These three words set my teeth on edge.  They are very rude and assumptive.  As if the person they are being said to doesn’t have a life.  Everyone has a life, some good, some bad, some, well, boring by personal standards.  What some may find an exciting life, others might *yawn* through.  I live my life the way I want.  And while it is by no stretch of the imagination exciting, it suits me.

I don’t jet set, I rarely go on vacation beyond my front door.  I’m not into the bar, club or drug scene.  I find all that rather boring.   But my life is so quiet that others would find my life boring.  It’s all in the perspective I guess.  A fun day for me is chilling out in the pool on a float with a book.   Or hanging out reading in my papasan.  I enjoy this, this is what my life is about.  Trust me, I’ve led a more exciting life and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.  Constantly running hither and yon wears a bitch out folks. So I’ve earned my quite boring little life.  And am quite content.  In other words-I’ve got a life and I like it where it’s at.  

I loved this book.  I didn’t agree with everything he said, however, most of what he said was the truth.  It reminded me of a lot of basic facts.  Like I don’t need to like my job in order to do it well.  I don’t even need to like where I work in order to do it well.  This should be required reading for older high school, college students and those already in the work force.  But don’t take my word for it.  Read it yourself. 

Family means many things to many people.  It can mean those who are actually related to you.  It can mean good friends who you are close to and consider family. for me family is about those people, within your inner circle that you trust, can vent to, who’ve got your back and have no qualms about telling you, “You’re out of line.”

I don’t have a traditional family in the sense that I’m close to my parents or siblings.  I have over the years forged my family from very good friends.  Some I’ve never met. Which in, and of itself, is quite astonishing to me.   I have trust issues. (Don’t we all).  For me to trust someone I have never met, well, that was a bit like jumping off a bridge with a parachute.  You hope it’s going to open, but there is that adrenalizing fear that perhaps it won’t.  The same could be said of making friends with someone from the internet.  But I have them and I’m keeping them…at least while they’ll have me.

My very good friend Lisa, has been on a quest to find her siblings for the past 18 months or so.  And now, they have been found.  I am ecstatic for her, and them.  There’s a beautiful story in all that chaos, as I’ve told her. :p  I’m a bit jealous too, which I’ve also told her.  Family is a very big deal to me.  Because of my relationship, or rather, lack thereof, with my own parents and siblings, I’ve made my sons a priority.  There’s really nothing they could do that would make me turn my back and walk away.  This is somewhat how I feel about my friends.  There are only a couple that I feel like this about:  Lisa, Claire, Louby, Etl.  These friends have been with me, via the net and assorted sites and forums for over a year.  I know about their families, their likes and dislikes.  They’ve seen me in and  out of depression, in and out of jobs.  They’ve been my cheerleading section when times have gotten rough, encouraged me to learn new things, opened my eyes to new cultures and ways of seeing the world.  And shared their lives with me.  So I salute you, my inner circle, my family spread somewhat near and far.  You rock! If you have the luck to be close to your family, enjoy it, wallow in it.  Let them know you love them, faults and all. 

Self-image is an important concept, especially, it seems, for women. Most especially, in younger women.  It’s a very fragile entity, self-image, and can be easily damaged by a mere word said in jest.  As I sat watching one of my favorite shows last night, it reinforced what I’ve already learned.  You have to have a strong sense of self and how you perceive yourself leads others in how to perceive you.  It’s unfortunate that we don’t have reality shows titled America’s best personality or America’s Next Top Brain.  It would certainly take some of the spotlight off the outer shell, which as we all know, changes with time and the living of life.

I got hooked on America’s Next Top Model after we were struck by a hurricane.  It was the only channel we received for news, etc.  It was interesting to watch these young women, so seemingly full of confidence strut their stuff and “work it out”.  A panel of judges, led by Tyra Banks, critiques each week’s photo shoot or commercial.  Sometimes the panel’s remarks are funny, sometimes very harsh.  As Tyra has pointed out over and over, this is the type of remarks that will be said behind the models backs after they leave a go see.  In the competition, the aspiring models get to hear the critiques first hand.  Most of the time, I think the panel comes across soft in their take on these women.  Other times, it seems bordering on rudeness.  In some of the women’s faces you can see the damage being inflicted by the words of the panel.  Especially if she happens to be what they term as plus size.  Plus size in the modeling world is someone who wears a size 10.  Excuse me while a laugh myself silly.

