Tuesday, August 30, 2005

A costly affair

Forgetfulness can be a costly affair!

I spent a small fortune in time and money yesterday delivering a letter personally, due to having forgotten to post it last Friday.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

There is genius in everyone - (To be cont.)

"Have no fear of perfection - you'll never reach it."

- Salvador Dali
"I have often said, we can always give hope. And with hope, perhaps the strength, spirit and energy to fight and the will to overcome."
"What better way to start the day than with a little Jimmy Cliff."

- Trée
"Don't compromise yourself. You are all you've got."

- Janis Joplin
"Faces may launch a thousand ships, but boobies will move mountains."

-Ms Munkay

"Wake Up and Live!"

- Bob Marley
"go fly a kite in the park."

- Scipio
"We abuse land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect. "

- Aldo Leopold
"Every stranger can be an inspiration in some unique way that would help you to grow, only if you open the gates to your heart."

- Keshi
"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt."

-William Skakespeare
"Ignorance and prejudice
And fear walk hand in hand..."

- Cygnus003 (Virgilreality)
"Yes, I do touch. I believe that everyone needs that."

- Diana, Princess of Wales
"We all have the power within us to change the world."

- Justin Thyme
"Peace is not absence of conflict, it is the ability to handle conflict by peaceful means."

- Ronald Reagan
"Take no shit, take no prisoners."


"Nobody is as powerful as we make them out to be."
-Alice Walker
"go and make some memories with the people you cherish most!"

- Dlynne
"We must free ourselves of the hope that the sea will ever rest. We must learn to sail in high winds."

- Aristotle Onassis
"Karma's a bitch and she shows no mercy."

- Linny

"I'm a citizen of the world. I like it that way. The world's a wonderful place. I just think that some people are pretty badly represented. But when you speak to the people themselves they're delightful. They all want so little."
"Marriage is a wonderful invention: then again, so is a bicycle repair kit."

- Billy Connolly
"You never have your camera with you when you're about to be abducted by aliens, clip Bigfoot with your Cadillac or see three midgets carrying surfboards."

- Tony Calabrese
"When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us."

- Alexander Graham Bell
"Life is lived only by doing"

- Sweetbabyk
"Nothing is a waste of time if you use the experience wisely."

- Auguste Rodin
"You know what puts me in a good mood?
My four boyfriends from England. John. Ringo. George. Paul."

- Evercurious
"if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything."

- Muhammed Ali
"I have had such an incredible day. Exhausting and energizing."

- Karen
"The things we truly love stay with us always, locked in our hearts as long as life remains."

- Josephine Baker

Good people

I never pay attention to horoscopes though I do have a compulsion to read them, whenever I come across one. Today is the exception, I heeded every word. It read:

You are being blessed,
in ways you don't yet fully understand,
by a sky that has only your best interests at heart.
There are good people around you.
Very true and undeniably spooky!

Friday, August 26, 2005

Dirty laundry

Guilt with a capitol G. Actually, Guilt with capitol GUILT. How to be forgiven, until one has confessed.

Bless me, fore I have sinned. I have never confessed, so here goes...

I let myself get sick. I didn't feel like I had any choice, certainly I could not stop it. I have no idea, where it came from and have no intention of trying to figure it out. That would not be good, I fear.

From age 5, or rather this is when I was able to acknowlege it at a 5-year-old level, I did not like myself. I did not like my appearance.

As I grew older, I had different names for it. All of them secret. People didn't guess, at least nobody ever spoke to me. I've asked them since, whether I showed signs, and there was a resounding "No!" Didn't realize, I was a good actress - I should have gone to Hollywood.

It came to a head, when I fell in love. I fell in love because of it. And I fell in love with completely the wrong guy, because of it.

He was smart! As smart as he was a dunce. He had one talent - making those who didn't, feel special.

As I look back now, I see how I was groomed. I had dealt with these sorts of relationships from the outside, and never believed I would end up as one of them.

I never imagined, I would take their place
Those women that I knew
The ones to which I had presented my case
The ones that took my cue
I never imagined, I would be in that situation
Of not knowing which step to make
Which way to turn for much-needed help
For mine and my baby's sake
Mine was not like the stories I heard
I will not be compared
Of willing forgiveness full of haste
Of sanity impaired
I fought each day with all my might
Still it has a voice
Fore somewhere in that deep dark place
I must have made the choice
I taunt myself and rattle my cage
The rat-a-tat-tat of why
What possible reason could I have had
For letting the both of us cry
Logic battles emotion and steams ahead
I did the best I could
With what I had and who I was
I did that they should

Groomed, I say, as if going down a check-off list. Giving a little much-needed love and then taking it away. Holding my arms and tickling me to see how much I could fight. Testing me and asking me, and saving the answers for a later date.

I couldn't see - I was blind. My mind was focused inward and had been for 17 years.

Suddenly everything happened at once.
In my mind and upon my person. I had hate for me and had had it for years, and now he too seemed to hate me. It became too much - I could not deal with that too. My spirit was broken and my mind was weak.
The real label came later. It was BDD. Body Dismorphic Disorder. In my mind, I was wrong. I thought, I was ugly, morbidly so.

Thoughts kept coming into my head. Plans on how to change myself. I stopped, when I considered a burn scar body was better than I had. I knew then, I was too far gone. It happened quickly at the end, considering all the years of slow build-up. My man catapulted me to this state. His psycosis flamed mine.

