My week was loopy. The things I told myself would make me happy turned out to be duds and instead, I had so many accidental adventures that brought me unbridled joy. The list isn’t long but it’s meaningful…
I found turtlenecks for under $20. Fleece and cotton. A recent frost forced me to pull out my favorite turtlenecks which led to much sadness. I love them, but they are on their way to the clothing retirement home. Now, I will have newbies to play with and love.
I stumbled on two exhibits that were fascinating: Zevs‘ TRAFFICS IN ICONS and Willie Cole‘s If wishes were horses… . Zevs is a French street artist who turns a wicked eye to how the technology industry have come to rule us. What Willie Cole does with sculpture and shoes is genius. I wanted to sleep with his work. So imaginative and memorable.
Reminded that being angry is not the end of the world. Staying angry is not the goal, though.
When I started a dating business six years ago, I was looking forward to helping nice people meet other nice people. What could be a happier way to make a living than making other people happy? I’ve since discovered many of you are single for a reason: you are middle-aged people who are embittered and unrealistic about your own personal qualities and attractiveness.
The process has left me with a bad taste in my mouth about the chances of love for the over-50s. As you tell me how so-and-so isn’t good enough for you, I’m thinking, “Have you looked in a mirror?” Or, “No wonder your wife/husband left you. I can’t bear an hour of your self-aggrandising assessment of your merits.”
Many of you believe you are still as gorgeous and sexy as you were at 18 and only George Clooney or Angelina Jolie will do. You assume you are fascinating – do you really think collecting teapots or bell-ringing elevates you above the “ordinary” people you are introduced to?
Reality check for anyone who is about to embark on their next online dating profile!
If you check out the series, please let me know your thoughts in the comments ….don’t worry I won’t judge!
because you, the month of May, taught me how to Hulk when appropriate. How to curse mofos out when they needed to be cursed out, how to live in the moment of rage, beauty and sweet limitless truth. Not honesty. Truth.
Oh sweet darling May — thank you for helping me to rage judiciously and without hesitation. What a joyous moment for me (and maybe for you)?
You brought my unvarnished rage to the light. You let my inner a**h*le do the Twist, the Hustle, the Cabbage Patch and I am so grateful for that. Oh May, I love what you have done for me, but I’m not sad to see you go.
THIS is the ballad of the broken hearted being brutally displaced by a new love. What did Phil Collins do to get kicked out of the house? Or did he agree to move out because he cheated? Or did the relationship fall into a rut? Is it ever fair to start a new relationship before the old relationships has become firmly entrenched in the past?
I have many questions! But the mystery doesn’t stop me from enjoying the sweet heartbreak of the song.
What does ‘closer to fine’ mean?
Closer to contentment? Joy? Peace? Well-adjustment?
What could ‘closer to fine’ mean for me? My first impulse is to believe I would be happier if I were a little bit less pissed off at a few people.
Person #1: my ex-boyfriend. He moved out as I was recuperating from having a blood clot. I feel like I’ve been abandoned by someone I loved. Which I was.
It’s depressing dealing with being sick and a breakup. Just mangled guts pretending. And I know I’m not the first or last person to be living in this circle of hell, but there are days when I honestly want to punch him in his fucking face. Again and again and again. Doesn’t matter that that would not improve a damn thing.
So there it is. I’m not closer to fine. Still looking over the abyss of rage and disappointment. Daring myself to give up and fall into it.