Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Oh for craps sake...

I was reading Vanilla's post about how he finds certain plants a bit off putting. It started me thinking about my own relationships with flowers and plants, likes and dislikes and how I got this way. Which of course led to my mother, and I was thinking of writing about her preferences and whether mine, which mirror hers, are just part of shared DNA or whether they were acquired through osmosis.

I don't spend a lot of time thinking about my mother - she was/is not a nice person. Whether she was born that way or her life made her that way, I do not know. I don't think she had a very nice or happy life and she seemed to want to pass that on. She certainly made my life a misery even after I walked out of hers after 48 years. Actually she did the walking, I just never bothered to go after her.  But the effects of her 'nuture' still bedevil me at times.

So this while thinking about floral preferences and from there perfume preferences, I got a little creeped out about whether it was nature or nurture, our similarities. I don't want to be anything like her. I don't want to follow her footsteps through hell, neither the one she occupies nor the one she visited upon other people.

As I was sitting down to type up this post, which was going to be more about flowers than mothers, she was still on mind. Memories of her still pricking my brain, upsetting my soul.  I don't do this often, if ever, if at all.

Then my eyes drifted to the top of my computer screen and today's date caught my eye. October 1st - my mother's birthday. If she is still alive she is 98.

If she is still alive it's because neither Heaven nor Hell wants her.

Monday, September 29, 2014

Made my life just a little more happy, once again

Sunday my husband and I rearranged my 'office'.  It was never the way I wanted it but my office also had to be a guest room. Since we moved the convertible love seat into the living room and my husband's old recliner into my office the space was just asking to be used in a more happy way.  I don't have any pictures of the old arrangement but I do have some of the new arrangement. Every time I walk past the room and peek in I get happy. Sitting here working - super-duper happy...

View from the doorway

The recliner now in the corner where my desk used to be (it's a dark corner)

The window wall is now more balanced

My desk now gets direct natural light - Yay! (a bookcase, floor lamp and the recliner used to occupy the space along this wall)

Now I don't have to move my exercise bike when I want to get into the closet

The three bookcases are lined up nicely...

While I was rearranging furniture I also dumped some tchotchkes I had on the bookshelves. Y'all know I am not big on collecting. Anything that falls into the tchotchke category and now remains on the shelves has some meaning for me. There are a few things that that could get dumped - a couple of the stuffed toys, a couple of the music boxes but they shall stay - for awhile

The place where I spend most of my days is now my own little Disneyland - my happy place.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Less is more

Not only in a material way but in an emotional way.

Lately I have found myself not only happy in my reclusiveness but happy in my pulling away from personal attachments and emotional and psychological attachments.

It hasn't been a conscious effort. It hasn't been any effort at all to tell the truth. It was just there one day. I was thinking about family. I don't have one. I never had one. I think I only missed having and or being a part of a family because I thought I was supposed to. This troubled me. The not caring part, not the 'not having/being' part.  The feeling unnatural part when I knew that for me, it was not unnatural.

Running this through my mind, trying to find some reason why what is so important to others has no meaning for me. And why is this so? And why am I made to feel like there is a part of my psyche missing because I don't miss having a family. Or feel a need for family. What is wrong with me, I thought.

'Family' was just one of the normal attachments I've never had, and struggled with understanding why I didn't. I never felt I was missing anything. I never wanted the attachments that are considered normal. I never felt a need for them. I loved and was loved, yes. I gave and received affection, friendship but when it was gone, it was gone. And not mourned, perhaps missed in a nostalgic way. Good times and all, you know.

But then I laughed out loud. A warm laugh. A laugh of acceptance. There is nothing wrong with me.

My non-attachment is just who I am. I am not attached to material things; I accumulate them for their use, chose what pleases my senses AND my practicality. When a material thing is no longer useful, nor does it please my senses, I get rid of it. It is just a material thing and carries no emotional weight.

And when people leave my life, or I leave theirs, there should be some sort of emotional distress. My only distress has been that there hasn't been any distress.

I've spent a good portion of my life trying to fit my emotional/psychological life into what I have been told is the norm. It hasn't ever suited me. It hasn't ever felt natural and real to me.

It is not that I don't love. I do. It is not that I don't have real affection for the people in my life. And it is not that I no longer get angry at the ways humans mistreat and hurt other living creatures. I do. And I cry for others pain and joy. I am moved by a certain kind of sentimentality, or by any kindness to me.

Maybe it is a matter of getting older and becoming who I really am. Becoming the essence of myself.  The self that was burdened and smothered with trying to mold itself to the norm and the expected.  I no longer feel the need to fit that mold.

I don't feel that I am making myself clear. If I could draw then I would draw pale warm light. I would draw gossamer wings. I would draw oneness. I would draw all encompassing arms.

I am both solid and ephemeral. I am filled with this crazy joyousness in nothing and everything.

I am wondering whether I am at the end of a journey or at the beginning of one...

Friday, September 26, 2014

Renewed my time-suck.

I was going to write about my love affair with newspapers. Especially my "I can't live without you' addiction to the New York Times but as I was mentally composing said chat it was getting longer and longer and...

I have had home delivery of the NYT everywhere I have lived when it was available. Other places I had to scrounge to get copies. Often I cancelled home delivery because I would get pissed at the delivery system but I always went back. Last year I cancelled my home delivery because the price is outrageous, an affront to my frugal soul. I can't believe I lasted a year without my NYT. I bought a subscription to the crossword puzzles but it just wasn't enough.


Now my mornings, and sometimes, afternoons are spent at the dining table, immersed in newspapers. First the Washington Post - style section and Metro section, then on to the Times. I read it all including the sports section. Why is the NYT just better than any other paper? My local paper is the Washington Post, you would think they would be covering politics and the world scene as well, if not better, than the Times. But nope. I get more and better info from the Times, based 225 miles from me, than the paper based 7 miles from me. Whereas as I rarely read the world and national news in the Post, I gobble it up from the Times. And the business pages - boy how I missed them.

And while the Times does not have comics it does have advertisements and a style section. Conspicuous consumption in all its glory. And just as amusing as the comics any day.

So breakfast with the Post - I get through it in the time it takes for me to have a cup of tea and a bagel. Then on to the Times - we're talking 2 hours or more depending on the day of the week, taking me right through lunch time. I still have the book review section from last Sunday sitting on the table, I plan to get to that today.

Among the many upsides to once again having the NYT on my table is that I spend less time on the computer. No more mindless surfing. I am a woman with a mission and a newspaper.

The only downside is I am once again feeling homesick. There isn't a snowballs chance in hell that I will ever move back home; I'm not sure I really and truly want to. Bloomberg turned NYC into Disneyland North for the rich and powerful. I'm not too sure I would be comfortable there anymore. Or more importantly, that I could afford it.

But still feeling a little homesick. Close as I can get? Dinner tonight - lox and eggs and onions.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Just the always

As always, this view makes me laugh. BB under the covers because he is,  as always, cold. And, as always, I am the only creature here awake in the afternoon.