Thoughtful Thursday – Page 2

And so I begin again.

In the last many days, I’ve had time to think about this space in my life and its accumulation of nearly two years of what passes for me these days — me in writing, that is. Whenever I run through the archives and skim the content, so many thoughts come to mind about when the piece was written — the season, the weather on a given day, what I was preoccupied with or annoyed about. It’s been more and more difficult to write here and so the frequency has decreased and I’ve found myself adjusting to that, but not particularly enjoying it. I’ve taken the time on my occasional walks to make mental plans where I’d whip myself into writerly shape working on one project at this point in the day and another later on, somehow fitting it all in.

The implementation lasted one day.

One.

I’d decided to do some admin work related to my sites and busied myself in all that it entails, which is a lot when one might consider that I currently qualify for the old dog aspect of the whole can’t teach new tricks classification. Bound and determined to prove it wrong, I spent ridiculous amounts of time reading codex and phoning and thinking and whining to get everything moved and it just never worked.

With every piece I had nearly worked out, another arose and on a computer screen it looks like two window open with several tabs to access in each one. My head spun with angst over root directories and files, php and FTPs, domains and DNS. Having much experience in the area of reading research, I can tell you that when content is dense, even proficient readers default to subvocalizing in order to digest and comprehend new information. It helps — but only if one is also willing to repeat the process over and over with little or no distraction.

Ahem.

I Twittered much. I wallowed in Bubble Bazinganess. I bonded with Facebook finally, and satisfied my creative spirit cooking, shooting photos of what I’d cooked, editing those photos, and then finally writing about what I’d cooked. *insert note regarding food obsession here* It only fills the hours, but it never quite fills the spot that this space fills and the longer it was unavailable to me, the more I realized that although I could live without it, I just didn’t want to.

I thought about people who have lost posessions in a fire, or who have had property vandalized. I morbidly recalled my trauma induced by the loss of my hard drive on my beloved MacBook and all the glorious photos of our trip to the UK and several years of my son’s boyhood. I conjured up all the images of loss I could to add to my incessant mulling over of not having this space because I may have been careless. And if I had, nothing could be done other than start again, because that’s what I do. I’m good at it.

So that’s what I was ready to do this morning when I sat down. Start again.

And metaphorically, that’s what I’ve decided to say I’ve done, because clearly my archives are in order and everything is up and running. But I have perspective I didn’t have a week or so ago and need to put it to good use.

It seemed appropriate to make a few visual changes to celebrate moving on with new purpose.

Ahhh……

If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.

Be satisfied with what you have.

Every cloud has a silver lining.

Dude, make it a double. That was a close call.

February 12, 2009

Choosing to Listen

Remember the movie Jerry McGuire? Remember the part where Rene Zellweger said, “You had me at hello...”

I watched Obama’s 30 minute spot yesterday evening. I watched it twice, listening hard for something I hadn’t heard or didn’t know. Listening with someone else’s ears — perhaps someone who won’t listen, just to try and imagine what they might hear.

Later, I listened to the talking heads banter back and forth about whether it was too much, or too soon, or too expensive. At some point, a screen caption on CNN questioned whether the Democrats were buying the election and I shook my head. They’re so foolish.

He had me at the wheat waving in the wind.

I guess that makes me a willing participant, because if I heard him correctly, he’d like us to be a part of what this country can become once again. And since I’ve never known any of my strongly felt opinions to sit quietly while others, stumbling over their illogical fears and deep-seated issues with stereotypes, feel comfortable expressing theirs, anxiety in their voices, panic in their eyes.

It’s not rational, that behavior, and I wonder what it must feel like to be so entrenched in one’s beliefs that there’s no possibility of change.

I think ultimately, that attitude is what forced me out of my profession. The idea of being surrounded by people who have no vision, who can only think of possibilities that fit inside a tiny box in the corner labeled, “My Life,” and seem to fear not knowing what lies around the next corner exhaust me.

I used to have the energy to argue with them, but I just don’t any more.

I just want to wallow in the wonder of possibility and hope that we all have something amazing ahead of us. Something that will slowly peel the layers off the onion-like fear mongers I hear booing in response to their candidates’ empty comments.

But I will continue to worry about people who insist upon making others’ life choices their own business, and work hard to push others to see as they do — that the world isn’t as diverse as it actually is, and that not everyone should have the same opportunities they’ve had in life — some of which weren’t necessarily earned.

Can you choose your parents? Your country of birth, your gender, your…

No.

But I can choose to keep my mind open and allow that to help form my opinions, even when I don’t care for those I’m trying to understand.

