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Category Archives: Just Venting Away

Letting go

release

Just let go…

Why is it so hard to let go of things from our past? And why is it that the hardest things to let go are the ones that hurt us the most? Why can’t we not let go of good things instead? I don’t have the answer to those questions, but I sure wish I did.

Things from our past, especially the painful ones, seem to stay with us longer, and letting go of them seems too hard at times. I don’t get why my brain chooses to remember the painful things. Maybe it’s a lesson I’m supposed to learn. Maybe it’s so I won’t make the same mistakes in the future. Maybe it’s so I learn not to let people treat me the same way ever again. But in the end, the reason doesn’t really matter. What matters is the way we feel when we think about those things.

But now I think I may be learning to let go of some of those things. At least the last time I talked about them, they didn’t hurt the same. It still hurt a little, but not nearly as much. I’m starting to think those things are not influencing me as much. Am I growing up? Or is just that I’ve decided that I won’t let that pain dictates my future?

Hard to say. But whatever it is, I woke up feeling much happier about that.

Photo credit: Sophia “release” by David Hayward. And by the way, if you click on this link you’ll see what the artist wrote about the drawing and it goes pretty well with this post.

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People said it couldn’t be done. But I said, why not?

Often in life we have heard people saying that something can’t be done.

Really? It can’t be done? Who said it? And why not? Can we just sit down and accept it? Should we resign ourselves to the fact that this or that is something we cannot do and just forget about it? Or should we fight for it?

I say fight. I say get up and do it! That dream you had? Act on it! That goal you have in your mind? Go for it! What do you have to lose?

All of us have already made the world a bit more complex simply by existing in it. We changed the rules from what it was to what it is now. We must now take advantage of our position as beings who exist and make that count.

After all, we are beings who live, and as such, may never be truly known. Maybe that’s it. Maybe we are not supposed to be truly known by anyone. Every single person we meet in life gets to see only one tiny piece of the complex puzzle that makes up who we are. Maybe not even I can truly see all I truly am.

How it hurts when you realize I can never be truly known.

 

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Guys in Labor. Yep, you read that right.

Last Wednesday I got sick. Real sick. And I’ve been sick since then. Great, huh? I’m not sure what gets me more annoyed, the fact that I was too tired to even walk to the kitchen and make something to eat and, therefore, didn’t leave the house for days, or that I didn’t have energy to even read. But anyway, right now I’m medicated and on my way to complete recover. I’m crossing my fingers, at least. However, I’m a little confused about the medicine the doctor gave me, since it’s supposed to lower my immune system (the one I thought I needed to fight this thing) and tells me to avoid sick people (wait a minute, am I not sick? should I avoid myself?). But I’ll give it a try. I have to.

Anyway, ever since I got sick not many things got me happy. Yesterday I did laugh a whole lot watching Diane Keaton’s interview on The Ellen DeGeneres show. But then today my friend Mel posted this video on her Facebook and I just had to share it here.

It’s about two Dutch TV hosts (Dennis Storm and Valerio Zeno) who decided to be hooked up to a contraction machine to simulate labor pain. Because who doesn’t want to experience that, right? In fact, it is a type of experience very hard to describe, unless you’ve been through it. The best way I saw it described was that someone was twisting her insides and trying to rip them out of her body. But those two brave nut-jobs decided to go and see what the fuss was all about.

 

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Ginger, the Cleptocat attacks again

Yeah, I know, I know, I should have known she’d do that. I know that. But I was hoping she wouldn’t…

So I had an allergic reaction and my lips blew up to the size of a house. Okay, maybe not that much, but they were (and still are a little) huge! Okay, maybe not huge, but bigger than normal. The first day it seemed like a lip procedure done wrong. You know when people inject fat (or whatever it is that they do inject) and their lips get huge and they look like three times bigger than they should be? Yeah, not that bad, but close. To be honest my boss didn’t even notice it. She said it looked like my lipstick was not right and it was a little smeared on the edges. I’m still trying to decide what’s worst, for people to think I have something contagious or for them to doubt my ability to properly apply lip gloss.

Anyway, my lips needed some sort of lip balm to keep them moisture. My biggest problem was that I don’t really buy those things because I never remember to put them on. Sure, it’s a little complicated during winter months, but I never had a big problem with my lips, so I never bothered about them. So when this happened, I had to find a lip balm. By sheer luck I had one. A Burt’s Bees one, which does sting a lot when you apply (another reason why I don’t like to apply them).

By now you are wondering, “What does the cat have to do with any of that?” And I assure you, this is needed background information. Of course I could have just said, “I needed a lip balm and only had one,” but what’s the fun on summarizing it like that?

Anyway, so I apply the Burt’s Bees thing and put it next to my bed, on my nightstand, so I could easily reach for it in the morning (or in the middle of the night, if necessary) to reapply the thing. Big mistake. Huge mistake, actually.

