Waste Not, Want Not

Today~Yesterday~Tomorrow

       I'm curious about something. There are a few old adieu keepsakes to be assigned to just about anything someone says or does that refers to past. To name a few,

"You can't live in the past if you wish to live for the future" ~ "The past should stay where the name says, in the past" ~ "Dreams are tomorrow, nightmares are yesterday" ~ "You'll back yourself off a cliff if your always looking backwards" ~
Blah Blah Blah says the pessimist
Rah Rah Rah says the opptimist

Etc., etc. Ok, so maybe I made a few of those up on my own accord, but I'm certain, they've all been said one way or another, at some point in time, by someone.

       However, on the flip side of that perspective. It can be said that a persons past is what shapes their today, tomorrow. The choices made yesterday, or last year can have a direct effect on a persons specific now. I think thats a pretty fair assessment and hard to deny.

       So, yesterday is my past, and last week is my history and the month before is a piece of my timeline that only I can claim. Whether I choose to ignore what happened yesterday, or 5 months ago, it IS a permanent fixture in my overall world. I'm certain these pieces are important enough to examine, to find peace with, learn from and discover possible revelations that will help me with my tomorrow and next week, next month and year. If not, then what the hell was the point?

       Finding the happy medium between what is done, and what is to come and what is happening right now is my constant mental struggle. It's possible if I didn't care what I did, who I did it to, be it myself, or those I love, I probably wouldn't weigh the ties between yesterday and tomorrow as often as I do.

       I'm just wondering, does anyone really adhere to those above quotes? Does anyone really walk the walk, talk the talk and tie out each day without a glance backwards to what they did?

       I understand it sounds strong and encouraging to say to someone," Don't spend to much time looking at the past, you can't change it, but you can change your future if you choose." Solid advice for just about any situation. I get it, I got it. Really, check the box, I'm good there.

       There's just something deeper out there, in here, hovering in a gray zone I can't quite put a finger on. Be it regret, be it guilt, barely touching the hem of truth, I know there is something beyond cliched quotes and sentimental notions that I'm missing.

       It could be that I want something I can have, right now, if I made the right choices for once. It could be that I stand hand in hand with irrational instead of moving out of the shadows. The haunting in my heart and the daunting task of masking it each and every day is certainly taking it's toll. A past can masquerade as a melancholy tone or an enduring tribute. I can claim both sides of that coin, and know whether I choose to ignore my past or nurture it, it's still a part of me, my timeline, my universe.

       A tomorrow is full of chances and possibilities, and today my reality.

       And the glorious past, no longer a choice, but still there, whispering in my ear to remember, learn my lessons, reminding me where I've come from and that nothing was done in vain, nothing falls into a void of forgotten memories.

       Then again, I could be so completely blinded by my past that my perspective is completely out of whack. Hence, my highlighted gray zone of wonderment. This might be a good time to mention, I do not stay in bed all day holding my knees against my chest rocking back and forth consumed with my consequences, good and bad, of my past. I do conduct myself in a regular everyday capacity. I know, don't be too shocked by that revelation ::Grin:: 

       My musings about my yesterday, a month ago, 7 years ago, is confined within myself. The beautiful moments I embrace when I need a smile. The shadows of my choices, the what could have been and the moments that defined my now. The voices of wisdom, and the spiteful chatter of mistakes.

       It's occurred to me, that maybe I resist the above quotes because I need, desire, and tenaciously hold on to the notion the my past is important, is significant and to let it all go to the wayside without a glance, would seem so..... wasteful.

Red Rain

Today~Yesterday~Tomorrow

       Sometimes I feel like a butterfly thats been captured in an old rusty coffee can. A few holes punctuated for merciful air, but thats about as far as that comfortably is extended.

       Today, I turn the thoughts of relief versus remorse like the pages of a book. Back and forth they pass before me, behind me, inside me and around me. When I twist those two thoughts around my little finger I am left holding something resembling guilt.

       Over the last month I've had to accept something that happened, struggle with the internal revolt about the turn of events, rebel against all it's implications, feel sorry for myself, change lifestyle, spend money, shock family and friends, all leading up to an abrupt ending just as I was getting used to the idea. Crimson results for a lack of acceptance. Thats the way of it.

The End.

