Category Archives: Just Me, Being Me

Choosing Happiness…

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I once read somewhere…

There is a certain kind of person that leans towards happiness.

I’d like to think, in spite of the less than stellar periods that mark my life from time to time, that overall, I am that kind of person.

I’m happy overall, simply because I chose to be. My problems haven’t lessened. Those who have access to my Facebook statuses, see when my moods are more midnight than noon. Still, even when I’m in the midst of a personal pity party, a part of me always knows “and this too shall pass” and I will be happy again.

How I’ve learned to handle life’s many bouts of crisis diminutive and demanding come from two main sources, my late-husband and my faith (such as it is). From my late-husband I’ve learned how to compartmentalize. Decide what is important, and needs working on now. The non-important things are mentally shelved until there is time for them, or when/if the time comes, to move them further up my importance ladder. The things I have deemed important are then broken into two main categories. What can I do to fix/change/control/help/etc. whatever it is now? If there’s something I feel I can (or am willing) to fix/change/control/help/etc., that is what I work on to the best of my ability. However, if it is something I feel I cannot (or perhaps should not) do anything about a given situation, here is where my faith comes in. I simply “Let go and let God”. Once a decision is made between the two, I may still think about it, but I don’t worry about it.

Several have asked, how have I managed to move on so quickly from the loss of a husband of twenty years? Honestly – I woke up one day and chose to. I have an acquaintance, Donna (a wonderful Numerologist and avid knitter), with whom I once adamantly contested in having a choice about moving on with my life, instead of continuing to wallow in grief, when she initially presented it to me that way (as a choice). I honestly did not see it as a choice at the time, simply because I am not the type to wallow in anything emotionally negative for any extended period. Having since met with (and/or read about) other widows/widowers and have seen the variety in how we choose to cope, or not cope, I understand. I may not have been entirely cognizant of doing such at the time, but yes Donna, I see that now. I made a choice, I chose to be happy, or at least start the process to get there.

Some have called it avoidance, but that is not necessarily true. When I am avoiding a problem it worries my soul constantly until I deal with it, one way or another, by the means I mentioned above. There is a huge difference to my personal sanity (hah!) between when I avoid a problem and when I choose to place it temporarily to the side until I have the means/knowledge/etc. to work on it. It’s not exactly letting go if I’m letting it worry me now is it?

Various religions and/or spiritual paths seem pretty sure that happiness comes from within and that it is within our control. You know what? I can’t honestly argue with them. I am happy, as I said above, simply because I chose to be. And when I say happy, I mean happy with the three people I face in the mirror each morning; me, myself and I. As long as I know for myself that I’ve honestly done all I can (or should) for the situation, I’m good; therefore I’m happy.

Why? Because there are only sixty seconds in each minute and I only have X amount of minutes/hours/day/weeks/months/years/decades left of life. True to form, I suck at math and thus have no idea what X stands for. Therefore, I do not have time to waste but so many minutes on being miserable. We all have our spells on the crying couch, but it’s our choice as to how long we stay there. Yes, I know, it sounds oh so simplistic at the core, I do not deny that; but like everything else in life, it is and it isn’t. And yes, I really do run pretty much everything in my life this way, because it works FOR ME (your mileage may vary). I don’t argue with it any more because it makes me what?–miserable.

I think you have an idea now about how long I’m willing to put up with that.

National Poetry Month: The Family That…

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Innocence
Trapped by danger’s sweet fragrance
Lust of thus oozed from my pores
Became yours at soul’s expense

At first kind
Cleaving to the ties that bind
Couldn’t see the seeds planted
Enchanted, my eyes were blind

Slowly thus
Your love a snake venomous
The intent as sheer as glass
Only I passed your litmus

Blood’s imbrue
Its desires call me too
In moderation, I know
It is so, I’ve become you

Puppeteer
In your hand for uses queer
Evil once ne’er dreamed to do
Now like you I find I sneer

Purity
That is what you once called me
Only on death we gain it back
With life’s lack, it comes to be

Come my blade
With you I’m all I’ve been made
Gleaming crimson from our gut
Final cuts, our dues are paid

So we lay
It has come to this last day
Laugh at your look of surprise
Evil dies, we pass away

I Won’t Grow Up! (Until I have to!)