October 30, 2008

I should make a list.

It’s official. I’ve finally gotten to the point in my life sans former profession where I feel like I need an additional six hours a day added to my clock. I’m happy to say that in contrast to my former need for six hours extra *delete rant that was to have been inserted here…*, I’m happily feeling that I not only need to get all that I have to get done…done…I want to.

It does not mean, nor will it ever, that I am perky, however.

It does mean that I just may have to blow the dust off my calendar, or more realistically, use my cyber calendar more effectively. The way I feel right now, I could become a compulsive list maker with the very first order of the day being, make a list, which has never made much sense to me.

My very non-perky giddiness is being fueled by so many different aspects of life right now — and it’s an interesting one to me, if no one else.

With the election just around the corner, I’m successfully undistracted by everything the media has to say about Palin, or Ayers, or the Dewey effect, or just about anything that’s coming out of their mouths right now. They’re on overdrive and have me wondering what in Hell they’ll talk about after it’s all over. I feel like I need to organize a party for election night. When Obama crosses that goal line, we should be able to jump out of our seats and scream just like we do when any of our sports teams win. Yes, I said when — not if.

I. Can’t. Wait.

In other news, my mother has a boyfriend. She’s 70, you know. But there’s something wrong with calling a man who’s well into his sixties a boy, and man friend sounds strange. Man cake? She says they giggle about silly things, email back and forth, and go to the kareoke sessions at their complex together. Sounds like camp doesn’t it? She also just garnered one of the coveted garden spots, inheriting some established rose bushes and will no doubt have it transformed into a veritable botanical nirvana before spring. What does this translate to? The guilt I’ve been carrying around not spending more time with her has eased up a bit, and I’m right in line to have her tell me she’s too busy the next time I ask her if she wants to go shopping or something — which happens once every blue moon or so.

You go Mom. What does he call you? Blue Eyes? Oh, my.

And then, of course, there’s the remodel the economy tried to squash, but couldn’t. In fact we started the process yesterday and now I’m feeling like I need to pinch myself over it all and then snap out of it. There’s so much to do. Do you have any idea just how many bathroom vanities, pedistal sinks, vessel sinks, over mount, under mount, wall mount, porcelain, stone, hammered copper, wooden, antique, modern possibilities there are? It’s sort of Heaven and Hell all at once.

Like hot flashes. Raging heat, then freezing cold. Okay, so maybe not. *looks at watch wondering just how long menopause actually lasts when one has no equipment left*

Then there’s my food blog which has begun to feel like a business. That’s a good thing, but I’m a bit slow on the uptake and need to sit down and think about it all while I’m not in front of my Mac which is beyond distracting. I know I’m the only person on the planet who feels that way, of course. Or better said, the only person who has no resolve, no will power, no stick-to-itiveness. Actually, I’m great at all those things as long as they’re connected to my Mac. I finally decided to take on my own domain with my food blog and having my memory refreshed about the process is less than thrilling. But I’m relentlessly persistent and will figure it out…

…after I’ve sucked it up and decided I can no longer put off creating a weekly baking schedule and menu plan. Gina is a pro at this and posts it like clockwork. Impressive.

But what about world peace you say? Well, there has never been a time that I haven’t realized my freedom to have the quality of life I enjoy isn’t something to be taken for granted. I know this. I know there are people who haven’t had the opportunites I’ve had, or the health and food we enjoy. I know there are people who have to deal with war every single day. No, I can’t imagine. The peace I enjoy is not something they understand…What did Cat Stevens sing about all those years ago? Something about a Peace Train…

**start copy**

Join The Revolution

Here are the rules and the story.

(1) Copy this into a post (2) ADD YOUR NAME to the bottom of the tag list
(3) Tag at as many people as you’d like.

The Peace Globe project began in the fall of 2006 with a simple post from one blog, Mimi Writes. The post ignited a flame in the blogosphere. The flame became a passion. The passion became a movement. It amazingly traveled from blog to blog to blog across the globe. Bloggers wrote passionate articles on what peace means to them, along with the promise of three Latin words scribbled on a globe – Dona Nobis Pacem (Grant Us Peace) – branded with the integrity of their names or blog names. It was positively inspiring to watch. And it began to happen all over the world – from Singapore to China to Afghanistan to Brooklyn.

It was simple. And powerful.

In less than three weeks bloggers from all across the globe will blog for peace.
We will speak with one voice. One subject. One day.
Won’t you join us?
November 6, 2008

How To Get Your Peace Globe In 4 easy steps!

