Not Smart Enough

I grew up wanting to be an elementary school teacher. I would set up my stuffed animals and dolls in a line and call on them to answer questions I posed to the group. In High School, while researching schools my mother told me: "You're not smart enough to go to college". I was taught not to question my mother, so I decided to go to art school. My dad had always wanted to go to art school but his parents told him: "Men don't go to art school" and so it went.

In my third year as a Graphic Design major, I wondered if this was really what I wanted. It dawned on me that I was trying to fulfill the dream of my dead father.. Again, my mother stepped in: "But you can't do anything else!"

Now that I'm all grown up, it's very clear that I would have done just as well as my peers did, if not better, in college. Life is funny that way. When you have enough years under your belt to be able to just sit and look back sometimes you realize it all worked out.

Turns out I did get to teach, though not in the conventional way I had imagined. I taught various art classes at a technical school, I taught children at recreation centers, I schooled staff on a computer system and I even got to stand on stage and present that same system to an auditorium of avid participants.

People listened, and learned.

Hear that Mom?

Oh, By the Way...

Today is my half birthday. A natural question one might ask could be: why would a 63 and a half year old women announce or care about a so-called half birthday?

It all began as a child. I was born on December 24th. Which is why my Mother named me Carol. When I became old enough to understand that my special day was nothing like my friends birthdays, I had the brilliant idea to ask my mother if we could celebrate on June 24th, my half birthday. She declined.

At first it was just that my little friends could not attend my birthday parties. I can remember very clearly having the streamers and balloons hung, while standing in my party dress staring out the window as the phone calls filtered in. The falling snow was never a welcome sight, just one more reason to cancel. It wasn't like my mother was foolish enough to plan the party on the 24th, but still anytime around the holidays were just too jam packed with activities. The up side was there was always plenty of birthday cake leftover for days after.

During my teen years I avoided the whole party thing, in fact I began avoiding the entire birthday issue. When it was celebrated by a friend it usually was expressed through a note jotted on a Christmas card that read "Oh, by the way... Happy Birthday" or a gift wrapped with Christmas paper. Did I mention I'm Jewish?

In my twenties, if I had a boyfriend December 24th became more ironic. It often felt like an obligation to celebrate Christmas Eve with my boyfriends family. I was to learn that many families open their Christmas presents on Christmas Eve. So, there I sat while everyone around me joyfully opened gifts on MY Birthday. Occasionally, someone would spill the beans about my secret which only made it worse.

I realize this isn't tragic but take a look at it from my eyes. Imagine you are dating someone for awhile, it's your Birthday so you go out to dinner and maybe he buys you some nice thoughtful gift, or not. When I was growing up, everything was closed on Christmas Eve. Restaurants and movie theaters were not an option, besides Christmas Eve usually trumped birthdays.
So in general that time of year just got to be a bummer.

Once I reached my thirties I decided to do my own celebrating. Not only did I order a small cake from my local bakery, I bought myself a generous gift each year.

Generally speaking, I am not fond of holidays. It feels I am required by society to have fun, spend it with people,and be festive. Maybe my lack of experience in the festivity department has led me to this place of bah humbug.

It wasn't all bad. I remember one time a co-worker prepared a lunchtime surprise party at work, it brought tears to my eyes. Friends over the years have also taken me out for simple dinners or lunches (not around the holidays) in celebration, and I thank them for that. Also I am not totally against celebrations of Birthdays. I surprised my Mother with a big bash when she turned 50.

But today, as I pay tribute to my non-birthday, I sit quietly beside my husband who was born on December 27th.

Everythings Coming up Roses

I had a rose bush against the adjoining fence, the rose bush naturally grew in and out of the fence taller and taller, blooming year after year. The beautiful sweet scent caught you as you walked past. Weeds grew to the size of trees behind the fence and I could no longer keep up with the dense growth. 

Two weeks ago my neighbor had everything removed professionally, my rose bush became a stump.

Today I already saw at least ten, two inch healthy sprouts shooting out from the flat, seeming lifeless stumps that remained. 

