Weighty Subject

Beloved took up weight training recently. I’m not sure it was something he had been planning or dreaming of for a long time, I suspect it was more or less just one of those things that happen.

Perhaps, just maybe, but I’m not certain, I may have had something to do with that. Inadvertently of course. I mean if he wants to pick up weight training or body building I will stand behind him. Hell I will help him, as I may have already.

You see sometimes I fail at packing or shopping. I understand that I have limited arm space and limited car space and I’m restricted to what I can lift. This is where himself comes in, because, well. If he is around I can add more items.

Since I’ve been traveling a bit and now more so with him, suddenly my packing has changed. In e past I would ensure what I packed was what I needed and was still easy to carry. Now that he’s with me more, well himself can carry more than I can so now I consider that with my packing. And well this idea has grown a bit with time, so the suitcase seems to get heavier each trip.

This in turn has made Beloved take up weight lifting, I officially. He is starting small, just with my ever-increasing suitcases for now. Eventually we will add heavy furniture or such to his routine. I’d hate to see him plateau or get stuck! ;)

Chained Up

I’ve never actually worked on a chain-gang. Mostly because I’ve never been incarcerated. But I’ve seen them, in movies and a few times on the sides the roads, doing clean up. It always looks more fun in the movies to be honest, but even then, it doesn’t look like all that much fun.

Maybe it doesn’t look like fun because I’m not really an outdoor kind of person. And then there is that thing called manual labor. Yeah I’m not really into that either to be honest.

And while I know chains can be seen as an accessory, a means to complete an outfit or make a statement, I don’t think it’s the same kind of chains as what they have on these chain-gang details. I’m just going out on a limb with that one, but I feel pretty well supported on this limb! ;)

Then there is this whole authority thing. I really don’t like being told what to do or when to do it. I understand that happens on chain-gangs too.

I’d sooner be on the kind of chain-gang that involves stores, jewelry stores. I’d be happy to wear those chains, but I’d still have authority issues. My understanding is that wearing this type of chain is not conducive to manual labor. These seem to be my kind of chains. But I don’t want them with strings attached!

The fact is, I don’t want to be chained up, not because of choices I made, nor because I’m beholden to someone for something nice and sparkly. I’d sooner go without the adornments in exchange for my freedom, in exchange for not having chains that bind and tie me. Nope, I need to roam, free to come and go, do as I please and not be on a chain-gang.

Sitting Back

Some times I sit back and wonder at this life of mine. It’s not at all what I dreamed of, in some ways far more and in other ways far less.

I realize this is fairly common for most people, but I’m always surprised at how things have gone. Paths I thought were straight and direct somehow had blind curves and lead to a very meandering route. Paths that seemed dark and full of trouble seemed to bring the most to me even though they weren’t what I dreamed of.

Friends, oh how I’ve been blessed with such wonderful friends! The kind who enrich your life and remind you that family isn’t always blood. And some of these friends wouldn’t be in my world if I had stuck to the straight and boring path.

Love? Of course, more than I deserve to be honest. A man who shows and tells me every day how he loves me. I could spend a life time trying to show him what he means to me, but I’d never succeed, there isn’t enough time or space for this. I’m loved by friends, wonderful people I do not deserve at all. And yet they love me for all my follies and ridiculousness unconditionally.

I hadn’t dreamed of being loved, not like is. It wasn’t ever to be hoped for, this constant loving and supportive embrace that I’m surrounded with.

I never thought that I would have such freedom to do what I want for a living, get paid to do it and never get bored with it. Such a delight.

And yet to all of this is the flip side. I feel pressured to provide back such love and support, such encouragement. No one asks for it, but friendship and relationships require give and take.

I feel a need to defend and protect my freedoms and liberties. My passion becomes almost an obsession of sorts, I cannot let it go nor do I want to see another step in and work on a theory to prove it a different thing. Never have I felt so much a slave to this passion.

If you had asked me a few years back, I’d tell you I’d be happily single, not lecturing and just working on concepts and theories. And yet, that’s all upside down in reality and I love it all while also wanting something different. Because the grass is always greener just over there!

Artful Compromise

He came in with his arms filled with all sorts of things, I could just make out a small bouquet of flowers amongst everything else. Everything else was composed of boxes, bags and a strange rectangular item.

The rectangle turned out to be a small piece of art that had managed to catch his eye while he was walking through a market some where.

Art is an emotional thing, you know instinctively if you like something or not because of how it speaks to you. Art is also personal for those same reasons.

I’m not going to deny the piece he brought me caught my eye, however not for the same reason it caught his. It was probably one of the strangest bits of work I’ve ever seen. I wondered why it caught his eye and where he thought it would work anyways.

It wasn’t the first artful mistake either, we’ve both messed up in the department. I don’t know why either of us assumed that drawings and paintings would speak to us in the same way when we have such different tastes in music and the written word. To that end there are clearly bits of art that are mine and some that are his and then there is what we call the disaster area. It isn’t really a disaster, it’s just that it doesn’t work for our tastes, it’s more or less a compromise that one of us assumed the other would enjoy. A compromise that did not really work for either of us nor the house.