1. Right CLICK and SAVE the peace globe below or choose from other designs here.
2. Sign the globe using Paint, Photoshop or a similar graphics tool. Decorate the globe anyway you wish. You can even include the name of your blog. Click here for hundreds of inspiring examples from previous BlogBlasts.
3. Return the peace globe to me via email ~ mimiwrites2005 at yahoo.com – Let me know your blog’s name and url by leaving a comment here and signing the Mr. Linky. Your submission will be numbered and dated in the official gallery . Your globe and post will be listed on the Official BlogBlast For Peace website and The Peace Globe Posts page.

Here’s the most important part.
4. On November 6, 2008 DISPLAY YOUR GLOBE IN A POST. Title your post “Dona Nobis Pacem”. This is important. The goal is for all blog post titles to say the same thing on the same day. Write about peace or simply fly your globe.

Go HERE for the other 3 globe template choices!)

If you’d like to help spread the word, take this button to your site. The code is in my sidebar.

I, Mimi Queen of Memes, hereby royally tag the following…….

(Before you copy this list on your blogs, ADD YOUR OWN NAME to the bottom of the list. )

………………………………………………………………………………………………YOUR NAME HERE.

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE TAGGED TO PLAY.

Please passing this meme through the blogosphere. Peace + Power
This is Mimi Pencil Skirt reporting from the lovely land of the Peace Globes.
Memeing the Movement.

**End Copy**

I’m officially tagging (and I NEVER do this…) Scott, Gina, Jerry, Ben, Meleah, Ritzy, Francis, paisley, ladybanana, Phil, Mike who are all lovely people and will probably think, OMG, what is she doing? By all means, consider yourself tagged if you’re in the mood. Maybe even try to write a better post that I have about world peace…

October 23, 2008

Middle Aged Anomaly Tucks in Ass Each Morning

I click “Write” on my WordPress dashboard, waiting for the spinning wheel that is my brain to slow knowing that it won’t and that focusing on a single stream of steady thought on any one idea will seem impossible.

No, be impossible.

In 20 minute’s time, I’ve gone from thinking about working out a recipe for apple cinnamon nut ice cream, to worrying about the huge bowl of bread dough I have fermenting in the fridge, then mulling over tonight’s debate between Palin and Biden before reading through most of this Slate article and being completely distracted by a list linked inside that article. Or maybe it was somewhere else on the page…can’t remember.

I don’t normally spend my time reading these types of articles, but once in a while, one will catch my eye because the writing is good and it actually feels as if there’s a person behind that writing. Quite a concept, yes? Aspects of it will get me thinking, of course, and the entire time, somewhere hovering above it all (at least today) are Natalie Goldberg’s words about writers I scanned over this morning in the bathroom:

Writers live twice. They go along with their regular life, are as fast as anyone in the grocery store, crossing the street, getting dressed for work in the morning. But there’s another part of them that they have been training. The one that lives everything a second time. That sits down and sees their life again and goes over it. Looks at the texture and details.

Okay, so Natalie, I haven’t been “training” because that would imply that this living twice business is something I choose to do. You don’t choose it. “It” chooses you. For example, not only have I thought about what I’ve described just now, but I’ve thought about it many times since, and am now thinking about it again. And yet again when revising this paragraph. Still thinking…

I do this all day long.

It’s like watching myself live my life and even though it’s odd, it provides me quite a bit of time to think about how and why I do what I do. As much as I can say there’s a soothing (insane) aspect to it, unfortunately it doesn’t lend itself to improving my productivity. Bills are sitting in front of me, there are quite a few piles of recipes I’ve torn from magazines ready to be recycled sitting in the middle of my family room floor (where they’ve migrated after being on the kitchen counter for several days), and I need to get off my derrier to go for a walk today.

But I’ve arrived at the conclusion that the bloggosphere can be quite the brutal place — at times, what I imagine it would feel like to go through a carwash without my car, each spray of water or rotating brush pushing me first one way, and then another and never quite making it to the end.

I’m tired of it but have no one to blame but myself. I think much of it stems from the fact that who I am and what I have to say here doesn’t exactly fit anywhere. This conclusion isn’t earth-shattering, nor is it meant to be accompanied by a whine. I don’t whine. I have been known to climb up on a soapbox and metaphorically flip the world the bird, however — just not as much as I used to.