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              The western winds blew in last night, moving my windchimes just enough for me to smile by their melody. I walked around my yard this morning, and was amazed to discover small signs of life returning to the barren canvas of winter. Tulips have started their assent above ground, my Irises have stretched far beyond the borders of dirt and I wonder if they will again bloom early this year.

       The eternal spring swelled up within my soul, rebirth, fresh and delicious to the senses. I found a glimmer of peace this morning and I felt calm. A few mornings ago, I'm not sure I would have noticed. It's a travesty when we allow a veil of despair overcome so much that we miss all the beauty in the world. Until this morning, I hadn't noticed so much going on around me. This disappoints myself. A human condition, simply known as selfish reasoning. A condition I don't wish to encourage or embrace. Once I start feeding it, it can become a rather large monster. Monster be damned, I'm on the lookout for beauty and spring and cliche daffodils sprinkled in gorgeous fields of green.

       Forbearance with that which will enfeeble the thoughts. A balance as precarious as a child in a Mothers womb. Delicate, yet vital, you can't have one without the other. I won't berate myself for scared thoughts, I won't trap myself with what I could not control. Until I'm safe and sound within myself, I will seek the beauty and wrap my mind with purple violets and red rain.

Tis the way of it~~

Subjective

 I've been writing a lot lately, just not here. Not that I haven't tried. I wrote a mini-novel yesterday for this journal and upon completion, and without a second consideration clicked on the little red box of deletion. Normal behavior for a reclusive behaviorist like myself.

       Some habits are hard to break. This journal being public has it's pluses and certainly it's distractions of privacy in a personal journey. Sometimes I wish I could pretend I'm simply in a room by myself, composing my thoughts without the knowledge that others are looking through the two way mirror. That would keep it simpler, not so putting yourself out there risky. Writing in a personal <private> journal keeps it safe, the illusion I've created for myself personally, is that I'm taking a giant leap of bravado going public here. The 'why' I do it, is still my mystery question I still grapple with...........connection is the best I have come up with. Simple terms for a reclusive like Moi~

       I read a lot of peoples journals yesterday. Like a voyeur, not leaving a whisper that I was there because I'm feeling quiet, I peeked into world after world. For the natural people observer that I am, online journals is like a gold mine of information, study, understanding and utterly perplexing questions of 'huh' and 'whoa' to be found. It's also a world of compassion and finding meanings that unless you read between a persons words you can miss an incredible amount of humanity.

       I've come to both admire and find myself completely perplexed by the diversification of information people are willing to put in public journals. I wandered through the world of AOL journals, link jumping from page to page, and then into the blogshere of journals out there beyond the AOL borders, strangers, all of them to me, yet, still a thread of connection to be found via open words.

       I admire how some people can just write and write with details and open honesty. Some don't hide behind carefully crafted metaphors and word screens such as I do. I wonder, do those people who can accomplish that type of openness ever worry about their words being discovered by someone they know in real life? Especially when it comes to worries and difficulties a person has with say, a husband, or boyfriend, or family member. Writing about such detailed specifics in an open public journal, isn't that a bit risky business?

       I came across a high number, more then I expected, of journals that detailed rather moral and illegal issues. Physical abuse that they are still participating in, detailing drug abuse and child abuse <talking about their own children in awful ways> in great detail for all the world to see. Those are the journals that I do a bit of 'whoa' and 'wow' when reading. To each their own, I can certainly respect that and won't question that why's, I just have to wonder about the hows.......

       When coming across such journals, now and in the past, I have to admit, I'm just not sure what to say or do with them. They are both hard to participate in, ignore, or even digest and process. It's tough to come across a journal where a 20 year is explaining in great detail her latest horrid physical assault by a boyfriend, yet, that they just love him to pieces and would do anything for. For the most part, I find I must click the red X box and move on....... Does that make me insensitive, or just helpless?

       I admire those who keep journals real. Both entertaining, thought provoking and human. So that brings me back to my journal. Keeping it real, keeping it me, keeping it honest without losing my sense of privacy.

       Every time something in my world creates another fault line I seek comfort in sorting it out for myself via written word. My habit, my safety net, my self soothing baby blanket. I've read my last few entries many times over the last week, and the insightful comments gifted to me. Letting things sink it and marinating in that room I call my absorption of new concepts.

