35 (grammer school and Kenny Rogers lessons for life)

I met this beautiful, funny, succesful woman the other day. Instantly my grumpy self was sucked into a lively bad-mood squelching conversation like the ones with my best girlfriends. I was giggling and telling secrets in no time. Maybe because we 'knew of each other' by the public exposure to each other's professional accomplishments. Or maybe she was just one of those likeable and charismatic people that pass through our lives. She might be a real jerk playing "bad cop' but I'd bet the lot that she's all~right.

But for whatever reason, we talked about personal things we (grown women) usually try to hide from casual aquaintences. Anyhow, she shared with me that she spent her 35th bithday having a great time. But inspite, she couldn't stop crying. "What's wrong with me? I've never felt emotional about aging before!"

In my newly 37 year old wisdom, I said it's normal.

35 is worse than forty because no one makes a big deal about it, but it sucker punches each one of us at precisely 35. You heard about 40, so you're ready for climbing over the hill. Plus, even if you don't keep yourself up, you get ego strokes about how amazing you are to be forty. No one wants to upset a woman on the verge of menopause. Compliments are abundant. 40 isn't so bad.

So what's so bad about 35? We should have seen it coming because we learned about it in second grade math. WITH 5, YOU ALWAYS ROUND UP. Up until 34, we were still closer to 20's than 40's! But that damn "rule of 5" just thrust us into 40!!! BUT I"M NOT READY! Wait, just give me more time!

All I can say now is: don't let 35 get to you. I had no better option than to decide (after a couple of good tear-sessions) that it was gonna be alright. Like the awkward teens, 35 goes away. By 36, if you're smart you tidy up the mes that 35 left and you donate all that old baggage to charity. Relief sets in and soon you're feeling you're prime. You stop worrying about pleasing others and really get to know yourself.

Like I always say, "I'm the grass in the back yard, I get cut time after time... but I grow back more lush everytime. And besides: the slap of 40 would hurt a helluva lot worse without the eye-opener called "35"

When you accept aging you accept yourself, flaws and all.

Today a new friend asked me what I was all about. It was all suspicious, something about me wasn't right. It wasn't the first time I've been accused of having a big secret. I've been called an enigma more times than I have toes. It used to bother me, that everyone had to figure me out. I confuse myself all the time. If I don't understand, how can I explicate to another? But confusion aside, I traded ego for honesty and it dawned on me that laying out in the beginning could save us both heartache and time. I told him who I was. Honestly WHO I WAS. It was stunning in it's simplicity. I am who I am. I am always trying to improve. No skelatons here baby! I exposed. I gave the facts. If anything, good or bad about me that got me to 35 was unacceptable, knowing now is priceless because now would be the time to exit. Nothing gained, nothing lost.

By accepting 35 with grace and dignity I could see who I was through my OWN eyes. I was able to forgive, let go, learn, and grow. I was free to understand what I wanted, and confident to accept nothing less. We win, we lose. I know reward necessitates risk. I never had a good poker face, so why try? I like my hand I've been dealt (BECAUSE IT'S MINE) and it's now up to you to hold or fold.

Remembering you, Madame VanZanten. You touched my soul

For those of you who knew her, she was the most intriguing complexity and intrigue that ever blessed the sleepy hollow town that fed my formative years. She gave culture and discipline. Hated by the weak at mind, revered by the free.

Rest in peace.

Past coming into present, leaking into the future
Confusing the natural tendency to lean towards sense and order
How few acknowledge we are chasing the dragon
If logic rules and eradicates,
Why is the inductive the root of all haste?
Dreams, love, future, forgiveness, freedom...
All loose change of life that can never become that almighty dollar.
When will we see what we seek is organic
It has no rules, no regulation, no guarantees
The only thing consistent is birth life death
Yet it seems to be what feeds life into the umbilical cord called hope
Subsistance reciprocates dependance

I feel a tad out of place these days.
I'm staring at those I hold dear
Watching the struggle between the heart and the mind
I feel like I'm being guided by the soul of that blessed teacher.
Certainement madame, s'il vous plait. Je voudrais de l'embrace commes des vous
Freshman child looking into the intensity of her eyes
Some moments
Some souls
Penetrate and open your mind to truth
As never told but honered the path I would have to take
I learned the day I looked into her wise eyes intoxicating me with passion for elements outside that fed my passion within
That she told me something on a higher level
I had to let passion guide
Without, I'd be led astray
Find art, philosophy, and honest expression of the body and mind
Find life
That is love
Nothing more
Nothing less
Love

Brains Before Beauty

Ever make the mistake of Google~ing an ex?

Provided you ever dated anyone noteworthy enough to get put on the net, you can really see how life has been treating them. I'm not proud, but my kookoo friend twisted my arm enough to do it.

For instance, I just Googled the a guy I used to date that I worked with a decade ago. He was a prominant executive chef at a well known restaurant. What I found: He owns a swank place downtown these days (*to remain nameless). He was so frigging hot it was difficult to walk past this guy without having slight heart failure. As far as his personality, he was very selfish and conceited, not much good for anything with the lights on. And he had that kind of facial hair that scratched your face, so you could never kiss. He was a real jackass, but I was a slave to my hormones back then and it didn't matter. I couldn't take his void of personality for long and moved on. Google confirmed I made the right decision. He's likely still a jerk, but now he's also bald and chubby! Not that looks matter much as we age. And I admit I'm not exacly the hottie I used to be either. But damn, it puts things in perspective!

So the moral of the story is:

Beauty fades
Substance and Integrity don't.

If you find the latter, forgoe the former and HOLD on with all you got cuz, as my close friend said the other day, "She aint gettin any younger."