Your smile was never pure and true
Never there for simple pleasure
It only came when lashing out
This is what you treasure
I'll never comprehend how
A person can spend their life
Always on the look-out
For fights and other strife
Your happiness stems from weird things
You feel at your best when
Hurting those that surround you
Be it foe or be it friend
There was a brief moment in time
When I let you in and near
When I let you do onto me
When I gave you every tear
And so I regret for the rest of time
Those days that I was there
It lives forever in my soul
A greater pain to bear

I went to the doctor - told him I was worried about myself, and he listened for all of 3 minutes and got me an appointment to see a psychologist a few hours later. I went three times - I still didn't open up.

Then I realized, I was pregnant. My wake up occured there and then. I stopped going to the shrink, and I cured myself.

A previous post entitled "If I may be so bold, I would like to offer advice to those without self-esteem" explains it:

I've been "next blog"ging recently (sincerely hope you guys don't mind my turning my comments on your sites into a blog on mine), and it saddens me to see, how many secretly unhappy people are in the blogasphere. Their feelings are valid, simply because they are genuine, but I doubt any of them have reason to feel the way they do. A lack of self-esteem has to be one of the most debilitating mindsets. I've been there and done that, so feel I have some authority on the subject. In other words, I can understand some of where they are coming from and wish I could assure each of them, that there is a way out of the hole they are in.
It would without doubt be one of the hardest struggles they would ever undertake, but the rewards would be unsurpassable.
Loneliness is a state of mind, not a physical predicament. One could be surrounded by dozens upon dozens of loving friends and relatives and it would not make a blind bit of difference, if that person feels that nobody understands their thoughts and feelings.
Positive thinking is the wonder cure many of us are searching for. It is entirely possible to change one's perception of self through active choice, to (if I may be cliche) learn to love oneself. It is an absolute must, if one is to reach full potential in any aspect of life. It may take a while, it may take a long while, but the end result will be more than worthy of the journey.
Imagine being weighed down by a boulder, almost impossible to drag in it's entirety, every step and every breath one takes, all one can think about is this great weight. To finally realize, something needs to be done before there is nowhere left to go but out. There is nobody to help but oneself, in fact there may be people actually offering to secure the boulder each time it slips just a touch. Chipping away bit by tiny bit, blood and sweat and plenty of tears, feelings of having taken on an impossible task that may never be successful, until finally all one is left with is dust. The relief is unimaginable, and sure, a spec of dust may once in a while return on a breeze, but it's decidedly easier to flick off a spec, so long as it is not allowed to fester and stain.
Hating oneself often is accompanied by wanting to harm oneself. It need not be physically, but can also be emotionally. Not letting anyone get close, perhaps even actively pushing people away through acts of unkindness. For whatever reason, the pain can help. If one manages to alienate a would-be comrade, one's own feelings of being undeserving of affection are validated and the feeling of being right is welcomed with pleasure.
It doesn't matter how many people profess to love you, if one feels unworthy of being loved, it will seem like a lie. After all, how could they possibly when there is nothing lovable anywhere inside? Your eyes are cloaked and your vision impaired. It may sound rediculous, but the first step is to admit and accept that there are people out there worse than you. Everyday one comes into contact with people or hears about others who have said or done something that one would never do. Cherish this thought. I wouldn't do that to another, therefore I am a better person than they. Mentally pat yourself on the back for the good and admirable things that you do and have done. Fight the negative feelings with all your might, and never stop...it's an ongoing battle, but in time it will take up less and less of your day, until eventually it will only rear it's ugly head on the odd occasion.
It is possible.
Believe and trust.

I used my man. I had believed everyone to be better than me. I started with him. I was better than him!

By the end, I had been through unimaginable acts of despicable, down-right evil acts. But why was I there?

My baby. He would cut open my belly, he said, and held the knife there to prove it. He would kick my belly, until it died, he told me, and kicked me lower to prove it. Whereever I went, whatever I did, he would find us, break the window, come through to the bedroom, slit her throat and then mine. He held the knife to my throat to prove it.

What is it like to be so rediculously afraid of another person, that you are more afraid to leave than you are if you stay. I know, but I cannot explain it.

And so my baby was born and things changed. He was nice. And I was getting stronger, part was me, part was my baby. Things were looking up.

And then they took a nose-dive.
"I'm going to kill you, you f***ing bitch!"
To which my reply was "Then bloody well get on with it, you idiot!"
And he did, begin to kill me, that is.
He got pretty close, and then he stopped. And we walked home to his sister, who was baby-sitting. I asked her to take the baby and run, she called the police, and he was arrested.

When asked, if I wanted to press charges, I panicked. He'd kill us, was my thought. No, was my voice. Thought so, was the look I got from the weathered policeman, typical!

And I was, in the beginning, until I got pregnant. Then I fought, with all my might, in my mind against my self-image and with my body against him. Trouble was, all he had to do was threaten my belly. More frightened to leave...

We moved into a flat, my baby and me.
He attacked the both of us. Guilt with a capitol GUILT. My child, of my womb. My child, I am meant to protect. My child, I love with all of my being and all of my soul.
He attacked my child.

I ran. I ran the day, I became more frightened of staying, than I was of leaving.

Behind I left my debilitating self-image. It was gone, I had cured it in the midst of all of this. I left behind my things, her things, pictures, heirlooms, everything, and took what mattered, her. I left behind the unbeaten, hopeful, unraped me, and took with me strength at having survived. I took with me finally the feeling of being better. I took with me hate, sadness, regret and the desire to avenge. I took the biggest wall and surrounded myself with it, from where I could stand and watch the enermies approach.

I truly did not think, he would really hurt her, but he did. I took the guilt of knowing, she was there to be hurt, because I hadn't taken her away earlier.

And an inibility to live with it. So, I strenghtened up even more.

I focused on the fact that on the most rediculous scale, he had not hurt her much. She had not been bruised. Who knows what effect it had on her psychologically, but she was not bruised.

