Over a month ago I was working on my willpower and determination to try not to eat any cakes, cookies, pastries, etc., for Lent. I was trying to sacrifice something that would be difficult in trying to emulate Jesus’ ultimate sacrifice.
I was proud of myself. I wasn’t tempted as badly as I thought I would be. And I made it through half of the Lenten period when a friend told me that the sacrificial period doesn’t include weekends. And that a priest even told her this information! I was so upset because I couldn’t believe there was such a loophole to a relatively good deed. Yes, I understand there are more than 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter. But I thought it was supposed to make the time longer so that we had more time to stretch out the sacrifice. Nope, wrong again.
Well, regardless of finding out this information, I will continue to give up or do something helpful next year. It was a little disappointing is all.
Friday, April 30, 2010
A Good Sport
It’s amazing at times the things we do for other people. Mothers are often known to do extraordinary things (jumping in front of cars) to save their children. Some family members give their organs to other family members to help them live healthier lives. It’s really lovely to see these altruistic actions.
Recently a few other ladies and myself were bridesmaids for a friend of ours. It was an honor to be in her wedding party. We wore lovely strapless merlot-colored dresses. We walked in with men wearing kilts and it was fun. However, it was a really cold day to be wearing hardly any clothing!
But we do these things for our friends regardless of our better judgment. We are good sports for those we care about.
Recently a few other ladies and myself were bridesmaids for a friend of ours. It was an honor to be in her wedding party. We wore lovely strapless merlot-colored dresses. We walked in with men wearing kilts and it was fun. However, it was a really cold day to be wearing hardly any clothing!
But we do these things for our friends regardless of our better judgment. We are good sports for those we care about.
Rays
Grey clouds hover
Overhead
My bones are cold
From the rain
And the sadness
Thoughts rush through
Why do I need to
Continue
Why do I keep
Living like this
Weeks of misery
Tears fall for no reason
Steps are so heavy
My muscles refuse
To move any more
No more hope
No more happiness
Success only to see great
Mourning
I am lost
Don’t know where to go
What to do.
The hole in my heart
Grows bigger every day
I bathe it in alcohol
To cure the cut
But the sting
Is always there.
No one to share my feelings
Pretend to be great on the
Outside
When the interior feels horrible
I love the clown
I am the clown
Torrential downpours
It grows colder
I climb into the
Fetal position
Where I am safe.
Safe from what?
Those that love me are
Fading away
They tell me repeatedly
But I’m not listening.
I don’t hear.
“life is not easy. It takes
courage
to get up everyday.”
I push them all away.
Silence surrounds me
No kind faces
To be seen
I have brought this on myself
I pushed them all
Away.
The light comes through
The window
Finally sunshine
After so much darkness
Beams shine off
The golden spires
Doubling the light
Surrounding
The world outside
My little hermit
Hole.
Drinking doesn’t call to me
It doesn’t control me any more
Need to feel the
Warmth on my face.
A day of sunshine
Is all I need to know
After periods of darkness,
Now there is hope.
Overhead
My bones are cold
From the rain
And the sadness
Thoughts rush through
Why do I need to
Continue
Why do I keep
Living like this
Weeks of misery
Tears fall for no reason
Steps are so heavy
My muscles refuse
To move any more
No more hope
No more happiness
Success only to see great
Mourning
I am lost
Don’t know where to go
What to do.
The hole in my heart
Grows bigger every day
I bathe it in alcohol
To cure the cut
But the sting
Is always there.
No one to share my feelings
Pretend to be great on the
Outside
When the interior feels horrible
I love the clown
I am the clown
Torrential downpours
It grows colder
I climb into the
Fetal position
Where I am safe.
Safe from what?
Those that love me are
Fading away
They tell me repeatedly
But I’m not listening.
I don’t hear.
“life is not easy. It takes
courage
to get up everyday.”
I push them all away.
Silence surrounds me
No kind faces
To be seen
I have brought this on myself
I pushed them all
Away.
The light comes through
The window
Finally sunshine
After so much darkness
Beams shine off
The golden spires
Doubling the light
Surrounding
The world outside
My little hermit
Hole.
Drinking doesn’t call to me
It doesn’t control me any more
Need to feel the
Warmth on my face.
A day of sunshine
Is all I need to know
After periods of darkness,
Now there is hope.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Old Blue Eyes
A couple of weeks ago the Mexican and I went to see the new Twyla Tharp musical inspired by Frank Sinatra’s music. I had such a great time. Seeing all the dancing happening on stage made me want to jump out of my seat and twirl and swing.
The musical showed the action between a few couples during one night in a club. The couples danced while Sinatra’s songs were piped through the theatre. It was infectious. The Mexican even wanted to learn how to play the trumpet.
