One of my kids' favorite movies is Home Alone Lost in New York. There is a scene in the movie where Marv opens a door to a house expecting to step on solid ground. Instead, he takes the first step and falls right through the floor about a story down hitting the ground hard as he does. Not even knowing what the heck happed, still laying flat on the ground, and in complete awe he looks up, "Wow! What a hole!"
That, my friends, is 2009. It seems like December 31, 2008, was just a few steps ago, and we all stepped into 2009 thinking there was solid ground. Here we are, looking back in awe, and saying, "Wow! What a hole!"
The year 2009 will go down as a challenging year even for those that had a "great" year, it has been a challenge. However, it is through challenge that we learn and that we grow. For some the challenge has been much greater than for others. It has been a year of prayer, anguish, indecisiveness, hesitation, questions, endings, re-evaluation, and tears. It has been a year of laughs, hope, anticipation, understanding, courage, new relationships, faith, and making amends. It has been a year of realizations. A year of looking back at not just 2009, but at the decade that has seemed to pass in a blink of an eye.
Here we are looking forward to 2010, with eagerness and hope, wanting to bring 2009 to its rightful end; and ready, ready to begin a new era. We will have our endless list of resolutions that no doubt will be broken by January 5th, we will put away all the traces of Christmas, good will towards men, and peace on earth wishes in a box and store them away until next year, and we will pick up right where we left off.
As I look back in awe and say, "Wow! What a hole!" I have but one resolution this year, one goal. Inner peace. That is where I will start.
As we carefully take our first step in 2010, let's look down and make sure that there is solid ground. Let us learn from the hard lessons of 2009 and move forward with gratitude, an open mind, and a willing heart.
Happy New Year
written by Lucy Tamajon
cannot be copied or distributed without the author's permission
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
A Hole in One
I didn't want to tackle this subject matter, however, it seems that as much as we say, "we don't care about Tiger Wood's personal life", we do. I have gotten numerous requests for a blog on this topic. "Golf?" I asked, "I'm afraid I don't know much about golf."
Of course, no one cares about golf, it's what happens off the golf course that some seem to be fixed on. I can't help and wonder why? Is it that our own sexual lives are drab and boring? Is that we savor the pleasure of knowing someone else's "perfect" life isn't so perfect?
What bothers me most about the whole Tiger Woods situation is not the infidelity. Honestly. Men have been unfaithful since the beginning of time. They cannot help it. It's a factory defect. What bothers me most about the whole situation is how it is the woman that is to blame. No, this doesn't bother me; it irritates me beyond belief.
If it is not his wife's "fault" for being whatever a wife is that annoys him. It is the mistress fault for being "cheap" or worse adjectives that I won't use. Everyone is pointing the finger at the women! Hello! What about him? He was the one married. He was the one breaking the commitment and the vows. What about him? !! Argghhh!
So, now poor Tiger Woods has some sort of "addiction". He needs "help". Counseling. We need to understand and be patient. He is under a lot of stress. Oh, his endorsements will be dropped and instead of making a billion dollars, he'll make half a billion. Poor, poor Tiger. He had a wife that didn't understand him. Women were "loose" and after his money. It's not his fault. Give me a break.
I have zero sympathy for this man. He has a life that is a fairy tale; and he throws it all away because he can't keep it in his pants!
This was one hole in one he really missed the mark on.
Of course, no one cares about golf, it's what happens off the golf course that some seem to be fixed on. I can't help and wonder why? Is it that our own sexual lives are drab and boring? Is that we savor the pleasure of knowing someone else's "perfect" life isn't so perfect?
What bothers me most about the whole Tiger Woods situation is not the infidelity. Honestly. Men have been unfaithful since the beginning of time. They cannot help it. It's a factory defect. What bothers me most about the whole situation is how it is the woman that is to blame. No, this doesn't bother me; it irritates me beyond belief.
If it is not his wife's "fault" for being whatever a wife is that annoys him. It is the mistress fault for being "cheap" or worse adjectives that I won't use. Everyone is pointing the finger at the women! Hello! What about him? He was the one married. He was the one breaking the commitment and the vows. What about him? !! Argghhh!
So, now poor Tiger Woods has some sort of "addiction". He needs "help". Counseling. We need to understand and be patient. He is under a lot of stress. Oh, his endorsements will be dropped and instead of making a billion dollars, he'll make half a billion. Poor, poor Tiger. He had a wife that didn't understand him. Women were "loose" and after his money. It's not his fault. Give me a break.
I have zero sympathy for this man. He has a life that is a fairy tale; and he throws it all away because he can't keep it in his pants!
This was one hole in one he really missed the mark on.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
The Gift of the Magi
When I was little, I read a story, The Gift of the Magi. I loved everything about the message. Every year at Christmas, I would read the story over and over and over again. I always loved the message.
However, like most of us, I was blessed with money in my adult years and gift giving was never an issue. For the past 25 years of my life, I have had children, the lists to Santa have been enormous, and my tree has never lacked a gift. This Christmas, the story is a bit different.
And, when I asked the old too familiar question to my kids, "what do you want Santa to bring you this year?" The answers shocked me. I'll keep them private because they hate when I write about them. Let's just say, it was a very short list, one that Santa can handle without a second thought.
We have lost the meaning of Christmas. I understand how we get caught up in the pretty boxes and bows. How we want more, more, more when we already have so much. I understand how easy it is to get caught up in the glimmer and luster of all those beautiful gifts. I love the gifts in pretty boxes with bright bows. I adore them. But, it's never been about the gift for me, it's always been about the person giving the gift.
Christmas is about new beginnings, about letting go of all the old ways of the past, and starting over. Christmas is about giving what we are, not what we have. It is a smile to a stranger, a helping hand to a friend, a note of inspiration, a kind word, a good laugh, and a warm hug. Christmas is the message to the world that there is love for all and that God's gift is so much greater than any pretty little box under a tree. Christmas is believing that there is more than all the earthly distractions.
This Christmas my gifts will be hard to box and wrap. Some of my friends may not even know that I gave them a gift, but I have. My children will get their Christmas wishes because their mom still believes in Santa and I've put in a good word for them.
As for mom, well, the only thing I want for Christmas is to be able to get back into my size 2 skinny jeans. Man, all this eggnog and fruitcake is brutal on a girl.
Merry Christmas
December 15, 2009
However, like most of us, I was blessed with money in my adult years and gift giving was never an issue. For the past 25 years of my life, I have had children, the lists to Santa have been enormous, and my tree has never lacked a gift. This Christmas, the story is a bit different.
