I refuse to have a mid-life crisis. I won’t buy into it.
I just want to be me.
I refuse to succumb to the notion that a woman my age should dress a certain way or act a certain way. I’m going to show leg and cleavage if I want to and I won’t try to hide my curves or tone it down. I refuse to compare myself to others at different stages in life on completely different journeys. I’m as successful as I should be at any given point in my life and my success is something I define.
I refuse to shut down my desire or stop fueling my fire. I refuse to stop fantasizing and imagining. I refuse to stop saying ‘fuck’.
I refuse to let myself become weaker in any way and continue to strive to be stronger every day for as long as I can. I want to always feel for people, share my energy, give support, forgive, understand and learn.
I just want to be me.
November 22, 2014
I like to dream about things. There are many things I dream about doing. I want to survive my kid’s teens, and one day get a post-graduate degree, move into a management level position in a non-profit that does work I believe in or start my own organization. I dream about volunteering in the Peace Corps for two years, having my son record all my songs, writing a sexy, mind bending novel, backpacking through South America, living in San Francisco for a while, running a half marathon with my daughter, holding a couple of beautiful grand kids, stripping my possessions down to the very bare basics, simplifying my life and getting as close as possible to being my true, authentic self. I’d like to achieve some inner peace if I can. I dream about feeling free, creative, and inspired till the end.
What do you dream about doing? Who do you dream about being?
November 13, 2014
So, I’m getting back into playing. It’s been too long.
I often feel like something is missing in me, or that I’m so restless I can hardly contain myself and I could just start walking and never stop. Sometimes I just want to disconnect from the world and hide away from everything. The rest of the time I’m consumed with the things that make up life … loving my kids, work, house work, paper work, music, running and writing. The only time that I don’t feel like something is missing in me or feel that restless stirring inside is when I’m playing my guitar. I can remember everything I used to play but I’m rusty now. I need to get back into it. I’m going to pick up my baby as often as I can, build up those callouses, sing as though every word and breath mattered and just do it because it is my place of peace. There within those notes, chords and rhythms. It is my flow. It’s what I should have been doing all along but it’s easy to lose sight of the things that you need when your needs are not your focus.
October 12, 2014
I should have been a communications major. I have just recently realized how much of my life I have been compelled to try and communicate feeling and ideas, or at least collect them … document them. Also, I have always felt the strong desire to connect with people and I’ve attempted to do this in various ways.
The urge to express and document started early. I used to keep a diary when I was a young child and teen. Later, when I was 18 I purchased a home base CB radio. This was about information exchange and connection. Before I bought my own radio, my boyfriend had one in his car and we would drive around and talk to other ‘rev heads’. I had a call sign and joined a local informal CB club. I would talk to people all the time for hours and hours. That was all before cell phones. I used to talk on the phone too, with the number dial and long, coiled cord. For hours I’d sit drinking wine or coffee just talking to people. Then I started writing songs and playing all the time, prolifically. I busked on the streets of Edinburgh and Vienna when I worked and traveled overseas to connect with people through my music.
Then I wrote poems and prose and letters and lists and posts and now I blog. For work I’ve written for grants, prepared reports and letters of recommendations … countless letters of recommendations, and my own self evaluations, newsletters and speeches to inspire people to join a cause. I’ve written ministerial briefing notes, press releases, policies and procedures. At university I wrote essays. When I travelled I wrote journal entries. I’ve written love letters and letters to explain how things were unfair and letters to explain how someone had hurt me. Letters and texts and emails and Facebook posts and now blog posts.
I wanted to always make my point understood and always felt misunderstood no matter how hard I tried. Same thing today. I want to reach across the disconnect.
There is also the need to write it all out, but when I do my satisfaction is only temporary. Then I have to write more. All the while I know that the most important thing to do is to listen to people and read. Quietly watch, listen and read. And I do that too and store so much. Most of the time I feel like I’ll burst.
Really, I just want to reach you.
October 11, 2015
I’ve always thought about real attraction as having not much to do with whether you think someone is fat or thin, tall or short or particularly good looking or not. Attraction is deeper and something that happens despite your conscious decisions about what you think someone looks like. I mean, there are plenty of people around that I think are nice to gaze at but I’m not attracted to them in that magnetic way. It’s a feeling that you have no control over. Attraction. That’s why I think that so much talk about body image is sort of beside the point. People sometimes meet people that they think aren’t a great match or “not their type” but there is an energy or chemistry there that is undeniable. I guess I am mostly reflecting on my experiences as a young, unmarried woman but even through life you know that some people you just connect with in an intense kind of way and it has very little or nothing to do with their looks. You connect with their heart, mind and energy.
So, we shouldn’t be so preoccupied with whether we have a few extra pounds or lines or whatever because there will always be people out there that will want to connect with you as long as you let your true self shine.
September 10, 2015
So I just read a piece about how we shouldn’t swear around our kids. It got me thinking about how uptight people can be about things that are just not that important to me and yet seem unmoved by things that I find deeply disturbing.
I cuss around my kids sometimes. I do this because sometimes it just comes out. I call it a ‘small eruption of verbal naughtiness’. This happens because I am human and I know it’s not the first or only time they will hear a cuss word or two in their lifetime. I know that it isn’t good for them to swear around teachers so I advise them not to. I don’t tell them that expressing yourself with colorful cuss words is inherently bad but I say that their teachers will most likely not like it and will probably be offended and get upset, and the natural consequence is that they will be in big trouble. So, they shouldn’t swear in front of teachers. I also tell them that in general, if swearing upsets people, they should show them respect and not cuss around them. If they are being bad ass with their buddies in the cussing safety zone of their bike ride home from school, that’s probably OK.
I tell them that rather than never cussing it may be a good thing to have a couple of colorful cuss words up your sleeve for when drinking with mates at the pub and then be able to use self-control when at work or other places where people may not appreciate it … like your place of worship or Granny’s house.
It did make me think about a cool boss I had a long time ago. Her name was Ellen and she taught me how to say ‘fuck’ in a classy, sexy kind of way. She was a great boss … beautiful, sharp as a tack, ‘freshly fucked’ hair style and a wonderful gutter mouth. I loved her. She also taught me that some days it’s OK to have chocolate cake, coffee and a cigarette for lunch … but that’s another story.
Another thing about cussing is that it can be helpful when dealing with pain. I cussed like a trooper during my first completely drug free labor. People could hear me down the end of the corridor. Sometimes the word ‘fuck’ comes in really handy.
I tell my kids to be kind and respectful and not cuss around people if it upsets them. I also tell them that I think we should care more about helping each other to deal with life’s pains rather than worry about trivial things like the odd little swear word.
So, cuss away friends. I think cussing is fucking awesome.
September 1, 2015
Ten years ago today I arrived in this country with my husband, a one year old and four year old in tow. We had a few bags, boxes and guitars arrive with us. No scissors or a salad bowl to our name. No friends. Relatives that I hardly knew and no idea how this place worked. Now I have an eleven year old and a fourteen year old, I still have a husband, lots of scissors and salad bowls, several good friends, relatives that I love and I not only know how this place works, I know how to really live well in this place and I’ve done good work here. I guess you could call that progress.
August 28, 2015