*sigh*

I am a middle-aged woman. That I enjoy who I am at this particular point in my life doesn’t really change the fact that I’m somewhat of an oddity in the Bloggosphere. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming to be surrounded by twenty and thirty somethings with toddlers, techies with jargon I never completely understand, snarling, snarking political junkies, celeb gossip mongers, and the increasingly less than attractive you-too-can-make-money-at-home crowd.

I’m an anomaly. And I guess that’s the most annoying part of this since I always have been, so why should my persona here be less so? One would think I’d get used to being reminded that I’ve always been a square peg.

I have no stories to tell about my toddlers, my Satanical boss, my commute, my gigabytes, and there is no way in hell I could ever sit down here and try to be funny every freaking day because people want a cheap laugh. But I’m also not going to wallow in the bathos of my life (liar, liar, pants on fire…), lamenting about mistakes and missed opportunities. No, really.

What I will do is continue to look in the mirror each day, and after taking more than the normal minute or so to scan my body and realize it doesn’t exactly look like it used to even five years ago, suck in my stomach, tuck in my ass, smile and know that I am me. Still.

Sounds like a warning, doesn’t it?

Heh.

October 2, 2008

Learning from Writers

I’ve been reading portions of William Zinsser’s Inventing the Truth, a collection of pieces by talented writers on The Art and Craft of Memoir. It lays open in a place that I’ll see it throughout the day so that I can noncommittally pick it up and think about what the writers have to say about their respective experiences writing memoir.

One of the pieces,”Points of Departure,” by Jill Ker Conway discusses so many different things worth my consideration. But what I can’t get past is the sheer magnitude of her life — and that I’ve never heard of her before. How does that happen, and why, after learning of it all, do I not feel insignificant?

Most likely because I’ve never suffered from being or feeling insignificant. Of course, everything is relative, so it’s easy to say that I’ve been significant to my family, or good friends, or a student here and there. Perhaps even to birds I’ve trapped inside and released before they hurt themselves crashing against a window to get out. Definitely the IRS since they can depend on us for tax dollars. But I’m not talking about any of that. It’s so much larger than the tiny details that we essentially are.

I wander through my day and think, “What does it mean?”

I’ve learned that Anne Lamott’s KFKD will play, relentlessly telling me all things non-constructive — anything to keep me from actually writing something relevant.

Anything.

At least if I continue to read Conway, I’ll write, but I’ll want to write about what distracts me, such as her opinion about women being “lodged in family networks [being] very attractive to the political right because it provides a good reason for keeping [them] from establishing a strong independent identity of their own.”

That’s a few good days of writing all by itself.

Instead, I’ll think more about what she has to say about memories and their separation from the emotion they so readily evoke.

I’ll also think about her question, “Why did it happen that way?”

In the meantime, I’ll write, too.

It’s easier to take on.

September 25, 2008

Pigs, Lipstick, and Other Shiny Objects

This is not a light-hearted post, so if you’re just not in the mood to be real, that’s fine. But right now, I’m thinking that blogging about my patio flowers, or thoughts about floor covering choices for a remodel, or how much I’d like to mail my flea-ridden pets to Siberia are not worth spending time on.

My mind is heavy with the election, and decisions, policies and issues, and I have to pull the plug sometimes. I’m listening to 911 coverage in the background, remembering, and thinking how strange it is that seven years can go by so quickly, yet so slowly…

(more…)

September 11, 2008

Finding a place to begin

Nike was smart when they launched their campaign admonishing those of us who sit far too long on our ever-expanding rear ends to “Just do It.” But when you’re someone who is more inclined to first think, then talk about what you are thinking about — like writing — then think about writing before you actually write anything, clearly those words have no effect. None.

I haven’t “Done It” yet. In other words, I’m still getting warmed up to the idea of possibly thinking about wanting to write something. Not just anything, but the piece I am supposed to write.

The problem is twofold. On second thought, it’s got quite a few more folds than two. Tenfold might be more accurate. I have no excuse for this. It’s pathetic.

And so when I find myself in this particular situation, I review what I know. I mull over every detail and experience much like one might sort through an old recipe box, thinking about what is on each card instead of pulling one out, and actually cooking and serving it for dinner.

I could go back through the books I’ve used in the past whose authors have helped me sort out my thoughts. People like Zinsser and Lamott, or Goldberg or E.B. White, because they force me to think about what I’m not doing. But I’d have to have something, anything, to work with before I’m compelled to pick up one of those books again. Otherwise, it’s no different than reading travelogues and never traveling, or buying yet another cookbook when never intending to cook.