Probably the strangest piece we own is a mask type bit of art. It is a face, decidedly female looking, that has been painted in paisley swirls with random bits of rhinestone and foil here and there. He placed it on a bookshelf, as if it’s peeking out at us and now and then I put a rather large book in front of the face, to hide it. She was a gift, someone thought she suited us both to a T, I’m not sure how or why, but well there she is.

I’m sure to someone she is lovely, a masterpiece even, but to us she is a mystery.

Paths To Travel, Places To Go

I lost track how far I had come down this easy path of travel. The path I should have been on wasn’t paved. Heck it wasn’t more than a few ruts in the ground. Uneven, overgrown and full of rocks and holes. Not an easy path, not comfortable at all.

So I had started down this other path, the easy one. The one that had sun shinning and only beautiful flowers growing along the way. It was enticing and well, did I say easy?

So I continued down this path, enjoying myself and ignoring that voice that told me that I had to turn back and find my own path, the one I was meant to walk down.

All this meant was that I’d have to walk all that way back and still go down my own path. Suddenly it wasn’t seeming all that easy or inviting.

What if I just sat here, in this nice path enjoying the flowers and all that? Well unfortunately it wouldn’t change things because eventually, eventually I’d have to get over to my path to take my own journey, make my decisions.

That’s the thing with life, someone else’s path looks more inviting, or easy. Someone else’s path is not the answer because ultimately we must all take our own paths to find our way. Ultimately, if we wish to find ourselves and be true to who we are, we just walk our own road, no matter how uninviting it may seem. The trick here, the real magic, is that once we start going down the road meant for us, the sun comes out, the flowers are there and the walk is easy. It isn’t perfect, it’s not perfect at all, but it works. It fits you because it’s yours!

Capturing Crazy

Those little annoyances of every day life always seem so sweet and lovely when you’ve been away from there for a while. They also seem more special when you know you will be leaving them behind for a bit.

Now don’t go thinking I’m crazy, I mean there are some things I just won’t miss no matter what. Things like mosquitoes, I will never miss those. Or cockroaches. I’m not sure what kind of person can miss them. They do not add charm or ambience etc. At least not in my world.

But I will miss the way the air smells, or how the sun looks or the sounds the of the birds. I may even miss the traffic a little. Food and stores will be missed as Will people, which is why coming back is always such a treat.

If I know I’m leaving, I will try to capture all those things I love about a place. I want to capture them and hold them close, store them in boxes for when I get where I’m going.

That’s what I want to do. What really happens is a different story. I become distracted by all the stuff I adore, I get caught up in getting ready to go, I and before you know it I’m heading out with only a few frantic images to carry me through. Each time I go somewhere I do this folks. Each time.

What’s crazier than that is each time I know I’m going to be leaving I go through this same routine. Even with months of notice. Yes folks even with minus to capture and create memories I still don’t do it.

Heck if I were to do a scrap-book it would be in a hurry and only half there. Chaos I guess is the best way to look at it. I thrive on it, I must because why else do I keep doing this?

Even as I write this I’m trying to capture the way the sun is slanting through this window, how the birds are singing and the squirrels are talking. I want to save it all, and yet I’m also tossing stuff in a box and writing this post. Why? Because clearly I’m crazy!

Horrible HouseGuest = Horrible Hostess

My mother would be horrified at my hostess skills. Normally I’m not like this, but normally I don’t end up with an uninvited houseguest who refuses to leave.

I certainly never invited lupus into my life. Sure she probably looked at me and waved, while sizing me up. I would have probably given her a bit of a wave back so as not to get in trouble with my mother who demanded politeness no matter what.

Not once did I say to lupus “sure come on in” or “stay as long as you wish”. Those were not words I would have said. Nor would I have told lupus to make herself at home and do as she pleases.

No one in his/her right mind would openly invite lupus into his/her body or life. Lupus isn’t just the house guest who won’t leave, lupus is the houseguest from hell. The one who expects you to fulfill her every wish. The tune of guest who never does anything to help out, simply taking and demanding even more.

Lupus is the type of houseguest, that when you gently suggest it’s time to move on, gets angry, have a fit and makes your life even worse. Why? Because lupus is self-centered and entitled. Lupus doesn’t care about anything except what lupus wants. She will do what she wants, when she wants at any cost. And why not? She isn’t paying the price, it’s my body that has to pay.

So I’m working on an eviction plan, but the she twists and turns and dodges some of it. All I can do is keep trying and hope that since she won’t leave, she will learn rules and manners so we can sort of cope in a truce like state. I know she’ll never pack her bags and leave, not really. It maybe she can sleep like Sleeping Beauty or Rip Van Winkle. I’d be okay with that. For when she is resting, I can claim my house, er, body back and enjoy some peace and stillness. The gentle pain-free feeling most people take for granted every day.

By the way, if you have a room to spare, don’t worry, I won’t send her your way, I pretty sure she won’t leave just because of the empty space. But if you have some spare sleeping pills for her, I will take some of those and help her find some beauty rest. Maybe then she will wake up and not be grumpy and aggressive. ;)