I focused on us. Built a life, built myself up to a point, where I liked myself. Did the best I could for my baby. Was a great mum. She is knowledgable, because I taught her. She is artistic, because I taught her. She is loving, because I loved her. Built myself, to a satisfactory point. Emotionless, except for her.

I did not care, what people thought. Love me, like me, loathe me, hate me, be indifferent. I did not care, because all I needed, I had. I had what mattered, my own love and that of my baby.

And then, I began to care. I began to care about the wall I was living behind. It didn't look that attractive anymore. I'd meet men at the wall, but no farther than that.
I wanted to be more open. To face the world with a welcoming smile on my face. To get past the past. To get my revenge, by living well.

I've felt your hands on my body, felt the cold edge of MORTAL fear
I've felt COMPLETE desolation, felt it over and over down the years
I've known what it was to love, known too, what it meant to HATE
Some things that happened are EVEN this minute too hard to contemplate
Physical PAIN subsides quickly, it is almost like it was never even there
The bruises on the inside, however, ARE significantly harder to bear
What's worst through it all, the thing I wish MOST I could deny
Is that EVEN after so much time, it has a power I cannot defy
I HATE that I seem unable to overcome, that I THINK of it each day
That its STILL a topic of conversation, a part of the I, I portray
I LOATHE how stupid that makes me feel, how WEAK to waste so vainly
Yesterday, today and tomorrow, no matter how MANY times I say
No more, you WORTHLESS, DESPICABLE, PUTRID excuse for a human being
NEVER again will I let YOU reach your hands over distance, through time
I've finished LETTING those fingers thread around my neck, and CHOKING
Every rational thought, rhyme or reason from my irrepressibly STUBBORN mind.

I actually managed to finally do that! I finally got rid of him from my mind.

And then I realized, I want to be loved. "Everybody wants to be loved, you know."
With that came an openess, a willingness to lay myself bare, to take the risk.
It backfired!

I found myself wondering, "what will they think of me?" They, as in everyone I allow into my heart, my life and my space.
I was reminded, there are people in this world, who focus 100% on others - do as much as they can for others. I was reminded, that I do harm to others. And began to question - how good am I really? Did I have the right to think I was better than anyone else?

And now I am scared, fore this is how I felt then. I know, I will not allow myself to become infested, but I did miss the fleck of dust as it settled and there is now a stain. Its a hard one to wash out. It is stubborn beyond belief.

And all the time, I was doing just fine. I had broken the circle, only to be pulled back towards it now.
I won't sink.
But the constant thinking about me is tiresome. I should be doing for others. Those in pain, those who are sick, those who are suffering.
All that is wrong with me, is guilt. And until I admitted that, openly, I would not be able to begin dealing with it.

Bless me fore I have sinned. I put my daughter, unintentionally, in harms way many moons ago. I'm looking for my peace, but first I must face my guilt. I understand why it has come here with such presence, that it will teach me and take me to pastures new, perhaps even let me finally find my peace with it all.

This is the one.
The one I have been writing drafts for all these months.
I do not need advice.
I don't want pity.
I don't need understanding.

I just need to admit my sin.
And find peace with my guilt.

I don't want to be compared to people who are depressed. I've been there and done that.
I'm just fine and dandy - just doing a bit of emotional dirty laundry.
Washing the slate clean.

Hej DK Borger

Jeg har en taeller, og kan se du har vaeret her mange gange i loebet af de sidste par dage. Jeg er blevet enorm nysgerrig efter at vide, hvem du er og om du har din egen blog?
MVH Autumn :-)

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Weathering the WAKE UP call

As Florida awaits the wrath of Katrina,
Japan awaits the wrath of Mawar and
central & southern Europe copes with fatal floods,
this is what yesterday's storm
unleashed upon me

The useless circle

In the beginning, when comments were a non-factor, it never occured or mattered to me, what potential readers might deduce about my personality. I would still be hard-pressed to allow, I am becoming a comment junkie with a preference for the good stuff, but I have deliberately reclined from talking my thoughts out here, as per normal, in recent days. On the back of the happy post, an honest revelation would have given away, I am case-study material for fluctuating moods and opinions. Suddenly, it became one thing for me to write/read about this, and another thing for others to.

Ironically, some of the inhabitants of blogland are, indirectly and only in part, the reason I have fallen from the high, I was feeling a few days ago. (Mainly through my admiration of their content/theme).

Firstly, I have been reminded several times and in a variety of ways, I am not perfect. "Nobody is perfect" is my own comment to this statement, yet being a complete anal retentive in regards to my desire to be so, I hate being reminded, I am depressingly far from it. As a result, I have been putting my faults under a microscope, and when anything is looked at that closely, even the smallest of particles come into focus.

Before moving on, a quote from Justin's blog:

"I have always said when one comes to an epiphhany about themselves or about life, the universe has a way of throwing a stumbling block in your path to test your newfound beliefs and convictions. Does one revert back to a mentality of cynicism, grief and despair, or does one stand firm[...]".

Secondly, letting go of various long-established behavioural patterns is causing no end of internal conflict. Accusations of neediness and even louder accusations of unworthyness (How much do I really do for others? How nice a person am I really? I am far from perfect!) are locked together in a great battle of self-preoccupation. These petty thoughts yield in turn a distinct aversion to this part of my character that screams 'self-obsessed', and so it continues round and around.

I seem to be annoying myself from every direction and at every turn!
At this moment, it is my hesitance in pressing Publish Post.
What will they think?!

Wednesday, August 24, 2005


All things technical tend to frighten me at first, until I figure them out with perserverence ;o).
Anyway, today, I am going to do my best to create links to other blogs.
Wish me luck!