Somehow in my wandering today, I came across Vonnegut and his take on style. I’d not seen it before, and I read it through several times acknowledging his advice, but thinking more about his writing. I read parts of it aloud, as I often do when something is written just right, needing to hear the cadence of words as each works with another. Then I considered the advice.

One thing was missing.

Find a place to begin. And therein lies the rub.

Since it’s not a dark and stormy night, I’m taking myself out into the sun that has finally decided to grace us with its presence to sit and read something well-written, take a few notes, and find a place to begin while I’m distracted by green bugs in the vicinity.

July 31, 2008

Nobody likes orange.

Finally. A new, peaceful theme.

I wasn’t truly loving the orange in my last digs, but something odd has happened as a result of that recent having to live with it for as long as I did and survive. When I’m out and about, all things orange catch my eye. And I have been doing a bit of shopping since our vacation is looming…

…in twelve days.

So why am I messing around with my blog theme, you ask?

(more…)

June 19, 2008

Open up that golden gate…

Some time last summer, my mother decided she needed an adventure. A permanent one. She figured that before she was too old to actually do something about it, she would relocate to the East Coast. Maybe that doesn’t sound like an adventure to some, but when you’ve lived in one place for over 40 years, and you’re not planning on returning, it’s an adventure. She’s always had wanderlust, and if someone asked me to sum her up in one rich word, I’d say she’s a dreamer. And that’s not anything to be ashamed of.

I am, too.

How does one live any time on this earth without dreams? Without wonderings and urges or hopes to go places different than what she knows best, or become someone other than who she is now?

I can’t imagine.

But I’ve also learned that most often, dreams require work, and sometimes, the timing of all that’s necessary to make them come true is wrong. It takes amazing strength to admit that maybe, you’re just not strong enough to make it work. You’re tired.

Lonely.

My mother, who turned 70 late last year, has, with the help of her sister, once again packed up her little white car, bundled up her cat, Emily, and yesterday set out for home from upstate New York.

She’s outfitted with a trip itinerary courtesy of her brother-in-law, a cell phone, and two daughters and a sister who are at computers, keeping watch of weather, and looking for motels along the way.

Amazing, isn’t it?

I think she is.

Anyone who likes to wander,

ought to keep this saying in his mind:

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder”

of the good old place you leave behind.

When you’ve hit the trail a while

seems you rarely see a smile;

that’s why I must fly out yonder,

where a frown is mighty hard to find!

California here I come,

right back where I started from.

Where bowers of flowers bloom in the sun,

Each morning at dawning

birdies sing an’ ev’rything:

A sun-kiss’d miss said, “don’t be late,”

That’s why I can hardly wait,

Open up that golden gate,

California here I come.

You go, Mom.

May 1, 2008

Thoughtfully synthesizing statistics, dreams, and spiders

As another month draws to a close, I am left wondering why, oh why this particular post has been viewed so many times this month. As of two minutes ago, it has been “viewed” 1,004 times. When I scan down the statistics presented about this site to the key phrases and words used for searching, “spider” is far and away the greatest one that this site is connected with. At one point or another, someone was looking for information about spiders, photos of spiders, ground spiders, pictures of spiders, etc… You get the idea. Spiders. Nine-hundred-thirty-three times. It has to be the time of year. People see their webs, their gorgeous plump orange bodies and want to know if the creature will eat their Yorkshire Terrier. People are curious.

So back to my stats — of course I know that “viewed” doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve actually visited my page. But I have accumulated nearly 2,000 unique visitors this month — nearly 300 more than last month. I’m not sure why. Perhaps people are simply trying to figure out what to do about those short hairs. But if they have viewed that post, I doubt they stopped long enough read what I had written. That’s too bad, because I truly like that post. It’s about dreams. Not spiders. I had recently had a dream about a tarantula, so the post was my attempt to analyze it. The whole experience was rather strange and fascinating. Okay, so it was fun, too. I’ll admit it. And since nearly four months have passed, I’ve decided that it’s a good time to revisit some of what I deciphered about what spiders in dreams mean — and show you my latest photos of my resident orb weaver, Clyde (who is probably a female…), and his – er, her buddies.

(Clyde appears to be small here…)

With respect to “staying away from an alluring and tempting situation,” clearly that would be blogging. I’m hooked. But it isn’t just about the writing, or the social network that blogging has created for me, there’s a technical side I truly enjoy and want to learn more about. I’m annoyed that lately, I have to put that curiosity aside to be more constructive about the project I’ve been working on which will actually earn money if I ever remember to turn in my time sheets. Every situation is tempting at this point, with the first deadline looming on October 15th and the second November 1st. Laundry is enticing. Toilets aren’t yet tantalizing, however.

