Hello, Dear Blog! Hello, New Year!

     This blog has fallen out of favor among my writing blogs, mainly because I struggle with defining where I want it go. I really don't want it to be another positive, motivational, self-help blog because there are so many great ones out there already. As a teacher with no interest in administration, telling others how to climb the corporate ladder seems a little absurd to me. So, this leaves me with wondering, what CAN I fill these pages with? 

    I like self-help and self-improvement. I like watching videos and listening to podcasts and reading articles. So maybe sometimes, this will be a place for me to observe my reactions to that information. I don't want to TELL you want to do. It has never been a driving force for me to persuade others to do things my way. I just want to share my thoughts, so you can either incorporate them into you own worldview or choose to just to let them pass. I don't need to be your leader anymore than I really need a leader. I just want to BE and SHARE. Although every now and then someone will come and be directive and give me such sweet, practical advice, and it literally tickles me down to my toes. I think I missed out on some gentle mothering as a child. No blame, I probably neglected my own children in the same way. We can only do what we know.

    Maybe this will be a place to respond to the books and movies I read. I want to do more serious reading. Its hard-I work a lot. I mean, a lot. Between my regular teaching job, tutoring, online teaching, and delivering food, I am putting well over 60 hours a week. I awaken early to work. I come home and rush out the door to work. It's not ideal, but its enough to scrape by a decent life. 

    I know I have addressed this issue on here before, but never really took it anywhere. I feel the need to take it somewhere, though. Even if I am just screaming my opinions into the wind, I need to get them out there. 

Just a collection of thoughts

     I ran out of coffee this morning. Well, that isn't true-I have those single serve coffee bags. However, my usually well-caffeinated body is really struggling to wake up. I was up at 4:30 and working early, but without my coffee, I just don't feel the kick. It's fine. I can survive on weak coffee bags, and my Walmart pickup order is at 5 tonight. 

    I finally gave in and watched Call Me By Your Name last night. I know it came out over six years ago, but it takes me a while to get around to things. Whenever I would search for a "very romantic movie" it would be on the list. I was reluctant to watch it because is guy on guy action really romantic to me? I was reluctant. But I was not disappointed.

   

Now, be forewarned if you frown upon same-sex coupling, this may not be for you. 

What I loved about the movie: Timothee Chalamet's face. Just exquisite bone structure. His body was a little small, but I guess he was young then. I loved the quiet subtle desire. No "most ardent" passionate speeches. Just persuasion and lust and admiration slowly growing and enticing. Now, I could have done without the self-love scenes, however they did bring a reality to movie, but oh, the awkwardness. I felt I was in the room with him, hoping his dignity was maintained and he didn't get caught with his little escapades and snooping and um...peach experimentation. It was really well done.  His character seemed really young, but I know the age of consent is lower in Europe, so it probably wasn't quite shocking to see his youth sexually exploited.

    The worst part. The peach. Good lord. And Elio's "Duckie" hairstyle at the end. I hated his hair so much I felt a little contemptuous towards the tear-dripping wimp. Not really, but it was awful. 

 The loss of a great love or relationship (when chemicals get involved it is so hard to separate love from lust), may not be something we have all felt, but the feeling of desiring something that we cannot have, this resonates with many. 

Mr. Perlman: We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste!

 

My thoughts were much better (I tell myself) when I was driving in the car, but now I am so very sleepy and they have fled.

Christmas looms and I want to pack everything away now. The clutter is overwhelming. In the past week, Alec has intentionally cut the slipcover on the library sofa and one of the boys have broken the leg on the coffee table in there. Add this to the large hole in the rocker (which I loved), and let me tell you, we are not living well. 

Anyway, I need a nap.

    This song is stuck in my head today.

And there she is again

 

Tumble-joy reigned

Topsy-turvy 

alone again

voiceless,

fail again

 this place,

 smile.

Ah, yes. 

Home again.

This infp (who believes personality tests are pure crap for the simpleminded (like me), is drowning in the angry feels today:)

Have a good one!

P.s. I am totally being overly dramatic. It makes me happy.

Static

   

Photo by Ben Karpinski on Unsplash

 We strive to be that dynamic, exciting personality who exhibits growth and radiance. We believe we have a purpose and importance. We believe we were put here to DO BIG THINGS. Because all around us this is what the world is telling us. It's a sign on the wall, a scribble from a colleague.

    And then one day, we wake up, nearing the half-century mark, having accomplished little and feeling a bit foolish singing the praises of the palty small accomplishments we have made.  And WHAT exactly distinguishes what IS an accomplishment? Is it business success? A good-looking partner? Money, or a beautiful home? Is it a generous heart that others can rely on? Is it a novel, published? When your words spill reverently out of another's lips?

    Guys, I am going to be 50. It's a word too old to imagine. Too steady and Karenish for this faltering timid soul stumbling around in this body. I feel like I am just beginning to open my eyes and already my life is more than halfway over. Maybe 2/3 over. And I am just learning so much now. And so very disappointed by the lessons.

    It doesn't really seem fair. I used to think the world was wide open. Anyone could do and become anything. I don't anymore. Some people truly have a leg up. Sometimes it is financially. Some people were blessed with beautiful faces. Some have inviting personalities and have been taught or gifted with emotional self-control. 

