the land
And help me understand the best I can
And no one calls us to move on
And no one forces down our eyes
No one speaks
And no one tries
No one flies around the sun

Cloudless every day you fall upon my waking eyes
Inviting and inciting me to rise
And through the window in the wall
Come streaming in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning

And no one sings me lullabies
And no one makes me close my eyes
So I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky.

It was written by Dave Gilmour, Nick Mason, Rick Wright. A group effort with lyrical contributions from each member.

Here is another song that reminds me of today’s prompt. It is appropriately titled Meddle.

I remember all the things she did before
I remember all the times she cried
I remember all the things you promised her
I know it hurt, I remember all the times you lied

Don’t meddle with her heart, meddle with her mind
Meddle with the things that are inside
You don’t know what you’ll find
You don’t know what she hides

So don’t go messing with her heart or messing with her mind
Or messing with the things that are inside
You don’t know what you’ll find
You don’t know what she hides

She still remembers like it’s yesterday
She still remembers you so well
She still remembers all the things you saw forever more
She still remembers but won’t tell

‘Cause she’s a mixed up girl in a mixed up world
And you know she don’t mean any harm
So please understand if you take her hand
You’ll get much more than you bargained for…

The last stanza kind of reminds me of myself 😀

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Create

That’s my personal fix_ creating something. I am addicted to it – better even- I was born with it in my blood. If you ask me where did I get or inherit the fix, I would say I don’t know. I don’t remember my parents creating something aside from us. They were not even able to provide a proper home for us or a proper upbringing. What the heck they didn’t even managed to have a decent relationship with each other. It could be also that my memories are clouded with emotional and physical traumas brought by regimented fostering I cannot remember things correctly. 

Not that they don’t have the talents for it. My mother could draw anything beautifully and her aquarelles were legendary, or could be if she has dared to do something with it but as far as I can recall, I only saw her once doing it. She kept a sketchbook in her chest of clothes though full of inspiring images she I suspected created from imagination because they didn’t look like anything I’ve seen around or perhaps she might have seen them before there were us. Anyway, aside from that one occasion when she had drawn me a cow for a school project, I never witness her doing it again.  Maybe real life was difficult to combine with her art (that I can understand) maybe she had enough work with the six of us. Maybe that’s why she hated us (except one) Maybe I am exaggerating again. I don’t know. My father… my father could build a shack, on his own, using whatever available materials he could find. And he once turned a bog into a proper garden. Yes, the two of them had talents to create, if only they set their minds to it instead of… too many and too painful to mention.

Back to me.

A day without creating something beautiful and preferably tangible is a day wasted for me. I love to see things materialize before my eyes by the power of creation. I enjoy the process of designing anything that will produce beautiful results. That’s why I love gardening and why I got into design business. Mind you, I can draw and paint as well. Even better than my mother. She could not draw portraits, I can. All of us can draw but only me can do portraits. Why I didn’t do something with it? Nerves. Nerves and self-confidence. Don’t ask me. It is a long and complicated story and I hate long and complicated stories that’s why I dislike myself. I think.

Anyway, creating sits deep in my soul and has me on its grip from the cradle on. I remember finding a broken truck front light when I was young and bringing it home turning the glass upside down and made the thing into an aquarium complete with fish and water plants. My father scolded me for it saying the fish belonged in the pan not in my far-fetched vision. It didn’t stop there. I created playhouses wherever possible and decorated them with the things I could find lying around. I filled big shells with water and floated colorful flowers on the surface, collected bottles of shampoos, powder, lotions, anything I fancy that have washed up on shore and I could use to beautify my private place. I made handbags from scraps of fabrics nobody wanted and filled them with paper money I fashioned from old newspaper and pretended I was shopping or going to the bank. The pink piggy bank I bought from my Christmas money was doubled as a vase for the wild flowers I gathered from the side of the road. I see beauty in everything and believe in endless possibilities of re purposing materials. Nothing is impossible. If I can think it, then it must be doable or otherwise how can I come up with the thoughts in the first place? 