. . . success!

Links so far, feel free to offer alternative descriptions, if those featured do not please.
To those, I will be adding a.s.a.p., feel free to offer suggestions.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Oh happy days

I've come full circle in recent days like I always do, when faced with a seemingly impossible curveball. It's the very improbability of my being able to bat it out of the ballpark that does it for me every time. The ironic idiosyncrasy of this type of pickle is emphasized by the very act of trying to avoid it, and sure as day, the largest aspect that takes root in my mind is the humour of it all.

Smiles and laughter and those little burst of joy that spring forth from the heart and make us catch our breath in moments of ecstacy have been catching me unawares constantly for a good 48 hours. I feel great! I feel happy, and sure there will be two weeks of moronic bumbling coming up in the near future, but in the vast scheme of things, it is but a hiccup.

After the above, I have to laugh some more - at myself and my initial full-speed leap into panic-mode. Looking around at what other people are dealing with - gosh, who was I to complain! I'm blessed in so many ways.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Spreading the word

Click the link below to Karen's blog for new information regarding the importance of regular breast screening as opposed to self-examination;


I had not caught this information as yet in the media, so have Karen to thank for educating me. Hopefully, it shall be common knowledge a.s.a.p.

The Spirit of Boys Town

He ain't heavy, He's my brother
The road is long
with many a winding turn
that leads us to who knows where,
who knows where.
But I'm strong,
strong enough to carry him.
He ain't heavy,
he's my brother
So on we go.
His welfare is my concern.
No burden is he to bear,
we'll get there.
For I know
he would not encumber me.
He ain't heavy,
he's my brother.
If I'm laden at all,
I'm laden with sadness
that everyone's heart
isn't filled with the gladness
of love for one another.
It's a long, long road
from which there is no return.
While we're on the way to there,
why not share?
And the load
doesn't weigh me down at all.
He ain't heavy,
he's my brother.
He ain't heavy,
he's my brother...
I love this song equally for the message it conveys
and for the beautiful memories
it triggers of the brother I lost.

Some simple pleasures

The aroma of freshly-ground coffee
Last paragraph of an excellent book
A big-spender shopping spree
A welcomed flirtatious look
Learning something interesting and new
The energising warmth of sunshine
Looking out upon an ocean view
A lovely bottle of red wine
Dancing to the Bee Gees beat
Chocolate in any shape or form
The thankful lack of crows feet
Having shelter during a storm
Letters arriving in the postbox
Decadent desserts like banoffee pie
Watching waves crash against the rocks
Staring up at the starry midnight sky
Christmas morning watching the children
Singing along to favourite tunes
Humorous, kind, wonderful men
Lazy Sunday afternoons
Going to the theatre to watch a play
Memories of loved ones no longer here
Sliding down snowy hills on a sleigh
The quenching swig of an ice cold beer
Paintings one never gets tired of viewing
Compliments, flowers, words on a card
The re-birth that comes with spring
A nice surprise that catches off-guard

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Those poor boys

It's amazing what children will believe or imagine, until they know better.
I remember asking my mother at the age of 4, where I had come from, and her telling me, she and my father had made me.


I imagined them sitting down one evening, deciding to make a baby and getting out the nuts and bolts, hammers and screwdrivers.

I also remember feeling incredibly lucky that I was a girl, since girls were made of sugar and spice and all things nice, compared to boys, who consisted of snips and snails, and puppy dogs tails (nursery rhyme). Ewww! I felt really sorry for boys!

A blogpal said, it's nice to have a face to put to a name, and I had to agree after seeing his, so here is an exclusive of the product that particular evening's activities produced ;o).

I'm usually the one running around taking snaps of everyone, and I realized this is about the only picture I have of myself that isn't a decade old. So, :-) , please excuse the shiny forhead - it was a particularly hot day!

Friday, August 19, 2005


Today's sad realization :
I have absolutely no talent for writing limmericks.

Hence these were the creme of the crop;

There once was a woman called Autumn
Who hated the mere thought of boredom
She hitched up her skirt
Directed eyes full of flirt
And snagged a hot scotsman named Bertram.

There once was a woman from London
Given the come-on too often by a Don Juan
When she finally gave in
She was left with a grin
Fore his bravado had been nothing but a slip-on


So there I was, cautiously logging onto the internet, new to this vast web of information, bearing in mind tales of worms and weirdos, and my niece let me read her blog. It was great. The idea appealed immensely, a space to call my own, where I could say anything I wanted and I did not have to consider whether or not the listener was bored silly. I had my own 10 minutes later. It wasn't about being read, simply about getting things said.
Since then, I have stumbled across other blogs and others have stumbled across mine, and a new web of connection and interaction has emerged.
Somethings I have read have had a huge impact upon me, somethings I have written have been kindly appreciated.
I haven't come across a single weirdo.
Instead, I have seen some of the biggest hearts.

"Everyone wants to be loved you know"

The blogesphere: A place to talk and if you wish, a place to listen and to join the domino set-up of inspiration and triggered contemplation. A place for incoherent ramblings that need make sense to no-one but the person writing them.

"Everyone wants to be loved you know" was one sentence in a post, I read today. I read it, and gave up the fight.

OK, ok, I admit it! I want to be loved.

I'm surprised nobody guessed anyway, since my confession about the romance novels. I'm an ol' romantic at heart waiting to love and be loved. I've just been actively denying it even to myself, courtesy of several reasons to be found throughout these pages, but I was, waiting that is. I'll admit it.