And, when I asked the old too familiar question to my kids, "what do you want Santa to bring you this year?" The answers shocked me. I'll keep them private because they hate when I write about them. Let's just say, it was a very short list, one that Santa can handle without a second thought.
We have lost the meaning of Christmas. I understand how we get caught up in the pretty boxes and bows. How we want more, more, more when we already have so much. I understand how easy it is to get caught up in the glimmer and luster of all those beautiful gifts. I love the gifts in pretty boxes with bright bows. I adore them. But, it's never been about the gift for me, it's always been about the person giving the gift.
Christmas is about new beginnings, about letting go of all the old ways of the past, and starting over. Christmas is about giving what we are, not what we have. It is a smile to a stranger, a helping hand to a friend, a note of inspiration, a kind word, a good laugh, and a warm hug. Christmas is the message to the world that there is love for all and that God's gift is so much greater than any pretty little box under a tree. Christmas is believing that there is more than all the earthly distractions.
This Christmas my gifts will be hard to box and wrap. Some of my friends may not even know that I gave them a gift, but I have. My children will get their Christmas wishes because their mom still believes in Santa and I've put in a good word for them.
As for mom, well, the only thing I want for Christmas is to be able to get back into my size 2 skinny jeans. Man, all this eggnog and fruitcake is brutal on a girl.
Merry Christmas
December 15, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Out of the Blue
This life is wondrous. I am amazed every morning that I open my eyes and see the blue skies, feel the morning breeze, and wander aimlessly to my kitchen for a cup of coffee. We think we have all the time in the world, but we don't. Our time is limited. We take for granted that we wake up every morning, yawn, and breath.
I had a conversation recently with a loving friend about someone she loves waking up one day and just not being able to do what we take for granted. He went to bed as good as can be, woke up, but there were no words. He could not speak. Prognosis; 90-days.
Here is the deal people. The bills will wait. This crazy world we live in, will wait, and the world will continue as crazy as ever with or without us. The problems, conflict, wars, and all the nonsense will go on long after we aren't.
So say what you have to say. Love who you want to love. Be with the person that completes you. Stop. Stop just for one second and realize, we don't have all the time in the world to love. It's not worth it. Let go of the hate, labels, and bickering because one day, out of the blue...
I had a conversation recently with a loving friend about someone she loves waking up one day and just not being able to do what we take for granted. He went to bed as good as can be, woke up, but there were no words. He could not speak. Prognosis; 90-days.
Here is the deal people. The bills will wait. This crazy world we live in, will wait, and the world will continue as crazy as ever with or without us. The problems, conflict, wars, and all the nonsense will go on long after we aren't.
So say what you have to say. Love who you want to love. Be with the person that completes you. Stop. Stop just for one second and realize, we don't have all the time in the world to love. It's not worth it. Let go of the hate, labels, and bickering because one day, out of the blue...
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
ACT II
I have been in a creative retreat from writing. Well, maybe not from writing but from posting here on face book.. I just haven't been "in the mood" to deal with some of the characters. Shakespeare spoke of the world being a stage and we merely it's players. I wonder what he would say of the stage that is face book. And, friends, no doubt it is a stage.
Yesterday, my friend, Sal, posted a note that referenced a note he wrote last year at around the same time. It triggered my memory, rewind 2009. Suddenly, it was November of 2008 , and two notes posted from two very different people came to mind. He wrote a note about reaching out to those we loved. I wrote about believing in Santa Claus. We both had a message, and I wondered if anyone took five to read and absorb them. I did.
We are so busy, I know. All the dishes, wash, the floors need scrubbing, there's a tiny spec of dirt on the wall. There's dusting to be done, bills to pay, TV to watch, doing groceries, cooking, and sitting in grid lock traffic. We need to do our hair, nails, go to the mall, and, of course, the gym. "Oh, I'll call her tomorrow.", we think. "I'll stop by next Saturday, and say 'hi'." But, minutes turn into hours, hours into days, days into years; and, then we're gone. Puff.
Face book provides us the opportunity to chat, talk, vent, laugh, and share with our friends and those that aren't but love to stick their nose in our lives anyway. We get to be ourselves or not. We take silly quizzes, play silly games, and we post nonsense on walls. I'm amazed at how seriously some take all the nonsense, and how we dismiss all the important stuff. I'm amazed how frivolous people are and self-absorbed. And, the drama. My goodness, Shakespeare would be amazed at all the drama.
So, here we are,. Doing it all over again. 2009 with all it's flair or lack there of, with all the drama, nonsense, and little specs of dirt that are so insignificant. Have we learned anything from last year? We were given a chance to perform yet another act. Our contract was renewed. Did we do it any better? Or, did we do it all over again, the same, forgetting promises made, and saying "oh, I'll call her tomorrow." Not taking five to just smile or post a heart on someone's wall.
See my friends, this world we live in is a stage; our lives, merely a script produced by the All
Mighty. And, without notice, our final act is written, the curtain drops, and we must take our final bow. Make sure you get a standing ovation because nothing else matters.
The sun rises on another glorious day. She sits silently by her window sipping her coffee. Her memory fades to years gone by; the words that were never said. She smiles and thinks, "what if?"
Yesterday, my friend, Sal, posted a note that referenced a note he wrote last year at around the same time. It triggered my memory, rewind 2009. Suddenly, it was November of 2008 , and two notes posted from two very different people came to mind. He wrote a note about reaching out to those we loved. I wrote about believing in Santa Claus. We both had a message, and I wondered if anyone took five to read and absorb them. I did.
We are so busy, I know. All the dishes, wash, the floors need scrubbing, there's a tiny spec of dirt on the wall. There's dusting to be done, bills to pay, TV to watch, doing groceries, cooking, and sitting in grid lock traffic. We need to do our hair, nails, go to the mall, and, of course, the gym. "Oh, I'll call her tomorrow.", we think. "I'll stop by next Saturday, and say 'hi'." But, minutes turn into hours, hours into days, days into years; and, then we're gone. Puff.
Face book provides us the opportunity to chat, talk, vent, laugh, and share with our friends and those that aren't but love to stick their nose in our lives anyway. We get to be ourselves or not. We take silly quizzes, play silly games, and we post nonsense on walls. I'm amazed at how seriously some take all the nonsense, and how we dismiss all the important stuff. I'm amazed how frivolous people are and self-absorbed. And, the drama. My goodness, Shakespeare would be amazed at all the drama.