    I am lucky in many ways. But in many others, I was far behind the starting line. And  I am coming to understand that maybe don't change as much as we thought we could. Maybe our core nature IS static. I will always fight being jealous, petty, insecure. It's so gross. I may never see when someone is using me for their own entertainment-or rather- I do see, but I don't believe it- until after the fact. I may always be naively forgiving of those who maybe don't deserve it. I will NEVER master my surging hormones which leave me reeling periodically. In this case, nature will lose. Just a little more time. 

    I think I  may always be socially insecure. I can use the positive self-talk and see that someone isn't better than me rationally, but the fear of eventual rejection, the fear of my own imperfections, is unshakable. To this day, I reel with shame when I post something and noone responds or likes it. I realize either my thinking is remarkably banal or just so out there and personal, I should be sharing with a therapist rather than with you. 

    Maybe the lesson isn't to learn to overcome the imperfections, but to learn to accept the limitations with grace. 

    Maybe there is beauty in accepting one's own nature, learning to tame the beast, whilst always acknowledging the hungry survivalist waiting beneath the surface. Maybe the lessons become too ingrained, too imprinted on our soul. 

    And so I wonder where to go from here. Where to take this next 25 years. I watch myself fade. I let go of once-dreams one-by-one and wonder what is left when all the built up hopes and dreams and fears  drift away. How deeply can I mesh with the soul of who I truly am and stop looking for the soul of who I hope to be?

Sunday Morning Moments

 Saturday and Sunday mornings are precious times to an introvert. In the old days I would awaken early and enjoy a few quiet hours to myself. Now, however, I have an Alec, who is an early bird, too. I jsut remind myself, that he is always growing and changing, and as a mom of many, I know these moments and years pass quickly. One day I will awaken to a quiet house and long for the sound of someone else's breath and footsteps.

 

I flipped through the Prime channel this morning and everything looked lovely. I finally settled upon The Secret of Roan Inish. I've seen it before, so it can be background, it's more uplifting for the kiddos than scary, bloodsucking vampires, and the music and sea scenes are pretty much where my soul resides.

My wish for vampire diaries is that there had been one more preciously romantic season. But alas, that is probably why so many movies end when they couple ends up together. It is hard to sustain the romantic intensity. Anyway, I think I've had my fill. I will still watch clips on Youtube. I mean...look at this man...And I love this song by Fleurie:

Well, I am a sucker for romance. Hopefully heaven is chockful of yummy romantic experiences. Or at the the opportunity to temporarily experience romantic drunkeness as one wishes. Otherwise-what is the point of all these desires if the aren't to be fulfilled somewhere? I will be quite disappointed, if it is just animal procreation driving it. 

I always start my blog with such a plan-I will have a focus and draw people in, but in the end, I am just a collection of thoughts and feelings.I rebel against the idea that a blog must be a certain way, even if that is the way to pulling people in. People want to know what they are getting into, they want answers, they want guidance. Who am I to guide, when the world is just a giant smorgasbord of that which can be experienced. Everyone with all their grand plans and schemes, and we will all be gone in 130 years. 

A Tale of Loss

From the top of Blarney Castle

 I was looking through my Facebook photos on a whim to have some turned into canvas prints to hang. I stumbled upon my trip to Ireland. And there, on grey-skied days was smiling, mystical feeling me (is there anything like clouds and a silent walk through a crumbling abbey to leave one feeling mystical?) And there in grey and color was Karl. Karl who laughed and spoke in his loud American voice, whilst I cringed. Karl who talked with the locals, whilst I sat quietly. Karl who walked closer to the pub musicians and nodded and yelled  while I drank my cider sitting quietly in my chair. Karl who always made me cringe, but whom everyone seemed to like more. He swore he was an introvert-but I don't think so. Just insecure.

The thing is, things are as they must be. Things are better. The kids don't even seem to miss him. But despite things being better this way. I miss having my friend. I miss the good days and weeks, when I felt I could tell him things. I miss my companion and my helper. I miss the person who helped put the kids in bed and was willing to watch chick flicks with me. 

And it isn't loneliness. I am not really lonely most of the time. At least it isn't something I feel too keenly. But it is just the memory of the good times. It was having someone on my side every once in a while. It was saying, "Hey, the refrigerator is broke," and then sitting back, because I knew it would be taken care of.

And there is this underlying guilt. Did I do everything I could? Did I give up on him? Was there a point, years ago, when I could have watched him take his meds and made sure he was safe. Was there ever a spiteful moment, when I gave safeguarding his health just to not have to stress about it. Where does my responsibility fall? And he is gone. In Springfield, Missouri, California, Illinois, I have no idea. He is just gone. And I see these photos-the good times, and I think of how I thought we would be together for ever-maybe not for love-but for companionship. And it was a comforting thought, warm and cozy and belonging. Until it wasn't. Until it was  fence I couldn't see over or around. Until it was a sentence of responsibility and duty. And I can't help but wonder-who broke first? Was not taking his medicine his way of starting down the path to freedom? Or was my giving up on nagging him my step down the path?

I don't know. 

But now I have to procure my own refrigerator.