Ginger, as you already know, thinks that anything that is small enough to be carried around the house by her is a toy. The fact that she took the lip balm shouldn’t surprise me. However, the fact that it’s been 3 days and I have yet to find the thing does surprise me. I’m curious to know where she hid it.

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This is not my cat (or even my lip balm) but you get the idea.

But the worst part was her poker face when I inquired her about the lip balm in the morning. She didn’t even get up, just stared at me from her spot on the covers as if I was the crazy one. I swear I’m not. I know I had a lip balm. And one day I will find it.

In the mean time I ended up having to buy a new lip balm. Okay, Ginger, you win this time. But mark my words: I will find my Burt’s Bees. Yes, I will!

 

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Why do we write a blog?

Why are blogs so appealing? Why is it so great to write about personal things when we know strangers will read? Why is it so important for us to share private, sometimes even embarrassing thoughts with people we’ve never met before? Do we do it so we won’t feel so alone in the world? Do we do it for the satisfaction of knowing someone else out there can relate to it and that can make us feel less abnormal?

A year ago I started writing in this blog and I honestly hoped I wouldn’t quit. It wasn’t my first blog and I was afraid it would end up forgotten just as the other ones did. So far so good, but it isn’t over yet. It never will be, right? To avoid wanting to quit I did take some precautions. I decided it wouldn’t be too personal, that I wouldn’t reveal too much, and that I would keep it separate from my real life. But what does that all mean? To be honest, that’s up for interpretation.

If you pay attention to what a person writes (or rather to what that person decides to write or not to write) you end up knowing more about that person than you can even imagine. You, all of you, have access to more about my life than people who’ve known me in person for years! You may not realize that but you do. You can imagine how I’d react in a situation or try to imagine what I would or would not say about a certain subject. The fact that you may not know my age or my last name or what I look like does not mean a thing. Or perhaps you’re one of the few ones who do know me in person, in which case, hi! It’s great to see you here!

But I think that more than anything I wanted this space to be a place where I could say (or write) what I wanted without having to worry about who is reading it or whether or not they’d judge me for what I’m writing here. We end up meeting a lot of people we have to deal with in real life and sometimes we don’t have a choice whether or not to let them be a part of it. But in here, online, we have the privilege of not having to do that. If you come here and read my blog is because you want to, not because you have to do it. I probably won’t even know you were here anyway. Well, unless you like a post or leave a comment, of course. And by the way, comments and likes are always welcomed. 😉

Anyway, I just wanted to say it’s been a great journey and I appreciate every single one of your likes and comments. You all make me feel like I belong, like I’m not the only one, and like I’m actually part of a group I truly enjoy being part of. Thank you.

Thank You

 

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Noisy toys in the middle of the night

Ginger is feeling completely at home by now. Did I tell you about her favorite toy? By the way, whoever said “buy your cat a toy that makes noise so you’ll know when he’s playing with it” does not have a cat. Either that or he locks his cat out of the house at night.

Well, Ginger has a few toys that make noise. I have to admit when I bought them I had that advice in mind and really thought it would be a good idea. How cute would it be to be doing something and all of a sudden hear her playing with her toy? Adorable right? I could see myself doing dishes or working on something on my computer and hearing her playing. Adorable.

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It has feathers. And a bell inside. And she throws it in the air to play with it. Adorable.

Now imagine that the thing you’re doing is sleeping, and that it’s anywhere between 3 and 5 in the morning. How cute does it sound now? Still cute?

Then imagine that she is grabbing the toy with her paw or with mouth and throwing it up in the air, only to hit hardwood floor. Still cute?

Now imagine she’s doing that under your bed, right under where your head is resting on a pillow, making the toy hit the metal part under your bed before hitting the hardwood floor.

And do you know what’s more frustrating? Every single night when I wake up to try to fetch the toy for her and hide it, I promise myself I’ll remember to hide it the next night before going to bed. But do I do that? No, of course not.

Apparently I’m a glutton for punishment.

 

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Say WHAT?

I’m about to leave the house and I notice I’m a couple of minutes late. Okay, that is not that big of a deal, I know, especially because I always leave the house with enough time to be where I’m supposed to be at least 5 minutes early. Still…

So I start looking around for my keys. I can’t find them. They are not by the back door where I always put them. I pat my pocket. Of course, they’re in my pockets. I left the house earlier in the morning (as in still-too-dark-outside early) and kept them in my pocket.

I reach for the door knob to open the door. It doesn’t open. Well, this shouldn’t surprise me, since I didn’t even unlock the door yet.

I unlock the door and leave. Then I remember my cell phone. I go back in. I can’t find it. I look at the normal spots where it should be and nothing. Then I look at my left hand. Oh, there it is! I’m already holding it.

I finally leave the house (for real this time and by now I’m really late) and shake my head.

Apparently waking up at 3:30 a.m. can transform you into a grandma looking for glasses that are right under her nose.

P.S.: I arrived at work 3 minutes late. Say WHAT?

 

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