So, here we are,. Doing it all over again. 2009 with all it's flair or lack there of, with all the drama, nonsense, and little specs of dirt that are so insignificant. Have we learned anything from last year? We were given a chance to perform yet another act. Our contract was renewed. Did we do it any better? Or, did we do it all over again, the same, forgetting promises made, and saying "oh, I'll call her tomorrow." Not taking five to just smile or post a heart on someone's wall.
See my friends, this world we live in is a stage; our lives, merely a script produced by the All
Mighty. And, without notice, our final act is written, the curtain drops, and we must take our final bow. Make sure you get a standing ovation because nothing else matters.
The sun rises on another glorious day. She sits silently by her window sipping her coffee. Her memory fades to years gone by; the words that were never said. She smiles and thinks, "what if?"
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The Eye of the Storm
Have you ever been caught in the midst of a Hurricane? I have. Several times. It's a surreal feeling. The sound of the wind as it tries to burst through the front door. The crashing of outdoor objects as they are hurled through the air. The incredible force of the windows shaking wanting to burst wide open. A bolt of lightening and the world is dark.
It's hard to explain what you feel or think. Your mind kicks into survival mode. Your body tenses up and you just do what needs to be done in a mechanical manner. You wait patiently for the storm to pass, for the earth and heaven to some how come to an agreement, and you pray. It can last hours that seem like an eternity. There is no power, no lights, no modern technology to fall back on. Nothing. There's nothing but you and the universe.
Then, suddenly there is silence. A calm still engulfs you but somehow it does not feel right. You hesitate, you walk to the window, the trees are still. The air is calm. You open the door carefully, you step outside, and look at the gray skies, the mist moist on your skin. In horror you stop. Something is very wrong. You realize that you are standing in the eye of the storm. You hear in the distance the fury of the wind and the sound of the rain. Your heart skips a beat and you rush for cover.
That has been my life this year; and on those quiet, good days, I realize in horror that I am standing in the center of the storm with no one but myself to lean on.
Not to worry, this too shall pass.
It's hard to explain what you feel or think. Your mind kicks into survival mode. Your body tenses up and you just do what needs to be done in a mechanical manner. You wait patiently for the storm to pass, for the earth and heaven to some how come to an agreement, and you pray. It can last hours that seem like an eternity. There is no power, no lights, no modern technology to fall back on. Nothing. There's nothing but you and the universe.
Then, suddenly there is silence. A calm still engulfs you but somehow it does not feel right. You hesitate, you walk to the window, the trees are still. The air is calm. You open the door carefully, you step outside, and look at the gray skies, the mist moist on your skin. In horror you stop. Something is very wrong. You realize that you are standing in the eye of the storm. You hear in the distance the fury of the wind and the sound of the rain. Your heart skips a beat and you rush for cover.
That has been my life this year; and on those quiet, good days, I realize in horror that I am standing in the center of the storm with no one but myself to lean on.
Not to worry, this too shall pass.
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The Green Eyed Monster
Sometimes, one has to take a step back to be able to see the forest. We're blind even though we are standing in the thick of the woods, we can't see the forest for the trees. We get too caught up in the minor details that are meaningless and miss the important stuff.
My beef this week is with women. Sorry, ladies but it is. Insecurity, jealousy, envy, guilt, greed, and self-pity. I know that all of these emotions apply equally to men, but it's not men that I have an issue with. Men are men. Easy to figure out, easy to understand, just easy. Women drive me nuts.
I have never, ever been a jealous person. Those that know me and know my history know this to be true. Therefore, it is really difficult for me to understand jealousy. I just don't get it.
I don't get women that are jealous of other women's looks, wealth, relationships, and success. I don't understand women that are so jealous that their husbands cannot have a conversation with another woman. In my opinion, if you cannot trust the man you are with, why are you with him?
I had a conversation with a really good friend of mine about this the other day. I was trying to understand, I just pissed her off more as the conversation went on. She is a jealous woman. Why? I don't know. She's smart, beautiful, and is great to be around. She gets extremely jealous when her boyfriend even looks in the direction of another woman. If there's a beautiful woman, why wouldn't he look? What's wrong with that? If there's a gorgeous man, don't we look? Nothing wrong with that. It's natural.
So, maybe someone can try to explain jealousy to me. I've heard it all. If you are not jealous, you don't love the person. I think it is the opposite. When there is true love, there can't be jealousy or any of those other negative emotions. There just can't be. I'm left pondering, how can jealousy grow where love blooms?
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
My beef this week is with women. Sorry, ladies but it is. Insecurity, jealousy, envy, guilt, greed, and self-pity. I know that all of these emotions apply equally to men, but it's not men that I have an issue with. Men are men. Easy to figure out, easy to understand, just easy. Women drive me nuts.
I have never, ever been a jealous person. Those that know me and know my history know this to be true. Therefore, it is really difficult for me to understand jealousy. I just don't get it.
I don't get women that are jealous of other women's looks, wealth, relationships, and success. I don't understand women that are so jealous that their husbands cannot have a conversation with another woman. In my opinion, if you cannot trust the man you are with, why are you with him?
I had a conversation with a really good friend of mine about this the other day. I was trying to understand, I just pissed her off more as the conversation went on. She is a jealous woman. Why? I don't know. She's smart, beautiful, and is great to be around. She gets extremely jealous when her boyfriend even looks in the direction of another woman. If there's a beautiful woman, why wouldn't he look? What's wrong with that? If there's a gorgeous man, don't we look? Nothing wrong with that. It's natural.
So, maybe someone can try to explain jealousy to me. I've heard it all. If you are not jealous, you don't love the person. I think it is the opposite. When there is true love, there can't be jealousy or any of those other negative emotions. There just can't be. I'm left pondering, how can jealousy grow where love blooms?
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Dear Heart
I am not sure if this relationship is really working out. We've been together for so long, and you always seem to let me down. Every time I have a little bit of hope; every time there seems to be a dream that may come true, you pull the rug right from under me.
I have loved you well. I have been true to my wishes but you lead me astray. I have listened attentively when you've called my name, but only to be disillusioned. I've paid attention during all those love stories from Cinderella to Sleepless in Seattle. I dream of Paris, pink diamonds, and long walks on a beach. I'm not sure you understand at all.
Listen, Heart, I don't know if I can go at this alone for as much pain and anguish that you've cost me; I don't think I can live without you. And, with every tear instead of toughening up, I soften up. I find myself smiling, singing, laughing, and loving more than ever. You tear my world apart, and I want to do away with you. Forget you exist and toss love out the window. Teach you a lesson. But you seem to be a step ahead. When I least expect it, WHAM! I'm on my butt holding you in my hands.
