One Can Never Go Back, Maybe

I was outside helping Mom with her gardening, mostly spreading fertilizer (which yes, there is a joke there somewhere), when I was struck by the changes in my old neighborhood. Just small changes, like a house newly remodeled, or a tree taken out. That led me to reflect how much my Texas hometown had grown in the past couple of decades. Old dirt backroads are now four lane avenues, what were once fields of corn and cotton are now shopping and medical centers, the old mom and pop hangouts of my high school youth are long gone and replaced with law offices or the like. Changes are inevitable, of course. With changes come some serious realizations.

Can one ever go back to….anything? I used to think so. There was a time I thought of going back to Puerto Rico, if only for a few months every year. Now, that thought is alien to me. Not that I dismiss my home, but rather that I no longer recognize my home. What I used to know is long changed, or just outright gone. Dad would send me lots of photos of my native hometown, and beautiful though they were, my first thought was usually, “That wasn’t there when I was growing up.” Sometimes the thought was “OMG how could they paint that house in that color??” but that’s pretty on brand for me. I now truly embrace the adage, “Nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there,” and it applies to ALL the places I’ve called home. And it’s not just places, either. This applies to people, too.

I think that’s the hardest thing for me to acknowledge. It’s not the changes we go through that makes things hard. It’s the knowledge that we don’t go through changes together that really makes it difficult. I recall coming back for the summer after my first year in college and getting together with my old circle of friends from high school. Six of us reunited for a picnic to talk about our first year away from high school. Only…. the talk was all about our last year in high school. I sat listening and when asked why I hadn’t said anything, I replied that it had been a while since I thought about high school. The silence was pretty damning, and I was not invited to the get-togethers after that. I saw that I had changed outside of their sphere of influence, and that didn’t mesh well with them. One of them went so far as to block me on social media once he found me there, 20 years after our last encounter.

Changes are inevitable. The soul grows wiser as the body grows older. But some things do remain the same, whether it’s the town traditions on special holidays, the habit of Friday night football, or even the principles that make one mature. Reminiscing of old times while being grateful for the new can bridge that chasm, and though we can’t go back, we can certainly move forward by learning from what used to be. πŸ™‚


The Best Man I Ever Knew

I can’t say he was the greatest. That term isn’t very flexible, and it strikes one as being placed on a pedestal. That may be fine for some people, but not him.

I’m referring to my Dad.

Dad was one of the most humble people I’ve ever known. He never tooted his own horn, so to speak. He would tell us stories about friends, coworkers, family members, but personal things like his experiences growing up? We had to ask. He just wasn’t the type to share stuff unless someone was genuinely interested. Back in my early teens, he was just Dad. As I grew older, I begin to learn more about him from others. And my amazement never stopped growing.

I recall one time I was visiting family in PR. I was 16 years old. My cousin and I were at the local basketball game and a very prominent looking gentleman came up to me and asked, “Are you (Dad’s) daughter?” Now, I look a lot like my father, so I wasn’t that surprised. I affirmed it and he asked me to say “Saludos” to Dad. I turned to my cousin and asked who he was. It was the Mayor. I asked myself, just how many people knew Dad?? Turns out the answer was EVERYONE. My dad was instrumental in establishing a gifted program at the local high school, and brought physics as a permanent addition to the curriculum. Why physics? Because of NASA. He worked there for years before coming back to his hometown to be a teacher, inspiring several students to go into the space sciences. Some of those students still talk about Dad to this day. Several years ago, several graduating classes held a tribute to him. His surprise was genuine and he made sure to tell them that the tribute is theirs, because they went on to achieve great things.

He taught me things you can’t find in books. He took a leap and came to Texas to work, bringing his family to a new frontier, literally. We were excited, but it was still a bit jarring. Dad made sure we assimilated but also to never forget our culture. Culture had a pen, not a pencil with an eraser. We added to it, never taking anything away. He never told us Life was fair. The older I get, the more I appreciate his IDGAF attitude. He really did not care about anyone’s opinion because it didn’t impact him. It took me a looooong time to get to that point. But he was right: an opinion isn’t carved in stone, and shouldn’t be weighed as if it were. He taught me that mistakes were just more steps to success. His was not the eye-roll so much as the closed-eyes-raised-eyebrows. That said far more than words ever could. He laughed with his whole being, a warm contagion that overtook anyone in its proximity. His disapproval, short-lived though it would be, could not be borne. Such was the measure of his profound character.

