Tag Archives: musing

The Saddest Truth

“No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.”
― Haruki Murakami

Isn’t it just? 

Though sometimes I wish I have or would develop an amnesia. Selective amnesia for that matter. But then again I thought: the past and my experience sum me up, they made me the person I am today, laughter, tears and pain included. They are lessons learned in a hard way and I wonder if without them I will be still that naive starry-eyed chick I once been. Would I be this knowledgeable, compassionate, emphatic, pragmatic if I never went through that ordeal? I guess not. I guess I just have to accept that:

 “My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, they are gray faces that peer over my shoulder.” 
― William Golding

And I truly believe that the past is what makes me strong, keeping me in check and stopping me to fall victim to circumstances and abling me to view this life in a very sober manner and at the same time making me appreciative of the little miracles that come my way. So, I’d say shoulder on and be grateful for having those gray faces as companions.

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Genetic Makeup

I have always been fascinated with the DNA of everything. More in clinical ways than theoretical or scientifical. How can I explain it… I want to know the hows and whys of a living organism without spending hours, weeks, years in a laboratory or drowning myself in paperwork. I want to understand why things behave in certain ways. For example, why cacti (and succulents for that matter) know what shape to evolve and what kind of spines, glochids, spinose teeth or whatever they call it to grow to protect themselves. Why they flower when one abuses and neglects them? Why siblings who grew up in the same environment, shared the same genetic makeup, identical background, and upbringing become completely two different individuals, opposite in every way. Why two identical plants, planted side by side in the garden grow completely different from each other, one of them big and robust, the other small, thinly and dying. I once dismantled a transistor radio and a watch of my father out of sheer curiosity. I wanted to know how they work, what makes them tick. I am none the wiser of course after that episode. I lack the knowledge and the drive to pursue the interest. I am more artistically inclined than technical though I like to think I am both. Anyway, isn’t it handy if we understand the mechanism of everything so we can treat them accordingly?

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Breakfast

To win the peace you must first fight the war.

History confirms the above saying and we witness one or other form of it happening in day to day life but still I have a trouble believing it must be so. Unjustified… Injustice… Unjustification…. are the words that playing in my head. I don’t know if it affects me greatly because I can relate to this- in my life there is no such thing as easy gain. I have to fight with all my might for every inch of space, every ounce of respect, for freedom, for personal rights… for my very existence- or being a warrior is just a part of my genetic makeup. In any case it doesn’t sit right with me. I feel angry by just reading these words. I can associate it with everything that is happening around me- there is no donuts anymore in the nearby filling station or anywhere close to where I live. There is no decent coffee either when you want it. The least you can get is half a cup of lukewarm brew- around the world- global warming and all the consequences of it. The disappearance of all the things that have something to do with quality, morals and values. I can’t rant on and on but I will not (as if this post is not ranting enough) not this time- I just cant believe one has to fight in order to gain something that supposed to be a birthright, right? Like freedom and the right to exist and be treated accordingly regardless of which walk of life you came from or the colour of your skin or if you are beautiful or not, female or male or member of the third sex or belonged to the lower class of animal (which for me is humans) handicapped or having mental illness. All because of these laws created by man which resulted to prejudiced society of supposed to be educated people from civilized countries who cannot even exercise common decency between them. And I’m ranting early in the morning just because I am sick and can’t sleep since Sunday. What that makes me?

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Wednesday 4th Of July

It’s been a long month without rain. My garden looks crunchy and my water bill steadily rising together with the temperature. The breeze which made the last three weeks of intense heat bearable is now gone, get tired of holding the fort till the rain comes which is nowhere in sight. I don’t remember a weather like this. Not even in my country of birth. It is now forbidden to water the plants, wash your car, fill the pool and light the barbecue. Funny because it’s swimming pool/barbecue weather. Pretty ironic.  For the first time since I came here, there are at least eleven reported wildfires per day wherever vegetations are dried enough to be combustible. Scary. 

I have a lot of things to do in the garden. Hedges to trim spent plants to remove, seeds to collect and perennials to divide. But high ozone concentration and pollen counts made it impossible to even sit and relax in the garden. It’s too hot and humid I can barely breathe.