I thought, I am that bush.

I am a rose!

Bull

I am so tired of bull shit. So much time is wasted on lies. I'm not talking about saying things like "What a cute picture" or "You're new hair cut looks great". I'm talking about the lies that waste precious moments of life that you can't get back. The lies that lead to sleepless nights and hours of playback in someone's mind.

Nearly a decade of my life has gone by filled with lies created by people in my small circle. Like a stone thrown in a lake they ripple, the circle of water growing until almost the entire body of water has been effected. My head aches as I ponder the point of it all.

Somewhere in our minds we know we are being lied to, we see the signs, hear the guarded words and yet the painful truth is unbearable to accept. Choosing to see and hear what we want is easier than searching for the reality.

But wouldn't it be easier if the search wasn't necessary?
Wouldn't life be simpler for all of us if we just told the truth?
Honestly?

Strings

 

In High School some of the kids wouldn't let you into their own private little groups. Apparently I didn't have whatever it took. Even then I knew I shouldn't have to "jump through hoops" to feel that I belonged.
Even then I knew something wasn't right with this hierarchy.

My young daughter has learned not to base her opinions on what others say. I have taught her that you need to get to know the person regardless of what you may hear. You need to judge for yourself who is a good fit for you and who is not. Sometimes you need to try harder and sometimes it comes naturally. Often if you put effort into it you will find we all have a commonality. If the other person doesn't want to try you also have to accept that and move on. Maybe down the road you will meet again and things will be different, maybe not.

I dated someone for a few years who was attached at the hip to his friends. They had been a unit for easily 30 years. I did not "fit in" with these friends. They talked about the old days, the neighborhood, or friends they had in common. Nothing ever went beyond chit chat, and it became obvious they had no need or desire to know me. 

I remember a story this man told me about a high school "friend" he had. A lonely boy who sought only to be accepted to into his group. What he said of the outsider was: "he tried so hard, but we would never let him in". His mannerism when he told the story as an adult still rang with cruelty.

It was then that I realized, they would never let me in.
I also realized that was perfectly okay.
Who would ever want to be "attached" to a group that don't "let" people in?

Laid Off, Fired, Let Go

You can be laid off or you can get laid.
You can be fired or fired up.
You can let go, or be let go.
I think I have experienced all of the above
in the past 30 days.

I'm tired.

He's Just in it for Sex

I recently wrote this as my status on FaceBook:

All of the males I know say of other men "Oh, he's just in it for sex". Uh, um, so....

I'm still left unresolved. If every male I know says he's just in it for sex in a negative manner about other men, are they also saying it about themselves?
Which brings me once again to the question of love vs sex. Here are my thoughts:

I have bandied about the phrases "love" and "in love" too many times to count, and I will continue to do so most likely until the day I die. I love so many men, I'm in love with many of them too. Not the kind of in love that doesn't last the kind of in love that brings joy to my heart. I have said "if you can make me laugh, I'll fall in love with you" it's so true. Do I fantasize about sex with these men? That's my business, do I flirt, hell yeah! Love is weird, it comes from the heart when you least expect it. It's fleeting, it's deep, it's forever, sometimes it dies. "In love" is more confusing to me. I've never gotten beyond first grade "in love". I kissed Steven Rosenberg on the cheek in the back of the class. That was the beginning for me, I don't even think we ever spoke. Hit and run, that's me. I prefer the word smitten, it's so non-committal and better describes feelings.

As for sex, I have loved sexual partners, I have been in love with sexual partners, I have had no feeling for sexual partners, and I have been date raped. No means No guys. I have had bad sex with men I love and I have had great sex with men I don't love. I have fallin in love during sex for a moment, and then afterwards wondered why I'm there. I've had angry "I'll show him" sex. I've had one last time sex (that never seemed to be one last time even if it took years to happen again) and I've had can we just get this over with sex.

My one friend's response was "and women are in it for....??"
To which my reply is: What the heck do I know. I just hate it when it ends.