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Tarred, no. Feathered, yes.

5th Annual NYC Pillow Fight 2010 — Feathered yes; tarred no.

Bioluminesence

Glo-in-the-dark body paint and hair doo-dads at Bioluminescence II – 2010

Slash Santa Domme 2009

Santa Domme & “Rudy” at SantaCon NYC 2009

In case you’re having any questions as to what the heck that is in my hair in the first pictures, yes, it’s feathers.  Considering how much my hair looks like a bird’s nest in the picture, isn’t it appropriate? The feathers are the end results of being a participant in the International Pillow Fight Day 2010 – NYC, held last Saturday.  Yes, I said international. For something that started as an urban underground flash mob, years ago, it has now gained global recognition.  Therefore, I’m happy to say all the feathers in my hair came from nice clean pillows (oh dear God, I hope so, eewwwww! :D!).

In the second picture, my hair is adorned with bright blue curls and hair baubles painted with neon paints designed to glow under ultra-violet light.  It was part of a water fairy costume for Bioluminescence II. Bioluminescence, a fundraiser for Burning Man, is a theme of aquatic, glowing and illuminated figures and art, an exploration of the crossroads bio and technological.  It is inspired by those deep-sea creatures who make their own light in the murky depths inspiring us toward aquatic or illuminated costume in a black light flooded venue. Essentially, it was a really cool rave party on a boat!

The third picture is from Santacon 2009. WTF is Santacon do you ask?  From their official website: “SantaCon is a not-for-profit, non-political, non-religious & non-logical Santa Claus convention, attended for absolutely no reason.”  Aka a few hundred people dress up as various themed Santas and run amok in NYC (and other cities globally) during the Christmas season.

Yes, I am in my mid 40s, this year I cross over into being officially in my late 40s, go figure.

Nothing like hanging out with my BFF (I’m delightfully imagining a capillary bursting as she groans from reading that BFF part – oops, I just did it again.) and participating in a mass outdoor public pillow fight. Or as I nicely phrased it in my Facebook photo album “The annual gathering of people granted permission to wallop the living daylights out of each other for three hours, with no hard feelings afterward.”  Yes, the crowd was predominantly mid 20s- 30s. Still, there was a sprinkling of actual children there. Such as this adorable little tyke, who could not have been more than six years old.  He was defending his daddy from all on comers, and let me tell you, that sweet-faced cherub could pack a freaking wallop!!   There were also senior citizens in attendance, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.  My favorite was the gentleman, who was at least sixty years of age, showing some whippersnappers the proper way to deliver a body shot with his pillow. He took a twenty year old clean off his feet, it was, awesomesauce! I can’t remember the last time, I laughed so hard! Whenever folks ask when will I grow up and start acting my age, I’m going to remember this guy.

After all, who in the hell said, once you reach whatever age some forms of fun must stop? I fully believe we don’t stop having fun because we grow old, we grow old because we stop having fun. I mean real fun!  I mean the sweaty dirty, exhausting, totally unafraid to look completely ridiculous type of fun.  Why do people look back upon childhood with such fondness? Because children don’t have a fear of being dirty. Or looking silly.  If it’s fun, it’s fun and you can’t tell them what’s fun, they know it when they feel it.  So while my being all dolled-up for Marjorie’s wedding two years ago was very enjoyable, bringing 6’7″ groomsman Derrick down to his knees in a game of full-on tackle during the outdoor reception afterward (still dressed in our wedding finery mind you!), was FUN!

It amuses me to no end that the people, who question why I do such immature (by their standards), things at my age, are often the same people who wonder why I have such a youthful spirit.  Hello? Put it together people!  Let that rocking chair gather a little more dust while I’m scavenger hunting at The Met. If I’m physically able to do something, without harming myself, I am going do it.  God willing, I will reach a point in my life, where I will have to rest up more and play hard less, but I’m not there yet.   So yes, I’m still finding feathers in my hair after shampooing, so what? I had a heck of a lot of fun, with a heck of a lot of people. What did you do for fun?