       Normal is subjective and I have to admit now, I doubt I'll ever be destined for anything that remotely resembles an ordinary path of life. If destiny is a destination, I'm a ping pong of possibilities, failures, accomplishments and exploration. I doubt I'd be happy with anything short of keeping things interesting. Dangerous territory. That could easily fall into drama induced lifestyle side of things, but it can also fall into the never stopped working on myself and life category. I hope my tombstone says "Here liesRebecca, she never gave up on life, love and the pursuit of possibilities."

Modern Day Normal

       Since hiding my head in the sand has typically been an ineffective way of living life, and I can't sleep anyway, I thought I'd come here and muss around a bit.

       In my world, being up at 4 o'clock in the morning is not only unnatural, it's appalling. I am typically just the opposite, go to sleep very late, and sleep every possible extra second in the morning I can get in. If I get in  6 or 7 hours in a night I'm doing good. Thats typical American right?

       Of course, then again, what is a typical person?
Typical is defined as :
: constituting or having the nature of a type :
a : combining or exhibiting the essential characteristics of a group <typical suburban houses> b : conforming to a type

       I would normally toss typical right next to normal. They both represent about the same thing.

Normal says : 
a : according with, constituting, or not deviating from a norm, rule, or principle b : conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern
: occurring naturally <normal immunity>
a : of, relating to, or characterized by average intelligence or development b : free from mental disorder

       I really like that last part, free from mental disorder as being considered normal. I think it's a grand twist of normalcy. I can't claim a disorder, but sometimes I believe I'm a bit tweaked in the mental department. Without sounding melodramatic, why shouldn't I? Everything I 'thought' and 'believed' to be normal and typical hasn't been a level I've ever reached.

       Does anyone? Because I gotta say here, when I look around, I don't find a large factor of 'normal' and 'typical' in the people I come across, mostly heaping myself on that pile of illusion. Because the things I grew up believing should be normal and typical, are not the things I have done and accomplished.

       It's possible because of my Church upbringing, I had it told over and over that when you get all grown up, you marry, have children, create a home, love that man till you die, raise your children, get a retirement plan and die old and happy. Any deviation from that and I've fallen off the normal track and into some other oblivion that wasn't quite explained to me back then. Therefore producing this never ending quest to feel normal and typical.

       So, maybe I'm just not seeing the whole picture here, but once you've skied off that nice smooth downhill track and find yourself skiing through the moguls and trees, glancing longingly over at the bunny hill, how the hell does one get back to the Olympic downhill side of things? Maybe life is a bit like the Olympics, only a few make the Olympic status and the rest of us are just flailing down the hill in one big old group of our own version of normal. Hitting a few trees, a few major wipe outs here and there, the joy of it all.

       Maybe, just maybe, normal is a bit overrated, overstated and not as typical as I once thought. It's possible, and maybe not as much of a stretch as I once thought, that I am falling more into an ordinary normal category of typical screwing up and those who portray the Olympic side of life need to be elevated from normal to extraordinary. 

Most times, I guess I just feel like I don't fit in anywhere and to be honest, thats tough.....

       If there any, you know, normal people out there, as in old time mentality of normal, stand up, raise your hand, let me know if that concept is still out there for real, or if I'm just trying to measure up to something that really can't truly be accomplished~~

      

The Shadows of Down

Today, my journal needs to be just that, a journal for me, like it used to be where I unleashed, let loose and poured pieces of me across it's white pages without reservation, without edit, without regard to how it may sound. Today I make it just for me, I need to release some words................

In a perfect world, perhaps I would be writing about accomplishments and achievements. In a decent world, perhaps I would be writing about daily occurrence and delightful happenings. In a fluid world, perhaps my writing would be filled with general observations and thoughtful reasons to life's answers.

But in my loudest tones of dread, my world has been turned upside down and it feels about as messed up as it can get. My Island is enduring it's own assault of cold hard truth, bitch slaps of reality and I'm dreadfully tired today. When my eye's are closed I see the dark shadows of my past mocking me, when I open my eye's I see a future that has altered in immeasurable amounts of time and responsibility.

