zeh - TEH - tic , adjective; proceeding by inquiry; investigating
Yeah… I might care about something every now and again. It’s rare, I know, but if I’m going to fight against something or someone, it’s going to be anyone that threatens to take away my interwebz. So read and watch. Or don’t. That part, I don’t really care about. *grins and runs*
SOPA InfoGraphic from AmericanCensorship.org
They say that New York is the city that never sleeps, but I’m pretty sure it’s actually Florence. It didn’t bother me, it was nice to hear the hustle and bustle as I fell asleep every night (and most of the time, I was passing out from exhaustion).
That exhaustion, a lack of internet and technology connectivity fails kept me from being the dutiful little blogger that I was supposed to be. So while I have another moment in the lovely Charlotte International Airport, I will apologize and promise (again) to get you up to date as soon as I can. There are plenty of pics to come and a few chuckle-worthy anecdotes, provided jetlag doesnt strip them from my mind. For now, suffice to say that it was tons of fun, lots of things were worth seeing, some were less so, August isn’t the month to visit Italy and I’m ready to be home.
So this is what WordPress is meant to do, right? To update the public of the exciting goings-on of my life? For “blogging?” (You have to say that with Dr. Evil air-quotes, btw.) Well, here I am.
I’m typing on my virtual keyboard of my fancy-shmancy tablet that was made for this type of day. I guess this isn’t all that exciting, considering that my news is that I scored a rocking chair and my happy ass is going to remain here for the rest of the day. Now, when you have your next 7 hour layover, you let me know if this an excitement worthy event or not.
Anyway, the exciting bit is really yet to come. In a few hours (and by “a few,” I mean 15) I will be completing the so-called Tracey Invasion in Firenze. So I’m trying to start a good habit here, with the “blogging” and whatnot. There should be pictures and recounts of Tuscan adventures in the near future, so stay tuned.
Meanwhile, I’ll be rocking here and listening to some Israeli music until the need for Cinnabon, a bathroom or an electrical outlet drives me up and out of my comfy spot.
Just a test post from the new tablet.
And a song, just because I like you that much:
Yes, I know that’s not the right song. Too bad.
So, I was thinking about pride. I was feeling very sure of myself in my (silent and internal) assertion that pride is, in fact, not a deadly sin. I was even prepared to pull out the dictionary definition to support my brilliant train of thought. Alas, my theory that pride was neutrally or even positively connotative (connotated?) was not as solid as I thought. But since this is my blog, I will (in the words of the great Adam Savage …or the writers of 1985′s The Dungonmaster -who knew??), “reject your reality and substitute my own.” So, what that means to you is that for the next minute or so, depending on how quickly you read, you will assume that pride is a good thing and only a sin when found in excess, and therefore no longer pride, but hubris or conceit or something of that nature.
Anyway, the whole point of this is to acknowledge something I’m proud of. (Which brings up a whole new conversation about feeling pride for states of being or accomplishments that are not your own, but we’re not going into that right now.)
I am very proud of my sisters’ determination and perseverance in working toward their weight loss goals. Whatever their reasons- health, appearance, fitness, all of the above- they are sticking to their self-imposed restrictive diets and exercise plans. Heck, one of them is even willing to get back on roller skates after breaking her ankle and becoming the bionic woman. I know how hard it is to keep up the momentum on a resolution like that (I can’t even get through making a resolution, for Pete’s sake) and I admire them for it.
So that’s all. I’m proud. For them and of them. And there’s nothing sinful about that.
Keep it up, girls. Love you so much!
Hey folks, I’ve started a sister site on Tumblr so you all can keep up with my photographic masterpieces. Or… Flickr’s already yelling at me that I have too many pictures and I don’t feel like paying for a pro account if I can do it there for free. Maybe not as convenient, but we’ll have to wait and see.
Today is absolutely gorgeous in the Commonweath. My phone says it is 63 degrees outside and there are enough stinkbugs in my house to corroborate that reading. I have been in a fantastic mood for the past three or four days and a good mood for *gasp* almost two weeks! This is a highly unlikely state of being, so I’ve decided to let everyone know in advance that if I have a brain tumor pushing on this gland or that nerve, all House style, I’m not fixin’ it. I feel too damn good to care about silly crap like life and death. So… Happy Valentine’s Day! <3
No, I don’t have a brain tumor.
No, I’m not pregnant.
Oh nuuuuuuu! What shall I write about now?? We’ll have to see how this unstructured-ness turns out, but I’ve already promised people that I wouldn’t bail entirely, so here I am.
I am going home to see my Mommy in a week! And the rest of the crew too, but you know how that Mommy thing goes. It’s funny, I live 450 miles away, I visit once every couple months, I call once every couple weeks and most of the time I don’t notice the dull ache that is the homesickness that will plague the rest of my life. And then there are the needy moments when I’m sad or happy or sick or it’s just been a while and those are a lot more acute, but not all that frequent. However, the mere notion of the woman being in another place for a few days sends me into turmoil. No, I wouldn’t have talked to her if she’d been at home. It doesn’t matter. She was GONE. Gone, I say! So, I need to go home. Because she’s in the right state again. And I need a hug.
