When presented with a glass which is half filled with water, I’m asked, “Is this glass half full or half empty?” For me, it’s neither. I see the glass entirely full to the top! The glass is filled with water and air, both which are required for life. If the water is clean to drink, and the air is clean to breathe, and the glass is clean to drink from, the glass is wonderfully full of hope!
My paper love affair came to an abrupt halt the other day. I was making an appointment in a Doctor’s office. I pulled out my bright red agenda book (which also has gorgeous paper to write on), when a friend announced, “Sue! Are you still using an agenda book? Why don’t you just put your appointments in your cell? Sue, you’re ancient!”
At the end of one of my creative writing workshops, a student got up from her chair, stretched and said, “Ahhhhhh! That felt like I was meditating!” Her comment took me by surprise! Students say many things to me after a class or workshop. Mostly, they ask questions about the course materials and content. This was the first time a student compared a creative writing workshop to meditation.
He continued to walk with his head slightly down. I watched him walk away. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He walked up the hill onto the football field. At the top of the hill, he stopped, waved then walked behind some trees. At that moment, I lost sight of him. I covered my mouth and started to cry tears of joy, of gratitude, happiness and a drop of grief.
And… Now, I have butterflies of excitement in my stomach. I love this time of year. So many things will happen in the next 50 days which gets me giddy.
My desk is full of papers. I have dozens of emails waiting for replies and regular mail to open. The magazine and newspaper pile has significantly grown. The “To Do” list is very long and also needs my attention. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do…
But…I don’t care. I’m pleasantly in a fog. A glorious fog in fact!
Astronaut Chris Hadfield said it best, “I’m an anti-bucket list guy. I don’t like bucket lists. That means that for almost your entire life you’re carrying around visual evidence of your own failure. Why do you do that to yourself?” Good question Chris!
During a gorgeous hot summer night, I was out walking with a couple of girlfriends. While walking the girls started to vent! To vent means to get the steam out. To discuss everything that is causing psychological, emotional, or physical distress. In some cases, venting may cause your arms to swing, feet to stomp, voices to yell, and hair to be pulled. Actually, it may look like a visual display of madness.
I wasn’t a lost person, always looking for themselves. I knew who I was early on. I felt connected to my world and work quite quickly. However, now I would love to talk to my 20-year-old self and say, “Hey, it’s ok to say NO – often. It’s ok not to agree. It’s ok that people won’t like you for being you. It’s ok to be independent. It’s ok to live along your own path even if it’s unpopular. It’s ok to simply be you!”
And… What profession am I talking about? How do you get paid in LOVE? Is actual LOVE the currency? Am I talking about matchmaking? Am I talking about a form of Professional Love? Also… What type of love am I referring to? The love people have for each other, or for animals, or for inanimate objects? Tell me! Which profession pays in love?
An oldie, but a goodie… While growing up, the next tables I sat at were at birthday parties with friends. If you got to sit next to the birthday girl or boy, you were stylin! If you got an icing rosette from the birthday cake you were a princess or prince in the Queen or King’s court. Royalty seating and musical chairs was the fashion then. The tables to follow were in schools during lunch time. Those were more carefully selected and invitations were specific. Not always the friendliest and forgiving of seating situations. Who you sat next to depicted who your friends were and weren’t. These were more complicated seating times. Then we all grew up…
The other morning I woke up to the sound of ticking on my bathroom window. Tick, tick, tick, tick … Stop … Again, tick, tick, tick, tick … Stop. Again and again, the same ticking sound and then it would stop. This pattern repeated for about five minutes. I rolled over in my bed and tried to go back to sleep. I assumed it was a squirrel running about.
Now…is the time. Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Not when you are on vacation. Not when you have reached your perfect weight. Not only on your birthday. Not when you deserve it. Not when the stars, the moon and the planets are all perfectly aligned.
Today is the day to eat the chocolate.
Oh, how I miss the simple pleasures of receiving mail. When mail passes through the mail slot of my front door, I usually get excited. The anticipation of, “What am I going to receive today”, is fun. But… Lately, I’m disappointed. I’ve been receiving mostly advertisement flyers……. Where are the love letters?
After months and months of planning, I have officially launched my 2018 Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation Fundraising campaign! It’s a really big deal for me. I have been involved with JDRF since its inception. Somewhere well over 35+ years ago, I participated in their first ever JDRF Bike-a-thon event. I haven’t stopped raising funds for this cause as a cure has not been found. Until a cure for diabetes is found, I won’t stop. I don’t think I can stop unless we obtain our goal. It’s got to come soon because I’m cranking up there in the age zone.
So, I asked some of my friends and family about their life’s balance. Specifically I asked, Do you have a balance in your life? If you do or don’t, briefly explain it to me. Every friend had a different perspective on their life’s balance. Here are their responses…
How in the world am I supposed to remember my pin number? It’s not like I have only one. I have many and on a given day I need to access quite a few numbers. My memory isn’t as great as it used to be. Actually, it sucks! Can I blame this and everything else on menopause?
“Dear, don’t bother holding your tongue. Just use a glue stick instead of your lipstick.”
The thought of me taking a glue stick out of my purse instead of a lipstick would be hysterical. I might just use this as a prop one night when I’m out with my girlfriends.
Sometimes not speaking and listening more intently is the best and safest approach to being. You can never be misquoted from what you don’t say!
At first, my diary was a place to put all my confusing adolescent thoughts. Where else was I able to say, “I’m a freak! I’m so in love with Lee Majors, Fonzie and Elvis all at the same time.” Or, “I don’t know why my left boob is bigger than my right boob.” Or, “My F+*#kin English teacher, she’s such a…”
He opened the door and I closed my eyes and started a countdown in my mind. 50… la la la … 49… la la la … 48… la la la … I got to around 45 when I realized the palms of his hands were in fact godly.