Therefore, I've decided that maybe we should come to some sort of arrangement, an agreement, if you will. Maybe you can just wise up a little. Maybe instead of doing what you want, you can listen to me for once. Maybe, just maybe, you can understand we need to just put this little concept of "love" away and not focus so much on it.
I know what you are thinking all the beautiful memories, the romances, the adventures, and the incredible love I've experienced. I know you are aware of my weakness and thrive on it. You must just sit back and watch me falter and fall knowing fare well that I cave in to the incredible power of love. I know what you are going to tell me that love is not what I perceive but what simply is.
I know that as much as I want to break from you, I cannot because you are all that I am. I guess I am stuck with you and all the silly emotions that you have embedded in me. I just wonder, if I have it in me to trust in you yet again?
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
I have loved you well. I have been true to my wishes but you lead me astray. I have listened attentively when you've called my name, but only to be disillusioned. I've paid attention during all those love stories from Cinderella to Sleepless in Seattle. I dream of Paris, pink diamonds, and long walks on a beach. I'm not sure you understand at all.
Listen, Heart, I don't know if I can go at this alone for as much pain and anguish that you've cost me; I don't think I can live without you. And, with every tear instead of toughening up, I soften up. I find myself smiling, singing, laughing, and loving more than ever. You tear my world apart, and I want to do away with you. Forget you exist and toss love out the window. Teach you a lesson. But you seem to be a step ahead. When I least expect it, WHAM! I'm on my butt holding you in my hands.
Therefore, I've decided that maybe we should come to some sort of arrangement, an agreement, if you will. Maybe you can just wise up a little. Maybe instead of doing what you want, you can listen to me for once. Maybe, just maybe, you can understand we need to just put this little concept of "love" away and not focus so much on it.
I know what you are thinking all the beautiful memories, the romances, the adventures, and the incredible love I've experienced. I know you are aware of my weakness and thrive on it. You must just sit back and watch me falter and fall knowing fare well that I cave in to the incredible power of love. I know what you are going to tell me that love is not what I perceive but what simply is.
I know that as much as I want to break from you, I cannot because you are all that I am. I guess I am stuck with you and all the silly emotions that you have embedded in me. I just wonder, if I have it in me to trust in you yet again?
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
Yakkety Yak, Don't Talk back
The topic this week seems to be words. Too many words, the wrong words, watch your words, or lack there of. It seems that everyone has something to say about everything. At times, the words to do not even make any sense. It seems people just want to talk or hear themselves talk.
Everyone is using words of if they were going out of style. We are not even going to discuss, grammar, and spelling that is a whole separate blog. We are going to stick to the subject at hand, words. I just want to tell everyone to shut the "F" up. For the love of sanity, people. Go out, go for a walk, have a drink, buy yourself something pretty, get laid, whatever it takes to just shut up for awhile, do it.
The problem is that everyone is so consumed with themselves, they do not stop to listen to what they are saying, the impact that it has, and what everyone else has to say. Everyone has opinions. There is no right, there is no wrong, there are just different ways of looking at things. And, if you cannot persuade someone to see things your way, it is okay. Let them be.
When I was sixteen, I did a great exercise in art class. There was a model and we had to draw the model's hand. Every single person in the room had a different drawing. It was the same hand from the same model, but everyone's was different. No one was right. No one was wrong. No one was stupid because their drawing was different. They were all looking at the same hand and drawing from a different perspective.
We should apply this to our everyday lives. Everyone just sees things from their own perspective. No one is stupid, we just have different point of views, and that is okay.
What I just don't get is the name calling. The ugly name calling and insults thrown just because some one has a different perspective. It is exhausting. Why is everyone so angry? I just don't get it. Therefore, I will speak of nothing but lip gloss and shoes going forward. I'm going to exercise my right to be a dumb blond and use it to it's fullest potential.
Well, just for the weekend ... maybe.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Everyone is using words of if they were going out of style. We are not even going to discuss, grammar, and spelling that is a whole separate blog. We are going to stick to the subject at hand, words. I just want to tell everyone to shut the "F" up. For the love of sanity, people. Go out, go for a walk, have a drink, buy yourself something pretty, get laid, whatever it takes to just shut up for awhile, do it.
The problem is that everyone is so consumed with themselves, they do not stop to listen to what they are saying, the impact that it has, and what everyone else has to say. Everyone has opinions. There is no right, there is no wrong, there are just different ways of looking at things. And, if you cannot persuade someone to see things your way, it is okay. Let them be.
When I was sixteen, I did a great exercise in art class. There was a model and we had to draw the model's hand. Every single person in the room had a different drawing. It was the same hand from the same model, but everyone's was different. No one was right. No one was wrong. No one was stupid because their drawing was different. They were all looking at the same hand and drawing from a different perspective.
We should apply this to our everyday lives. Everyone just sees things from their own perspective. No one is stupid, we just have different point of views, and that is okay.
What I just don't get is the name calling. The ugly name calling and insults thrown just because some one has a different perspective. It is exhausting. Why is everyone so angry? I just don't get it. Therefore, I will speak of nothing but lip gloss and shoes going forward. I'm going to exercise my right to be a dumb blond and use it to it's fullest potential.
Well, just for the weekend ... maybe.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Love is Never Ending
Love is like the sunset
it comes;
it goes;
It lasts forever
until darkness falls.
It breathes within
the ocean;
it washes
out the sand
drifting to the sea.
It is like the seasons
changing with
the times;
coldest in the Winter
born again in Spring.
Love is never ending
like the verses of a poet
as sharp as the pen
that strikes the paper
it ends without a chorus.
Original Poetry by Lucy Tamajon
it comes;
it goes;
It lasts forever
until darkness falls.
It breathes within
the ocean;
it washes
out the sand
drifting to the sea.
It is like the seasons
changing with
the times;
coldest in the Winter
born again in Spring.
Love is never ending
like the verses of a poet
as sharp as the pen
that strikes the paper
it ends without a chorus.
Original Poetry by Lucy Tamajon
Friday, August 28, 2009
Shakespeare in Love
How crazy am I? Wait do not answer that. I am afraid to know what you really think. No, wait. I really do not care what you really think.
Last night, an old friend quoted some Shakespeare which got me started because I love Shakespeare. I fell in love with him when I first read him in 8th grade, and I have loved him ever since. Shakespeare that is, not the friend.. although, the friend is kind of cute, but I digress.
I do not really have one “favorite” play because everything he did was masterfully done. From the sonnets to the plays. Genius. Years ago, I wrote a poem, “Romeo”. Today, I still read that poem and have the same exact feelings I did so long ago. I am, at heart, the same girl I once was.
