Random Sunday Thoughts

My mind is floating this morning, jumping from big-picture random thoughts of what I want and what I should be doing, thinking, and feeling about my life to the ever-present question of what to make for dinner tonight. Too much randomness for this hour of the day.

It’s raining, which is good for the gardens, and the area as a whole, so I don’t mind too much. It also gives me a chance to wear my very cool kitten-heeled rain boots. Ah, clearly  my love of shoes is still intact - yeah! but I digress. While I don’t mind the rain, or the shorter  days of winter, my husband suffers from SAD and that adds a whole new set of challenges to the daily mix.

Not that I blame him for my current troubled psyche. Rather, we tend to bounce our thoughts and feelings off each other. So his outlook is generating a darkness of its own, which is, in part, hamstringing my efforts to overcome the mental morass and physical fatigue that has set in.

More random is that I woke up to an empty dish of raspberry gelato and a fork on my bedside table. The bowl was licked nearly clean (my cats?) but what about that fork?

Starting Over

It’s been years since I have written anything of significance here, at my jobs, or even my manuscript. Nada, really. Just a smattering of FB congrats, birthday cards and text messages. What happened? 

Where did my mojo go-go? I just spent an hour reading posts going back more than 15 years, and was pleasantly surprised to read some fairly cool stuff. Insightful, articulate, funny even. More, they all had a point. WTF happened since then? 

I feel (not a fact) as if I put creating a life for myself ahead of actually living, and drifted into a slack tide of banality. Dull shades of brown and red and sad, sad songs. I’ve heard “Wildfire” more times in the past year than I did when the song came out in ‘75. Thanks Watercolors.

Where did my wonder of the world go? When did my focus become so myopic?  Have I spent too much time trying to mold my life into what I wanted it to be that I lost focus on what God has in mind? In the effort to get my life together—build a career, buy a home, plan for retirement—I’ve forgotten to actually live and have a good time. Life is for the living, I’ve heard.

I’m past the mid-life crisis stage—I think. Yet, I feel (there’s that word again) that life’s colors are less vibrant, and the spontaneity and candor of my earlier posts is now just a dull hum of BS running an endless loop in the background of my mind.

So, how do I make my way back into the ebb and flow of life? “Finnegan, begin agin,” is a phrase I always think of when I hear of someone who goes out. I haven’t had a drink in nearly 25 years—and I don’t want to—but I rarely share anymore, and only half-listen to others. So, yeah, I feel … grrr … there is something missing in my sober life as well. Something or some way of looking at the world that I’ve lost and need to find. Something that I haven’t thought of before, of maybe just not in a very long time. 

Something…

Note to self: Hold onto what’s good, let go of what’s bad. It’s just that simple.

I like simple. 

Love ... Stepping All the Way In

A popular saying counsels us to love as if we have never been hurt. Easier said than done, especially by the halfway point in life. OK, maybe a bit past half way ... 

Elvis sang about the thoughts that run through the minds of those skirting along the edge of love - one foot in, one foot out - and how suspicion will undermine whatever drew you together in the first place destroying hope and heart alike.

“We can’t go on together, with suspicious minds ... 

And we can’t build our dreams, on suspicious minds.”

Suspicion destroys what it touches, draws us down dark and lonely roads, and leaves us in the desert wasteland of life, alone and afraid. Much like anger and resentment, it’s a dubious luxury I can ill afford.

I read once that it is better to trust and find out you were wrong, than to live a life of distrust, which undermines the very happiness we seek. In the past, that was a concept I could not comprehend. But today, I can. Trust is earned. 

 

Today, I’m holding out for the dream that God put into my heart: A true love of my very own. I won’t let the past cloud my present, nor dictate my future. God has a wonderful plan—a plan for my welfare and not for my harm. I will hold onto the hope, and the faith, and His promises that I know to be true. 

“Oh let our love survive, 

I’ll dry the tears from your eyes.

Let’s don’t let a good thing die,

Ah honey, you know that I never lied to you.

I’m loving like there is no tomorrow—stepping all the way in, with all my mind, and all my heart, and all my strength, and letting God show me that most excellent way.