Okay, this really IS going to happen. A combination of life, procrastination and difficulty with the topic has kept me from completing this stupid meme. Now granted, the latter two items certainly conspired together a little bit more than I’d like to admit, but the former really did play a part too. Fine… a little part. Anyway, those two are attempting to inhibit me yet again, so… Let’s get to it…
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself
I keep reading this prompt over and over again and uttering a derisive snort-like laugh as I see the emphasized EVERYTHING. As if I’m going to be so overwhelmed by the amount of love I have for myself that I must be coaxed to go ahead and put it all down on paper and not worry about feeling arrogant. Yeah, that’s definitely what’s been holding me back. Right. Anyway, after many days of intermittent thought directed at this stupid post, I’ve come up with a list of a few things that I can say I *coughs* love about myself. Okay, here’s the thing. I don’t love the word love. I think it’s bandied about too often and find that it’s overused in romantic, platonic and self-related situations. Fine, fine, while this is a true thought process, it doesn’t really apply to my situation here. I just don’t LOVE anything about myself, damnit. But, for the sake of the exercise, I picked a few things that I like about myself (maybe even really, really like about myself) and called it love. (Yes, I’m batting my eyes and picturing stars and hearts and doves flying about my head in a circle right now.) So, we’ve addressed the love portion of the prompt. Now on to the letter portion, which I tend to snort at as well, btw. But we’re playing along here, right? So I said to myself, “Self…”
You are an amazing, intelligent, beautiful, protective, wise woman. You shouldn’t beat up on yourself; instead, you should revel in your assets and work on improving all of your so-called flaws. You need to take time to remind yourself of your good qualities and… Wow, Self, that sounded almost good enough to believe, didn’t it?? That’s because it’s true. Amazing is a bit difficult to be objective about, so let’s go ahead and skip that one and move on to intelligent.
Your intelligence has always been your greatest asset (and enemy, but that comes later). As a child, your little, underdeveloped frame had been left in the dust on many occasions, your bright mind several steps ahead of where your body and self-confidence could follow. Intelligence has carried you through traditional schooling, and your third post secondary degree is looming on the horizon. Happily, you have recently been able to direct your intelligence toward more practical, life applications as well, which has helped to enhance your self-confidence. (Maybe we’ll revisit this letter another day and be able to add that to the list of loved characteristics.)
Self confidence has long been damaged by that positive trait of intelligence, but in the last several years you’ve been able to start redirecting that gnawing, self-depreciating trait into something more productive. You are able to admit to your flaws in a (reasonably) objective manner and look toward the future and how to replace those flaws with more positive characteristics. Yes, that is something you can love about yourself. Acknowledging your flaws is a whole lot better than the whole “ignorance is bliss” crap.
Along with not thinking ignorance is bliss, I love that you’re getting wiser with age. You’re not and will never be one of those women that needs to stay 29 to feel good about herself. While you do have an irrational hatred for being 32 this year, you don’t mind getting older. You love learning about yourself, attempting to better yourself. I love that age brings to you not only wisdom, but strength and confidence as well. I know you’re not going to be running around putting yourself in positions to make a fool of yourself, but you don’t fail before you’ve made an attempt anymore. This wisdom is allowing you to expand your horizons and in turn, your mind. That really is something to love.
The next couple items on the list are a few more things I truly love about you. I love your love for tiny humans. I love that people have called you “the baby whisperer.” I love that tiny humans tend to love you. I love that you have (almost) endless patience for their antics. (I wish that patience flowed over onto people that are more than 42 months old, but I know you’re working on that one.) I love the protective and- dare I say- nurturing nature in you that comes out when you’re with children. And I love that your protective streak actually does extend to people that are over three feet tall. I love your protective, nurturing, loving, baby whispering self.
Here’s one that’s a little less deep: I love your hair. Damnit, I do. Only took me a few years to work up to feeling like this, but I do. Embrace the bulk, the curls, the length! Do eet.
Actually, while we’re at it, I love your skin too. I love it for its appearance and I love that it’s one of the few things we can say with certainty that you got from Mom.
As we draw to a close, and with absolutely nothing funny to say, the last thing I love about you is your humor. You are damn funny. I love that your wit is subtle enough for people to miss it. I love that you can’t tell a joke or a story to save your life, but your one-liners are absolutely hilarious. I love that you draw together everything I love about you and all the things you see as flaws and put them together to form a dark, droll, yet engaging sense of humor.
Don’t ever let anyone tell you different- you are loved, and loved well.
Always,
cj
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Ugh. Talk about timing… This has been a week full of self-loathing and self-pity. So asking me that question right now gets you the answer: everything. But I suppose that’s not altogether practical. Damn.
This is actually something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, you know, with the introspection and joblessness and depression and whatnot. I can find plenty of faults but not that many solutions. And even when I’m able to recognize a flaw — What did you say? Ohhh, right, we’re not using realistic words like “flaw” anymore. Too negative, obviously. Right. – Even when I’m able to recognize a characteristic of mine that I’d like to change, I’m not usually… something enough to follow through with it.
Now, I’m not promising to follow through with this either, but I suppose there is something binding about putting pen to paper, so to speak. The behavior(s) that I will be trying to recognize and change is my intolerance. For myself and others. I’m impatient and harsh and judgmental. Among other things. I suppose I’ve been trying to change this part of myself since I was a teenager, so I’ve had a lot of practice but not much success. No, thank you, I don’t want your help. You’re already bugging me. LOL But I refused you nicely, didn’t I??
|
cj