I'm not sure, what it is I expected to happen at some unknown point in the future. I expected a lot of things for reasons I cannot warrant to anything other than wishful thinking. I was not dreamy enough to be unaware that life is one great uncertainty (the beauty of it) and there are no promises. But I was enough of a dreamer, however, to never loose hope. I doubt, I would have felt differently in 5, 10 or 20 years, though of this I also cannot be certain.

I used to dream, as so many do, about the future (on tiptoes), when I was a little girl. They didn't seem or feel like mere hopeful ponderings, and I have since wondered, whether everyone simply dreamt the way I did. It was more like a gut instinct, wholly trust-worthy, of the things laid out in front. It has never mattered that there would be twists and turns along the way or lessons to be learned, fore all of those had their higher purpose too. Every meaning would become clear.

I still dreamt in this way about the future as an adult and all that I hoped to achieve in life, but in place of blind faith, a niggling doubt took up residence namely whether all this was simply the product of my partiality to neatness. My belief in the system. A system of order that I would be able to figure. An order, where everything has its place.

Along the way, I sketched the root of my emotional wants (not needs! - was not ready to admit those just yet) as stemming from one source. Sounding much too much even within my private thought-process like I was lying on a couch listening to the scratch of pen on paper, I owned that the love that should have been most natural was never mine to feel. I whined briefly to the source about this a long, long time ago to no avail. Whining, I hope, is not what I seem to be doing now.

What I am doing is realizing there have been reasons...
Reasons why I never shared.
Reasons why strength became most important.
Reasons why I looked too hard to the future.
Reasons why I got trapped in a particular relationship.
Reasons why one sentence made me less afraid to admit the truth.
Reasons why I gushed love everywhere I went. In everything I did.
And still, there I was waiting and unable to fathom why, it never gushed all over me.

I have realized, why that is.
I have been rejecting it, without knowing it until now. I have, I suddenly see so clearly as I re-visit past events, turned or stepped or run away, whenever anyone came close. That that convinces me of this truth more than anything else is, the one time when love would certainly be rejected with bitter consequences, the one time when I was sure to have my philosophy confirmed, I offered it without delay.

I've helped and hugged and laughed and cried with friends, but I have never let them do that for me. I didn't need that. I could take care of myself, whatever came my way. I did and I have. I could take care of me, my daughter and anyone else, who needed care.
How proud I was of myself!
I didn't think, how my pride deprived those surrounding of feeling needed by me.
And I didn't realize the injustice I was doing myself.
So, I admit it.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Golf balls

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the coffee...
A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full.
They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was. The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.
Of course, the sand filled up everything else.

He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes". The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand.
The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things---your God, your family, your children, your health, your friends, your favourite passions---things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, and your car.
The sand is everything else - the small stuff."

"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.
The same goes for life.
If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal"

"Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend."

(a re-post, to remind myself, and because none of us can ever be reminded too often)

Half and half make a whole

I am not half as good as I wish I was.
But I am not half as bad as I sometimes feel I am.
And those two halfs, keep me on my toes working towards being a better person.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Count your blessings

I really, really do!
I have been close enough to hell on earth to be eternally thankful for every good thing in my life. I have the things that, if I had nothing else, I would still be fine. I'm feeling very blessed, constantly, in so many ways, and I am being reminded, constantly, in so many ways, just how fortunate I am.
I never forget it, I really, really don't.
But just now, in this hour, I'm in the first part of my process of dealing with any major set back. I'm feeling sorry for myself. I hate that, but I allow it, briefly, because I know, I need it. It's my way forward, but it still annoys the hell out of me!
It really, really does!
What comes next, from the annoyance and sense of injustice is a monstrous anger at myself, for feeling down about something that is not a major tragedy! From that anger, I find the will to deal with the as yet seemingly invincible problem, and if it truly cannot be solved, the will to accept whatever will be.
I am so upset, so full of contemptible self-pity, so overly-tired, and I should have just gone to bed, instead of writing this post.
Apologies in advance to anyone reading this!

Quick update :o)

Smiles are contagious,
Naked faces make new acquaintances,
One acquaintance has the potential to become an interesting friend ;-)

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Abide the time

I cannot abide by idle threats. If someone threatens to do something, do it!
If not, then for pities sake shut up!

This particular vexation is at its strongest with regards to those who threaten suicide.

Understand me right, when I say, I am not talking about people for whom this is a very serious and private reflection and that I have sympathy for the tortured souls, who are unable to see any other escape route or simply are in so much pain, death becomes certain relief.

The thing with suicide is, if one really intends to do it, there is no need to fail.
An unspoken attempt is a cry for help, and for this I too have understanding.

At the same time as I feel this discernment, it is rather difficult to grasp that anyone would willingly give up tomorrow unknowing of what it will bring. But I guess, yesterday just became all that mattered.

What I cannot comprehend, in the slightest, is the use some make of this serious threat as a means of gain.

Picture this:
Woman has done something very wrong and she knows it. She does not want to take responsibility for her actions and she does not want to suffer any consequences or redeem herself in anyway. She is afraid that her husband will leave her, due to the severity of what she has done to him. She wants her husband to forgive her and she wants her grown children to plead her case, so she tells them; "If your father leaves me, I will kill myself, as without him I will have nothing left to live for!"

How does that make the children feel?

What is their worth in the eyes of their mother?

Who would blame them, if she were lost to them anyway after that day?

Monday, August 15, 2005

Question: How much is enough?


When it is in the name of a good cause, it is never enough!
Every person working towards making things better is making a huge difference.

people are busy and often do not have as much time as they perhaps would like
to devote to philanthropic pursuits, so imagine if there was a way
of helping a worthy cause without having to lift a finger
or contribute a penny.
There would be no reason not to!
For that reason, please visit the following site:
and your host, Trée, will explain the rest.

