Monday, April 21, 2014
Doing What I Know, Doing What I Thought I Knew, Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing: I'm Giving Up and Giving In
Doing What I Know, Doing What I Thought I Knew, Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing: I'm Giving Up and Giving In: Recently, I celebrated a birthday. I must tell you, this was the best ever. No surprise party, flowers sent to my doorstep, and I didn'...
Sunday, April 13, 2014
I'm Giving Up and Giving In
Recently, I celebrated a birthday. I must tell you, this was the best ever. No surprise party, flowers sent to my doorstep, and I didn't see the first red balloon - I did, however, wear a tiara one night. It was the best because I was surrounded by such incredible people for several days - new and old friends (and I don't mean old aged, just that I've known them for eons), near and far, in person or by message or phone, my family - I was surrounded. These folks celebrated with me and made me feel like the the Queen I've always aspired to be (here, I jest, quit rolling your eyes). I felt loved, plain and simple. Not a shabby birthday, I must say.
So just yesterday, I went to Bed Bath & Beyond and had a chat with the lady that showed me where the plastic ice cube thingy-bobs were. Of course, I had to explain WHY I needed them (which, by the way, is because my ice maker produces crappy tasting ice cubes which has been a real problem for me and my vodka sodas), so we had some fun dialog. And then she looks at me and says, "You know, you have a real shine and energy around you that not many people have." Which made me tear up, obviously. Who wouldn't?
Here's what bubbled up from my BB&B visit: I'm Giving Up and Giving In. I'm giving up the notion that what much of the external world deems to be "perfect" (whatever in the hell that means) is just that, external. And I'm giving in to simply being the shine and energy that exists within me. Did this realization come with age? No, it came with time. I believe you can only zig-zag around so much trying to hit all of those points of perceived perfection - be they where you are in life (fill-in-the-blank) and where you want to be in life (fill-in-the-blank) - before you wear yourself slap out. Don't get me wrong, people - I am NOT giving up my quests for a rockin' bod, finding the Hunk of my life, continued career successes, knowledge, spiritual bliss and life's great expansion. Nor will I give up Botox, that is just ludicrous. But I think I'll stop the zig-zag and just look straight ahead and look forward to what is in front of me. And it looks damn good.
This is a Doing What I Thought I Knew.
So just yesterday, I went to Bed Bath & Beyond and had a chat with the lady that showed me where the plastic ice cube thingy-bobs were. Of course, I had to explain WHY I needed them (which, by the way, is because my ice maker produces crappy tasting ice cubes which has been a real problem for me and my vodka sodas), so we had some fun dialog. And then she looks at me and says, "You know, you have a real shine and energy around you that not many people have." Which made me tear up, obviously. Who wouldn't?
Here's what bubbled up from my BB&B visit: I'm Giving Up and Giving In. I'm giving up the notion that what much of the external world deems to be "perfect" (whatever in the hell that means) is just that, external. And I'm giving in to simply being the shine and energy that exists within me. Did this realization come with age? No, it came with time. I believe you can only zig-zag around so much trying to hit all of those points of perceived perfection - be they where you are in life (fill-in-the-blank) and where you want to be in life (fill-in-the-blank) - before you wear yourself slap out. Don't get me wrong, people - I am NOT giving up my quests for a rockin' bod, finding the Hunk of my life, continued career successes, knowledge, spiritual bliss and life's great expansion. Nor will I give up Botox, that is just ludicrous. But I think I'll stop the zig-zag and just look straight ahead and look forward to what is in front of me. And it looks damn good.
This is a Doing What I Thought I Knew.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)