“…a powerful force protecting [me] against [my] self-destructive behavior” again has to refer to blogging. Exhibit A would be this post. But to be fair, it’s Thursday. I have mentioned before that Thursday is my favorite day of the week and to celebrate that, I’ve instituted for myself Thoughtful Thursday. Ironically, I hadn’t remembered that until just now. That confirms that I’m simply basking in something I’ve always enjoyed, that my spirits are high, and that I’m…well…being thoughtful about what I want to be thoughtful about instead of what I have to be thoughtful about. You know. That project. I’ll get around to it when I’m finished being thoughtful about dreams and spiders.

(This guy is so much smaller than Clyde. Just wait…)

So what other kind of self-destructive behavior could there be? Hmmm…that isn’t the kind of thing I want to think about right now, but it could be a great discussion for later. Suffice it to say that the topic would include Food + Wine, and no, I’m not talking about the magazine.

Okay, moving right along…Just a note that the spider searchers have already given up on me because I haven’t provided any information about spiders in this post yet. That’s too bad, because I have a huge spider treat saved for later. And yes, it will be just about as Hallo-weenie as I get. Dreams…where was I?

“…energetic in my labors and fortune will be amassed…domestic happiness.” I truly can pat myself on my back for being a diligent, avid member of Bloggsville. Hell, I could be mayor. As far as the fortune goes, I believe that’s relative, and that I feel fortunate for what I have. It’s not about the cash — it’s about gratitude. And that extends to domestic bliss as well — um, except for when the Yack Star barfs up her breakfast on the rug immediately after leaving her bowl twice in two days. No, she’s not sick. She has binge and purge problem because she’s a plus size feline. It’s a problem that rates fairly low on the domestic bliss meter.

(This guy is half the size of Clyde…)

With regard to “an aspect of myself that is vulnerable and helpless…” er, um…I think you know that I’ve really been struggling with some physiological changes that are kicking my butt. I’m about as far from helpless as Bush is from being an elocutionist, but do feel a bit as though I’m just not what or whom I used to be. It’s unsettling, but I refuse to get depressed over it. I’ve got my stuff lined up on the counter, and am trying very hard to stick with it day and night so I don’t end up being helpless from neglect. Sad, but true. Take care of your bodies, or you will regret it.

And finally, “maintain a balance…everything [I] do now is weaving what [I] will encounter in the future.” Yes, I know. As much as I harangue on myself about avoidance and slovenliness, I am a fairly deliberate person. No, an extremely deliberate person. I have fun magnifying my idiosyncrasies because it’s healthy and allows me to examine my faults. Although I’d enjoy sweeping a few of the under the carpet, it wouldn’t be productive. I’d still know they’re there, and at some point would have to deal with them. They sit around in all their glory for me to think about each time one surfaces. The more I work on them, the better the future will be. See how that works? I know. Write a book.

“I am the keeper and writer of my destiny, weaving it like a web by my thoughts, feelings, and actions.” Future, destiny…I was born with a steering wheel in my hands. It doesn’t quite work the way the one in my car works. It’s more of blowing the seeds of a dandelion into the wind and choosing one to follow until it’s time to choose another, and another, and so on…It keeps everything interesting. It’s a bit painful at times because I wait too long to change directions, and then there’s a huge upheaval that affects others in a way that I’d love to avoid. Yes, this is quite nebulous and I realize you are scratching your head about now, but I don’t want my thoughts to drift too far down that path today.
(

Clyde the Spider has grown…)

And to get down to the clencher, “enemies are about to overwhelm you with loss…” My immediate reaction in revisiting these words was that I don’t have enemies. Or if I do, I don’t know who they are. (Don’t care who they are if they exist?) And then I read what my original response was — I was so right! Doubting voices, indeed. Especially when I consider the project I’ve been working on. In fact, this morning on my walk, I told my VBF that what I was working on completely sucked. That I’ve worked on the words and they all just sound like jargon — meaningless and inane. But I also know it’s normal and so I just keep plugging along. I’m not enjoying the work, however. News flash. It doesn’t feel as if it belongs to me, and I am very undisciplined in engaging in anything that my heart and soul are not invested in. It’s a problem and I seriously doubt I’ll outgrow it at this point in my life.

No, I’ve just decided to embrace it, fists clenched, teeth bared.

Balls to the wind, as my mother would say.

Which is why I’m being so thoughtful today.

September 28, 2007

Category: Thoughtful Thursday