Marshmellow nights

Last night was marshmellow night. They come around once in a while, when the days are hazy and still and have nothing to do with hot chocolate or cozy fires. I hesitate to admit their existence even here, the place in which I am at my most self-indulgent. These are the nights when I feel soft and vulnerable, when I feel too clearly the space that I occupy, my existence as one solitary part of a vast world.
It's the part of me that nobody in my environment ever sees - not my parents, siblings, not even friends. People have through the years become accustomed to witnessing the strong and competent me. The coolest head in a crisis, the one to look to in times of adversity. I think, I would cause irrevocable shock should I ever reveal, I have moments of uncertainty. Besides I would be embarassed too, as though I would lose face regardless of how rediculous that may sound to some - it would, if someone said that to me. I tend to live my life by one set of rules with a more gracious and subtle set for everyone else.
Many of us have a front with which we face the world, a self-imposed self-deemed better version of the real thing. But is it really better, or just safer? If one keeps parts hidden, no real judgement can ever be made and no true rejection ever given.
Having learnt a hard lesson long ago, I have since given only parts of myself to others, fearing perhaps that if they saw the rest, they may use it against me. It is so easy to hurt the weak, and equally so for others to wound the more sensitive areas within us.
What follows though when certain elements remain hidden is, none other knows the real person inside. And it needn't be that those secret parts are unworthy, some are preferable. Somehow, being the strongest became a matter of pride and an expectation I cultivated the evolvement of in others - it is a greater part of me, but not all.
To save time, should someone need to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I could regrettably direct them to this catalog of thoughts that I so carelessly share. Share, be as it may, with the intention of resolving my procrastination in doing so with real people.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Hitching rides on magic carpets

OK, the meaning of happiness has been established, as have the following;
  • one needs to have an open mind,
  • every decision impacts the future,
  • that was then, this is now,
  • time spent worrying is time misspent,
  • never put off until tomorrow what can be accomplished today,
  • be true and let no-one coerce,
  • Murphy's law will occasionally reign,
  • things usually have a way of working themselves out.
A game of snakes & ladders, where insignificant snakes, easily avoided if aware of them, lead to pits of self-delusion and impressive ladders, easily climbed if willing to, lead to colourful platforms where one can hitch a ride on a magic carpet.

Wanna Play?

A little game for anyone who wants to play.

Name your favourite colour and list three adjectives exlaining your choice.
Name your favourite animal and list three adjectives explaining your choice.

example: Dolphin - Friendly, Graceful, Intelligent

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Shattered by the final frame

I took the time to sit on those benches of Italy. I was not sure, whether it was a good idea, but nothing could have detered me. I used the research I had done, the stories I had been told and the various official reports to let the events unfold in my mind's eye and project them to the scene ahead. I imagined his face and his thoughts unfolding. I created my own private reel of film, frame by bloody frame. I needed to try to understand and I needed to be able to go home with news. I travelled to Italy for clarification, searching the streets for the truth. A truth that deep in my heart, I knew could never really be found there, or anywhere else for that matter.

From time to time in life, circumstances proffer devoid of definition, where we are banned from knowing the events as they transpired, consequently banished to plant the root of our fantasy haphazardly, over and over. We may conceive untold excellent reasons that conform to either our bias or worst fears depending on current states of mind, but in the end the only one that does anyone any good, is the one that grants respite. Italy offered to me one such truth that I brought home and delivered, and even if it was conjured, no-one knows it but I. Easier smiles all around give this truth the only validation it honestly needs.

Friday, August 12, 2005


How nature does astound and enthrall, enrapture and capture, enthuse and recall
Beauty beheld even in singular aspect, an inherent power demanding respect
"I think that I shall never see", anything as lovely as the sea
I think that I shall never know, a greater beauty than its mirroring glow
I think that I shall never hear as bewitching a sound as its demostrative cheer
I think that I shall never feel pleasure such as the moments it steals
I think that I shall never find its lull inept at soothing my mind
I went to look upon the ocean yesterday.
I wish, I could look upon the ocean everyday.
It filled my eye, my mind and my soul offering comfort without delay.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

You know, you are getting old, when...

... you see a man in his early 20s with the cutest smile and most gorgeous green eyes and all you want to do is adopt him.

Happiness is...

  • a sense of belonging
  • a sense of accomplishment, and
  • a sense of contentment about oneself

All three must be present for true happiness to be achieved. The abscence of any or more of these is paramount to dissatisfaction in life. (Re-post)

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

The versitility of words - python-style

I love words, especially the words of the English language. I love, how a simple change from one word to another can evoke an entirely different meaning. I love, how one word can mean several things depending on its context. I love, how the sound of a particular word can entice a relationship thereto.

Being British, my use of language when feeling particularly emotive leans far more often towards the lesser evils of poop, buggar and bloody, but none can deny, there is one word that makes an impression like almost no other.

In the words of Monty Python;
Perhaps one of the most interesting words in the English language today, is the word f***.
Of all the English words beginning with F, f*** is the single one referred to as the "f-word".
It's the one magical word.
Just by its sound it can describe pain, pleasure, hate and love.
F***, as most of the other words in English, has arrived from Germany. F*** from German's "fliechen", which means to strike.
In English, f*** folds into many grammatical categories.
As a transital verb for instance, "John f***ed Shirley".
As an intransitive verb; "Shirley f***s".
Its meaning is not always sexual, it can be used as an adjective such as; "John's doing all the f***ing work".
As part of an adverb; "Shirley talks too f***ing much".
As an adverb enhancing an adjective; "Shirley is f***ing beautiful".
As a noun; "I don't give a f***".
As part of a word: "abso-f***ing-lutely" or "in-f***ing-credible".
Or as almost every word in a sentence: "f*** the f***ing f***ers!".
As you must realize, there aren't many words with the versitility such as the word f***, as in these examples used as the following words;

  • fraud: "I got f***ed"
  • trouble: "I guess I'm really f***ed now"
  • dismay: "Oh, f*** it!"
  • aggresion: "don't f*** with me, buddy!"
  • difficulty: "I don't understand this f***ing question"
  • inquery: "who the f*** was that?"
  • dissatisfaction: "I don't like what the f*** is going on here"
  • incompetence: "he's a f***-off!"
  • dismissal: "why don't you go outside and f*** yourself?"

