Posts Tagged ‘acceptance

08
Jan
25

The Demi-Moore Moment and Other Golden Globes

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I stuck to my word. I refused to watch another awards show…and only caught bits of this most recent one. I didn’t exactly cave, but it snagged me as I passed through a room with that channel on the TV. I was more interested in the antics of the hostess, Nikki Glaser, than the awards themselves, which I knew would annoy me inexplicably. [From what I saw of her jokes, she was on fire. I didn’t feel the uncomfortable tension I’ve felt from other (male) hosts.]

Among the biggest buzz about this latest Golden Globes is Demi Moore getting her very first acting award? It seems impossible until you hear how someone refers to her as a “popcorn actress,” which I am roughly translating as someone who might fill a theater but won’t be respected as a high-class star. Often blockbusters like Star Wars and superhero films get seasonal attention but don’t get nominated for much other than musical score and/or sound. [And, popcorn sales go up during the (summer) weeks those movies run in theaters.] Or, rather, that was the way, but changes seem to be happening.

I had to know what earned her this award.

[I’ve seen a number of Demi’s films and wouldn’t call most of them “popcorn” films. Her early films of the 1980s had a certain share-popcorn-with-your-friends-while-you-relate-to-this vibe but were equally unsettling, emotion-evoking, in a way. None of her films seem easy on the stomach, not even Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle (which may be the only film I’d consider a “popcorn film”). Ghost is probably the most potent. I personally don’t crave popcorn when a woman like her is being sexy, fierce or emotionally wounded. I’ll take a drink, though; I get dehydrated when visuals make me shudder or tremble. Can I call her a soda actress?]

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And, upon seeing a sampling, I feel this and a number of other awards given to women of a certain age bracket are pity awards, like pardons given to criminals who have been detained too long. [The Substance looks and sounds like a shock-intended statement piece, a sort of art film (which I never heard about until this awards show). So what does that tell you?]

I think some of the tears in Demi’s eyes were a sort of embarrassment, of humiliation, for having to wait so long. Sure, there was gratitude, too, like a starving artist selling a rare painting. But, she looked sort of sad…yet stunning in that golden, molded dress. [The earrings were lame, but the dress was glorious.]

And, that’s the real Globe for Demi, her dress…and a second–perhaps more vital–Globe for her speech about identifying your own self-worth instead of letting some company or organization or the press or your agent evaluate you. You don’t have to be an egotistical snob and demand more of people trying to assist you, but you can hold your head up and evaluate yourself rather than let others decide your fate. [If only that speech would have come after a more significant role; but, when you’ve waited this long just to give a speech, what can you expect?]

I will take that golden Demi moment with me as far as I can carry (or recall) it. It turns the page on that one past award show in which an award-starved Sally Field cried out, “You like me. You really like me.”  [I thought Susan Lucci was the one who said that until I looked it up.  Susan has been another award-starved actress.]

[Demi’s acceptance speech reminded me of my own life and how many times I’ve had to watch others get notice and awards while I got nothing except, maybe, a can of nuts or crappy candy. It also reminds me of when I was pursuing art school and had an admissions guy essentially dismiss my life’s work, my portfolio, before praising his own depressing painting on an office wall, before he took me and my parents on a tour of a very lewd and horrifying artworks made by students. I threw away my portfolio, in anger, and swore I’d change, somehow, to find a better well of talent within myself. That experience changed my outlook on a career in art, yet I am still an artist looking for my proper place in this world. So, though it wounded me (and made me wary of compliments), it didn’t end me.]

Maybe the lesson is that the real stars, the actors, actresses and production crew that deserve the honors don’t often get the trophies because the trophies come with shady behind-the-scenes deals for other projects. By not getting an award, perhaps Demi was spared this freight train of deceit and allowed to pick roles that suited her. I’d say she is a rare face that wasn’t exactly type-cast; wouldn’t you?