In the real world, the world the rest of us inhabit, a size 10 is pretty normal.  Nowhere near plus size by any stretch of the imagination.  When I was younger, I was one of those women who lived, breathed and dreamed of modeling.  But, I was a bit overweight and also not proportioned correctly (read boobs and ass folks).  Even after I lost the weight, I still had boobs and ass.  That and I was and am still, only 5’6”.  And a whole other laundry list of shortcomings to boot.  We can’t all be supermodels.  But we can be role models.  Women as a whole need to stop playing into the glossy, airbrushed pictures we see in magazines.  It’s not realistic, nor is it healthy.

These expectations for women to be twig thin and in full maquillage, at all times, is ridiculous.  Damage can be done with words.  Some of the catty remarks I hear make me want to slap people.  And this is from mothers to their daughters!  I overheard a mother tell her daughter, who couldn’t have been any larger than a size 6, that she was a fat cow.  It made me wonder if the daughter would go home and become a member of the binge and purge sect, or the self-starving nation.  I was a member of the binge and purge sect up until I became pregnant with my first child.  After that, I didn’t care.  Unfortunately this showed in the extra 125 pounds I added to my frame.  And the ex hubby let me hear about it every day.  Even though he himself looked as if he was ready to give birth at any moment.  A double standard if I ever heard one.  But I bought into every word he said.

I met my current husband while I still carried all this weight.  Luckily for me, he is one of those rare males who seemed to like the personality first, and the package it came in second.  I did lose all that weight.  And truthfully I could stand to loose a few more pounds.  But I’m doing it the right way so as not to further damage my body like I did in my youth.  With diet pills, excessive exercise and purging.  Unfortunately however, the damage to my psyche is taking much longer to heal.  When I look in the mirror, sometimes I still see that “big girl” and it makes me cringe.  It also makes me start thinking about doing those things that would further damage my body. But damn wouldn’t I look good?  The truth, no.  Because doing those things shows in the face, effects how you act and becomes almost, if not, all consuming.  I’ve visited that world once, and I don’t want to visit again.

 Society needs to stop sending the message it does- that you’re no one unless your stick thin.  Women need to help effect this change by being proud of who they are, their accomplishments and what they have to offer to society.  Society will not change unless we make it change.  Stop believing that you must be a size 2 in order to be sexy and beautiful.  Own your body, your self and promote self esteem.  Look in the mirror and be honest.  Ok you may need to lose some weight.  Most of us do. Now look past that and see the beauty of who you are as an individual.  Embrace that woman and as the panel says, “I want to see you work it.  Be fierce!” 

A book celebrating four centuries of high-stakes adultery might seem unlikely for intelligent reading. Princess Michael (The Serpent and the Moon), however, creates an appealing mélange of history, gossip and scandal in her portraits of five of Europe’s most celebrated royal mistresses. In the 19th century, Lola Montez, mistress to Ludwig I of Bavaria, was a gorgeous, intelligent, compulsive liar. Renowned for her vicious tantrums, she incited civil unrest that led to her banishment. The more principled 20-year-old Marie Walewska had to be coaxed by family—including her 72-year-old husband—to become Napoleon Bonaparte’s mistress for the sake of Poland. Other profiles include Madame Pompadour, Louis XV’s mistress; Nell Gwyn, an actress of humble origins who bore Charles II of England two sons; and Lillie Langtry, mistress of Prince Edward (later King Edward VII). While Princess Michael abundantly describes the women’s physical beauty, she  makes clear that their other attributes and talents sustained their royal relationships. The author’s focus on the political impact of the women as much as on their lives makes this the perfect read for those who prefer substance with their mind candy.

A fabulous read on women who helped shape history. 