I can walk with the wicked world and stand within the mercy streets. I hold my dreams clutched to my chest with tenacious overtones and ridiculous hopes. I have no blame to place today, no fault to be assigned, it is what it is, happened with no explanation. An occurrence that sidestepped all obstacles and barriers. A percentage chance that is undeniably there I have discovered. How delightful that I can always manage to fall into the 1% category of life. How grand it is to fall into the struggle avenue of life, perpetually. Welcome to my pity party. 

I wanted the shorter story, one with a single hero and an intelligent heroine. One that started with "Once upon a time," collected some adventure, some ups and downs, and ended with "Happily ever after." I'm so far from that storyline, I'm starting to believe I'm in some sort of Stephen King novel. It's almost hilarious to think I had things under control lately, repressed emotions, selfishly buying and doing things for myself lately. I look up on my wall and feel almost sick to my stomach looking at the piece of artwork I finally sucked up and purchased.

Sleeper in lost dreams, picked up from the gallery just last week..........beautiful and exactly how I feel. Maybe the timing is actually perfect.

If I could put myself in a frame I wonder what it would look like.If I could design my portraiture of life, how would it appear. An abstact, a woman with emotional eye's and  downcast shoulders. A frame around this space that is me, a work in progress I suppose, as any artist would do to create an impression of representation. I protray so many representations I never know which one is the real me. To tell a story you paint a picture, to paint a picture you have to observe, to observe you have to see truth, the real deal and I'm not so sure I want to do that. That takes courage. That takes honesty.

It's the appealing form of down, down down, down.

I am aware down isn't where a smile should be found, I know the things that I should not be comfortable with

Is it real
Is it truth
Is it the series of faceless me's waiting for the absolution of honest revelations

If I touch my hand to my temple I can feel the touching voice of my humanity
If I touch my hand to my chest I can feel the turmoil of living my lies

There is no room for both, the lines of down down down have their appealing form of comfort.

I know not what I can do. I know not what I have crossed and how I will carry such burdens for down down down is my pleasure and down down down is my sentence.

For me today~

Threes in an Even World

First and Foremost, I'd like to thank Michael from  I'm Going Sane in a Crazy World for choosing my journal as a Guest Editor pick. I feel most honored and appreciative!
And Thank You to everyone who has come by to say Congrats!

       Now, typically I don't have other journals on alerts. There is a reason for this.....at one point in time I had everyone's journal on alerts and it became a daily assault in my email box that I started to drown in. In my happy merry clicking of "alert me as journals post' I had clicked well over a hundred journals. Although I enjoy and loved all the journals I had clicked to alert me, I suddenly found myself in a never ending battle to keep up in which I failed miserably. So I did the unthinkable, and turned all emails alerts off. I believe on the day I did that, I had over 900 emails in my box. It really was a necessary action.

       But, I do have Michael's journal on alert. He had commented once in my journal and I in turn visited his. I remember smiling and enjoying his humor so I hit the alert button because at the moment I was too lazy to add it to bloglines, figuring I would do it later and turn off the alert. Well, the alerts starting coming in, daily, in multiples and I found I didn't mind at all. With his journal you never know what he's going to write about and typically I read every one and find good wisdom and plenty of smiles. Take a visit, and if you hit the alert button, be ready for a few out of the blue, off the wall, entries a day. I don't always comment Michael, but I see them all ::smile::

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Second order of business, I've been robbed.
A thief in the name of AOL come by my hit counter and reset it to nothing.
24,000 visitors, milestones, insignificant in the train of life, but important to me, gone.
Another invasion of my journal. Stripped and tampered with.
Bastards.
It's like making it to the age of 18 and being told you have to start all over at age 1 again.
Thief's.
Rebecca<~~a wee bit irritated about this strip job and normally a strip job is supposed to be a fun thing.
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Third thing, comfortably numb.

       Since yesterday afternoon, I have been numbed and humbled by one of those life changing news that has sunk as low as my toes and I've yet to figure out how to bring it back up to my mind, my heart and thoughts and face it.

       It's funny, this thing called life, your walking, trotting, skipping down your path, you see your destinations, you smile at the milestones, you cry when something tosses a log across the path, but you figure a way to step over or around it. No matter what happens you keep moving, you have too. Well, today I swear all I want to do is lay down and put my hands behind my head and not move one goddamn inch. Sounds drastic, I know, but it's appropriate, this I have no doubt about.