[If I was Demi, I’d go to the next award show in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Just be casual and cool, forget the fortune you are pressured to wear (and risk) and ignore the awards until she gets summoned or is asked to speak on someone’s behalf. It’s unfortunate some people have to be “dolled up” and dragged to so many of these events just to watch others get so much attention and trophies; it’s torture for those who don’t win and don’t just come to enjoy the company/atmosphere. It’s hard to enjoy the latter when there is so much focus on the former.]

08
Sep
21

Response to Wife of Intolerant Husband Who Hates Pixie Haircuts

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Response to (Anonymous) Wife of Intolerant Husband Who Hates Pixie Haircuts

Original column titled: Husband says he can’t be sexually attracted to spouse with pixie haircut (by Carolyn Hax)

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[You can find my other responses to various advice columns by clicking the page link/tab above.  Normally, I’d go through the process of adding this to that list.  But, right now, it’s not a top priority.  But, I’ll still post these as they spring from my emotional core.]

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The Anonymous wife says she doesn’t know what to do about her husband’s demanding behavior, regarding her own hair. She wants to vary its length to help cope with changing seasons/temperatures. Her otherwise long hair is too hot in summer months. Her husband blatantly refuses to be intimate with her when/while she has short hair, claiming it’s not an attractive look on her. The couple has already dealt with a previous threat of divorce and therapy, with a strong focus on the dispute over the wife’s hair.

Carolyn Hax analyzes contexts of dialogue, including a possible concern for feminism. But, specifically, in this woman’s case, the options for action are not made clear. She ends with suggesting the wife should simply say she is uncomfortable with the situation.

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Carolyn! Carolyn! What are you even saying?! I thought I was getting knee-deep in Shakespeare. I’m not sure if you are looking for a legal (lawsuit) angle or trying to gauge the wife’s need for a divorce. You go to great lengths to say very little and leave me fairly confused. I’d say you were scrambling to fill space. [You could have stopped at “We either accept it or leave.” That, I fear, is how this case resolves if friendship and/or love between two spirits isn’t sufficient.]

How is the wife supposed to decode all of that? I sure cannot. And, I don’t think anyone needs “sweet sorrow” in this or any case. Juliet is having hot flashes and wants to cut her hair. Romeo is being hard-nosed about his affections and holding a dagger etched with the word DIVORCE. Why does this have to become a courtroom thing or some psychological textbook?

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Oh, fair anonymous wife with no clue what to do about her husband. Fair thee well to your long hair. Cut it as you will…with the understanding that sir husband will not be intimate with you until it returns to a longer length (that is if he can wait). Accept his conditional love and your freedom to do with your hair as you feel right in doing. Surely, a loveless season can still be enjoyed as a couple who truly loves each other. Love is not just sex.

If that is not possible…if he threatens to divorce over the hair, then I question the nature and roots of this relationship. Do you mean to say you never had short hair all the time you were with this man before marriage? [Just to be clear, I said BEFORE marriage. I know you mentioned a previous divorce/therapy situation DURING the marriage.] If you did, how did he not make it clear, then, that he didn’t accept it? Did you just laugh and dismiss his disapproval? How did he agree to marry or propose, knowing he had a fussy outlook on your hair?

Keep this in mind, regardless what you may read or do. If he is this upset over short hair, what would he do if you had to shave your head or lost some of that lovely long hair? If you had a certain scary illness and had to lose your hair, would that send him running, never to return? If he cannot be a loving husband with you as a bald woman, then, I guess, the marriage needs to be ended. The previous divorce threat was not resolved; it was just suppressed.

I like to say…a true evaluation of marriage potential is to ask yourself a number of questions regarding how your partner might change and if you could accept those changes/differences. I’ve heard people mention trying to imagine your partner’s worse flaw being ten times worse than it is now as the true test of one’s feelings. I’d say it’s good to work through some of those BEFORE marriage. In the case of a someone’s hair, when you are “dating,” have the person alter their hairstyle a few ways to see how that affects your feelings.