Not wanting to miss my daily walks, I often set out after it cools down and heads mostly near any body of water. I avoid forests and nature reserves because of murderous hungry insects. I walk along canals or lakes and on weekends I go to the sea where there is always some wind and the temperature usually lower than the mainland. I visit a different coastal area every time to have some variations. New places ignite my creativity. I need a changing horizon and different sun each day in order to function properly. It is always a long drive and I ended up with a stiff neck and sore muscles but I prefer the pain of being tired physically and satisfied mentally than being bored and in pain anyway.

I don’t know what I’m going to do today. Maybe make a beeline for any garden center to find a replacement for the cactus that got sunburned the other day. I killed houseplants by TLC. I have over 200 of them inside. Acquired only this winter when I could not garden outside. When I was gone for three weeks, I thought they will not survive and often think of them while on vacation. I found them flowering happily when I came back. None of them have died. They can take care of themselves. They don’t need me. Since then, I killed at least five by moving them around looking for a better place for them and of course by overwatering. I have to learn to leave them alone. But I refuse to believe that anything could thrive on neglect.  Not even people.

I wish for the rain. My garden and I need it. Did I tell you that my favorite weather is stormy weather? I even wrote a post about it here. You click it when you have the time. Anyway, this all for now and till next time.

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Scared

My dark secrets are life-threatening. Pockets of unhappiness set in aspic that build and build. I have this primitive feeling that if something good happens, it is going to be followed by something bad. There is always a price to pay.  – Sue Townsend

What I’m scared of?

Happy. I’m scared to be happy.

My experience of happiness, the bits and snippets of it had always been threaded with pain. When bad things are happening for too long you’ve come to expect it that when good things come your way, you think it’s a trap, a trick to lure you only to find out that at the very end there is nothing but false promises designed to fool you in believing like with other people happiness exists for you too.

But sadly, experience had shown me otherwise. Good things indeed never last. I am so familiar with the cliché that it keeps me from enjoying the moment, knowing what will happen next, I am already dreading the inevitable before it’s actually there. Life taught me not to be attached to anything or anyone. I learned (without knowing) not to miss people and places. Everything is temporary. Heraclitus said: The Only Thing That Is Constant Is Change and I agree. Nothing lasts forever. Especially good things.

Someone somewhere asked: What exactly is the standard to be happy? And I thought: Yeah, what is? Success? Network? Family? Material things? All of them? None of them? I don’t know. 

Do you?

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Lights Out

I can’t find anything to write about these days. Since I’ve been back from a three week holiday I don’t put anything substantial on paper. Blame it on real life getting in the way (what a cliché) something I used to laugh about like all the things associated with getting old which I now suffering from. Blame it on the fact that they decided to shelve Daily Prompt and Photo Challenge. I can’t get over it. Yet. I (we) should have known when they suddenly decided to put a stop to ever useful lots of fun Blogging U. The platform where I used to put on thoughts is now dead and waiting to be buried. Not this, another one; my learning ground before I came here. A dating site in fact. I know, I know… I discovered it through my ex. I wanted to find out what he was up to and created a fake account. I found out one can blog there too and that’s how I introduced myself to blogging. I don’t say that this one will suffer the same fate because it seems to be thriving. Bussiness wise as far as I understand but of course I could be wrong. I’m concerned about the future of personal bloggers like me. Will there be still a niche for them (us) in the near future? I know about domains and such but I’m not convinced. You know what I mean. The bright side of all of these is I’m enjoying the real life or rather I decided I will practice not Carpe Diem But Carpe Omnia. It’s like suddenly I realized that it’s five to midnight and I have to hurry if I hope to get to the party. Let’s see coming Winter if I am still in the same mood. I have an inkling or rather to be on the safe side, I decided to go on holiday three times a year. Better than sitting on the front of the computer typing words that might or might not happen. Anyway, that’s it for now. Next time I will tell you about the time I was waiting for a bus in La Palma and saw something funny, painful and inspiring at the same time.

Till next time. 

