Confessions (Part 19)

In my last post, I spoke of your priceless gift to me.  This post is also about gifts, but it’s about my gift to you.

My gift to you is my honesty.  I won’t pretend to be something I’m not in order to get likes, comments, or follows from you.  I won’t try to make money from your visit to my attic.  I won’t pepper you with Adwords or Affiliate links, and if I recommend something to you, there will be a real-world, non-financially based motive for it.  I don’t see any of you as cash cows, future paychecks, or anything other than my silent tribe of support and acceptance.

Now, I make no promises about SS, but this blog is ad free, incentive free, affiliate free… and it will remain so.

Namaste & Blessed be!


Solitary Lifelong Learner

I’m alone a lot.

I don’t work.  My husband (Hn2) likes me to stay home, and that suits me just fine.  Jobs are boring… especially any job I could get.  I didn’t go to college (well, one semester; I don’t think that counts).  I should have finished back then instead of marrying my first husband (Hn1).  Now I think I’d rather shave my legs with sandpaper and wade in a pool of rubbing alcohol than go to school.

That’s not to say I don’t like to learn.  I love to learn new things.  I just don’t like to be bored, and school is boring.  They tell me what I have to learn, and make me pay to learn it.  With my short attention span, it’s really not worth it.

I’m on the hunt to find someone like me to hang out with.  Someone who minds leaving their house a little less than I do, but has an eternally curious mind.  Someone with whom I could talk, bounce ideas off of… someone to explore with, who might help prolong my interest in something for longer than a week.  Hn2 just isn’t interested in the things I am… but he’s happy to let me flit around from interest to interest.
I had (have) someone like that, but she’s leaving soon.  Moving across the pond, all the way to Spain.  She likes leaving her house even less than I do, so we don’t see each other as much as I’d like, and that will drop to zero after the move.  I’ll be lucky to see her once after that.  Round trip, US to Spain is pricey, even if you have a free place to stay.

Ugh.  This post is getting maudlin.  Whine, whine, whine… I didn’t create this blog to whine.  Honest.
To be honest (which I am, 97.3% of the time), I’m not quite sure why I started this blog, other than I had some thoughts I wanted to share, and didn’t want to clog up Semantics Station (SS) with endless prattle.  And since I ditched Facebook about the time America lost its senses, The Lunatic Twin was born.

If there’s some law about how often you can post a day, I’m probably going to break it.  Just sayin’.

I’m alone a lot.

Girl (Woman) In Silence

My ears ring with the silence.

I haven’t watched television when I’ve been alone at home for a while now.  I have better things to do.  Like sit in silence, and wonder what I should write in the first post of my second new blog this week.

Yeah. I’m that girl.  Woman.

It’s weird that, even at 36 years old, when I’m thinking about myself, I still have a hard time classifying myself as a ‘woman’ instead of a girl.  It just doesn’t fit well.  Like I’m clomping around in my mom’s high heels, playing dress up.

The only time I assert my ‘womanhood’ is when I feel like someone is treating me like a child.

‘I’m a grown-ass woman!’

I usually wonder, at the times when I happen to notice that about myself, whether that’s normal.  Does my mom still think of herself as a ‘girl’, in her own mind? or is it the part of me that’s still stunted, the inner child that never got a chance to grow up?  Do women which I would label ‘successful’ from the outside, the ones that actually went to college, got good jobs, actually lived alone at some point in their lives… do those women still think of themselves as a ‘girl’ sometimes, or is it just another way that I’m broken?  One more thing to add to the long list of ‘repairs’ that I need to make?

If you happen to find this blog, and care to chime in, please do.  

Is there actually an age where we get to feel ‘all grown up’?  

Is it just a female thing?  

Do men reach their 30’s, 40’s, or beyond, still feeling like a teenager inside?

Ply me with your thoughts.