In my case, does the woman I am with look as nice with her hair up and down? If it’s so much of a concern, should I still be with this woman? Perhaps, instead, I need to ask myself if my love runs deeper than the woman’s appearance. Do I love her spirit, her soul, more than I care about her appearance?

That’s the true measure, the scales, of love.

[I suppose I’d personally find this uncomfortable if pressured to do so; I’m rather sensitive about my thinning hair (and the condition/quality of my hair, in general). So, I suggest a more suggestive or wait-and-see approach than coming right out and telling someone to shave their head.]

Also, ask yourself this question. What about HIS hair? Are you, in any way, affected by the condition of his hair? Are you just as content with him fully haired, balding or bald?

[Maybe you two should both shave your heads and have a little bald-couple therapy (session).]

[And, perish the thought, what if even intimacy was disabled? What if conventional sex was no longer an option because of some accident/handicap? Would that ice the love you two should be sharing?]

Let me share a few personal memories/examples.

I once had a female friend who became very close to me at a very young age. I truly wish I had the chance to marry her; but that didn’t happen. When I first met her, she had some of the most beautiful, long, brown hair (and a twinkling smile that could ignite any heart). Not many years later, she had it all cut off, leaving her with an unattractive shrub-cut. Now, keep in mind, I was only 8 or 9, having this reaction. And, I put up with the lousy haircut for a number of years because I truly loved the girl (though I could never say it, due to peer pressure). When we graduated elementary school together, she had finally adopted a change of styles, one I favored and thought was so mature for her. Alas, she began dating someone else, told me we were “just friends” one last time and drifted away. [Well, at least, it became too difficult for me to remain friends with someone dating someone else–when my feelings for her ran so deep–among other changes that happened. When she stopped contacting me; I stopped trying to contact her.]

At a previous job, I met and fell in love with a sassy, witty woman who had dazzling, pale blonde hair; I assumed it was natural and adored the cut and length. A few years later, she cut it horribly short. I did not approve but did my best to accept her decision. We were not in a relationship and not exactly close; but I wished we were (closer). One thing that kept us apart was her smoking. [I cannot hope to marry someone who is a smoker; it’s a family curse/burden.] Another was her concern over the age difference; she felt too old for me. Ironically, she gave up the smoking soon after agreeing to marry some other guy.

In either case, had we been in the relationship I desired, I would have put up with the short hair; but I would be clear that my attraction is affected. I would not be as inclined to be sexually intimate with her while she displayed the shorter, unattractive hair. [I’d still be intimate with sharing my feelings and doing my best to be a supportive friend/partner.] I am not sure that would come to divorce proceedings, though. Instead, I’d look for activities we could still share that would, potentially, improve our mood or crack the walls of my disapproval, so we still could be intimate if the spark reappeared. I’d discuss other possible hairstyles which might be just as short but more appealing (and outfits to pair with the short hairdo that would perk my interest/mood). I’ve been known to apply humor where and when I can; sometimes you can still have fun with another person, even though you’re not exactly “in the mood” all of the time. [Remember, even in marriage, love isn’t just passion; it’s the best of friendships and teamwork.]

I recall a third woman I once met online, who looked great with her hair down. …Buuuut, when she wore it in a ponytail or bun, suddenly I noticed her ears and something inexplicably strange about her face. I was less attracted, based upon the arrangement of her hair (and the haunting image of a former nemesis seen in her face), leaving me concerned about pursuing the relationship. I cringed at the thought of telling her what was stopping me (and, thus, never said anything). I guess it was safer for me to see the sign(s) and move away than get involved and deal with the consequences. Yet, I let her appearance get in the way of learning enough about her as a person. Maybe, had I tried harder, I would have discovered her friendship was more precious than her varying looks.