Now, the last chapter of his story has been written. This past Monday, a bit of the light in our hearts was dimmed with his passing. Memories will keep that light burning, but it won’t be as bright. Grief is love unexpressed, and the vessel holding it will expand to accommodate it in time. For now, it overflows and washes over like water on the sand.

Te quiero mucho, mi querido viejo. ❀


Finding Our Inner Energizer Bunny

We all have those days.

You just do NOT want to get out of bed. You have to, you have responsibilities like jobs, chores, social obligations. But you just don’t want to deal with the world. I am here to tell you that this is perfectly normal.

I recall one morning I woke up, and the thought of getting up to turn on the coffeemaker made me want to cry. I just did NOT want to get out of bed. I asked myself what I had to get done that day, and the only thing I could think of was….. the good morning tweet. Everything else was back burner stuff. I did get up to make coffee, wash my face and brush my teeth, get a book, fetch the remote, grab an empty notebook, and get back in bed. I stayed there, reading or watching TV or writing. I sent the tweet (can’t disappoint my several dozen fans) and cleared notifications every so often. My phone was on mute, my laptop was off, and I was in my own world.

And it was glorious!!!

But Aggie, how can that be? We are social creatures and have stuff to do daily!! Yes, and that’s why you feel guilty for not doing something constantly. I recently heard the term “social battery” and I have to say, it resonates. The dirty secret that lies at the heart of it? We are all introverts to some degree. Yes, even the extroverts. We all need time to readjust our mental and physical state. I don’t mention the emotional state because reasons. But the other two? Yes, those have to be balanced for us to function in society.

It’s not difficult to do, but it can be difficult to take the step. It took me a long time to make my head understand that I could stay in bed all day if I wanted to do so. The best part? You don’t have to stay in bed all day!! Just an extra hour or two goes a long way towards recharging your battery and allowing you to channel the Energizer Bunny. The day after my recharge day, I sanded, cleaned, and stained a pair of end tables, power-washed the deck, did three loads of laundry, and swept and mopped the house. I was a freakin’ dynamo. And even after cooking dinner and doing KP, I took the dog for a walk. I admit, I didn’t have to deal with anyone, so my energy was focused on getting work done. It is different for everyone. But it is also needed by everyone.

So next time you get the urge to stay in bed and avoid life, make plans to do so, if only for an hour or so. Your inner bunny will thank you for it. πŸ™‚


Of a Feather, or Fair Weather

Yes, I’m talking about friends. It’s a good topic, one that serves to remind us of the ties we have chosen, in contrast to the ties into which we are born. Friends are the family we choose. I was reminded on a podcast a few weeks back about the different types of friends we have in our lives. Not all friends are the same. We have different relationships in different circles. But all are necessary and all buoy one up in unique ways. Personally, I gauge my relationships based on how each friend would react to me being in jail.

Ridiculous, but it works.

The outer circle has acquaintances. They are not considered close. We enjoy surface-level interactions, to include social media and “clubbing” (not the caveman type). They will commiserate with you and wish you luck, and they will in turn let others know you are in jail and can’t return messages.

The next ring in holds your casual friends. They are a fun bunch. They include your work and gaming buddies. They are people with whom you have common interests, but who are very low-pressure “socializers.” When you are in that group you have tight camaraderie, but that stops once you go on your separate ways. These are the friends that will post your bail.

The innermost circle holds your close friends. These are the epitome of your friendships. You enjoy a very intimate relationship with those in this circle, because this is your most honest circle. They would be sitting next to you in that jail cell, laughing about the predicament, and then yelling at you for getting caught. These are the people who would exhibit tough love and raw honesty, the ones that don’t have filters and shove the mirror in your face. They would cradle your heart while pointing out your foolishness. They love you, warts and all. And you love them for the same reason.

Lastly, there is a circle that floats. It’s not concentric like the others. It exists next to your other circles, but it isn’t defined like the other circles. In this ring you find your lifelong friends. These are the people with whom you have a mutual history. They are not necessarily close, but you have a solid bond. They are our foils, our reflections, people that “share the same brain” with you. They are non-judgmental, but will be there for you if the need arises. These are the friends that will treat you to lunch while you spill the tea on your jail experience.

Different people see friendships in different ways. What may be right for me is definitely horrific for a hermit. But all that aside, the one thing we all have in common is our love for our friends. I tell my friends frequently how much I love them. Don’t shy from doing so. Love makes friendships grow strong roots. πŸ™‚


There Were Bees in the Cab!

