Friday, April 27, 2012

Agnes and The Twitter

New in my life is my image concern on Twitter. In fact, I think I have just created a new addiction opportunity.
For Example: Am I funny? Am I serious? Am I sarcastic or inspiring? Can you be a sarcastic inspiration?
Am I blond or just dull brown with highlights calling myself blond?

Or perhaps a new business. For Example:
Image Concern - the new holistic diet program that raises money for charities by making yoga mats that are produced from all the old food cartons from all the food you would have been eating.

Twitter is to blame for this ponderance. (I made that word up.) (I think.)
Starting Twitter, is a bit like meeting your future in laws or step children. You want to make a good impression, while remaining true to your self, while proving that you are worthy to be part of the family, while presenting your ideas without manipulation or self promotion. And you only have 3000 characters to do it in.

It is not an easy ride when you tweet. Look at all the eggs that are laid and not made into omelets. (There's a good saying to tweet.)
I feel inadequate when my under 100 followers meets a 70,000 person. I  feel daft when my comment referring to my black tongue caused by Oreo cookies is quickly replaced at the top by some wondrous meaning of life. I talk about exercise causing my earache, while others are meditating for world peace. And, oh the joyous honor of getting a re-tweet! That can make or break your day right there. The excitement when you get a new follower who you do not know, and the disappointment when you discover they are a stripper from Brockton who has free Walmart vouchers for you.
 
While using Twitter I have made new friends and some have been brave/drunk/wise enough to visit the website. Thank you for those that have and will.  Hence the dilemma; do they think I'm the other Jayne Hannah?  Will people understand my humor over subjects that are terribly overwhelming at times?  Will my poor knowledge of grammar and long words be a nail in my not yet built coffin of a writing career?

My inner critic I call Agnes, has a new poppy field to run through. She can stop a quick line of ten words, if I let her.
You know what? You cannot please all of the people all of the time. (Quick, tweet that saying.)
The only way to please your inner critic is by stopping what you love. (I made that up and yes you can tweet it.)
Be aware that pressure to be however we think we need to be, could just be fear, which your critics adore to get hold off. Whatever you want to write, just enjoy. That goes for everything you do.
All I can be is me, and a very honest me. I have a love of what people are up to and want to be part of the game. So I'm in, 100 % me, from my heart with a shy boldness. Thank you for accepting. If you unfollow, please do it kindly.

Now I did say, an hour ago, on Twitter that I was going to bed to read "Vintage Affair" by Isobel Wolfe. That was obviously not true, because here I am writing. I am not a liar, I promise. I did not intend to put my words before reading Isobel's words. Wow, this Twitter thing really does cause an issue!
And so it goes.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Something to Ponder

Sometimes I worry. Couple of true examples for you:

1) I worry that I use the free return address labels that I receive from charities, without giving a donation to them.
2) I worry that it is nearly May and I am still using seasonal address labels from concern number one.
This clearly indicates to everyone I am mailing to, that I do not have enough friends that receive
seasonal cards to warrant using all those labels in one season.
3) I worry that the warning signal on the TV one day will not be a warning and I really have no clue as to what I should do.
4) Decision: If number 3 should happen, I will grab husband, Max The Cat and beer and aim for the basement where we will befriend spiders that we will name Charlotte. Hence worry: is this the correct thing to do?
5) I worry that most medication prescribed to me are sugar pills and that when I say they work, the doctors laugh at me, because some days, like today, they do not work. So if they were not sugar pills, how can they possibly be inconsistent? Hence my worry that all pills are sugar pills. Hence future blog piece entitled "My Medication is Making me Fat."
6)  I worry that when I reserve travel arrangements nothing will be there when I get there.
7) I worry that when I reserve theater tickets that nothing will be there when I get there.
8) I worry that if numbers 7 & 8 are OK - that I am in the wrong seat.
9) I worry that if I am aware of body and foot odor in a public place that it is coming from me. Hence my lack of passion for exercise. (Great excuse - right?!)
10) I worry more about my concern over not wanting to clean my dirty windows and blinds, than I worry over how dirty they actually are.

Monday, April 23, 2012

Giving

On Saturday I asked David if there was anything he wanted to do. He replied that he wanted to give something away. He had already been up since 4am sorting out his clothing into piles of keep and give away. It had taken him two hours, a lot of noise and my approval through sleepy eyes to say yeah or nay. He was only sorting out two drawers and was caught in a loop of holding up the same items from both piles.
So on the theme of charitable donations, I suggested The Women's Center, a great local charity. http://www.thewomenscentersc.com
We checked their list of wanted new items and went out to purchase some of them and then delivered them in person.  I had written a note about how this donation had occurred and in the spirit of which it was given.

Before we left to shop, I had checked Twitter which causes David some concern. So I explained it (again) then asked him for his thought of the day that I would post. He said "To live is to love your love."
So when you truly are in love with the things and or people you love - that is when you know you are living.
I went crazy happy over that saying. How often do we pretend to love something? How often do we begin something we imagine we will love and spend endless time convincing ourselves that we should love it, knowing we do not.

Through all this inspiration and giving, I expected something wonderful to happen. I wanted David to enjoy what he was doing. I wanted him to remember. He didn't. By the time we arrived at the charity he was tired and disinterested. The fear he has of speaking to strangers probably played a role too and he wouldn't even come to the door of the charity.

Does it take away from the donation? Absolutely not. Those items are given to women who have been told they mean nothing. Here is a man saying, you matter. You deserve something.

The action still exists even though David had lost the memory. That was the bigger lesson for me. All we have are pockets of time and we can use those as we wish. The result of an action is not within our control. I kept picturing the outcome, David smiling, me suddenly six foot and size four, smiling on the charity steps. That's not the point, is it. It's just to do what you feel is right, then let it go and embrace your next moment.
To live is to love your love.