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Invisible League

Like Alice plunging down the rabbit hole, I was suddenly not the fun girl at the party but the dotty auntie figure we humor for a moment before moving on. As older women we are no longer desirable, no longer perceived as anything but taking up space a younger person could put to better use in the job, in the relationship, in life. Age, I now realize, doesn’t creep up, it fells you with changes you didn’t see coming. And it happens at 50. You vanish, replaced by an old and forgettable woman.

This is an excerpt from an article written by Tracy Nesdoly for The Star (see the full article here) about At what age do some women begin to feel invisible? I came across this while looking for random things about age on the internet. One click and I was suddenly bombarded with page after page of written stories about women of a certain age who are invisible and no longer seen as important part of society. The titles are demeaning. Not only for us middle age women but for any woman young or old because whether we like it or not we will be in that position sooner or later. What do you think of: Dating: I’m the Invisible woman,  where the writer calling herself a mere plankton in the food chain of sexuality and the marketplace for relationships. A flimflam, a nuisance, an embarrassment of landfill. It hurts, doesn’t it?

In this post, ‘Invisible’ middle-aged women are fighting back English writer Helen Walmsley-Johnson talks about menopause, sexual, currency, dressing up for your age and hormones replacement. She recounted her personal experience with a group of young boys while walking through the park one day.

They made fun of her brisk walk, then began to crudely share their views on which of a group of passing schoolgirls they wanted to have sex with, clearly intending for her to hear. Tired of listening, Walmsley-Johnson asked them to move on — and to consider keeping their sexist remarks to themselves. They reacted with hissing, noxious anger, calling her a “dried up old c***” and suggesting that if a “real woman” were to talk to them about sexism, they might listen.

I have yet to experience this sort of things. Do I have to consider myself lucky?

I have always been younger looking than my real age (thanks to my ethnicity and good genes- the only good I inherited from my ancestors) not only by few years but by more than a decade, let’s say at least fifteen. When I’ve met my current husband I was thirty-seven but he thought I was twenty-two and so were his family and friends. When I was twenty-five they don’t allow me in the discos because the guards thought my ID was fake. I was once banned from accompanying my daughter to sexual orientation class because they thought I was her sister and only parents were allowed. And so the years go on like that, me being used to getting attention (lots of it actually) I don’t care for and wishing I’m invisible.

No, I don’t wear sexy or provocative clothes, figure-hugging attires will not find a home in my closet, I don’t wear makeup, high heels and go to the hair salon only once a year. In short, I am a low maintenance girl. Attracting attention to myself (any kind of attention) was and will never be my purpose in life and it irritates me enormously getting more than I think I deserved. And I thought it will go on like that till the end. Never cross in my naive brain that it will change someday.

The first sign happened when I turned forty- three. I was in the pharmacy and the guy behind the counter referred to me as ‘Madame’ instead of ‘Mademoiselle.’  I was taken aback. Shocked in fact. It hurts. I was always been ‘Mademoiselle’ instead of ‘Madame’ and suddenly it’s the other way around. I thought then that ‘now the process had begun.’

When almost a decade had passed with nothing or little changes to my status as a desirable woman I again thought it will never happen, until this year.

I am still looking at least fifteen years younger than my real age but I’m fifty-one, and forty isn’t twenty. And gradually I noticed subtle changes. The guys who are looking at me now are not the sixteen years old anymore. The twenty-something still glance my way but soon averted their eyes when they realized in which age category I truly belonged. Their gaze never lingers anymore or check more than once, they bestow me an interested glance which quickly fades and then move on without looking back. I can walk now into a restaurant without commanding attention. There was a time that wherever I walk men (women too but with hostility) stop whatever they were doing and look, and keep looking till I was out of sight. I have out of this world experience related to my sensuality and it’s strong effect on men you wouldn’t believe if I tell so I would spare you the details. I was by no means a ‘beauty’ or ‘femme fatale,’ the truth is I never know why I had this such effect on men, my ex once described me as magic but whatever it is, it is soon disappearing.

And with it comes the realization that I don’t want to be invisible. Not only as a woman but as a human being. I’m getting old yes, I’m losing my magic, probably so, but I still have feelings. Feelings never change. Who wants to be irrelevant?