A fourth (coincidental) case involves a woman I met online who first showed me a picture of herself with a pixie haircut. My first response was to say she looked like Harry Potter. That…didn’t go over well. I admitted I am not fond of short haircuts…at least, not often. [Face matters; hair, though a big attraction, merely complements the face. And, I am partial to women with lush, long hair.] But, the more time I spent communicating with the foreigner, the more I liked her. Eventually, I didn’t care much what sort of hair she had, as long as she didn’t do something shockingly unnatural and we were happy together. [Talk of plastic surgery and diet extremes were quickly shunned.] Unfortunately, events unfolded which eroded my feelings and eventually took her from me, spoiling any chance of a lasting relationship. But, because of her, I began developing a new appreciation for women with short hair and sorting out what styles were more or less attractive, figuring out what appeals to and what repels me. [And, that brought me back to the importance of the face and the spirit within, which should radiate from the face.]

Now, if I wanted to cut down my slant on Carolyn’s advice to the shortest of texts, I’d simply say divorce seems likely. And, yes, the crust of the case is superficial, quite possibly implying that your husband married a photograph, a centerfold; not a spirit he cherished.

Though I don’t know you two well enough, what seems clear is that this haircut decision is not intended to irk the man. You are not cutting your hair to “poke the hornet nest.” Right? It is for your well-being, not vanity or spite. He should understand your discomfort and how greater comfort would make being intimate easier on you both…unless he gets some strange arousal out of you being sweaty and miserable.

[I once told a woman not to get a breast reduction because she was blessed with…well, an amazing bosom. I applauded nature and thought I was being respectful instead of vain and/or superficial. I was also concerned how the operation might fail or scar her…and if subsequent operations would be requested when/if she felt the first was insufficient. She felt–for whatever reason–uncomfortable with her chest, though she proceed to flaunt and mess with my mind; she is the sort who asks for consent and then does something, anyway, even if anyone objects. I applaud her audacity/tenacity, but it didn’t improve our relationship, which never fully blossomed.]

If there is any hope of retaining the relationship, you two SHOULD be able to reach a compromise that doesn’t feel like a jail sentence. The situation should not be tense or require a paperwork handshake. If you feel like you might need to call a crisis hotline, then I suspect the situation is very tense.

Is there ANY chance you two could enjoy doing things together that would not necessarily be intimate but just as enjoyable in more friendly way? If you’re not couch potatoes, GET OUTSIDE! Embrace nature. Fool around at the beach or in a forest/park setting. Retreat to your youth, rejuvenate and recall what it’s like to just have fun together, again. [You two DO know how to have fun together; right? Not just bump body parts and get overheated?]

And, is there ANY chance you could make your husband understand that your hair will vary in length and style to suit your needs (not just his) while still being the same supportive, loving, fun person he married x-number of years ago? [I know it might seem like a pointless question…but I’ll ask it, again, if necessary, to get back to the roots of the matter.] Could you page through a selection of short hairstyles, compare opinions and come to a happy compromise, finding one you both accept and can enjoy?

[I have a sister who has had some lousy short haircuts over the years. She used to have such nice long hair. I only wish I had a suggestion for her; but, in my family, countering one’s decision is too often the recipe for painful dispute. So, I must just “grin and bear it” when I am with her, rather than ruin the precious time we get to spend together.]

If not, then you know the painful deed that must be done. There’s no use putting a bandage on it and waiting more years to deal with it. You never needed an advice columnist’s opinion (or mine). We don’t know you two well enough to make a better assessment than you already have. You just need a sympathetic friend to hold you steady as you make the seemingly difficult move.

18
Feb
20

Fear, a Personal Analysis of the Concept

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A wise man once said…

Fear is a reluctance to accept and learn from a possibility.

[This shall be a pooling place of thoughts and/or philosophy on the concept(s) of fear.]