At the End of Self

At the end of the tears; at the end of the rage; at the end of the powerlessness, hopelessness and fear that has consumed my heart and my mind.

It is at the end of self, where You let me find you. All is well. All is well.

Emotional Endgame

"If the phone doesn't ring, it's me...."
Indifference - the emotional equivalent of "I don't give a fuck anymore." Well past the stages of upset-about and fed-up with, it's the final phase of dealing with people, places and things that have gone from unacceptable to over-the-freaking top.
You know you're at this stage when no matter what is said, done or imagined, it makes no impression, and there is little to no response let alone reaction on your part.
It's at this point that cooler heads really do prevail--you're just plain DONE with it. (my apologies for those who take issue by ending a sentence with a prepositional phrase and kudos to those who neither know nor care about prepositional phrases) It's also a far more comfortable feeling than the aforementioned negative states.
Indifference can be habit-forming, so as with all indulgence, moderation is the key. It beats the hell out of emotional turmoil and mental masturbation, yes, but be wary of this or any other negative perspective settling into your head and heart.
Rather, let your life be tempered with healthy love of self. As Ehrmann wrote, "in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy."

My Heart's Purest Desires

Thought for the day: Build the house and the family will come.... By letting faith be my eyes,  I need only to "see" my future and it will be so.

The Inner Voice...

"No matter how confused, self-doubting or ambivalent we are about what's happening in our interactions with other people, we can never entirely silence that inner voice that always tells us the truth. We may not like the sound of the truth, and we often let it murmur just outside out consciousness, not stopping long enough to listen. But when we pay attention to it, it leads us to wisdom, health and clarity. That voice is the guardian of our integrity." ~ Susan Forward, Ph.D.

For me, the question becomes simply, "Can I afford to ignore my inner truth?"

Finding true north

The rain is falling outside and I am warm and comfy physically -- despite the stink from the who-knows-what of this apartment -- and emotionally. No feelings of anxiety or itching to do something. It's 23:17 and I'm sleepy -- a good-days-work kind of sleepy. I've checked the inventory and I think I'm in pretty good shape. I've checked my motives and found them to be of good faith. The condition of my condition: balanced and focused.

I may actually have found true north.

A Ride in the Park

It's a beautiful day and I've made good headway on the business plan and health directive, so I decided to take the last part of the day and go for a ride to the Blue Tea House in Vondelpark. In reality I pretty much made the decision about halfway thru my first cup of coffee this morning and it only solidified further with each passing hour. But I did my meeting and even some writing (inspired writing I might add) so I am living in the moment -- right here, right now.

I did invite a friend but it was just in passing and they haven't called. No loss, in fact, kinda nice not to have to talk. Too little comfortable silence with people. Anyway, I'm enjoying my down time listening to music, eating apple pie and just being alive.

Checking the condition of my condition -- I really am OK. That feeling of needing to be doing something, going somewhere, being with someone seems far away today. It'll be back, but for today, I'm good with my hyper-sensitive id taking the afternoon off.

Technology is so cool. I'm sitting her listening to my music -- the quality of this iPad is really good (we used to call it high fidelity but I'm not sure what they call it today) anyway, it's my music and not the techno pop predominant in Europe. Funny how music so defines a person. Sorry to say, I think most of today's music is well ... crap. Not a wholly literate statement, I agree, and certainly not indicative of a  college-educated, progressive and open mind -- submitted several times over to courses in music history and appreciation -- or even the creative mind I like to think lurks somewhere behind my eyeballs. (Of course that too is a subjective statement) But I believe in calling it like I see it.

In any case, I'm loving the fact that I can listen to music, ride my bike, have coffee or just be still without feeling like something is missing. I mean, who can't relate to Jimmy Buffet's Monday blues, appreciate the flamenco guitar work in Crystal Blue Persuasion or the husky vocals of Cowboy Junkies, all with just a fews thumb taps on a tablet. (Finally learning to type on this virtual keyboard with my thumbs, and getting pretty good, probably 'cause I don't have to find the nanometer-sized sweet spot that my so-called smart phone requires me to use.)