I have friends that tell me,”don't worry, you'll find someone.” I laugh because I have had great loves in my life and have no regrets when it comes to love. I have loved well.
Hence, Shakespeare with his endless knowledge about the tragedy that is love. From Othello to Romeo and Juliet where the quest for love is crushed by society's boundaries; to Anthony and Cleopatra where one man's love for one woman surpasses all human boundaries. He understood the plight, pain, and agony that is love.
I wonder how often his own heart was broken. How many lonely nights he spent wondering when “true love” would come. I think he did not have any lonely nights for men often do not; cannot experience the vast desert that can be the heart of a woman. The heart of a woman aches as no other can. We dream. We hope. We wait for that Romeo to save us, to love us, and to rescue us. But, rescue us from what exactly; perhaps, from ourselves.
Oh, Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou, Romeo? Six hundred plus years later, his words of love still grab the heart of the young holding it hostage for all eternity setting the standards for romance that perhaps can never be achieved by mere mortals.
If he were here beside me I would say:
“My Lord, cursed be thy wicked ways that sets the stage for life's sweet tragedies and keeps me waiting at bay for love's sweet kiss.”
Last night, an old friend quoted some Shakespeare which got me started because I love Shakespeare. I fell in love with him when I first read him in 8th grade, and I have loved him ever since. Shakespeare that is, not the friend.. although, the friend is kind of cute, but I digress.
I do not really have one “favorite” play because everything he did was masterfully done. From the sonnets to the plays. Genius. Years ago, I wrote a poem, “Romeo”. Today, I still read that poem and have the same exact feelings I did so long ago. I am, at heart, the same girl I once was.
I have friends that tell me,”don't worry, you'll find someone.” I laugh because I have had great loves in my life and have no regrets when it comes to love. I have loved well.
Hence, Shakespeare with his endless knowledge about the tragedy that is love. From Othello to Romeo and Juliet where the quest for love is crushed by society's boundaries; to Anthony and Cleopatra where one man's love for one woman surpasses all human boundaries. He understood the plight, pain, and agony that is love.
I wonder how often his own heart was broken. How many lonely nights he spent wondering when “true love” would come. I think he did not have any lonely nights for men often do not; cannot experience the vast desert that can be the heart of a woman. The heart of a woman aches as no other can. We dream. We hope. We wait for that Romeo to save us, to love us, and to rescue us. But, rescue us from what exactly; perhaps, from ourselves.
Oh, Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou, Romeo? Six hundred plus years later, his words of love still grab the heart of the young holding it hostage for all eternity setting the standards for romance that perhaps can never be achieved by mere mortals.
If he were here beside me I would say:
“My Lord, cursed be thy wicked ways that sets the stage for life's sweet tragedies and keeps me waiting at bay for love's sweet kiss.”
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
"Pardon me, is this your noodle?"
It's a hot Sunday afternoon in Miami, and I decide to go and hang out at the community pool. It's a beautiful day. I get to the pool and there are barely any people there. Nice. I find a spot, settle in, grab my book, and relax. Not five minutes pass enters a family of four. The kids are adorable maybe seven and five. They grab a spot near me, and quickly my peace and quiet comes to an abrupt end.
Now, it's not the kids that are the issue. They are sitting by the steps playing with pool toys and floating around. It's not Arthur, that's the husband, I quickly learn his name from his "nagging" wife who's name must be the "Sweet Lenore" because all she does is tap, tap, tap at his chamber door. Arthur grabs a big raft and jumps in. No sooner he hits the water, the Sweet Lenore yells out for him. She has a nasal voice that makes me want to get up and, well, you know the voice. She doesn't seem to care that there are people trying to relax, i.e, me!
"ARTHUR!" She yells as she slaps on sunscreen. "Yes." answers softly. "We need to get the invitations for Jenny's party printed." She settles in her chair. I try to read. "We will." He says. "I don't like the print on that printer. Can we make it smaller and bolder. It's too big." She goes on, he responds. "I don't know, probably." I try to read. "Arthur! Did you remember to put sunscreen?" She looks as if she is going to go check and make sure." Yes, yes. I did." He lays back. I put down my book, maybe I can close my eyes and nap through this. She goes on and on.
"What about the goodie bags?" Everyone ignores the Sweet Lenore, but she just keeps tap, tap, tapping on his chamber door. "Arthur! What about the goodie bags." He looks as if he wants to submerge his head in the water, "I don't know. I just want to float. Can I float?" She looks at him, "Where's your hat?" Arthur is bald, I guess the Sweet Lenore was worried about a sunburn. "I just want to float.. I don't need a hat."
After about half an hour of this, I get up and decide to join Arthur. I walk in the pool, smile at the kids, and just float. I notice a noodle floating by. The Sweet Lenore is going on and on about pizza and prizes and guests for little Jenny's Birthday.
"Pardon me, but is this your noodle?" I ask Arthur. "Yes it is." He smiles. "Mind if I use it?" He is very nice, "Oh, no. Of course, please do." I grab the blue noodle. "Thanks. I usually bring my own, but I forgot today. Isn't beautiful today?" I smile. "Why, it sure is. What's your name?" But, before I could answer.
"ARTHUR!" it's the Sweet Lenore. "What is it!" Arthur actually snaps back. "It's time to go." She is standing by the edge of the pool. "But, why? It's early." He looks like a five year old himself. "Arthur. Get out. We need to leave." She turns around and starts gathering her stuff and telling the kids to pick up they're going for pizza.
"I guess you better go sounds like she'll put you on time out." He looks so sad, "Nice talking to you." He says. "Same here." He starts to turn to walk away. "Oh, Arthur." He turns and smiles. "Yes." I hand him the noodle. "Here's your noodle. Thanks."
And they leave. Finally. Some peace and quiet! Now, I can read my book and just relax as planned. Ain't I rascal?
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Now, it's not the kids that are the issue. They are sitting by the steps playing with pool toys and floating around. It's not Arthur, that's the husband, I quickly learn his name from his "nagging" wife who's name must be the "Sweet Lenore" because all she does is tap, tap, tap at his chamber door. Arthur grabs a big raft and jumps in. No sooner he hits the water, the Sweet Lenore yells out for him. She has a nasal voice that makes me want to get up and, well, you know the voice. She doesn't seem to care that there are people trying to relax, i.e, me!
"ARTHUR!" She yells as she slaps on sunscreen. "Yes." answers softly. "We need to get the invitations for Jenny's party printed." She settles in her chair. I try to read. "We will." He says. "I don't like the print on that printer. Can we make it smaller and bolder. It's too big." She goes on, he responds. "I don't know, probably." I try to read. "Arthur! Did you remember to put sunscreen?" She looks as if she is going to go check and make sure." Yes, yes. I did." He lays back. I put down my book, maybe I can close my eyes and nap through this. She goes on and on.