Once I was so despaired about our crumbling little shack I tried to elevate the place by planting colorful wild plants in empty milk cans I gathered from the neighborhood and put them on the front of our house at eye level so they were more pleasing to the eye. I also planted creeping ground cover in shades of purple and green placing them just under the eaves so I didn’t have to water them much for water where we lived that time was a precious commodity. Even then without proper training, I instinctively know what goes together. When it comes to design I have only one motto: If it looks good, then it’s good. I don’t care much about the process, what’s important for me is the result. Rules can go to hell, as long as the end product achieve what it needs to achieve then breaking design rules means nothing to me.   

I would like to say more about the topic but duty calls. First thing first. I will come back and edit this piece if necessary and perhaps add a sentence (or a paragraph) or two to complete the thoughts. But for now I have to go. I really, really have to. At least even with this incomplete monologue you got ideas already what create (or creating) means to me.

BRB

(first time I wrote this abbreviation and it sounds like the things those pretty girls who are working on cam will write on a piece of paper and prop against the back of a chair to let their viewers know they don’t disappear forever only indefinitely. Maybe I will tell you sometime how I come to know this. Signing off for now)  

EarthDay

Puncture

If you ask me this is what happens to most relationships_ a puncture here and there brought by little disagreements, irritations, minuscule fissures of disappointments, tiny holes of dissatisfaction, awakenings, disillusions and before you know, the once voluminous affair full of dreams, passion and false hopes is nothing but a depleted space that keeps growing between you two till it become unbridgeable, irreparable and there is nothing left but to accept the fact that the once had been will never be the same again.

Most people separate. Some brave it through and stay together even though the relationship is over waiting for it to die a natural death. They stay for the children, for financial reasons, for image, for family, for any excuse they can think of in order not to join the statistics. The lucky ones have friendship to fall back on and content themselves with platonic alliance, living like brother and sister side by side bound by mutual respect and care for each other fuel by the memories of how it was once upon a time. Those like I said are the lucky ones.

For most of us the once paradise becomes a prison, living with fellow inmates whom like themselves are bored to death but terrified to venture out there and explore the unknown even though the door is never been locked. If you are living too long in one condition, options are terrifying prospects. The uncertainty of freedom is paralyzing so, better to stay indoors where everything is safe and familiar. The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. And so they say.

Mind you I can’t blame them. Relationship like love is a verb. It needs constant tending in order to flourish. If you don’t stoke the fire it will die down sooner or later. They say passion lasts only two years, maximum. No one can sustain a passionate relationship for too long. It is time and energy consuming and hazardous to physical and mental health not to mention emotional and psychological well-being (or is it the same thing?) Anyway, real life is far from romance novels. There are bills to pay, children to feed and send to schools. And between work, social, family life and mortgages screaming for constant attention, the first to suffer and disappear is the time for romance. Funny how people forget the most important thing in the midst of chaos. Most don’t realize that without a healthy dynamics between couples, the rest will eventually die as well.

What to do to keep the balance?

I would say find out what works for you and keep doing it. Maybe for you setting a date  for romance once a week will do. For others who love spontaneity (like me) whenever it itches scratch it. Forget about everything for a moment. The dirty dishes and laundry will not run away if you spend a 15-30 minutes (or how long it takes to satisfy the cravings) private moments with your other half. You would be surprise what a couple of unplanned little us-time could do to boost your relationship and add colors to your days.

Other things that might work are giving compliments, saying thank you telling each other your appreciations for what the other does for you and your family, smiles, unexpected little kisses on the cheeks, spontaneous hugs, little notes left in lunch boxes, post-it messages on the fridge. Tease and play with each other, sweet and naughty text messages, anything that shows that despite of your busy schedules you don’t forget your sweetheart exists.

Those are the tapes that sealed those little punctures when you quarrel or have disagreements. When you see a hole or created one, see to it that you repair them before it is too late. Unless you want the whole thing to collapse and be depleted.

P.S.