Well, the coffee is cold and the pie is done. The Mamas and Papas have whispered prayers to the one they love and the sun has set beyond the trees. Steve Marriott and the boys are doing their 30 days and I'm heading home.

Peace.

... really, really good!

I am still so amazed at the kindness people show me. It's not even my birthday yet and I've had well wishes from friends near and far, flowers large and small, gifts to open at midnight and even a home-cooked meal to mark the occasion. Moreover, I have this wonderful sense of peace in my head and heart that started a few weeks ago and has just gotten more intense is each passing day. 

I think it's true serenity because even the annoyances and anger that occurs in normal day-to-day dealing with life have been short-lived. And no residual resentment, which is a good thing any day.

Life is good, and as my friend Victoria said .... really, really, good!

Wanting What I Get...

I am a wholly happy person, if I but let it be.

Despite years of self-reflection and a measure of insight into my isms, shortcomings and character defects there is still no guarantee that on a daily basis I will cope with life on life's terms. I can still find myself expecting emotional stability and an unflustered approach to any and all situations 24/7/365; at best I still feel the pangs of envy, anger and want; at my worst the slightest bend in the road will seem like a mental free fall.

Like most people, I want to feel good all the time, even though I know that's just not possible. Tough times, bad breaks and heartfelt sadness, not to mention loneliness, fear and depression are facts of life. Everybody experiences these  situations and emotions to some extent at some point. No one is exempt - rich or poor, homeless or Harvard - no matter how stoic and emotionally stable, at some point life happens and our inner peace is shattered.

The difference, I have found, is what people (I) do with those emotions. I can wallow in my stuff and think of all the reasons why life is unfair, bitch and cry, pout, etc., all of which I have done more often than I care to admit. Today, I recognize the Fuck Its, the Whatevers and the Poor Mes, though I'll admit some days its easier than others.

Sometimes it's physical; low biorhythms, sun deprivation (a real issue in Northern Europe) and PMS (a real issue no matter what my ex-husband says) can play crucial roles in emotional sobriety. Sometimes it's mental as in righteous indignation and a why-me attitude toward life's perceived pitfalls. Like when my princess crown slips a little to the right, I start thinking I deserve to be happy and shouldn't have any to contend with anything more taxing than worn taps on my spikes.

Well, a woman I know recently talked about wanting what she got rather than getting what she wanted - a slight twist on the old adage about wanting what you already have - which really resonated with me.

The truth is, if we (I) didn't have the ups and downs of life, if everything was as I think it should be, I'm pretty sure I would shortchange myself in the wonderful department. The bottom line is I may not be altogether the best judge of what's good for me.

I have trouble being objective about my life, and my focus can narrow to instant gratification via avenues like retail therapy and forbidden fruit. Rather than allow life to unfold as it will, I will do one of three things: a) compartmentalize my emotions into tiny, little boxes of rationalizations; b) shut myself within the confines of insecurity and doubt by totally ignoring the situation or c) allow my emotions to run amok. Whichever way, I'm demanding that life conform to something that isn't right, isn't real or just plain isn't good for me.

So note to self, because I still need the reminder, I will want what I got and not worry about what I'm getting.  Life is good, if I just let it be.


Sent from my iPad

Acceptance or Resignation

Where does your perspective lie when things don't go your way?

The former reflects a fairly optimistic, hopeful, glass-is-half-full outlook on life while the latter is marked by an overwhelming sadness and/or anger often accompanied by low self esteem and myopic point of view.

Most people tend to fall nearer to acceptance on the daily continuum of life, moving through the natural rhythms of birthdays, weddings and funerals without feeling the need to slit their wrists and bleed out. But a growing number of people I meet here in Amsterdam seem closer to the other end of the spectrum.

Maybe it's the economy. While there are a significant number of people on some form of relief in Holland, the same financial problems are hitting people all over the world.  Most people just seem to make do.

Maybe it's the weather. Coming from a lifetime spent growing in the Florida sun, I understand after seven months in Amsterdam how continuous cold winds and gray skies can wear on the psyche. I mean for heaven's sake, it's July and the temperature here in A'dam is only just now topping 70 degrees. But it's also natural for temps to fluctuate year to year. And again, not enough there to say "uncle" and go cry me a river.