"What about the goodie bags?" Everyone ignores the Sweet Lenore, but she just keeps tap, tap, tapping on his chamber door. "Arthur! What about the goodie bags." He looks as if he wants to submerge his head in the water, "I don't know. I just want to float. Can I float?" She looks at him, "Where's your hat?" Arthur is bald, I guess the Sweet Lenore was worried about a sunburn. "I just want to float.. I don't need a hat."
After about half an hour of this, I get up and decide to join Arthur. I walk in the pool, smile at the kids, and just float. I notice a noodle floating by. The Sweet Lenore is going on and on about pizza and prizes and guests for little Jenny's Birthday.
"Pardon me, but is this your noodle?" I ask Arthur. "Yes it is." He smiles. "Mind if I use it?" He is very nice, "Oh, no. Of course, please do." I grab the blue noodle. "Thanks. I usually bring my own, but I forgot today. Isn't beautiful today?" I smile. "Why, it sure is. What's your name?" But, before I could answer.
"ARTHUR!" it's the Sweet Lenore. "What is it!" Arthur actually snaps back. "It's time to go." She is standing by the edge of the pool. "But, why? It's early." He looks like a five year old himself. "Arthur. Get out. We need to leave." She turns around and starts gathering her stuff and telling the kids to pick up they're going for pizza.
"I guess you better go sounds like she'll put you on time out." He looks so sad, "Nice talking to you." He says. "Same here." He starts to turn to walk away. "Oh, Arthur." He turns and smiles. "Yes." I hand him the noodle. "Here's your noodle. Thanks."
And they leave. Finally. Some peace and quiet! Now, I can read my book and just relax as planned. Ain't I rascal?
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
The 7th Inning Stretch
It's the 7th inning stretch. It's been a heck of a game. Action everywhere. Stolen bases, hits, runs, and errors. Ah, yes, those nasty errors that leave you completely stunned and in dismay. Errors really suck, everyone knows they cost the game. You can't go back and fix them, what's done is done.
Well, that's the mid-life "crisis" in a nutshell. Now, I really dislike that term "mid-life crisis". I call it the 7th inning stretch. It's when we realize we are half-way done with this game called life, and we can't help but come to that realization. It's not a crisis, it's an awakening. We are stunned and completely dismayed at the "errors" and the things we thought we would get done and haven't. I am not sure about anyone else, but nothing has turned out as planned. Life happens when you are making plans and usually knocks us on our asses in the process.
So, here we are faced with the fact that we're not twenty anymore but not wanting to be, well, I won't mention a number; we all know our own number. Kids move out, marriages fall apart. Men go crazy looking for twenty-year old Blond Barbie's and buy fast cars to get the twenty year old Blond Barbie's. Women get botox up the yin yang making them look like crazy-ass blow fishes. It's a mad dash to discover the fountain of youth, turn back the hands of time, and cram everything you haven't done in the last twenty years into the next three.
Of course, then you have those few select people that just cannot cope with the fact that they are older and are determined to live in the past. It's not just about reminiscing, we all do that. It's about actually being stuck in the past. It's nuts. Snap out of it!
This is a restless time for us in our lives. Our generation is a unique generation. Our parents were not faced with the challenges that we are faced with. They got married, raised a family, got old together, and "The End." Our generation does not have a game plan. We have had to figure it out as we go, and we're terrified. We cling to that which we think will bring us back to who we were.
Bottom line is that we've got all the time in the world. We are exactly where we need to be. We need to stop questioning the "whys" and "why nots"; dust ourselves off, and get right back in the game. Not living in the past, but embracing the present. Knowing that we have come a long way and accomplished much. I don't know about anyone else, but I've learned how to play a curve ball. I sit back, wait patiently, and swing. Believe me, it's not too late to hit a home run.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Well, that's the mid-life "crisis" in a nutshell. Now, I really dislike that term "mid-life crisis". I call it the 7th inning stretch. It's when we realize we are half-way done with this game called life, and we can't help but come to that realization. It's not a crisis, it's an awakening. We are stunned and completely dismayed at the "errors" and the things we thought we would get done and haven't. I am not sure about anyone else, but nothing has turned out as planned. Life happens when you are making plans and usually knocks us on our asses in the process.
So, here we are faced with the fact that we're not twenty anymore but not wanting to be, well, I won't mention a number; we all know our own number. Kids move out, marriages fall apart. Men go crazy looking for twenty-year old Blond Barbie's and buy fast cars to get the twenty year old Blond Barbie's. Women get botox up the yin yang making them look like crazy-ass blow fishes. It's a mad dash to discover the fountain of youth, turn back the hands of time, and cram everything you haven't done in the last twenty years into the next three.
Of course, then you have those few select people that just cannot cope with the fact that they are older and are determined to live in the past. It's not just about reminiscing, we all do that. It's about actually being stuck in the past. It's nuts. Snap out of it!
This is a restless time for us in our lives. Our generation is a unique generation. Our parents were not faced with the challenges that we are faced with. They got married, raised a family, got old together, and "The End." Our generation does not have a game plan. We have had to figure it out as we go, and we're terrified. We cling to that which we think will bring us back to who we were.
Bottom line is that we've got all the time in the world. We are exactly where we need to be. We need to stop questioning the "whys" and "why nots"; dust ourselves off, and get right back in the game. Not living in the past, but embracing the present. Knowing that we have come a long way and accomplished much. I don't know about anyone else, but I've learned how to play a curve ball. I sit back, wait patiently, and swing. Believe me, it's not too late to hit a home run.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Time in a Bottle
I have had a couple of conversations with some friends regarding the time that they feel they've lost; mostly in relationships where they are not happy. I know, I do not have an answer on this one, but I can speak from personal experience. We do not lose time, we live. As we live, we learn and grow.
It's natural to glance back and wonder "what if"? I personally do not believe in this practice, but understand why we do it. I believe it is wasteful and serves no purpose. If you feel that you have stopped loving someone, it means you never loved them to begin with. We can fall in and out of love numerous times. Being in love and loving are very different things.
Pure and simple, we love when we meet our the other half of our soul. This soul completes you and compliments you. This is the soul that understands you. You don't need to talk to them ten times a day; you don't need words,; you don't even need explanations. This soul knows how you feel and what you are thinking without words being spoken. You can look into their eyes and know everything that is their hearts. You can be miles away and feel them close by your side. There is no conflict, no fighting, no arguing, no pain. There is just complete inner peace. You belong together and you know it.