Unlike denial, which is an absolute resistance to something being a possibility, fear acknowledges the possibility and responds with a frown of disapproval. If allowed to fester and grow, fear becomes a vile mold or weed that feeds off the energy that keeps its host active; it saps motivation and ambition. Some can dismiss nightmares in a short span of time; others remain troubled by them. And, still others may repeat the nightmare (in what is known as a “recurring nightmare”), similar to deja vu and a difficult reincarnation; some might say this is karma or learning a hard lesson while others would judge it as a reluctance to let go of a figment of the imagination. None of it is real…except to the one who experiences it and, perhaps, those who’ve already had the same or a similar experience.

In Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, when Luke Skywalker is told Darth Vader is his father, he scowls and squeals as he says this cannot be true. He is genuinely afraid of the possibility he does not want to accept. If Luke was purely brave, ignorant and/or unafraid, he would have kept a straight face and told Darth Vader to go stick his red lightsaber where the sun doesn’t shine. And, it wasn’t “the force” making Luke afraid, either, even if Darth Vader, with his oddly skull-like mask, can be a bit intimidating.

Some fears are common, easier to share and accept as real, fears of the dark, deadly creatures, clowns, heights, cramped spaces, etc. Others are more particular and personal, fears of threatening people we’ve met, fears of dogs after being attacked by one, fears of eating a certain food after someone tricked you with a tainted sample, fears of trusting certain merchants after being duped into buying something, fears of rape after being a victim.

In regards to the last example, a fear of rape may be common, experienced by many, but every individual experiences it a little differently based upon the type of person who assaulted them. Someone first raped by a family member will not be as wary of a stranger while the one raped on the street will not be as concerned about family assaulting them. Thus, one victim may not always be able to “relate” with another; there may be resistance to comforting each other from a shade of difference.

Some say fear is good; they claim you cannot know or feel courage without knowing fear. But, how courageous are they who are programmed to fear a “common enemy” and/or follow the orders of a commander without question? Are all soldiers brave? Are they not also afraid? Are some not more afraid than brave? Are the ones who are more brave than afraid also naive? How many truly know the enemy and the reasons to be afraid and/or brave? [Gee. That’s a lot of questions I just asked.]

Fear is often, not always, broken by experience. You’ll fear cutting yourself less once you’ve cut yourself enough times and learned how to tend the wounds…and you’ll eventually, hopefully, become wise enough to avoid repeating the mistakes.

[Let me just pause right there to mention……I am not talking about “cutter” cutting. I don’t mean people who cut themselves to bleed out the pain they think this act will relieve. That is a different psychological puzzle with traces of will in the mix. A person who cuts him or her self while tackling a task, cutting wood, working with metal, etc., may be cut and learn from the experience. An emotional and troubled “cutter” ignores the lesson in favor of a sensory experience, similar to how some people use sex for pleasure and forget the emotional relationship aspect which often translates into “making love.”]

Similarly, we become less afraid of monsters and “things that go bump in the night” when we walk enough dark corridors, get tired of mysterious sounds in the dark and watch enough scary movies to make us laugh at what some deem horror. There’s a word for that, a word some may have a tough time spelling. Fear loses its strength the more we become numb to it. And, once we are numb enough to the fear, we can and must then rise above it.

I keep thinking back to a TV movie I’ve watched a few times, Merlin. In that movie, the grand wizard-in-training dismisses his enemy by ignoring her, depriving her of the response and attention she demands. He says she will be forgotten when and if people turn away from her. How peaceful and poetic is that justice? He didn’t lay a hand on her. He didn’t fight her. He just walked away from the fight and let “the powers that be” sort everything out. Now, sure, if the gods were cruel, his enemy could have stabbed him in the back or moved the sorceress in front of him in a way that would make her a constant pest to his senses. But, that wasn’t how the story ended. In any case, Merlin’s example sheds light on how we must get past our fears…but only once we’ve conquered them. Without having a firm grip on ourselves and proving a fear no longer can hurt us, it remains with us like a difficult infection or disease.