My good friend  Fran used to give me 15 minutes to boo hoo  about whatever so-called problem I had catastrophized that day before reminding me that no matter what goes wrong, the world is still a beautiful place. It's just sometimes harder to see.

So should your kid's teacher piss you off, consider yourself fortunate if you live in a place where kids can go to school and not be murdered by radicals who oppose education of any sort. Remember, an uneducated populace is easily cowed.

Should you use food as a means of solace, you probably live in a land of plenty where professionals can help you fill the hole in your soul with positive self esteem instead of self-loathing; not getting help is a crime you perpetrate on yourself.

Should your spouse finally tell you to get out until you get your shit together, be grateful you still have enough shit left to get together.

Should your biggest problem today be you don't like where life has led you then go somewhere else, but please, please, quit living in the problem and find a solution.  

Most people handle what life dishes out. But for anyone over the age of 18 who finds him or herself mired in self-pity, resigned to the roles of either victim or martyr, please do yourself and the rest of us a favor - grow up, get over it and move on.

The world does not owe you a favor because your family dynamic adds a whole new dimension of fun to dysfunctional; you get no special consideration because your an active alcoholic, junkie or other substance abuser - recovery is only for those who want it; and there is no distinction for having the most issues, real or feigned.

The second half of the Serenity Prayer invokes a life of REASONABLE happiness, gained by accepting this sinful world as it is - not as I would have it. Another of my favorite prayers calls for acceptance of challenges with "unprecedented enthusiasm and hopeful expectations" - attitudes not possible with a "whatever" mindset.

The authors of these prayers were more eloquent than I, and their writings convey a spirit softened by gracious acceptance rather than sorrowful resignation. 

That works for me.

Sent from my iPad

X-Y Position Indicator...

OK, how many of you immediately thought the title had a sexual connotation? I'll admit, the handle made me smirk and conjured some fairly racy thoughts. But then, that's SOP for a healthy, single women in her 40s. Anyway, no, it's not an index from the Kama Sutra nor is it the indicator light on your favorite Pocket Rocket. It's the original name for the wooden prototype of the computer mouse, and it's inventor, Douglas Engelbart, died today.

The original design had only one button to click and was fairly basic in design -- probably much like the original Pocket Rocket, but I digress. A news item on Engelbart's passing got me wondering why we are determined to call things something other than what they are.

I mean, while the present-day devise might bear some resemblance to a mouse -- I get the cord as a tail and the curved top (which the original did not have) -- what do mice have to do with computers?

Another example: succotash. While most of you my age might think of Mel Blanc's Sylvester the Cat and his classic tag line of "sufferin' succotash," others will think back to Wednesday night dinners and a mound of yellow and green covering one-third of the plate.

The word is Native American and refers to cooked corn but fails to take into account the lima beans that are part and parcel of the dish. (P.S. I don't know of any kid, then or now, who would ever eat lima beans.) So why call it succotash? Why not corn and beans or beans and corn or corn and yuck or just plain corn yuck. Seems a bit more fitting, don't cha' think?

And rather than languish in mid-American 20th-century speak, let's talk here and now.

Hook-up: From the turn of the century MTV or some other 20-something venue that bears no resemblance to the original. In past times you had your electricity or phone or cable hooked up. Today it means fucking.

Then there's the booty-call: A bit dated as well but heard in use just yesterday, booty has always meant ass, as in arse, butt or derriere; something of value. And call, at least in this respect, refers to telephone, text, throwing up a gang sign, you get the picture.  And again, we're really talking about getting together and having sex -- the booty call merely forgoes spending any meaningful time together before fucking.

And finally, making love: Really? Maybe. And I'm keeping a good thought, but I'm not so sure about society in general.

So my question is, why do we insist on referring to something by a name other than what it is. I mean, I love words and a clever turn of phrase, but I hate being unclear or glib. Fucking is fucking -- whether you do dinner and drinks, movie and popcorn or just a couple of quick taps on your keyboard. Fuck never went out of style or context, it just became passe from overuse. Still, it does have that only-the-foul-mouthed-use-it type of reputation, and maybe that's reason enough to use other words and phrases.

