Revised June 10, 2018:
Some writers and teachers say to Blog to attract attention. Ya know, that lady who Blogged about cooking a meal every day from Julia Child's cookbook had her story made into a movie. Well, I'm not an every day Blogger. And I'm not going to cook out of any famous cookbook and write about it. (I could sing Disney songs every day and Blog about them), BUT:
I just said to myself, “If I had children, I’d be normal.” That was after looking in the mirror for two seconds. But it wasn’t about being slightly overweight. (And who says women with children who are slightly overweight are normal, anyway? Are they normal as humans, because they have children? Is it acceptable that they are slightly overweight, because they had children? And who says women with children become slightly overweight, because they had children? And who says ANYONE with children are normal?) I'm not normal, because I don't have a family. (Who says? Oh. yeah, lots of people, or at least many of the pictures on social media and many of the commercials and sitcoms on TV.)
Would I be normal if I had a husband?
It’s okay. I’ll die alone. Technically, everyone dies alone.
Growing older alone is another thing.
(Is this a blog post or a diary entry that should be kept private?)
Have to practice music more regularly after finishing this MFA degree, because my mind is getting out of hand. Need to do meditation, too, RIGHT NOW.
I could blog about having endometriosis. Supposedly, it clears up after menopause. Well, that’s nice. It hinders getting pregnant and then clears up when a person can’t get pregnant, anymore. Of course it does. It grows BECAUSE of the menstruating. It IS the menstruation afraid to find its way out. Or it's the menstruation desperate to find its sperm. It was so desperate to find the sperm, it stayed inside and wandered, inadvertently blocking the next cycle's purpose. I’ve never tried to get pregnant on purpose, though. I never met a man that wanted to date me with good intentions. My fault. I wasn’t smart enough to ask, and I didn’t get out there and date after my couple of heartbreaks. This is a diary entry.
Wait. Now, I could blog about dating. Date for fun. Date for sex. Date to mate. Be up front. What about finding a best friend to whom you are actually attracted? Does attraction count after you can't have kids, anymore? (Uh, yeah, most men don't have to worry about the age thing for kids, but they may intellectually not want to have kids after a certain age.) -- Well, for me attraction counts even after probably not being able to have kids, anymore. And there are different kinds of attraction. -- But timing. -- I didn't ask intentions. Was it my fault, then? -- Now, I could say the couple of men I cared for didn't love me enough to want to stay. That's being harsh on myself. -- Timing. -- Goals. -- Age to date with said goals. -- There was a man in college who told me he couldn't have children. He told me why, but I can't remember what he said. I was studying in the hallway at Northwestern, and he came out and started talking to me. I didn't know I had endometriosis, and endo gets worse over time. But I knew I wanted to adopt. What a cute guy. I wonder if he ever got married? He didn't say, "Let's get coffee," and neither did I. Dating at that moment wasn't on my mind, really, when it should have been. – Stuck on old heartbreak. -- I never saw this fellow from the hallway again, and I can't remember his name. I hope he is living a happy life. -- Goals between people may be different, AND goals change over time. -- STOP, Hammer time!
So, I have or had the worst case of endometriosis my surgeon ever saw in surgery a bunch of years ago. He was nearing retirement, too, and had seen his fair share. And I have single-itis, inflammation of the heart. The heart needs to be normal to reach out, again. -- No. Nobody's heart ever becomes normal after caring for somebody. It has to readjust. This is a diary entry. Maybe that endometriosis could travel further upwards and patch the heart. That’s what it does. It stays in there and generally creates havoc. It should do me some good and help my heart. (This is not possible. I’m being facetious. It actually can damage not only the ovaries but other organs.) -- No, I haven't been drinking today for the Holiday. I'm just blurting. -- Do I want attention? Doesn't everyone want SOME attention? Doesn't a husband want attention from his wife? Doesn't a spouse want attention from their spouse? Doesn't an author want attention to sell books? -- Well, when I'm done with my book, I will want attention. I want a Publisher. I want it Published. I want people to care about the topic and try to understand the people in it. I want history of negative painful suffering to not repeat itself. We all need to care about our neighbors. And why get married if we don't know how to care for a spouse with empathy, if we are so selfish we hurt our lover, because we want what we want whenever we want it? Because our addictions to negative things and habits override how our actions and speech hurt our lover?-- I want to share my experience of being confused over the disappearance of my mother and growing up in a very not normal household. Maybe, I want to connect with others who may have had a very not normal childhood.
To attract attention, Blog some writers and teachers say. Well, my occasional blog post might prove to be an Essay Itch to develop further, or may be a heartfelt rant, or a draft of a poem. I’m not looking for fame as in becoming Shakespeare. I have been writing that Memoir for many years. It deserves some attention, if at least published one day. The opera… yeah, I’ll get back to it, too, as long as I have a piano to sit at. If it’s ever finished and produced even after I’m gone, that would be cool. I read that one composer’s opera wasn’t performed until seventy years after it was finished. It’s fine. My process is slow. My process is happening.