       I was lucky yesterday, that I had a friend to reach out too, and find solace and comfort from. The soothing voice and rational encouragement that a friend can provide really is one of those priceless treasures in life. One moment I was standing on my path clutching two hands to my stomach in shock and the next I felt like my friend was holding one of my hands encouraging me to think clearly, get more information and be strong. Friendship, can be a lifeline of so many different proportions and I thank you, my friend for being there for me.

       Laying down today, and probably for a while, but I know soon enough just as anyone else would, I will get back up and take the new right turn and start my new path.

Tis the way of life...................

All Hail Heart Day

       I realized today as I pulled up my journal, it's been awhile since I've written an entry. There of course could be many reasons for this.

       I could say I decided to take a climbing excursion through the Swiss Alps, but that would be a tough story to pull off, too damn cold for this winter wimp. I could blame my computer saying a nasty virus swirled through my hard drive therefore knocking my Internet world to a dead halt in which I needed to heed a 2 week mourning period after it's funeral. But that didn't happen.

       The best excuse would be to say I finally got so wrapped up in my book that I'm writing, that I've typed nonstop for 24 hours a day until I finished the damn thing. Wow, that sounds damn good and unfortunately completely untrue. At this point I'd believe the Swiss Alps excursion over that one.

       The best I can admit is I've been on Internet hiatus again and thats a rather boring excuse. Of course, taking a writing, computer, hiatus makes the mind fill up with all sorts of things I now feel like rambling about, so perhaps the break was a good thing.

       One thing I've really put a nail in the coffin about is how the dynamics of writing in this AOL journal changed once the entire 'Ad invasion that must not be mentioned now' happened. I know it's expected to be completely and wholeheartedly forgotten and dropped by now, but since that day, something shifted and I know I'm not the only one that feels that way. Something beyond just an ad at the top of our journals, a shift in community, a shift in personal space, a shift in comfort, a shift in safety, a shift in ownership. Since then, I've taken quite a few breaks, trying to find the comfort level I once felt on these pages. I'm mentally trying to get around, past and over it.........working on it................

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       So Valentine's Day is next week. Everywhere I go is swirling in red hearts and sentimental mushy gifts. I'm used to it now considering all of it was out on the shelves of stores the day after Christmas. AOL is flashing Valentine store ads like a national emergency faster then my eye's can keep up with. From the worst presents for your Valentine to guaranteed to win kisses presents. I'll take the diamonds over the vacuum cleaner thank you very much.........

       For many years one of my friends and I deemed Valentine's Day black, whatever day it fell on. Which I find interesting because it's not like either of us had ever been single, or alone on a Valentine's Day. Something about the pressure, the premise, the big pressure of whats he going to give you, what do you give the other person, a day dedicated to you better be a loving and giving or else.........

Now, we can't forget the day after Valentine's Day.........thats the 'showing' or 'telling' of what you received. Woman tend to cluster in the office to compare notes, show off new things and ask too many questions. If your man failed miserably, it's best to take the next day off work to avoid the looks of sympathy. Like I said, too much pressure and expectations given to a Hallmark day. Crap, does that make me a pessimist? But I do feel sorry for the men, your all on a tight wire with no safety net with this holiday!

       One of the words I rarely, if ever mention, in my journal is the whole l.o.v.e. thing. Thats because I've been given love, have love, given up on love, lost love, discovered love, had love used and abused, caressed and nourished, taken for granted, not taken for granted, appreciated and mutilated and on and on.......I'm one big screw up in the l.o.v.e. department generally, but I've always had l.o.v.e. in one way or another. It's also the one dimension of my life I've never felt I've gotten just right. Thats a tough heart candy to swallow. It's also why I don't like to talk about it, because it's the labyrinth that cannot be explained. It feels a bit like trying to explain to a child why there is no end to space, it just goes on and on. BUT, I will never give up on trying to get it right, thats gotta count for something.

       Wishing diamonds for the ladies, instead of edible underwear dressed on a teddy bear from their men, and wishing back rubs and great dinners for the men instead of silk boxers with hearts and cupids with arrows you'd never be caught dead wearing out of the house from your woman............all hail heart day~~