Maybe. It is what it is.

Not So Random Thoughts

From a way-late, too-much-coffee-fueled conversation with my friend and kindred spirit, Helene.

Indifference: the emotional equivalent of "I don't give a fuck." Well past "upset about" and "fed-up with," it's the final phase of dealing with people, places and situations that have gone from unacceptable to un-fucking-believable.

You know you're at this stage when no matter what is said, done or imagined, it leaves no impression on your mindset and there is little to no reaction in your heart. It's at this point that cooler heads prevail -- you're just plain DONE.

It's also a far more comfortable feeling than the aforementioned negative states. It may be somewhat habit-forming, but it beats the hell out of the emotional turbulence and mental masturbation that accompanies the crap the world throws our way. Just a thought.

Walking Thru

The only way to successfully overcome fear of any kind is to walk through the fear; to find empowerment on the other side as my friend Amy once told me. Keeping in mind that it is none of my business what others think of me - only what God thinks of me.

My message this morning was not necessarily intended to solicit a response, but it would have been nice. Well, it never came, and that's OK. I walked thru the fear by taking action. Totally above board and straightforward. I've sent the same message dozens of times to Charlie and Billy, but I won't deny that today my motives were at least halfway self-seeking. And I can't help but admit that this is not a great situation -- if I even know what great is. There are numerous reasons, all of which I have reminded myself time and time again. Happiness self-sabotage? No, more like honest inventories of both parties.

Yet, human nature is what it is - capable of forgetting/ignoring the obvious in favor of the perceived; the fantasy rather than reality; the lie in lieu of the truth. God has a plan for both of us, and that is all I need to know. Let it unfold and accept that nothing happens without a reason. I don't need to know the why or even the why not - it just is what it is.

I am truly a blessed woman. I know that my happiness is not predicated on a man or a job or even the amount of money I have - the past has already shown me that truth. No, true happiness is an inside job that often involves a measure of growing pains. It's  a by-product of peace in my head and light in my heart; the narrow way as my reflection for today noted. Funny how I read that exact same passage last night in "Sermon on the Mount." There are no coincidences - just God working incognito, as the old saying goes.

On the train from Antwerp, I muse over rather than run thru my feelings. No pavé diamond ring today, but I did my part to relieve the European economic crisis at the day spa. Makes those 15-hour shifts worthwhile.

I have walked thru my fear - my narrow gate, if you will - and arrived a happy and whole woman. There is a beautiful Corelli adagio softly playing in my ear as sunlight finally breaks thru the endless gray skies, and I realize that my head and heart are in sync. All is well.

 Sent from my iPad

Omissions

Some would say that omission is merely manipulation--others would say it's just lying.

During the past week, the case of Trayvon Martin, a 17-year-old child who was shot and killed A MONTH A GO by George Zimmerman, a local neighborhood watch guy in Sanford, Fla., has ballooned into a public spectacle of people traipsing before TV cameras and marching through the streets demanding justice for Trayvon, making speeches about how the rights of black men everywhere are being stomped on, and even more disturbing, how "they" killed Trayvon. I'm still not sure who "they" are but I have a pretty good idea they're white. Our own president has even waded into the public fray--again--as if he doesn't have enough to do--saying that his son would look like Trayvon. Really? REALLY?

Today, news outlets are reporting that Trayvon was the real aggressor, punching Zimmerman in the face and breaking his nose and then pounding his head into the ground. Sanford police admit that they had this information, that it has been corroborated by witnesses and that it was indeed leaked by someone within their department.

So the question now becomes--who held back?

I'm not talking about Trayvon's suspension from a Miami area high school for holding an empty reefer bag. I'm not talking about hospital records to confirm a broken nose. I'm not even talking about why this case took a month to come to light. I'm talking about information that could have laid to rest a case that now has the potential to become a flashpoint for every hatemonger, bigot and racist in the country--black and white.

Unfortunately, I think the finger pointing has only just begun...