Classic python - stretching the boundaries at a time, when almost nobody else dared - and still funny to this day, at least to those of us who love the idiocy of "British" humour.


Sometimes when I look upon a face and hear the voice belonging thereto, the proprietor's past, present and future seem to merge and reach. Their path manifests, and although not all turns are discernable, the direction in which they are headed is.
The lustre of their eyes relaying wealth of heart.
Their easy smile revealing a soulful past.
The glow of their complexion, the lines of their face, the timbre of their voice, the words they speak, the aura that surrounds, the gesticulations they make, the way they hold themselves, their interaction with others and the expression in their eyes coalesce into a deep impression. A footnote of interpretation compounding joy on their behalf.
Contrarily, I sometimes come into contact with men and women, whose faces are tinged with enigma. Invisible armour and darkest shades dress their person. All that they are is hidden, and I often feel myself itching to discover, what made them so. If only so I might avoid the same sad fate.
Observing them both as they head out the door, it becomes clear the open faces will seek and they will find, whilst the others will pass their lives blinded to the opportunities that present - the armour restricting their movement, the shades preventing their souls from being seen and their face preventing their essence from being touched.
The thing is, brought to my attention in recent times was, somehow, without being consciously aware of my actions, I had for a time dressed myself in this unflattering protective gear and may as a result have missed out along the way, but now that I am - aware, that is - I'll be taking it off, leaving it behind and walking out the door 'naked' with openness my one and only accessory.
This autumn's fashion has been unveiled.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Wonder Cure Ramblings

Its a matter of priority.

Problems are an interesting concept. They are just a matter of priority. I detest the saying "Cheer up - things could be alot worse!". First of all, its stating the obvious. Secondly, no problem large or small is anything other than a problem. If one is miles from home in the pouring rain trying to change a flat tyre, then this problem takes priority at that moment in time. It is always nice, however, when one feels down and out, to get a wake-up call and realize things could be much worse. Hitting rock bottom can be a beautiful thing - it makes us appreciate the important things in life.
Never to take anything for granted.
It is in relatively easy to feel happy, so simple to bask in pleasure - its all just a matter of focus.

Its a matter of priority.

I have been re-testing the wonder cure (positive thinking - as I have said before, its the one so many are looking for) and once again, I am proving its accuracy. I took the vow a thousand times and failed miserably each and every time. The vow to let bygones be just that. To leave the past exactly there. To finally exist by a favourite quote: "Living well is the best revenge."

Pessimists are damn fools and I am no fool. So from now on, I am directing my focus purely toward the colours of my life and remembering always to prioritize the present and the future. Afterall, this is where the things worth prioritizing exist.

I am nothing if not a realist, and am thereby aware on the quiet days the knocking gets so loud and I may still be unable to deny. For a spell, I could fill with familiar melancholic rememberance, the bile will rise, the tears will reach my eyes. So from now on, I intend to fill my life with every kind of sound to drown out the noise.

The blah, blah installment some weeks ago was the blog that broke the camel's back. I finally got so sick of listening to myself harp on about things that cannot be changed, of sweeping myself back into a time of darkness. So from now on, I shall fill my life with light and shine it only towards the path ahead.

Looking back through these pages, there is a time before and a time after blah, blah.
Since, there has been a rummage for giggles, the renouncing of 'com grano salis', the reiteration of simple pleasures, the reinstatement of faith in a tolerant world, the reinforcement of faith in my strengths, the revival of an old joke, the reminder of the plight of others, the responsibility of the roles I hold, the revision of the love that surrounds, random revelations and endearing recollections.

My tone is changing, and its about bloody time!

Blah, blah was my wake-up call. No more, its as good as gone.
Goodbye past, hello future.

Memories of Maria-Louisa

Kids have great entertainment value. Lest I forget, noted are now the following;
After a bout of tantrum crying
Granddaddy: Can you sing that song?
Maria (age 3): (Silence - knowing full well what he is refering to)
Granddad: What was that song you were singing before?
Maria: World of the West
Granddad: (Flabbergasted at her answer)...........Can you sing it again?
Maria: I forgot the words

Little friend, Owen (aged 3): You love me, don't you?
Maria (aged 4): Yes, of course. You're my little cutie pie.