From personal experience, I’ve been living with a number of fears. Some come with/from a lack of experience; I acknowledge that. Others come from experiences I refuse to repeat, even if a harsh higher power puts me right back in the pit with the troublemakers. Some would say I need to go to the sources of my fears, face them and get over the feelings. But, there are some “sources” facing would only agitate the feelings. And, yet, I am sure facing even those sources would have some positive effect, a thickening of the skin as all repeat experiences should have. [To each their own path to recovery.]

Just imagine having a fear for more than a decade…for more than a few decades…for as long as one has been a legal adult or even longer, in some cases.

As a kid, I had a fear of the dark. It wasn’t so tragic that I needed a light on at all times or a hand to guide me to the bathroom. But, it pecked at me for a while. Then, I stubbed my toes a few times and confronted shadows; I spent more and more time sitting in dark places when I didn’t want to face scary company my parents kept and when I didn’t want to put up with guests who smoked, drank and spoke aggressively. I grew a thick skin that still has a slight fear of what lurks in the dark; I still shudder, occasionally, when I let a possibility enter my mind.

The best remedy I can give for this sort of fear is to accept whatever comes; if you are meant to die from what troubles you in the dark, you will. And, you cannot avoid it. Luckily, I’d hope, anything lurking in the dark won’t have an effect on more important matters like personal long-term finances. So, you might get assaulted and robbed of SOME wealth; but you’ll live to bank another day.

I’ve also been a victim of bullies most of my life. Pick a decade, and I can describe a few pests who have jabbed me with needles of ridicule and intimidation. I can cover one hand with the number I’ve stared down and repelled by my own defiance. The other hand holds those who eluded my seemingly limited influence. I cannot deny the possibility another won’t appear. I must accept this and be prepared for it. I should not be or have to be troubled by the possibility, at my age. But, such is life, and, so far, life keeps throwing me rockheads. [Maybe that’s why I become so fascinated with Geodude in Pokemon games. It’s a sort of therapy for dealing with bullies.]

[This ties a bit into how I feel about “supporting the troops.” I hear countless pleas for donations and support for forces taking it upon themselves to root out “evil,” “enemies,” “disease” and “threats.” But, from my experiences with bullies–and my fair share of ailments–it’s hard for me to buy “bully insurance.” I recall some TV shows of my youth that offered such remedies; victims would be asked by brave bigger kids to pay for the services of a protector. But, what guarantee does this provide? The brave bigger kid is not always around when a bully decides to strike; he cannot be everywhere at once and has his own life to maintain. Just as soldiers have families and friends and duties placed upon them by their governments; they cannot spend all of their time and energy on confronting things that may go boom in the night.

A soldier, in my opinion, is called upon to deal with a warring threat. War calls, and the soldier answers. If there is no war–only a fear of war or violence–the soldier is facing a vague enemy and at risk of paranoia and its ugly cousins. A soldier riddled with fear and doubt is open to sneak attacks and confusion. A soldier with a set goal in mind and the preparation to deal with anything that crosses his/her path is more likely to succeed in his/her mission.

And, as a supporter of said soldier, if the objective of the soldier in need is not clear, donated resources are at risk of waste, just as some buy groceries to satisfy a possible need but then let the food rot as they become involved in other preoccupations.]

Now, I have spilled quite a load from my busy brain. I don’t know how to conclude. So, I will leave things as they lay and let readers do with my notions what they will. Discuss.

08
Dec
14

One Person’s Quirk Is Okay with Another

I like to think of myself as a multifaceted therapist. I’m a great back massage giver. I call them magic fingers. I haven’t done much with it, but I consider myself a decent art therapist (using art exercises to help people work through their “mental clutter”). And, I’ve been a decent listener most of my life without collecting $75-250 an hour for my time and saying very little.