Did not edit this piece. Any mistake you see, please be lenient.

Businessman-and-businesswoman     

Taper

A candle is lit

In a solitary, dark room

Full of

Paper bag memories

Wrinkled and strewn about

Smoke fills the air

Suffocating high hopes

And possibilities

To start anew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Close your eyes

And hide in the darkness

Of corners that the candle

Flame barely illuminates

And slowly breathe in

The poetry of lost promises

As the candle burns

Leisurely into oblivion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wave goodbye

As you drift into

The darkness

Of black and white memories

That have since been lost

In the candle smoke…

~ found poetry

A woman participates in a candlelight vigil in support of women safety in Mumbai

Volume

Does size matter?

I bet there are more answers than one.

And all of them can be right.

Or wrong according to preference.

I heard a long time ago that when it comes to a certain matter it is not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean. Before, I would have contest it but experience taught me that it is indeed so. Is it important? Up to a certain degree it is. But not enough to rock a solid foundation.

What about our recent bench mark on beauty? The thinner the better? Thigh gaps and all?

Let’s talk about possessions.

Bigger houses bigger cars bigger balance in bank accounts

How about goals?  Not Citius, Altius, Fortius but Altus, Grandis, Immanis or it is Ingens, Bumelia, Magnus?

Just give me real, lasting and cozy. Harmonious, respectful, loyal and trustworthy. Quality over quantity. That’s good enough for me.

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Daily Prompt

Revelation

This is a note of thank you to all the men who never had the balls to claim me.

Although I am a strong and independent woman, I have a secret cavern inside my heart that is open to be claimed—but never owned.

And while I realize I still have so far to travel on this journey, I also feel immensely thankful for all those “maybes” and “what ifs.”

I’m thankful for those that were intimidated by my wild heart because it taught me that I have two choices in life—to either live within the boundaries of their comfort level, or to say f*ck it, and be my own self—wild and all.

Thank you for teaching me to embrace, love and revel in my wild.

I am appreciative for those who I made uncomfortable with my truth. It was only through learning how much others don’t like the truth exposed, to learn for myself how much I crave its very existence—if truth were a drug it would be my favorite high.

Thank you for teaching me to never be afraid of the darkness that the truth may hold.

I’m gratified for each and every time that I felt I wasn’t getting what I needed from a man—because in fact I wasn’t. It was only through looking at what I didn’t have that made me realize what I do want. While I may travel along empty back roads by myself at times, I also have realized that it’s okay to not accept less than what I deserve, regardless of if it makes sense to others or not.

Thank you for showing me everything that I don’t want, so that when I finally come face-to-face with what I do want—I’ll have the courage to go after it.

I am thankful for the insecurities that your actions brought out in me, because if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today. In looking at what emotions the behaviors of the others were triggering in me I had the ability to look at myself and make the choice on how I wanted to feel. It was only through this experience that I learned no one can make me feel a certain way unless I give them permission to do so.

Thank you for helping make me into the strong confident woman that I am today.

Even though at the time it is never easy, I am simply so grateful that you never loved me enough. We never love the same way twice, and while I know in your own way you did love me, it wasn’t the kind that could keep me warm on a blustery winter’s eve. Thank you for showing me that I don’t want someone to be only half in love with me, or to merely appreciate me—but to leave them breathless.

Thank you for teaching me that the love I seek is the one that is extraordinary.

I am so grateful that I was able to feel what it was like to be trapped by normality, because it taught me that I will never fit into any sort of box or label. I was not put here to make others feel comfortable, but instead to make them feel alive.

Thank you for never appreciating me for my individuality and spirit, because it taught me how important it is to stay true to myself.

Although being alone was tinged in isolation at times, I realize now that it was in those moments that I was able to take root and bloom into myself. Finding our own way in this world where so many think they know what is right for each of us is the most difficult work we will do. I will always be grateful for you trying to change me so that I was able to realize I am exactly as I should be

Thank you for leaving me with my loneliness so I could find my way back to myself.