Only Love Lasts Forever

Yesterday, I lost my best friend and the love of my life of nearly 20 years. My Blackie Boy was always there, through sick and sin, and I will forever be grateful for the unconditional love he showed me for so very long. Goodbye my angel. Rest now, my sweet boy, until we are together again...

Mr. Blacks "Blackie" Harris
Aug. 6, 1992-Mar.12, 2012

In the arms of an angel fly away from here..." ~ Sarah McLaughlin

Online Dating & the Scientific Community

So the social science community has also spoken out about the problems with online dating. Much like my previous post, two psychology professors have an article published this month in the research journal Psychological Science in the Public Interest. The current issue features other articles that also delve into the promises of the online dating industry. And let's not forget that it is an industry--a "profit deal," to quote Steve Martin's Navin Johnson character.

Match.com has a 6-month deal for $16.99/mo that includes a "guarantee." I assume that's a guarantee they'll find you a suitable mate--according to their algorithms and 29 dimensions of compatibility. Yeah, right. Let's see, $16.99 x 6 = $101.94, So at a hundred bucks a pop times the roughy 15 million people they claim to have serviced (interesting word choice) since 1995, you can see how the numbers add up (I tried and my TI-83 came up with 5.19894E10, which means that either my math skills are still sorely lacking or that the numbers are astronomically high) But I think the point is made--we're talking big bucks. The capitalist in me can relate.

Bottom line is that an algorithm can only predict how two people (dependent variables) will interact when the circumstances (independent variables) are known. That is, when the situation is totally controlled--like with lab rats.

Not like the real world where people meet, date, talk, form a relationship, make love, argue, problem-solve, compromise, hopefully make better love, etc. etc. etc. (the real independent variables)

So the busy, lonely, socially inept, out-of-practice and curious will continue to use online dating. For 17 years and counting, sites like Match.com have made a ton of money working the matchmaking con, er game, er business. What a sad commentary on our so-called advanced society.

Good luck!

Online Dating with a Broken Picker

Ah, the pitfalls of online dating! Just the phrase "online dating" sounds kind of sad and lonely. There was an old song once that went, "In the year 2525 ... pick your son, pick your daughter too. From the bottom of a long glass tube. Whoa-o-o" Is online dating the precursor to this?

I've known a few people who have tried sites like Match.com, etc. I'm not sure if any of the "dates" worked out, but how bad could it be, really?

Let's see. I get an array of pics to view (I'm sure it's not like the photo lineup from that robbery in Miami a few years back) and a slew of profiles to read (which I am sure are filled with catchy and well thought out, best-foot-forward" info) all of which have been collated for me using an algorithm (I hated Stats class) that includes a index- to ring-finger ratio that measures testosterone levels (huh?) I'll just sort through these--throw out any that look creepy, ugly or like my ex and chose my next hostage, er mate. Right?

The only problem is, I've got a broken picker. I wouldn't know a good man if he sat across the table from me. And that's the real problem with online dating. The lack of interaction that's called "chemistry" which no mathematical genius has been able to successfully replicate thus far. There has to be some sort of spark between two people and I'm not sure that's going to come from a pic and a profile. Sure, you can go through the motions, meet meet these men and women you've chosen face-to-face, but honestly, I barely have time for sleep, let along an hour a pop to figure out a perfect stranger's finger ratios.

And while the divorce rate in the U.S. is down for the period 2000-2010, according to the CDC the marriage rate in this country is also down, which I think is more about money than mojo--or lack there of.

Mom always said, it'll happen when you're NOT looking. Well, she's been right about so many other things. I think I'll give it a try.

Good hunting.

Ah, make that BILLIONS, please!

During dinner last night a friend pointed out that my last post had noted that the Facebook IPO currently under way was valued at about $75 million. Well, make that $75 BILLION with a B.

Rather than just edit the one word, I figured a new post would underscore a point about millions and billions. Most people just don't think in terms of billions of dollars. I mean, to the average John and Jane Q. Public, what's the difference--three zeros. How many of them would ever have to worry about whether their portfolio is ever going to reach the billion dollar mark.

But it also shows that the numbers that are being generated by Wall Street far outpace those of Main Street. And that is no mistake.

MH.