That was my answer to a writing prompt posted on social media: write a story about *this* in six words or less. I know, should be “fewer”, but it wasn’t my prompt. I like the challenge of writing prompts. They force you to summarize and be concise.

That began my thought process over other prompts, not just those for writing. In Life, we are often given prompts. Some are short, very easy to manage: daily chores, work obligations, emails, etc. Some are not so easy: family ties, keeping up with old friends, letting go of parental habits. A friend is traveling and is having a tough time letting her adult progeny be in charge. She knows they are capable, but the apron strings are a bit tight. To her credit, this is helping her observe them as adults and it helps her feel a certain freedom, but it is difficult!! My prompts tend to be on the remote circle side. Sometimes I am reminded I haven’t reached out to old friends and extended family. The recent loss of a dear friend still burns with guilt. So I began to listen at my inner voice (the calm one, not the weird neurotic one). I recently called my aunt out of the blue, and was overjoyed at her pleasure. She will be receiving a tiara soon, too. Her daughter is planning a 60th birthday party, and I aim to attend. It will be 40 years since we saw each other, so it should be fun.

Life throws prompts at us daily, hourly even. Don’t ignore them or put them off. Just like Time, Life stops for no one. Remember that next time you find yourself prompted. πŸ˜‰


How to Build Man

Yes, that’s a thing. It’s actually a WP blog post about Manchester United, that was suggested for reading in the Site Admin section. I did have to read that title twice. It was a bit….ambiguous, shall we say? Manchester was abbreviated to Man. United, so you can imagine how my brain chose to read it. It did provide a chuckle, but also made me pause and reflect how sometimes grammar can make some things sound waaaaaay different.

The comma is probably the most abused punctuation mark. But periods have their share when it comes to abbreviation of formal names. Honestly, I read the title as thus:

How to Build Man

United’s Grid Layout Homepage

I mean, what?? I understood it to be two posts, one was about cyborgs (maybe??), and the other was directing me to what I presumed to be the homepage of an airline. Once I clicked on the link, I realized it was about the team’s website. Listen, I am not the sharpest machete in the shed. I admit that. I can only remind y’all that English is technically my second language and sometimes it trips me up.

Anyway, I hope that serves to give a chuckle. I will be peppering my stories and journal with more commas, as if William Shatner were dictating. Better to have too many, than too few. πŸ˜‰


Childish Aspirations

We all had them. The inevitable “I wanna be fill-in-the-blank when I grow up!” Some were funny, some realistic, and the majority outrageously and wondrously fantastical.

When I was five, I wanted to be a ballerina. But not just any ballerina. I wanted to be the first ballerina in space. Yes, your humble hostess wanted to be a ballerinaut. I had no idea how to achieve that. I lived in a remote area where there were no dance schools and no where near NASA. But I still had that dream. And that one wasn’t the weirdest, either. For a brief time, I wanted to raise exotic fish, which sounds pretty normal until you find out I lived in a mountainous area and the only exotic fish I knew was Flipper (yes, I know Flipper was a mammal, but he was a fish to a five-year-old). There was also the time I wanted to be a wood worker, like one of the neighbors. It was magical to watch him take a raw piece of lumber and make a baseball bat (could have been a billy club, for all I know. It was a rough neighborhood!). Oh, and I won’t bore you with the details of being a car recycler.

It’s funny, but looking back now, some of those wishes are not as impossible as they used to seem. Sure, I will never be a ballerinaut, but I know that even here in the hinterlands there is a market for exotic fish. As for reclycling cars (yes, I thought of doing stuff like that when I was 13), that is actually a thing now. And though it took me several decades and it’s not exactly wood working, I now do furniture restoration. Learning the different types of woods and how to restore them has been not just educational, but fun. Having those childish aspirations should be goals, not just dreams. I do believe it is your psyche trying to guide you towards maturity, giving you hints as to your hidden talents. So don’t ignore the little voice in your head reminding you of your aspirations. It’s your conscience trying to steer you towards your happiness. πŸ˜‰


Into Each Life…

…. a little rain must fall. So goes the saying. I’ve never taken to it. I like the rain. No, I love the rain, even tempests and hurricanes. Rain is beneficial, even when it fosters destruction. The earth blooms anew, and that which was destroyed is rebuilt in a better way, or left as is for Nature to take over. So I always thought the saying to be positive, rather than negative.

That is part of my Pollyanna attitude towards Life.