I am so appreciative for you having tried to make me the woman behind the man, because it was there in the shadows I learned that I am meant to be a partner and nothing else. I can create a lot more trouble in this world next to a man who appreciates the burn of originality.

Thank you for attempting to dim my light so I learned that I needed to burn as bright as I could.

Thank you for being afraid of the power of my sexuality, and the mysteries of my eyes because it taught me that only those who can match my passion should be allowed to share in it with me.

Thank you for being scared of my intelligence and the depths of my mind, because it taught me there is a difference in loving how I look, or how I make you feel versus loving who I really am.

Thank you for not being the man that I needed, so that instead I was able to see the woman I already was.

Thank you for never having the balls to stake a claim on my heart, because it left the space and opportunity for someone who will be brave enough to take a chance on the wonderful desire of the unknown—someone who will cultivate every trait you tried to suppress.

Thank you for being all wrong, because it showed me what right will look like—and for that I will always be eternally grateful.

“The right man will love all the things about you that the wrong man was intimidated by.”  ~ Unknown

~Via Kate Rose

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Tender

Who believes in tough love? Sometimes we have to be cruel to be nice. Every decent gardener knows that. And anyone who has a half-sense knows also when and when not to apply it. Every situation is different and has to be handled appropriately and accordingly. I don’t really know what I’m saying, I’m about to take a quick nap and a bath afterwards to be fit shopping for outfits for the silver jubilee of a company tomorrow. I think what I’m saying is I don’t care much about tender. Green finger that I am I seem not able to keep houseplants alive. I’m killing them with TLC. And when it comes to romance, give me a skin scorching passionate all consuming fiery kind of love affair. I tend to find tender and sweet boring. Believe me I’m living it because they are the kind of relationships that last and you can build something on. What keeps them alive? Extra marital sidelines if you can afford. Thank God I’m over that now and so I keep telling myself as if being older means you lost appetite for excitements and resigned to the situation (read: cliche) that once you reached middle age you have no right to feel anymore. Not appropriate. Not the done thing. To hell with the done thing I say to myself often till I get into troubles for not doing the done thing like wearing distressed shorty shorts and why not when it becomes you. I’m getting sidetracked again. Anyway, TGIF enjoy your weekend and believe you me it doesn’t always have to be tender. You know what I mean. 

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Polish

Last night D. and I touched the topic of confidence, mainly self-confidence. He knows I have a problem with low self-esteem, lacking of self-love and general dislike of my appearance. Funny because everyone who knows me (including D.) swears I am Miss Confidence herself, and I understand where they are coming from because though I am insecure about my looks I never doubt (not even once) myself or my capabilities. I always know who I am, what I believe, what I want and where I want to go. I never question my thoughts or my decisions. For some people I come on strong and very assertive and in some ways I am because I only open my mouth if I know what I am talking about and sure of my rights, otherwise I shut up.

About my appearance, I long make peace with it. I don’t care if I’m ugly. Putting on weight only bothers me because of the inconvenience it brings: new wardrobe, uncomfortable clothing, my ankles swell up and so on. I don’t care much how I look. For my part I can walk outside naked or wearing either jogging suits or pajamas. It’s the people that bothers me, their reactions to how I look.

I see myself as… let’s say a firefly. Others (I presume) can only see my light but not my shape or what I am. To me I am race-less, colorless, gender-less and ageless. I am me and me is neutral. I go on with my days thinking/feeling like this till other people make me aware of the reality, their reality. That a poor immigrant colored middle aged woman has a lot to prove in order to be treated right in this society. Then (and only then) I (time after time) realize that I need to be polished in order to be taken seriously that I have to look natty to belong, to get some respect and to be heard. Looking normal doesn’t do the job. Being normal get you only that far. Closer to the bottom of the ladder than halfway up there. In this society which is obsessed with appearance and fashion, looking normal is not the norm. You have to be polished, fashionable, glossy and all that jazz to be included and counted. First impression counts and first impressions are (sadly) always based on appearance.

undertheskin