But, here I am catching a few minutes of one goofy talk show in a million and hearing these “professionals” tell people with quirks that bother them that they should get help…and all I want to say is, “I don’t mind that quirk. I think it’s kinda cute. It’s unique and refreshing.”

And, isn’t that okay? Aren’t our quirks okay? Or, is every little odd/unique thing we do automatically a reason to sound the therapist/nut house alarm?

Warning: I’m about to rant. So, if you suffer from a “short attention span,” you may want to skip down past the partitioned section to the wrap-up.

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That’s ridiculous! It’s a quirk. It was probably caused by conditioning from exposure to some particular behavior from other people…whether that’s family, classmates or coworkers. And, all it takes to get out of that “kink” is to adjust yourself to someone new who makes you more comfortable. Until then, any conditioning therapy is going to be like slapping a smoker on the wrist to make them quit. You might force change, but will that make you feel better or just break the habit? Will you feel good about changing yourself or just comply with one more reprimand from peers? Is peer pressure a prescription for costly therapy and/or hazardous medication?

If you ask a “professional” outside the office, I am sure they’d love to set you up with a session schedule if they are starved for clients. But, once you get in that office, if they tell you your quirk is just part of you that you need to accept, what are you paying them for? And, if they recommend treatment or pills, what are you doing in that crazy person’s office??

A “professional” cannot replace family and friends the person really needs who will likely know more about the person rather than have them have to dig up aaaaall the history anew for some total stranger collecting a steep hourly fee. And, if you add up all the hours it would take to go through all that family history to get the “professional” up to speed, how much do you suspect that would cost?

Have you ever heard these expressions?

If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it.

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

I am so sick and tired of what some consider a weakness or strange being sufficient reason for telling someone to “get help.” It’s bad enough kids get bullied in school for having a big head or small frame or a lack of a good role model/sport coach or extra body fat.

Well, guess what.

I suffer from poor self-confidence.

I grew up with a small frame and a big head for which I was frequently pestered.

I was bullied.

I had a fifth grade teacher who couldn’t stop clearing her throat; so I started doing it reflexively, and it took a whole year to break the habit. These things happen. The same way we pick up and lose accents when we live among different cultures.

I have lost some hair in places, and it makes me uncomfortable.

I wear eyeglasses, and they make me feel crippled; but I cannot see myself ever using contact lenses without infecting my eyes because my hands are too busy to be that clean when needed.

And, ya know what else?

If you’re kinda quiet, shy or humble (not as bold, confident and daring as the people around you), that’s just fine. I won’t mind.

If you feel the need to pick your nose, you’re human. Just do it when I am not looking and clean those fingers, after.

If you burp for whatever reason, an “Excuse me” is wonderful. But, I won’t think you rude or weird if you forget.

If you wear two different socks, is that such a big deal?

[I think I’ve said some of these before. And, it wouldn’t surprise me if you found them among older posts (like the “looking for love and happiness” ones where I state my “dating preferences”). There are habits I don’t like, including some people who talk incessantly without conscience as if they can’t tell when someone isn’t genuinely listening to them…yet they keep talking even as I walk away. But, if I wasn’t quirk tolerant, I don’t think I’d find someone like Zooey Deschanel appealing, at all.]

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If you have a quirk, some habit that is unusual to others, it doesn’t mean you are mentally ill or unworthy of someone’s affection/attention. It may be annoying to some, but I’d prefer not to think it bothers EVERYONE. And, if your chosen spouse or mate happens to be bothered by it, maybe you’re hanging with the wrong tree. Ya know?

Every piece of the big picture puzzle fits somewhere. It just may be more difficult to find their place for some (myself included). It doesn’t mean we cut off our “bumps” to fit better. But, if YOU don’t like some aspect of yourself, it’s your call to change/fix it.

[Gosh, I get worked up when “professionals” turn nature into costly experiments.]