Some writers and teachers say to Blog to attract attention. Ya know, that lady who Blogged about cooking a meal every day from Julia Child's cookbook had her story made into a movie. Well, I'm not an every day Blogger. And I'm not going to cook out of any famous cookbook and write about it. (I could sing Disney songs every day and Blog about them), BUT:
I just said to myself, “If I had children, I’d be normal.” That was after looking in the mirror for two seconds. But it wasn’t about being slightly overweight. (And who says women with children who are slightly overweight are normal, anyway? Are they normal as humans, because they have children? Is it acceptable that they are slightly overweight, because they had children? And who says women with children become slightly overweight, because they had children? And who says ANYONE with children are normal?) I'm not normal, because I don't have a family. (Who says? Oh. yeah, lots of people, or at least many of the pictures on social media and many of the commercials and sitcoms on TV.)
Would I be normal if I had a husband?
It’s okay. I’ll die alone. Technically, everyone dies alone.
Growing older alone is another thing.
(Is this a blog post or a diary entry that should be kept private?)
Have to practice music more regularly after finishing this MFA degree, because my mind is getting out of hand. Need to do meditation, too, RIGHT NOW.
I could blog about having endometriosis. Supposedly, it clears up after menopause. Well, that’s nice. It hinders getting pregnant and then clears up when a person can’t get pregnant, anymore. Of course it does. It grows BECAUSE of the menstruating. It IS the menstruation afraid to find its way out. Or it's the menstruation desperate to find its sperm. It was so desperate to find the sperm, it stayed inside and wandered, inadvertently blocking the next cycle's purpose. I’ve never tried to get pregnant on purpose, though. I never met a man that wanted to date me with good intentions. My fault. I wasn’t smart enough to ask, and I didn’t get out there and date after my couple of heartbreaks. This is a diary entry.
Wait. Now, I could blog about dating. Date for fun. Date for sex. Date to mate. Be up front. What about finding a best friend to whom you are actually attracted? Does attraction count after you can't have kids, anymore? (Uh, yeah, most men don't have to worry about the age thing for kids, but they may intellectually not want to have kids after a certain age.) -- Well, for me attraction counts even after probably not being able to have kids, anymore. And there are different kinds of attraction. -- But timing. -- I didn't ask intentions. Was it my fault, then? -- Now, I could say the couple of men I cared for didn't love me enough to want to stay. That's being harsh on myself. -- Timing. -- Goals. -- Age to date with said goals. -- There was a man in college who told me he couldn't have children. He told me why, but I can't remember what he said. I was studying in the hallway at Northwestern, and he came out and started talking to me. I didn't know I had endometriosis, and endo gets worse over time. But I knew I wanted to adopt. What a cute guy. I wonder if he ever got married? He didn't say, "Let's get coffee," and neither did I. Dating at that moment wasn't on my mind, really, when it should have been. – Stuck on old heartbreak. -- I never saw this fellow from the hallway again, and I can't remember his name. I hope he is living a happy life. -- Goals between people may be different, AND goals change over time. -- STOP, Hammer time!
So, I have or had the worst case of endometriosis my surgeon ever saw in surgery a bunch of years ago. He was nearing retirement, too, and had seen his fair share. And I have single-itis, inflammation of the heart. The heart needs to be normal to reach out, again. -- No. Nobody's heart ever becomes normal after caring for somebody. It has to readjust. This is a diary entry. Maybe that endometriosis could travel further upwards and patch the heart. That’s what it does. It stays in there and generally creates havoc. It should do me some good and help my heart. (This is not possible. I’m being facetious. It actually can damage not only the ovaries but other organs.) -- No, I haven't been drinking today for the Holiday. I'm just blurting. -- Do I want attention? Doesn't everyone want SOME attention? Doesn't a husband want attention from his wife? Doesn't a spouse want attention from their spouse? Doesn't an author want attention to sell books? -- Well, when I'm done with my book, I will want attention. I want a Publisher. I want it Published. I want people to care about the topic and try to understand the people in it. I want history of negative painful suffering to not repeat itself. We all need to care about our neighbors. And why get married if we don't know how to care for a spouse with empathy, if we are so selfish we hurt our lover, because we want what we want whenever we want it? Because our addictions to negative things and habits override how our actions and speech hurt our lover?-- I want to share my experience of being confused over the disappearance of my mother and growing up in a very not normal household. Maybe, I want to connect with others who may have had a very not normal childhood.
To attract attention, Blog some writers and teachers say. Well, my occasional blog post might prove to be an Essay Itch to develop further, or may be a heartfelt rant, or a draft of a poem. I’m not looking for fame as in becoming Shakespeare. I have been writing that Memoir for many years. It deserves some attention, if at least published one day. The opera… yeah, I’ll get back to it, too, as long as I have a piano to sit at. If it’s ever finished and produced even after I’m gone, that would be cool. I read that one composer’s opera wasn’t performed until seventy years after it was finished. It’s fine. My process is slow. My process is happening.
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