Deborra-Lee-Furness, in her interview with Australian Women’s Weekly magazine, talked about jaw-droppingly insulting titles of stories written about her (and others who are in the same situation) being married to uber hunk Mr. Hugh Jackman who happened to be thirteen years her junior. She said: “People think a 58-year-old woman doesn’t deserve a big-shot, funny, handsome, movie star husband at all. It’s still acceptable for there to be a million internet articles about being a supposedly unattractive middle-aged man and be able to “punch above your weight” and bag yourself a younger, stunning partner.”

What could I say? I am married to someone 11 years my junior. Do I have to be scared? He’s getting old too I know but everyone is aware that getting old is not the same for men and women. I don’t have to list the differences because it is a common knowledge. Damn the double standard.

Marina Benjamin, author of The Middlepause found an essay from a 1903 issue of Cosmopolitan magazine in which a woman of 50′ used to be perceived as a person of achievement and grace and was “characterized as having ‘distinctive charm and beauty, ripe views, disciplined intellect, and cultivated manifold gifts’.” That is so clearly not the case nowadays, and for the woman approaching this milestone age, there is a good reason to feel anxious, or sad, or pissed off. She said:

“Fifty feels tarnished as an old coin, and worn — worn down and worn out,” she says. “There is nothing glamorous about 50 that I can see, not even in some retro way.” 

How about you? Do you have Invisible Woman Syndrome?

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Reflection

Where have the years gone? Sometimes I have to stop and think about how old I am. When I wake up in the morning, before I move this tired old body or look in the blasted mirror, I swear I’m still a young woman. It just feels like yesterday. I don’t know how it’s gone so fast.

-Lea Davey, Silkworm Secrets

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Gratitude

Have you ever thanked all 206 members of your skeletal system for holding you up? You should, because no matter how difficult things might yet become, they won’t openly betray you.

Sometimes they only forget that they are holding human flesh within their homes, it’s why you fall.

But you rise again don’t you?

Have you thanked both your lungs for loving you all your life? You should for every single moment. Because they love you so much; so much so that they refuse to give up on you even on days when all you want is to cease from breathing altogether.

Have you kissed all of your ten fingers yesterday and today, both? You should, because they will say and keep on saying the things your mouth would never be brave enough to say.

Have you thanked the other members of your internal organs for this moment yet? You should, because thanks to them, you are ALIVE.

Talk to your body when no one wishes to address you, your body listens and it does love you.

Aside from your body, you should thank God above all else too —because if it weren’t for Him, you wouldn’t have a body.

You wouldn’t have a body left to thank and to love and live in.

— Faceless word that I am

“Gratitude” by CJessica Chua

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Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

It’s not puberty that hits you. It’s your deliberate choice to cope with society’s standards of beauty. You shed fats, you wore makeup, you fit in. Truth be told, if you aren’t beautiful to them, you’ll surely won’t be treated right.

I discovered lipstick when I was 48 and I started wearing them only two years ago. I don’t care what society wants and expects, I have my own rules. It doesn’t make my life any easier but I don’t go with the flow and life is too short to worry myself about things that don’t concern me really. I’ve been treated unfairly because of the color of my skin and been accused of many things I didn’t do because I refuse to be part of the social herd but what judgmental, simple-minded prejudiced people think say and do tell more about their narrow one-track mindedness and characters than about me. Eat their hearts out for all I care. Shakespeare once said:

My beauty, though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
Not utter’d by base sale of chapmen’s tongues

That means beauty, like supreme dominion
Is but supported by opinion and exists merely in the mind which contemplates them.

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Vague

Straight question straight answer

No beating around the bushes

A vague sensation of something is about to happen

Wishing to know the three w’s

You know…

When what, where

And of course to whom

How about the winning combination of lottery numbers

Instead of always impending doom

Can predict the future of others

But have no clue of own fate

Wish everything is so simple and predictable

But predictable is boring

Life is how you make it

Try the theory for real and you will find out that

Like most things it is easier said than done

Good weather with a vague hint of rain from a distance

A perfect day could be energy draining

Being among people even for a while makes me treasure solitude even more

The week has just begun it’s only Monday

Let’s practice Carpe Diem

And Carpe Noctem for the rest of the week

Even better let’s make it Carpe Omnia

See if it works

Goodluck people!

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