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted.  And I had no idea but I’ve had comments.  Thank you!  Good, bad, indifferent…comments are good to get all in all.  As you have read in my most recent post, I’ve been a bit busy.  I don’t write for other people, but rather, for myself.  It helps to get the words on to a page.  Relieves stress, tension, depression.  Since people are now starting to make comments, I’ll try and write more.

I’ve had a shitty last couple of weeks.  My cat became very ill and it took awhile for them to get it figured it out.  He went from an orange 10 pound healthy male to an orange, limp looking dishrag.  His fur was falling off in pieces and he had a general malaise about him. One vet finally said it’s his age and he should be put down.  Like he was a book or an article of clothing.  Where shall I put him down then?  On the couch, on my bed.  I spent 13 years with this creature.  He has in turns delighted me, pissed me off, made me cry, made me laugh, and his fur has soaked up many a tear in between.  He has been my watch cat, as ferocious as any dog would have been, when it came to sensing not so good people.  He was my familiar and always loved taking part in ritual.

I’ve never had a pet this long, where I’ve had to make decisions on the best course of action regarding life and death.  Yesterday, that choice was taken from me.  We awoke in the morning to Hobbs crying very loudly and making strange sounds.  When I checked on him he was convulsive.  His poor, scrawny body twisted so hard I thought he broke something.  And all I could do was sob and croon to him.  I finally managed to get myself dressed and get him packed up to take to the vet.  Because I had to go to work, I dropped him off.  It took them a 1/2 hour to get me to release him to them.  I knew, knew damn it, that this was the last time I would hold my orange baby and look into his big green eyes.  They say animals know when they are going to die.  I think he knew as well.  His look seemed to aim straight for my heart. Telling me, it’s ok mama.  I know you love me, but I’ll be around.

I stumbled to my truck and for a moment couldn’t remember how to start it or drive a stick.  Somehow I made it to work.  It’s a new job, so I was not quite sure what they’d think if I called in. I got the call about an hour later.  They had to put him down.  I remember some conversation, but not what was said.  It didn’t really hit me for a couple hours. But when it did, it was bad. One of my associates noticed that I was shaking very badly and had gone completely white. I explained to her what was going on, but assured her I was ok.  Not long after I felt as if someone had spiked me in the head with a knife and I couldn’t have stopped the tears if my life had depended on it.  I managed to work myself into such a state that my nose began to bleed.  And I had to come home.

The grief hits at odd moments.  And I expect it will do so for awhile.  I know that to some this may be strange, but other animal lovers assure me this is quite natural.  I have another cat as well.  She has been very attached since I came home yesterday and has let me love on her, which is really not her way.  Who’s the pet I sometimes wonder? Us or them?  Either way, all I know is that my life has been the better for them being a part of it. 

So tired…..  I am happy to be working again.  And thank Gods I knew what I was getting into.  Still, it doesn’t take away from the fact that work is tiring.  But I love making calm out of chaos.  Setting things right and making things flow better.  Work is a double edged sword.  Most of us don’t really want to work, but have to.  It helps if you like what you’re doing and where you’re doing it.  But at the end of the day- my brain is mush though.  And I see this being the norm for at least the next two months.

I hate it when this entity comes to visit.  It’s unfortunate when it does, as I have no one to play with that late at night.  So end up skulking around the net for anything to amuse me while I wait for sleep to kick in. Last night I ended watching a really bad movie in the hopes that would put me out.  Nope!  especially when David Duchovney flashed his behind at the screen.  Fox Mulder, who knew?  Scully should have tapped it alot sooner in my opinion.  Ahem!  Anyway the movie was called Rapture or The Rapture and it had Mimi Rogers in the lead role.  She’s a woman who starts out as a kinky slut type person and soon she finds God.  Long story short, she marries Duchovney’s character, he dies, she takes their kid and goes into the dessert as God told her to do that and wait for him.  She ends up killing her daughter, the Rapture rolls in and she’s left in the pit of despair, for lack of a better place.  Gods!  And this didn’t put me to sleep??!!  Nope.  That happened finally, 4 hours later.  After the skulking around the net and a letter To whom it may concern.