well meaning advice

Ever notice how people always want to give you advice when things are going bad in your life. And how that advice changes based on what you are doing already.

For example, I'm pretty tired of being alone. I would like a little romantic company. I have actively tried dating from time to time. It's usually a disaster. So I have set it aside and ignored it for a while thinking it would just happen. And nothing happened. So I go back to trying just to get another set of disasters. Sigh.

So now.... Sometimes I look. Sort of. And if someone catches my eye, then I pursue it cautiously. It never really works out though.

When I complain about it, friends will say, well don't try so hard. OK.... I'm trying hard? I am open to what might come along. I want it. But I'm not spending much time or energy on it. When I totally ignore it, just waiting for something to happen on it's own then people say to me, well you have to get out there and try. Meet people. I get out and try and nothing good happens and those same people say, well stop trying to hard.

Sigh.

In the end, I feel like nothing I do one way or the other will change things. I can get out and meet people and try to date and have nothing happen ever for the rest of my life. But if it's meant to be, I can stay home, never go out, and still have Mr. Right show up on my doorstep.

Maybe it's all about fate and I'm a fool for thinking anything I do can affect change.

monday monday

It's Monday morning. A new day. A new week. A new life.

sigh

Sometimes I don't know where to start. I need some portrait work right now. I need to be making jewelry. I need to finish my house.

I need a drink.

And a man.

(The man part could be just a loaner, not a life change.)

Speaking of men, I'm dabbling in Academia right now. A music history professor and a business professor. Both highly educated. That's where the similarities end. They teach at "rival" universities. One is way older than his age, so much so that he never bothered to learn to have fun and be crazy. But he's willing to learn. The other is 30 years older than the first, but way younger than his years. He's not reckless crazy but likes to have fun and already knows how. One is too young for me, the other too old for me, but that doesn't really matter. I'm not convinced there is anything life-changing in either relationship (not that they are relationships yet, just sparks) but I am going to have some fun along the way.

don't let me cry

I normally hate those inspirational stories that I find in my email box daily. But this one struck a chord in me today. It's because, this is a lesson that I need to learn. I need to learn some grace in loss. I've certainly had enough loss in my life in the last few years. I hope that I take the loss gracefully.

Although I have to admit, I am really wanting to win for a change.





The following story was taken from a 1999 issue of Angels On Earth Magazine, and was written by Peggy Porter of California,


My eight year old son, Gilbert, had only been in Cub Scouts a short time when he was given a derby-car project. I read the directions and let him do the work. My son was awfully proud of his "Blue Lightning" when he was done, the kind of pride that comes from knowing that you accomplished something on your own.

On the night of the competition, the other boys, with their sleek' polished racers, snickered at Gilbert's lopsided car. But astonishingly, what his car lacked in looks, it made up for in speed. In race after race, Gilbert's car beat its flashy competitors. Finally we were down to the last race. When it was about to begin, Gilbert asked shyly if they could wait for him to pray.

He bowed his head for a moment then announced, "Ok I'm ready."

As the crowd looked on, the "Blue Lightening' wobbled down the ramp and zipped across the finish line just ahead of the other car. Gilbert was practically turning omersaults when the scoutmaster came over and asked, "so you prayed to win, huh, Gilbert?"

"Oh no sir," Gilbert replied. "It wouldn't be fair to ask God to help you beat someone else.
I asked not to cry if I lost."

touch me

Sometimes I forget.

I am alone so much, and I handle it well. I like it most of the time. I'm ok.

Then, someone touches me. Really touches me. And I melt. I don't expect to. I think I'm completely under control. I don't even realize how much I miss being touched. Then that touch wakes me up and drags me under.

Tuesday night. The day wasn't anything special. Nice, fun, clicking but not in the big fireworks kind of way. 12 hours of comfortable talking, chatting, exploring, getting to know each other. Not a single touch. Not a kiss. Just a friendly comfort.

Then the touch.

I was stretched out with my back to the door of the car. I stretched my legs towards him and put them on the seat. He reached down and picked up my feet and put them in his lap and started rubbing. Not hard rubbing like a massage. Just stroking my feet and legs, touching, feeling.

And I melted. I slid down in the seat. I closed my eyes. He said something about me fading, falling asleep. And I laughed because there was no danger of falling asleep. Instead, I was savoring the sensation of his hands on my bare skin. Wanting his hands to move higher, to touch, to explore, to pleasure. He offered to let me spend the night in his guest room. And I thought, right now, if he leaned over here and kissed me, soft and gentle, then harder, taking my breath away, that hand rubbing my calf moving up to my thigh, I would beg to go home with him. Or beg him to take me there.

And he never noticed. He put me in my car and sent me home, wanting to be touched more. Imagining being stretched out naked on the bed while he stroked my back, flat palm to my bare skin. Then my thighs. My stomach. My breasts. ::::sigh::::

Since then, I have wanted to go back for more. To finish what he started. To be touched. Because I didn't realize how much I missed being touched until he touched me. Now I'm restless.

I offered to cook him dinner. He said it sounded great. But I have barely heard from him since, no invitation to come over this weekend to cook dinner, no phone call. ::::sigh:::: And honestly, he's not my type. No future there at all. But I wish he had called.

I really just want to spend the night being touched.

insecurity

Yesterday it really hit me just how insecure I am.

A friend mentioned a dating service to help "smart" people meet. I thought I would check it out. It's still in it's infant stages but interesting.

I don't really think I'm going to find my soulmate online but I filled out a profile.

Then I realized just how insecure I am!

Was I going to sound smart enough to get my profile accepted?

And if it was accepted, would I sound smart enough to get a date? Would I sound like a ditzy average chick trying to pass as an intellectual?

Then the bad thing happened. I was embarassed that I never finished college. Embarassed enough that I was tempted to lie about it!

I didn't lie. But then I sat there looking at profiles realizing that all these PHD college professors weren't going to be interested in a woman who didn't even managed a BS unless she's young, gorgeous and has big boobs. I'm not smart enough to be their equal and definitely not a trophy wife.

How depressing!

I know, I know. I'll find my place in life. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find someone to share it with. It's what I really want. But in the meantime, it's really hard to keep those insecurities at bay.

40

I'm turning 40.

No big deal, right?

My baby just graduated high school, so I don't have 'kids' to parent anymore.

My husband left me so I'm single (or at least trying to be).

Time to create a new life.

A whole great big new life. From scratch.

I think I need to ring in this new decade of my life with a bang. Something big.

Maybe a road trip to the grand canyon with a virtual stranger.

Now that would be memorable.