My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE –
“If you’re going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning!” Continue reading “Mother Taught Me”
Listen, I was in an aeroplane the other day and I realised… Well, I… I mean, I’ve been longing to say this out loud. Women are born with pain built in. It’s our physical destiny.
Period pains, sore boobs, childbirth, you know. We carry it within ourselves throughout our lives.
They have to seek it out.
They invent all these gods and demons and things just so they can feel guilty about things, which is something we also do very well on our own.
And then they create wars, so they can feel things and touch each other, and when there aren’t any wars they can play rugby. And we have it all going on in here, inside. We have pain on a cycle for years and years and years and then, just when you feel you are making peace with it all, what happens?
The menopause comes. The fucking menopause comes and it is… the most…most wonderful fucking thing in the world!
And, yes, your entire pelvic floor crumbles and you get fucking hot and no-one cares, but then… you’re free. No longer a slave, no longer a machine, with parts.
You’re just a person in business.
It is horrendous, but then it’s magnificent. Something to look forward to.
I have a confession. I binge watch shows that I like. And when I discovered an 8.8 imdb rated show with three seasons, I couldn’t help myself so I indulged in this lovely pastime.
After seeing the muck-up that the Manny did with explaining to young-uns that everyone dies (including their parents and themselves), he manages to get things together by explaining a drawing of “life” that he did for a play that he was going to act in. The drawing itself looks like a very colourful Pollock.
“An undercurrent of savagery pervaded my life long before the violence truly began. My dad made grand theft auto seem like a good career path, like we were entrepreneurs in a start-up.
Only our start-up was the motor of someone else’s car or truck or boat.”
“My childhood traumas are not like yours.
My mother’s leaving is not like your mother’s leaving.
You see, I’m a cursed Langmore, long inured to violence and death.
‘Taken too soon?’ people ask me of an untimely death.
And in the case of a Langmore, perhaps not soon enough.”
“I have a brother. He is manic-depressive, and he has been a mess his whole life.
And I have spent much of my life resenting him and what he put my family through.
To me, he was indulgent, and he was embarrassing, and, quite frankly, he was weak.
And then, ten years ago, I fell into my own depression when I lost a child.
And I learned very quickly that depression is not a passive, lethargic state.
Far from it. It might seem that way to people on the outside.
But to the person depressed, it is an active state of roiling pain from the tip of your hair to the bottom of your feet.
And I think, deep down, you know, probably more than anyone, that Charles Wilkes
didn’t kill your husband. Tim killed himself because he wanted the pain to stop.
He just wanted it to end. I mean, it feels like torture.
That’s why he killed himself.”
You’re a public figure, Dr. Masters, so I must point out that if you accept this plea, you will be required to go into that courtroom and stand in front of a jury and the press, and admit to being a sexual deviant.
I’m a scientist who’s spent decades of my life researching sex.
Even I don’t know what that means. How can something deviate when there is no norm?
No two humans would… paint the same painting or write the same poem or compose the same opera, so why would we expect two humans to express their sexuality
in the same way?
In fact, if there is one thing the years of research has taught us, it’s that no being’s sexual response is formed on an assembly line.
There is no shape… it must take. It’s as particular and individualistic as… a kiss.
And where there is such infinite variety, there’s no norm.
There’s only deviation.
Bumped off, I wrote. The Duke had bumped off the Duchess. Cheap floozies often got bumped off, and so did hot tomatoes and dumb bunnies, and so did sleazy broads.
Bumped suggested a blow to the head with a blunt instrument, such as a blackjack, but this was not likely the method the Duke had used on the duchess. Nor had he buried her in the cellar and covered up the grave with wet cement, or cut her up into pieces and heaved the pieces into the lake or dropped them down a well or left them in the park, like the husbands in some of the more grisly narratives I’d encountered.
I’d thought he’d more likely poisoned her: it was a well known fact among the writers of historical romances that Dukes of that time were expert poisoners.
They had rings with hollow stones on the fronts and they slid the stones open when nobody was looking and slipped the poison into people’s flagons of wine, in powder form.
Quote from Margaret Atwood- Moral Disorder
Ancient Egyptians believed that upon death
they would be asked two questions
and their answers would determine
whether they could continue their journey in the afterlife.
The first question was, “Did you bring joy?”
The second was, “Did you find joy?”
This is a Deep and Profound message …
Let’s focus on being Alive … and cherish all the little things…
And all that we take for granted … ♥
“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”
― Anne Lamott