Best…

What’s best, you ask?  How the hell do I know? Does anyone know?

Probably not, but somehow we keep making choices based on “what’s best…” for ourselves, our children, our parents, our friends…everyone.

Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.  It REALLY is true. And to be too sensitive to what everyone else thinks that you “should” have done for yourself or them just keeps you in a state of doubt, discomfort, angst, and question interminably.

That is no way to live…and I want to be clear though.  Merriam Webster’s no. 2 definition of BEST is this:

most productive of good offering or producing the greatest advantage, utility, or satisfaction.   What is the best thing to do?

When we give our “best” advice or opinion, especially to and for those we love, it is usually because we love them.

that’s all…

suffocation

The hot, hot summers of Texas present this possibility.
Suffocation.
Life, also, presents this in many scenarios.
Grasping for oxygen, we struggle for breath.
For sanity and legitimacy.
Suddenly revived, anticipating the next breathless encounter… 
suf·fo·ca·tion
ˌsəfəˈkāSH(ə)n/
noun
the state or process of dying from being deprived of air or unable to breathe.
  • difficulty in breathing.
  • a feeling of being trapped and oppressed.

square peg, round hole

Do you know the old saying
“You can’t fit a square peg into a round hole?”
It has many inferences.
And, it is important to be intuitive enough to know when things are being forced to happen and when you need to follow the lines in the sand and stay on track. The wind will continue to try to blow you backward when you know that you MUST follow the lines and move forward.
Because it the right thing to do.

Sometimes moving forward doesn’t mean something new. It may mean moving forward where you are in that place that is stagnant presently. As oppositional as that sounds, it makes perfect sense. Sometimes the universe sends us signals that we ignore. Why? Well, think of how many times you’ve abandoned a project because: A. you forgot about it. B. You got frustrated with it. C. You got bored of it. D. It was too hard…
Well, as with most things in this life, unresolved projects, situations, relationships, don’t go away.

So, here I am saying, “Okay, universe, help me finish this project. I’ve never given up. Oh, yes, I’ve lost hope/faith, whatever, soooo many times, but I’ve never given up. Now I need your help, your guidance to complete this project and to make it whole. To manifest its intentions to the fullest”

And, with that said. The intention is now in full motion.
Are YOU on board?

Dating Conversation…

It might seem silly.     It might seem trite.    It might seem irrelevant.

But IT. IS. REAL

THIS is dating today for those of us 50+.

Me: Hi

Him: I apologize for the late “Hi”. (2 emojis)

Him;  a bit later …”.hereeeee”

Me: Sorry…been pretty busy…(relevant details that an adult faces, children, elderly parents etc)  Oh, and I don’t do major Spartan Races, or that sort of thing…It looks like it’s a requirement for a relationship….so…well, I think I’m out!…

Him: All good! Not looking for a partner for Spartan Races, just someone to  watch me jump the “fire line” (what the hell is that??)…(OH, [swoon…gag-o-rama])

Him 2 days later: Plans for Saturday?

Me: How are you?

Him: You seem too busy …I’ve asked you questions and and all you say is how are you…what gives?

Me: I was actually driving [and quickly responded to apease you] (In my head I said that)….. But I wanted to answer your questions.  I am a very busy person, but isn’t that better than someone who is completely bored with their life…and has nothing else to focus on??? I have exciting projects coming up!

Him:  I’m excited for you…but seriously, I’m busy too..no excuses.  You only communicate every 3 days and most men expect you to communicate every day. At least to find out how we are…When would you find time to be with me? Why are you even on this site? You don’t even have time for a relationship!…Unless of course you are only seeking a physical relationship….I’m just as busy as you are…Don’t say it isn’t so. just saying. It only takes a minute to (declare your undying love-give me a f’ing break) say hello…or to ask how was your day…

Me: (Nothing…cuz at this point, and for real before that, I am SOOOO done.)

Him: I am no longer interested.

Me: hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

I don’t think he even realized that by saying he wasn’t interested (after I ignored him), that he was ACTUALLY saying he was interested….hahhaahahhaahahahahaha

Good night…

Like I give a F@%*

 

 

 

It might be MY bacon year…

6 degrees of Carol’s bacon-separation…

I swear, it seems over the years, that there isn’t anyone that doesn’t know someone that knows someone who knows someone who I know and who knows me and who either loves, likes or hates me and who I either love, like or hate. Take a breath…seriously.

Ironically, or not, I despise bacon as such. Not THE Kevin Bacon, you understand.  The smell, the taste, the name…just everything about bacon, but my life resembles the BACON PRINCIPLE.

It’s a tad terrifying. Is that a sign? I think not. Bacon is not the metaphor for my comparison. But the Bacon Principle alone. And, I am pretty sure I almost stand alone in my dislike and almost hatred of the fried and cured pig.