15
Sep
14

As If They Were Nothing

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My parents saved so many pieces of their growing past and oodles of things they thought might be worth more someday: their first set of kitchen furniture, tea sets, light fixtures, quilts, suits and figurines of all sorts. But, the things I valued the most they threw away as if the former were nothing.

Trust. Love. Acceptance. Patience. Empathy. Talent. Effort. Friendship. Teamwork. To name a few.

‘Leaves you feeling all warm and tingly inside; doesn’t it?

04
Aug
14

There Is a Bed–wishful version

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There’s a bed waiting for me,
Waiting to fold me into its fluffy, yielding covers,
Waiting to accept and embrace me in its comfort,
Waiting to share thoughts and opinions,
Waiting to make the senseless reasonable,
Waiting to make the arduous easier to conquer,
Waiting to make paperwork and materialism go away,
Waiting to dismiss gossip and politics,
Waiting to nurture trust and faith,
Waiting to dispel bitterness and despair,
Waiting to work out differences,
Waiting to find the missing puzzle piece,
Waiting to connect the dots,
Waiting to teach me a lesson and learn something new,
Waiting to explore,
Waiting to occasionally forgo exploring and be content where we are,
Waiting to be creative,
Waiting to leave behind clever notes and invitations,
Waiting to reward attendance,
Waiting to exchange massages,
Waiting to gaze upon the stars with mutual speculation,
Waiting to share a pizza or two,
Waiting to share movies both good and bad.
Waiting to share fantasies.
Waiting to share games and cartoons like eternal youths,
Waiting to share music, dance and song,
Waiting to share stories,
Waiting to compose masterpieces as a team,
Waiting to craft costumes and attend masquerades,
Waiting to paint the town any number of colors,
Waiting to plan the next adventure,
Waiting to show and see there is nothing to fear,
Waiting to accompany me on the journey,
Waiting to provide time and space for solitary meditation,
Waiting to welcome me back when that moment has passed,
Waiting to remind me why I like it so much,
Waiting to wipe the dirt from my face (or ignore it),
Waiting to nurse my bruises,
Waiting to strip me of my woes,
Waiting to turn my frown with a kiss,
Waiting to dazzle me with her hair,
Waiting to move me with her eyes,
Waiting to explore me with her strong yet delicate fingers,
Waiting to peel out of her mousy disguise,
Waiting to inspire me with the beauty of her craftsmanship,
Waiting to accent the moment with the proper setting,
Waiting to growl at thunder and yelp at lightning,
Waiting to run and laugh in the rain,
Waiting to find a hiding place at the beach or in the forest,
Waiting to fill the space with candles, leaves and flower petals,
Waiting to purr beneath a full moon,
Waiting to roll in the mud, pudding, leaves, sand or snow,
Waiting to get messy and clean up after ourselves,
Waiting to be sensible and not reckless with our passions,
Waiting to make sure we won’t be disturbed,
Waiting to cast off the preconceived notions of others,
Waiting to liberate our senses,
Waiting to rest peacefully side-by-side,
Waiting to let the perfumes evaporate from our bodies,
Waiting to share a hot bath or shower,
Waiting to make the most of sponges, bubbles and lather,
Waiting for a private turn before sharing a spontaneous slumber party,
Waiting to stay up all night and yet not lose a day,
Waiting to be loved,
Waiting to reassure me I will never be alone,
Waiting to wipe away the tears of doubt,
Waiting to elate with a smile when given a sign of hope,
Waiting to rise with the sun,
Waiting to breathe new life into each other,
Waiting to face the next day with renewed energy.
Waiting to pool strengths and bear with the weaknesses of aging,
Waiting to face death without fear,
Waiting to be thankful for and celebrate what we shared,
Waiting to return what was given,
Waiting to move on in peace.
There’s a bed waiting for me.
And, it feels so good to be home.

 

~Writingbolt, 7-30-2014

[In one of my rare attempts at poetry, this is the uplifting alternative to what first

came out as a negative, emotional outburst.]




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