My desire to see this was due to having seen one of Tharp’s other productions “Movin’ Out’ a few years ago. I thoroughly enjoyed that production because of the cleverness of the story being told through the music and dance. ‘Come Fly Away’ may not have touched me as much as ‘Movin’ Out’ probably because I feel more closely linked to Billy Joel’s music than Sinatra’s. But it did reawaken memories of my dad listening and singing to Old Blue Eyes when I was younger.
Even if you are younger than me, it’s worth getting familiar with Frank Sinatra through this medium. His music has stood the test of time and it is ubiquitous. I remembered some commercials and tv shows that used his music in my youth only to realize now that they were Sinatra’s pieces. It’s a fun show and for two hours a lesson in the dance and a mind frame of a different time.
The musical showed the action between a few couples during one night in a club. The couples danced while Sinatra’s songs were piped through the theatre. It was infectious. The Mexican even wanted to learn how to play the trumpet.
My desire to see this was due to having seen one of Tharp’s other productions “Movin’ Out’ a few years ago. I thoroughly enjoyed that production because of the cleverness of the story being told through the music and dance. ‘Come Fly Away’ may not have touched me as much as ‘Movin’ Out’ probably because I feel more closely linked to Billy Joel’s music than Sinatra’s. But it did reawaken memories of my dad listening and singing to Old Blue Eyes when I was younger.
Even if you are younger than me, it’s worth getting familiar with Frank Sinatra through this medium. His music has stood the test of time and it is ubiquitous. I remembered some commercials and tv shows that used his music in my youth only to realize now that they were Sinatra’s pieces. It’s a fun show and for two hours a lesson in the dance and a mind frame of a different time.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Control Top
This entry is validating the old adage of ‘be careful what you wish for’. A couple of weeks ago in the entry ‘Motherly Advice’, I mentioned that I asked my mom to help me fix a dress I’m wearing for my friend’s wedding. Seeing that my mom was a seamstress for a long time, I figured she could help me out with this task. It would give her something to do.
But boy did I open a can of worms when I asked her to help me out. Since then my mom has been nagging me to wear a girdle or something to keep my flab in place. Every time I call her, she inserts one of the following comments:
“I can buy you a good girdle if you don’t have one.”
“A good girdle helps when all you do is sit all day.”
“The underwear you wear doesn’t hold you in like a good girdle.”
It’s really maddening. When I could ignore it before, now the constant barrage of control top pantyhose and a good girdle is slowing driving me insane. I’m convinced this is her way of getting even for all my years of rebelling. But honestly, there has to be a better road to insanity than via the good girdle tactic, don’t you think?
Nevertheless, I should have known better than to try to get my mom to help me. It always ends up being a long dramatic production. I’m sure in the past they didn’t involve a good girdle but they had their theme for that particular moment in time.
But boy did I open a can of worms when I asked her to help me out. Since then my mom has been nagging me to wear a girdle or something to keep my flab in place. Every time I call her, she inserts one of the following comments:
“I can buy you a good girdle if you don’t have one.”
“A good girdle helps when all you do is sit all day.”
“The underwear you wear doesn’t hold you in like a good girdle.”
It’s really maddening. When I could ignore it before, now the constant barrage of control top pantyhose and a good girdle is slowing driving me insane. I’m convinced this is her way of getting even for all my years of rebelling. But honestly, there has to be a better road to insanity than via the good girdle tactic, don’t you think?
Nevertheless, I should have known better than to try to get my mom to help me. It always ends up being a long dramatic production. I’m sure in the past they didn’t involve a good girdle but they had their theme for that particular moment in time.
Secret Service
Just in time for the deadline I went to my local bank branch to put money into my IRA account yesterday. Yes, I know…last minute. But honestly I needed to make sure what I was saving had moved to the proper account so I could make the transfer. I went into the bank and dealt with the representative. He asked me to input my social security number into the keypad while he looked away.
The act of him looking away, as if to not see what I was punching into the keypad, struck me as ridiculous. Come on, I know that the minute I hit enter on that keypad, my social security number appeared on the screen. Maybe it was hidden or partially covered but still it was odd to me. It reminded me of those people who cover their eyes during horror movies but still peek through their fingers to see what is happening.
Just thought I’d mention that…maybe someone else has noticed this stuff and it’s made them chuckle as well.
The act of him looking away, as if to not see what I was punching into the keypad, struck me as ridiculous. Come on, I know that the minute I hit enter on that keypad, my social security number appeared on the screen. Maybe it was hidden or partially covered but still it was odd to me. It reminded me of those people who cover their eyes during horror movies but still peek through their fingers to see what is happening.
Just thought I’d mention that…maybe someone else has noticed this stuff and it’s made them chuckle as well.
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