When you live in a place for a great number of years, and you have a business that connects people through its association, you will, inevitably, know someone who knows someone…well, you know…

In closing, my statement is:

We are not alone. We are not singular. We are not anonymous. We are here. We are real. We are seen, loved, known, forgotten, ignored, dismissed, admired, judged, envied, belied, abused, revered, praised, exhausted…and so on…

WE. ARE.

That’s all. and that’s everything.

 

Truth or Consequences…

That’s right. Truth. Or consequences.

We have the opportunity to be our authentic selves every moment of every day, and, yet, most of us choose to be what we perceive is the expectation of our legitimate selves.

We fear rejection so intensely that to be exposed for ourselves is paramount to complete nudity.

That’s all.

That moment…

you know, THAT moment.

that moment when you realize that one thing.

the thing that you never quite imagined being, or doing, or dealing with for real.

you know…THAT thing…

I don’t need to explain it to you. you KNOW what it is.

So, I will leave it there…

but, you know what I’m talking about…

The dating game…at 55…

So, you are suddenly single. You’re not 23 anymore or even 4o for that matter, which, from this view, looks quite enticing. You are feeling free. No more tidy whiteys to wash, no more ‘dates’ with a man snoring in a recliner with the TV blaring the History channel.   You get the picture. You finally have control of the remote. The bathroom is all yours! And, you can sleep ALL OVER the bed.  IT IS GLORIOUS…until…you think about…gulp…dating. Frankly, the only way I can describe it is sucky. Your best friend, who is single and has been single longer than you have, says “Join …..this site…it will be fun”.  Uh, okay, sure. You upload your photo from facebook and create a profile outlining your interests and what you are looking for in a relationship. You ‘like’ him, and ‘wink’ at him and wait for a message. You chat and soon you are having your first date. Let me tell you, THINGS HAVE CHANGED.

For instance, in 1984, you didn’t live with anyone before you were married, or at least you didn’t tell your mother. That is for sure. You were 22 for god’s sake!  . You weren’t expected to have ‘sexual relations’ by the third date. You actually met people through friends or at parties, not on a dating site where a photo and a vapid description lands you a date with some guy who has no clue what you do for a living but feigns interest because he just paid for your coffee.

Then,  what’s next? probably nothing. maybe everything.

Let’s say, you DO meet someone randomly, through a colleague or friend, and, there are sparks, it works out, and you actually ‘have a relationship’. At worst, it will end, at best it will endure. Regardless, it’s not like being married; not married to who you were married to for the last million years. Even if the putz you dismissed was not your dream man, you knew how he liked his coffee, and what movies you could both enjoy. And, excitedly, you began to really like this ‘random’ new guy and thought, hmmmm….he might be it. He might be the next Mr. Whoever.  But because you haven’t dated in eons, you don’t see what your best friend sees. This guy is your ex-husband except that you have feelings for this new guy. You don’t wash his tidy whiteys, and he doesn’t snore in the recliner because he is still trying to impress you.  Sigh.  Danger, Will Robinson, Danger! But, you don’t see it. You don’t move on. You DON’T even know the signs of a commitment-phobe because YOU got married when you and your ex were mere children fresh out of the crib – not jaded or cynical or reluctant to take that exhilarating risk to join forces with an equally naive person. AND, you miss that blind faith. You stay there, with that new person, because it is familiar and you seriously have no clue that you are totally comfortable being ‘married but not married’ all over again.

Here comes the kicker. You are ready. Ready to do a repeat performance of the previous life. Permanently. Voila!  You had no idea that the plan was only your plan. You thought that you were on the same page. You are stunned. Thrown for a loop. Wait. Why is this not working out how I thought it would? Your new significant other indicated, in veiled falseness, that his intentions were simpatico with yours.  Flabberghasted comes to mind when you realize that you’ve been duped, or is it dumped. You are suddenly very alone. Alone in your feelings and just plain alone…because he is gone. Poof! Disappeared. Well, shit!  and a slew of other unsavory words. Welcome to ghosting. A modern cowards version of ‘hitting the high road’. I believe sucky was the word I used above. And it is. Sucky.      But, narrowly escaping duplicate entrapment is a blessing, of course, after you have wept weeks of tears, and spilled miles of sorrow to those who will listen.

Moral to this story.

Actually, I don’t know. I am on a journey. A journey that is continuous. Hopefully one that will lead me to my truth. And, if it includes my special someone, it will be glorious once and for all.

PS Looking for SPONSORS for my awesome site!

 

 

 

Closure

Closure or need for closure (NFC) are psychological terms that describe an individual’s desire for a firm answer to a question and an aversion toward ambiguity.

‘nuf said.

over and out.