Maria (aged 3): I love you, Mummy
Me: I love you too, baby
Maria: I like you, Mummy
Me: I like you too, baby

Granddad tried to mock-kick her bottom,
Maria (age 4) turned and laughingly shouted "Missed me, Loser!"
Maria (age 3) angry at being told "No!"
"I want to go and buy a new mummy at Asda's"
(Asda - supermarket chain)
Maria (aged 2): That woman has ugly hair!
Maria (aged 5): When I grow up, I want to be a girl-wrestler
and have lots of tatoos.
Maria (aged 2): I'm not daughter, I'm Maria o'ny!
Maria (aged 3) to me: You silly woman, you are!
Maria (age 5): I'm not big yet, like mummy, granny, auntie and uncle,
I'm small like Granddaddy.
Maria (aged 2): That man's smelly, mum
(in her defence, he was, very).
Maria (age 4): I want a daddy
Me: We have to find one first...(and a little more explaining about
these things not being that simple)
Maria: We can go and look for one in Finchley Road.
Maria (aged 5), when whispering in my ear would put her other hand over my other ear,
so the secret wouldn't seep out the other side for anyone to hear.
Maria (aged 5) when having experienced an aroma, I had not,
put her nose against my nose, so I too would be able to smell it.
Maria's first book of poetry was given to her, when she was just 4 years old.
It is a collection of west-Indian writers born in the UK
sounding out their experience to a caribbean beat
in the very distinctive, wonderfully lyrical dialect of their parents.
We went to a reading directed at children during Black History Month
by one of the authors featured, Cuban Red.
At the end, she asked the children, if they had one wish, what it would be.
The other children were older, between 7 and 12.
Maria made a great impression on Cuban Red that day.
The other children said what most would
"I wish for all the sweets in the world"
"I wish for a pony"
"I wish for a blue bicycle with 10 gears"
Maria said:
"I wish there was no more fighting in the world"

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Regular titbits

I guess, I am pretty straight and pretty boring to the outside world. For instance, I have never streaked across a playing field or jumped naked into a fountain. I don't ride a monsterous motorcycle decked out from head to toe in leather. My hair isn't blue, purple or even pink. I steer completely clear of drugs. I didn't make a million by the time I was 25. My nipples, tougue, eyebrows, etc aren't pierced. I do not go bungee jumping or parachuting at the weekends....

But when I hear myself described as a "regular" type, it makes me re-consider all the other so-called nondescript people out there going about their own business, and more importantly, just what exactly that business entails.

Do they have secrets that will follow them to the grave, commit acts that no-one would ever think them capable of, have a fire in their bellies that only the chosen few ever get to see, have a gazillion tales from the past that evoke surprise? Certainly when I think of some of the things, I have experienced and project similar activities onto others, it makes for lots of interesting people-watching/contemplation.

I got this idea from Ms Munkay.
Half of the following are true, half are false.
  1. I've had 3 lovers on the go at once, and neither of them knew of the two others. However, I felt much too guilty and gave up all 3.
  2. I've smuggled drugs, but only once.
  3. I have had one novel published, but have never been able to write a second.
  4. I single-handedly rescued my cousin, when he was being held hostage by a motorcycle gang.
  5. My first kiss was in Russia with a very drunk, much older Norwegian. It was horrible.
  6. I won a "Best Secretary of the Year" award without ever having been a secretary.
  7. I used to model for Beneton.
  8. I have had sex on a golf course, in a hospital and in prison.
  9. I have had sex at the cinema, on a motorcycle race course and during a carwash.
  10. I've fallen off a horse in Ireland, fallen down a ski slope in Norway, fallen flat on my face in a restaurant in Greece, fallen of the roof of a car in France, fallen from a stage in Germany and down a flight of steps in Italy.
  11. I accidently threw a customer's false teeth down the garbage disposal, whilst working as a waitress. They were never found, and the cost was deducted from my pay.
  12. I have on seperate occasions been pelted with stones, drugged, chased by an angry mob and had a knife to my throat.
  13. I fled from a hotel just in time to watch it burn to the ground. Now I never sleep anywhere unless there are smoke alarms.
  14. I watched my parents get married this summer after a 33 year engagement.
  15. I am secretly related to the Queen of Denmark through an indiscretion by her father in the 1930s.
  16. I spent one glorious night with a very famous actor who shall forever remain unnamed.
  17. I walked out of an important exam, because the sun was shining and I felt like sunbathing.
  18. I have been on television several times, but never watched any of the broadcasts.
  19. I did a nude photo shoot in haste and am repenting at leisure.
  20. My best friend was murdered after an illicit deal gone wrong.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Double impact

One does not choose the family into which one is born and so sometimes a clash of personalities can occur. Sometimes although we feel the kinship, the bonds of blood and the presence of the generations passed before us, we may not like the other much.
But we do miss them terribly, when they are gone.

I had you on a pedestal
My mistake, I guess
Yet you made me believe in you
You made me think, you were special
I felt you loved me
And perhaps you do
I know that I still love you
Fore we share both blood and name
But I have no respect
The things you have done
And the things you will do
Are so against my beliefs and principals
That were you not my _________
You would have been forgotten long ago

Loving someone is not the same as liking someone, but together the two are awesome.
A brilliant glow almost painful in its intensity, breathtaking in its directness and formidable in tis entirety.

To have just one such relationship in life is surely the greatest gift in the world.

Most of us have multiple.

(Written with excerpts from previous posts)

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Manifoldly titled

Me, Myself, I,
Autumn, Autumn Storm, Miss Storm, Ms Storm,
Woman, Lady, Female, Person, Human Being,
Daughter, Child, Mother, Parent,
Elder sister, Younger sister,
Cousin, Aunt, Granddaughter, Great granddaughter,
Godmother, Niece, Sister-in-law,
Employee, Neighbour, Tutor, Subscriber, Reader,
Tenant, Friend, Enermy, Caregiver,
Disciplinarian, Lover, Provider, Viewer,
Ex-girlfriend, Student, Confidant,
Traveller, Acquaintance, Advisor, Teacher,
Adversary, Customer, Consumer, Helper,
Commitee member, Commuter,
Passenger, Patient, Organizer, Client, Wedding planner,
Mourner, Cook, Volunteer, Victim,
Hero, Co-worker, Hostess, Writer, Voter,
Babysitter, Translater, Group member,
Guest, Team member, Contributor,
and so on . . .