“Be courteous to all, but intimate with few;
and let those be well-tried before you give them your confidence.”
George Washington
“Be courteous to all, but intimate with few;
and let those be well-tried before you give them your confidence.”
George Washington
My writing blog? I haven’t been posting a lot here because I’ve been posting there. Come on over and take a look!!!
I used to have a shirt, not a blouse, definitely a shirt hanging in my closet. I made sure it was always clean, it was my favorite shirt. I wore it no less than 2 times a week. I loved it because of the way it hung on my curves. It wasn’t revealing or feminine and it wasn’t refrained or masculine. This shirt, the color of burnt ash matched any mood I might be in on any particular day. I flowed with a sense of purpose in this shirt. This shirt clung to not just my body, but to my mind, soul, and spirit. It was who I am, inside and out.
The first time I met her, I was wearing this shirt. This shirt gave me confidence, and in my minds eye, sex appeal. I doubt anyone else saw what I saw when I looked in the mirror. Most people are this way. They live life being directed by the reins rather than holding them themselves. I don’t mind so much, because I have a sense of freedom from knowing what they don’t. Because of that fact, this shirt gave me the confidence I needed to go up to her, and smile my most sensational smile, and say hello. She took all of me in, and saw in me at that precise moment what I saw when I looked in the mirror every time I wore this shirt. I was grateful.
For many years, she and I were inseparable. She seemed to adore me, even if I wasn’t wearing this shirt. That’s something I’ve never been able to say before, so I knew this shirt had to have magic! This shirt brought us together and it was rewarded with it being worn over and over again. This shirt gave me 8 faithful years. I loved this shirt!
I’m not sure which came first, the dying of this shirt or the dying of my relationship with her. She began to despise this shirt with rolling her eyes, and mouthing, “Oh God, I’m sick of it.“ Did my shirt lose its magic, or had I? No sooner had the shirt lost its appeal, so did our relationship. I was back to being the only one who saw something special when I looked in the mirror. Whatever she saw, she no longer did.
This shirt hung in the closet, never to be touched again. But the pain of seeing it there, hurt too much, that I was forced to put it to rest. This burnt ash colored shirt that had given me so much, deserved no less. As I sat on the side of the bed saying my last goodbyes, one of the last 4 buttons that still hung on, rolled down the sleeve onto the floor, just as a tear rolled down my cheek.
I often think of this shirt, and the magic it had within its fibers. Deep down, a part of me wishes we had never met.
A vignette I wrote as a submission for a contest for the Off-Broadway show Love, Loss, and What I Wore. I don’t think I won, so I decided to post it publicly. http://www.more.com/love-love-and-what-i-wore-contest
I think I figured something out. Those who could care less about you don’t wring your heart into a twisted knot. Those who care about you, even love you, make you feel like shit. Life and stuff, it never ceases to amaze me.
I certainly see the appeal of being a lonely old maid….
I’ve been on hiatus for a while now. Not motivated to write a single word, publicly anyway.
I have been enraged enough to start typing though. September 11 is coming upon us again. But this year, some haters, publicity seekers or whatever you wish to call them are turning this day of mourning into a revengeful, spiteful, hate fest against them (whomever them may be).
The burning of the Koran because Al Qaeda has chosen to hide behind their religion to spread hate and fear is about as useful as burning the Bible because the KKK hides behind their religion to do the same thing.
And the sheer fact that people can not or will not decipher the difference is exactly what’s wrong with the world today.
There are some bad eggs in everything. I personally know Muslims, and they are as loving and peace oriented as some Christians that I know.
If you want to make a statement about who we as Americans are, spend September 11 volunteering, having coffee with a Muslim, or praying for those who are lost in hate and fear. And by all means, light a candle or two in the memory of the lives that were physically, mentally, and spiritually lost on that day.
Most importantly, get over yourselves people!!!!!!!
Why is it that each new teenage generation thinks they invented all the cool phrases and words or that only they are entitled to use them?
The other day, one of the teenagers in my life was telling me something great about their day.
To show great, short winded, enthusiastic support, I snapped “Awesome!”
What I heard back was, “Oh no, you did NOT just use that word!”
“What word?”
“Awesome! You’re too old to use that word.”
Listen for sounds of me laughing, HYSTERICALLY!!!
“Oh, right…. okey dokey, GOLLY GEE THAT SURE SOUNDS NEATO!”
“Well now you’re just be sarcastic”, comes the reply.
YA THINK?????
I think if anything, the older we get the more entitled we are to use the shorter, cooler phrases. As time goes by we’re burning our candles at both ends. When we’re trying to express ourselves we need to say what’s on our minds as quickly as possible before we forget what it is that’s on our minds!
And speaking of bull shit…… I wonder if out in a bull field somewhere there are 2 bulls talking to eachother saying, “Man, that bill the bull sure is a bully! he’s full of human shit!”
this is a continuation to a previous post, “have a crappy day”. This came to my mind today while visiting my local Starbucks. I receive gift cards there twice a year. It would be 3 times a year, but since I’m a lucky bitch who has a birthday the day after Christmas, I get the gift cards twice a year. Christmas/birthday and mothers day.
So, I go in and always get the “how are you?”
Every single time someone ask me that question, I wonder what would happen if I said something really off the fucking wall.
Something like, “I was fine yesterday, but today I just want fucking coffee” or “I’m great now that I know Ann Coulter’s point of view is the same as a horse’s ass with eyes.” Or some other crazy shit.
But instead, I always say “good” or “great.” BLAH!
Then, they always insist on knowing your FIRST name so they can call back to the barista,
“so and so wants a……”
Here again, I want to say something crazy because when I say “Gia” I know what will come.
“Ah, that’s an unusual name” or “I loved that movie” or “were you named after the model?”
I guess I should see that as a compliment…. but
I get my grande starbucks cup with my name nicely placed above the special order section. But I wonder….
What would the barista write on my cup if the polite, little college girl said, “non fat, triple, grande latte for fuck you!”
So, in light of my wonderful mood here’s a bit from George Carlin, Have a nice day!!!!
Happy New Year
Happy Easter
Happy Hanukkah
Merry Christmas
Happy Thanksgiving
Happy Valentines Day
Are these holidays really happy or merry? Does adding happy or merry to the holiday make you feel happy or merry? Or do you just feel happy and merry because you enjoy the significance of the holiday?
I’m thinking of putting this theory to the test. I’ve been feeling really crappy lately. So, I’m wondering if I blurt out “HAPPY CRAPPY DAY” if that will make me feel happy about feeling crappy? Who knows, maybe I’ll start a National holiday where everyone gets to stay home and feel happy about feeling crappy! Hell, if I could have a stay home feelin’ crappy day, WITH PAY….That would make me pretty damn happy about feeling crappy!
Bah humbug! YES, I’m being a scrooge….. but no matter how many times people blurt out MERRY CHRISTMAS or HAPPY HOLIDAYS, it doesn’t make me feel anymore merry or happy! (sorry, but you’d have to know what’s going on or be in the same place in order to understand this sentiment)
On another note, I noticed the Christians are trying to take over the phrase, Happy Holidays. They’re now saying, “Jesus being born is a happy holiday”. Give me a freakin’ break. Let people have their non committal, politically correct phrase that covers everything and makes everyone but a scrooge happy, Damn it!