When we are young it is so difficult to understand this concept. We fall in love with how the person looks on the outside. We think jealousy and possessiveness is love. We fall in love with the sexual part of love. Sex is good; well, sex is great. Come to think of it, it's wonderful; however, I digress. Let's stay on track. Where was I? Ah, yes, Love.
When we are younger, we do not realize that looks fade; jealousy is insecurity that can only breed fear; it grows and it festers. We fall in love with love. When the passion and the looks fade, we are left with the reality of the person we choose to be our companion. We realize that we have not been sharing our lives with the soul that the Master intended for us. We need someone to love body and soul; and this is not them. We fear the unknown, and settle. The more we settle, the more unhappy we become.
Time is never lost, we bottle it up. As difficult as it may be to realize this, and it will be painful to say the least, we owe it to everyone to walk away. To be kind to the stranger beside you and go your separate ways. The longer we stay in a painful relationship that drains us of all that we are, the more we lose of our souls. We may have one day, ten days, or fifty years left on our earthly journey. How do you want to spend the rest of your days?
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
It's natural to glance back and wonder "what if"? I personally do not believe in this practice, but understand why we do it. I believe it is wasteful and serves no purpose. If you feel that you have stopped loving someone, it means you never loved them to begin with. We can fall in and out of love numerous times. Being in love and loving are very different things.
Pure and simple, we love when we meet our the other half of our soul. This soul completes you and compliments you. This is the soul that understands you. You don't need to talk to them ten times a day; you don't need words,; you don't even need explanations. This soul knows how you feel and what you are thinking without words being spoken. You can look into their eyes and know everything that is their hearts. You can be miles away and feel them close by your side. There is no conflict, no fighting, no arguing, no pain. There is just complete inner peace. You belong together and you know it.
When we are young it is so difficult to understand this concept. We fall in love with how the person looks on the outside. We think jealousy and possessiveness is love. We fall in love with the sexual part of love. Sex is good; well, sex is great. Come to think of it, it's wonderful; however, I digress. Let's stay on track. Where was I? Ah, yes, Love.
When we are younger, we do not realize that looks fade; jealousy is insecurity that can only breed fear; it grows and it festers. We fall in love with love. When the passion and the looks fade, we are left with the reality of the person we choose to be our companion. We realize that we have not been sharing our lives with the soul that the Master intended for us. We need someone to love body and soul; and this is not them. We fear the unknown, and settle. The more we settle, the more unhappy we become.
Time is never lost, we bottle it up. As difficult as it may be to realize this, and it will be painful to say the least, we owe it to everyone to walk away. To be kind to the stranger beside you and go your separate ways. The longer we stay in a painful relationship that drains us of all that we are, the more we lose of our souls. We may have one day, ten days, or fifty years left on our earthly journey. How do you want to spend the rest of your days?
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
The Writer's Block
Sometimes, I want to write. I have so much to say, I know shocking isn't it? There are all these different conversations and ideas floating in my head. All at the same time. Again, another shocker. But, I can't get it on paper. It's not a writer's block. It's a huge cement wall that knocks me on my ass.
I have a ritual for releasing ideas. Lately, this is not even helping and the voices and conversations are way too many and too loud to even get on paper at my rapid speed. I have notes all over the place. Piles of papers and notebooks on my night table, notebooks in my purse, on the coffee table, random notes on the computer, on the calendar, planner, and on and on. It' just insane even by my standards.
My fifteen year old son who watches my insanity on a daily basis had a suggestion yesterday, "have a seminar of the minds." He said matter of factly. "What?" I asked surprised. "Yeah, that's what I do. I have mind seminars with all the voices in my head." I just looked at him in awe and thought, "Oh! No! You've inherited the voices!!!" He continued, "seminars are great because they are organized and the leader takes control. You are just having random conversations and no one is in charge."
You would think I would be worried about the fact that at fifteen my son is hearing voices and having mind seminars in his own brain, but I wasn't. I was actually listening to what he was saying because he was making sense! How weird is that! Disturbing.
Writing is all about emotions, pure and simple. It's pouring everything you've got into a blank piece of paper and hoping that you strike a cord or several cords with the readers. Not an easy task to transform yourself into other characters and experience their feelings. It's exhausting. I call it Time Traveling. I'll get into that on another blog.
For now, I'm shifting gears and scheduling a Seminar of the Minds. Hopefully, the cement wall will come down, and the emotions will pour out and onto the blank paper striking all the necessary chords creating a beautiful symphony.
I have a ritual for releasing ideas. Lately, this is not even helping and the voices and conversations are way too many and too loud to even get on paper at my rapid speed. I have notes all over the place. Piles of papers and notebooks on my night table, notebooks in my purse, on the coffee table, random notes on the computer, on the calendar, planner, and on and on. It' just insane even by my standards.
My fifteen year old son who watches my insanity on a daily basis had a suggestion yesterday, "have a seminar of the minds." He said matter of factly. "What?" I asked surprised. "Yeah, that's what I do. I have mind seminars with all the voices in my head." I just looked at him in awe and thought, "Oh! No! You've inherited the voices!!!" He continued, "seminars are great because they are organized and the leader takes control. You are just having random conversations and no one is in charge."
You would think I would be worried about the fact that at fifteen my son is hearing voices and having mind seminars in his own brain, but I wasn't. I was actually listening to what he was saying because he was making sense! How weird is that! Disturbing.
Writing is all about emotions, pure and simple. It's pouring everything you've got into a blank piece of paper and hoping that you strike a cord or several cords with the readers. Not an easy task to transform yourself into other characters and experience their feelings. It's exhausting. I call it Time Traveling. I'll get into that on another blog.
For now, I'm shifting gears and scheduling a Seminar of the Minds. Hopefully, the cement wall will come down, and the emotions will pour out and onto the blank paper striking all the necessary chords creating a beautiful symphony.
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
A Blanket of Stars
There are dreams
embedded deep within
the petal of a rose;
they do not fade with time
they grow.
There are wishes carried
on the wings of doves
to secret places
in our hearts.
There are souls that are
crotchet with loves
sweet threads;
they live as one although
miles away.
There are moonlit nights
when two hearts torn apart by fate
find comfort and rest
under a warm blanket of stars.
Original poetry by Lucy Tamajon
embedded deep within
the petal of a rose;
they do not fade with time
they grow.
There are wishes carried
on the wings of doves
to secret places
in our hearts.
There are souls that are
crotchet with loves
sweet threads;
they live as one although
miles away.
