Ahoy~Contrast

Although my chair seems to be swaying to and fro, I thought I would try a sea worthy entry while my latest adventure is still as fresh as just landed sea food.

You see, I did what is considered, by my standards, a  'commercial vacation' something I typically avoid.....at all costs. A cruise seemed the quintessential beacon of prepackaged hoopla, but a week ago I found myself walking across the plank of an all inclusive festivities driven Mexican Riviera Cruise. <gasp>

I could make excuses for my irrational choice in escape. For example, I was cold here in Idaho and down south held promise of warm air. Or, I couldn't find anything better to do. Then again, I could say, I was curious, the travel channel and all. Of course, there's the truth, which is I got talked into it by a gang of sea loving travelers. Either direction I lean towards, I sucked it up, tucked my passport in my pocket and headed into skeptical waters.

I think I'll spare everyone my opinions of the cruising life .I fear I could go on and on about my observations on El Shipper Skipper. Except this, if you like to eat, and I mean A LOT, book a cruise, you'll be rolling in food heaven.

What fascinated me the most on this excursion was the contrasts I discovered everywhere I turned. While at sea, I couldn't find anything better to do then simply watch people. While trapped in a space that 80% of that huge mass you see on the outside is actually staterooms the size of sardine cans, that leaves 20% of space for everyone to amass in. Observation heaven.

First and foremost. People are extraordinarily different in size, and general appearance. That may not seem such an original statement or observation, but when you are in a space that's holding 200 people sauntering around in a state of undress....bikini's, Speedos, barely there poolside attire, it really can evoke a sense of amazement.....the human body is incredibly unique even though we all sport the same basic form. Contrasts and uniqueness. Body buffet style.

By the time we hit land and I could abandon ship I was extremely ready for a change of scenery. We personally choose to stay off the beaten path. No shopping needed, my gang wanted to see people, places and things. 

Being in Mexico really opened my eyes to how monochromatic we live in America. We, at least the places and people I know, are a banal bunch. With our beige walls and earth tone houses. It occurred to me that unlike Americans who want to fade into the landscape and not be outright noticed in our neighborhood, the Mexican culture celebrates bold, bright and colorful. The colors of their homes contrast the landscape. Their personal adornments send signals out to notice them. A church I visited was laden, to a point that would certainly be considered tacky in America, with statues and alters.

But contrast goes both ways. While I could admire the beauty of their homes, their paintings and adornments, I couldn't ignore the bars on every single door and window. In all three ports we visited, I couldn't ignore the trash, that was practically everywhere. It was a conflict of observation. To see beauty, everywhere, pillared by immense piles of trash. Sad.

One of my greatest moments was seeing a cemetery in Mexico. Holy High Honor. That culture doesn't just bury their dead, they shroud them in alters, shiny things, flowers, tombs, kites, houses, and statues. The cemetery I saw was an entire Mecca. The bigger, the brighter, the better. A visually distracting and enchanting world I have never seen nor realized existed before. I have officially requested the most gaudy and visually delightful cemetery space for myself when I pass on. I no longer want a monotone tombstone. Hell no, I want to be the purple house on the lot, I want a shrine that says, "Here lies Rebecca, Make she sparkle in peace" ........

And Contrast of wealth. By sea at night, I was eating a 5 course dinner that I would often push to the sides of the plate because I couldn't finish it all.....and by day on Mexican soil, I would witness people sifting my discarded food out of the trash can. It was a very hard reality to absorb.

In Mazatlan we used a tour guide who spoke broken, barely understandable English. His name was Cesar, and although his English was questionable, he finished every -single -solitary -sentence with, "Okie Dokie" ..(it's funny, ha ha, for about 30 minutes, but trust me, after 2 hours, okie dokie gets a bit old) ...he explained that despite our heartstrings, we were never to give the tiny children of Mexico money. He explained to me, who already had her purse basically open to anyone who asked, that if I gave them anything, it's one more day their parents will keep them out of school. Ouch. Seeing poverty at such a high dosage, at every corner, and feeling helpless to well, help, was something I doubt anyone with an ounce of compassion could feel immune. Contrast, in it's ugly form. It hurt my heart.

I suppose I could write for another hour (or two or three) about my experience, but I'll spare anyone who's made it this far. Since my mind still thinks it's on a ship and I've been swaying around the house all day, it's probably time to get some sleep. I'm sure tomorrow I'll start catching up on the 330 email alerts I have in my box (you guys can certainly write, A LOT in a week!) tomorrow, or the next...........Okie Dokie?

Interior

So, it took a few comments from well wishers, a few mental "Huh's," a bit of research and discovery...to grasp the realization that for the second week in a row I was graced on the list for a Guest Editor pick.
Which I thought both humbly and appreciative, "Wow, thank you Marc!" Who is currently residing over at Grains Of Sand  (a wonderful journal I must add)
And then.........

Well~~ and then I thought, "Oh no, Holy *&*%$ (or something a bit like that) if I had known that little piece of info, would I have really tossed out a mental health admission yesterday, of the questionable variant for my second debut?"

Seriously, lets think about this. You met a person for the first time and they say "My name is Rebecca, I have a few screws loose, but pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable, randomness and zero predictability are likely to hold center stage here."