I had made certain plans to clean the flowerbeds of weeds and old mulch, and plant azaleas, lavender, and oregano. But then, the skies opened and I was forced to stay inside, watching the sheets of rain outside my bedroom window being pushed by the wind. I have to admit, I was miffed for a bit. I had plans!! But soon enough, my miffiness was quelled as I witnessed those rivulets weaving meandering paths down the pane. Much like watching fish in an aquarium, I felt the irritation melt away and be replaced by serenity. Once the rain dwindled, I was again reminded of the newness that springs forth. The petrichor in the air is like valerian, and the birds come out to bathe in the pools. It’s rather like a fairytale, only none of them are offering to clean my house.

In all, the day was spent admiring nature. I don’t think it was a fail at all. πŸ™‚


Ow(n)ing Time

So much for trying to write twice a week. But I can be forgiven for letting Life intrude.

I was perusing the Book of Faces when I saw a status of a HS friend complaining about calling a friend, who told him he had no time to talk, then seeing the same friend replying to several posts of mutual friends on the site. My friend felt slighted, almost as if his friend had purposely lied to avoid him. No matter what a person says about not having any time to talk, sometimes it can be revealed that they do indeed have time to talk on social media. That got me to thinking about Time, and the perceptions attached to it.

Last year, an old friend was chatting about how he wanted to get back into his old hobbies, but lamented how Time was his enemy. I told him that Time was just Time, and that he was the one stopping himself from pursuing his goals. We don’t own Time, and can be forgiven for failing to set aside some for others. Some people don’t manage giving time to others very well and others, like myself, give far too much of it and reserve very little for themselves. Either extreme is a bad habit, in my opinion. I have been described as an anchorite and sometimes I am waaaaaay too seen with that descriptor. That whole “making time” thing is nebulous. Setting time aside for fill-in-the-blank? That’s more tangible. Not easier, mind you. Just more likely to incentivize one to move towards a set goal.

I don’t necessarily think people are owed time. I do think that we owe it to ourselves to use our time to help establish and upkeep our social connections. We are social creatures, after all. Even my hermit friends enjoy touching base with humanity once in a while. Sometimes it’s difficult to stay in touch with old friends and with family. It feels like the longer you wait, the harder it is to just talk to an old friend. It has been my experience that giving time to reaching out tends to dissolve the awkwardness. It’s the same with hobbies and new goals. Taking the first step can be daunting, but knowing you have set aside time to take it helps one overcome the reluctance.

And with that, I must beg off. I set aside time for some stitching. πŸ˜‰


Aggie’s Mailbag

Well, not really mail. But sometimes friends and social media personalities ask me questions pertaining about this here blog. Blogging isn’t as big as it used to be. But it’s still a *thing* in certain circles. I had stopped writing for a while, years really. I’m coming back to blogging slowly and have made progress, in between the tree-chopping, estate-sales’ing, furniture-restoring life I now lead. So, without further ado, let me answer the most popular FAQs.

“Are you an aspiring writer?”

Oh, good gawd, no. I have been accused of being a writer before, I admit. I also admit to writing short stories, poems, prose, anything I fancy. But I write to get the story out of my head. I don’t publish them, I don’t share them with anyone. I fill notebooks with my screeds, then toss them into a storage bin. And yes, they are recycled. I have toyed with the idea of serializing some of the stories here weekly, but A) they are silly and B) ain’t nobody got time for that.

“Is there a point to your blog??”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! No.

“Why don’t you talk about politics?”

That is a very good question, and it deserves a very thorough answer. As we all know, politics is downstream of culture, and culture being my discipline, it can make it hard to avoid politics. So I don’t answer the question lightly.

Politics suck.

“Why did you stop writing daily?”

This is difficult to explain. I can say I got busy with Life, or there were too many distractions. I suppose it was a combination of those, along with experiencing some downturns that left me at a loss. Flinging a tweet or two, or posting a status at the book-of-faces was simpler and didn’t take much effort. And so, I let the blog hibernate.

But I’m now trying to make an effort to write at least twice a week. I am using this as an outlet, not just for the sake of writing, but to purge myself of feeling of loss, anger, sadness, whatever negativity I may harbor. It’s a good way to turn things into positives. Commenting on random things in everyday life tends to bring out the small blessings I seem to miss.

“Any chance you will post recipes?”

Maybe? I’m no Julia Child, but I do own several of her books.

Well, that’s enough FAQ stuff for today. Have a good one!! πŸ˜€


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