Marc, my dear friend. That was a good one. The no warning part.
*Gotcha style*
(smile)
And for those of you that come by these parts of their own free will, with full comprehension and understanding of the type of person I was before the Guest Editors picks.....well, you can't blame me!
~That's all I'm saying~
And if your new, well, I swear, it has never been proven that any harm or trauma has fallen a single visitor.
Yet.
I mean.
Ever.

Ah Oh, I'm in one of those writing moods. Sometimes I think maybe I have 'split personality writing style', if there is such a thing. I never know which I'll get when I sit down to a keyboard. As a prolific writer of the wanna-be who knows sort, this can create a problem at times. Which of course, is why I can explain the assortment of started, mid-way, finished and never gonna happen writings cluttering my hard drive. 'Nuff said.

Has anyone read any good books lately? Well, I haven't. Which I'm getting a wee bit tired of, to say the least. Why hath all the authors forsaken me... lately? If I have to skim another book out of sheer boredom I think I may just.....(complete the sentence in any way you see fit, as long as it includes fire, thank you)

Anyone? Anyone? Book recommendations always taken, embraced and savored like a fine piece of chocolate. Speak up, or forever hold your peace and good book. Please ~~
Fine print: I enjoy all genres. I am not prissy, nor chicken. Bring on the horror, the fantasy. I am not highbrow or low brow. (Although erotica sinks low enough I don't count it as actual literature, plus, I have children in the house here people) I'm not snobby or pretentious about my book picks. If Nora Roberts writes a good one, I'll read it and try to ignore the fact I think she has gremlins in her basement pounding out her 500 books per year. I'll read the Nobel prize winners, and the discount bin at Barnes and Noble. All standards have been burned with the last 10 books I've read.
P. S. I hold no recommendations personally accountable. Promise.

On the heavier side of life. I am finally justified (injustice!) in my earlier complaints about the snow. I spent the day taking a drive up to my cabin in the Mountains to get a good visual on the damage the snow pulled off this year. And let me say, Snow, is no longer my friend. We have split up, parted ways, flipped each other off rigorously and will forever be intolerable with one another. Snow, in all her merciless glory crushed in the entire roof of the garage. 4-wheelers, crushed. Camp Trailer, crushed. Should I go on?
Rebecca -10
Snow (laughing, hahaha) +20

It could have been worse. As always. And that fact, in a sad sort of way, helps. For me, it's a crushed roof and material items. But for others, who had something much worse happen today, my roof is nothing. That my friends is the truth and beauty of perspective.

It seems to me that in every single situation that has a person thinking 'why me,' a simple glance over thy shoulder provides all the perspective needed to assess reasonable reaction. I have never, ever, personally encountered a problem that I couldn't glance over my shoulder and say, "it could have been much worse."

I'm not sure if I'm ahead, or behind, or above or below, but I should probably just stop here. ( I feel that other writer in me sneaking out) Thank you Marc for several things. The element of surprise. The beautiful words you write in your own journal. The words you wrote about my journal. The writers you included me with.The gesture, from both yourself and Indigo the previous week, has not escaped my interior. Thank you..........

Daisy Day

Although I once again feel devoid of respectable chitter chatter, or type-oh-worthy material, I thought I would try "throw the paint and see what materializes" theory. I got up at 5:00 a.m., which is an unnatural hour, in my humble opinion, for anyone to be awake. But today seems like a good day to start early.

The first of March marks another seasonal survival period for me. January and February are brutal to my daily peace of mind. It's a time frame that has the ability to snake bite my insides and decay my smile. I suppose conventional wisdom could say I suffer from the cliche effects of seasonal affective disorder (S A.D.), but I would prefer staying away from any sort of labels and simply understand I struggle though certain times of the year.

Each year is different, especially with my growing surface knowledge and understanding of my own interior. It took awhile, but over the last few years I've realized, put my finger on it per say, that it's 'normal' for me to tank into darkness during the first two months of the year. The yearly goal for me, now, is to keep a window cracked open and  reasonable conscious perspectives close at hand. If I maintain that, I don't feel like I'm one step away from black despair of the indescribable ~~

This year I went the direction of hyper-manic, which made me a slave to my impulses, made for a lot of sleepless nights and unexplainable creations......but kept me productive in the day to day. It was a nice change from years of past. I wasn't swallowed whole by black corridors and silent landscapes.
I've kept the Lavender Black at bay...................

Permission and Patience. Those are the factors in my life that have made all the difference. I used to fight, kicking and screaming against the hooks of a bad day, a sad day, a bleak day, a black mood. I used to think something was wrong with me when those type of days rolled into my world like a fog. I used to think there was something immeasurably wrong with me when I couldn't control and maintain a daisy filled flower attitude.

It took awhile to understand I was being quite unreasonable to think everyday should be calm, beautiful and as stable as a mountain. It was rather pompous really, to think I could go through life without waves, ebbs and flows, ups and downs. Permission to feel as my mind wanders and patience to discover the next destination, tis my dose of Prozac.

Did..I just admit I have psychological issues? (I know, I know, you've all known that about me for quite some time, haven't ya)  I suppose that's a reasonable admission, and better then just saying I may have a touch of whacko within me <grin>  I haven't met very many people who don't have some sort of visible screw rambling around loose in their minds. Although I understand why I would like to pretend life is just peachy, it does make for a bland illusionary assumption.......
Truth threads its way through eventually, always~~~~

Wishing for Daisy Day's

And accepting the weeds as they emerge.

Rebecca Anne