There are moonlit nights
when two hearts torn apart by fate
find comfort and rest
under a warm blanket of stars.
Original poetry by Lucy Tamajon
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Goldilocks & The Three Bears
Kids are not easy. I don't care how many of these deranged "perfect" moms go on The View or anywhere else and tell us, "how easy it is to parent when you have a plan." You know the crazy-ass soccer moms I'm talking about. With their cute little hair cuts, driving a neat and tidy mini-van, chit chatting about "play dates", and "time outs" as if it was all so perfectly packaged. They sit there and organize their 5-year old lives in perfect little sections and talk about creative scheduling while they squeeze in their semi-annual "me time" collagen injections with their local plastic quack.
We all know them. I personally know a couple of these deranged moms. I hear them talk about the ease of parenthood and how fabulous being a mom is as long as "you've the got a planned schedule". Planned schedule, my ass! I think they've had one botox injection too many and it's gone straight to their brain and killed whatever brain cells they had left to begin with.
Being a mom has got to be the most difficult job in the world and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You bring home this little life that by the way comes without any training manuals whatsoever. It's a learn as you go project and a life sentence. You are never officially off the job. You get puked on, shitted on, cried at, yelled at, food thrown at, smacked in the head with waffle blocks, and scared out of your wits end on an ongoing basis just because. You lose whatever shred of sanity you have left and all capacities of ever sleeping a full night again. Ever.
I was blessed with the Drama Queen. There was drama about everything. "I'm thirsty. I'm hungry. I want a coloring book" Everything was done whining and with dramatics, a full show was to be had so take a seat and relax.
Then there was the Interrogator. The interrogator needed to know the "why" to everything. Questioned it all. Curiosity made this child take everything apart and leave it in pieces. The answering machine, the VCR, the computers. For awhile I thought he would grow up to be a pathologist. Oh, yes and he loved to put "hats" on his head, usually a pot or a pan from the cub bard.
And, lastly the Fearless Explorer. The Fearless Explorer crawled and climbed over everything. At ten months old, he knocked over the play pen and broke out of the joint. I was not aware of this escape plan as there were a house full other little monsters running in and out wanting snacks, water, and screaming at the top of their lungs. Suddenly, I tripped over what I thought was another toy but was horrified to see it was my ten-month youngest terror sitting in the middle of the living room with a wicked smile on his face. "Yeah, I broke out of that joint lady. You can't keep me in."
My mother called once in the middle of one of these fabulous "planned scheduled" play days, and I was out on the couch. The Interrogator answered the phone. I can only guess she asked where I was like maybe she thought I was down at SoBe with a hot guy and a mojito. Where else would I be! I heard the Interrogator say, "She's dead on the couch. We killed her." Enter the Drama Queen, "Dead! Oh my God! No!" To which the Fearless Explorer proceeded to poke me in the eye with his finger to make sure I was still alive. "Na. Na. Mommy is still alive."
I crack up when I see all of these crazy silly women reading books on how to be a "mom" and setting up schedules and planning these "perfect" play dates and such. Maybe it's me. I'm so screwed up in the head that I just couldn't even do that right.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
We all know them. I personally know a couple of these deranged moms. I hear them talk about the ease of parenthood and how fabulous being a mom is as long as "you've the got a planned schedule". Planned schedule, my ass! I think they've had one botox injection too many and it's gone straight to their brain and killed whatever brain cells they had left to begin with.
Being a mom has got to be the most difficult job in the world and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You bring home this little life that by the way comes without any training manuals whatsoever. It's a learn as you go project and a life sentence. You are never officially off the job. You get puked on, shitted on, cried at, yelled at, food thrown at, smacked in the head with waffle blocks, and scared out of your wits end on an ongoing basis just because. You lose whatever shred of sanity you have left and all capacities of ever sleeping a full night again. Ever.
I was blessed with the Drama Queen. There was drama about everything. "I'm thirsty. I'm hungry. I want a coloring book" Everything was done whining and with dramatics, a full show was to be had so take a seat and relax.
Then there was the Interrogator. The interrogator needed to know the "why" to everything. Questioned it all. Curiosity made this child take everything apart and leave it in pieces. The answering machine, the VCR, the computers. For awhile I thought he would grow up to be a pathologist. Oh, yes and he loved to put "hats" on his head, usually a pot or a pan from the cub bard.
And, lastly the Fearless Explorer. The Fearless Explorer crawled and climbed over everything. At ten months old, he knocked over the play pen and broke out of the joint. I was not aware of this escape plan as there were a house full other little monsters running in and out wanting snacks, water, and screaming at the top of their lungs. Suddenly, I tripped over what I thought was another toy but was horrified to see it was my ten-month youngest terror sitting in the middle of the living room with a wicked smile on his face. "Yeah, I broke out of that joint lady. You can't keep me in."
My mother called once in the middle of one of these fabulous "planned scheduled" play days, and I was out on the couch. The Interrogator answered the phone. I can only guess she asked where I was like maybe she thought I was down at SoBe with a hot guy and a mojito. Where else would I be! I heard the Interrogator say, "She's dead on the couch. We killed her." Enter the Drama Queen, "Dead! Oh my God! No!" To which the Fearless Explorer proceeded to poke me in the eye with his finger to make sure I was still alive. "Na. Na. Mommy is still alive."
I crack up when I see all of these crazy silly women reading books on how to be a "mom" and setting up schedules and planning these "perfect" play dates and such. Maybe it's me. I'm so screwed up in the head that I just couldn't even do that right.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Friday, August 14, 2009
Eternal Souls
A silent scream echoes the endless night;
in the darkness,
your flesh burns mine.
I hide deep inside your heart
immersed within eternal souls.
Your body crushes me,
a gasp for air.
Your mouth consumes
the life within,
breathing a silent prayer.
And, when it's over,
I'm cold and bare.
I search,
I reach,
there is no life,
you are just not there.
Original Poetry by Lucy Tamajon
in the darkness,
your flesh burns mine.
I hide deep inside your heart
immersed within eternal souls.
Your body crushes me,
a gasp for air.
Your mouth consumes
the life within,
breathing a silent prayer.
And, when it's over,
I'm cold and bare.
I search,
I reach,
there is no life,
you are just not there.
Original Poetry by Lucy Tamajon
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Only a Carry-On is Needed
I recently traveled and like most travelers, I pack a bag. Of course, we do. We need to get away, "detach" ourselves from the routine, leave the world behind, but we must take with us everything we own. I have to admit, I'm a horrible packer. I wait to the last minute and stuff, stuff, stuff my bag.
Once at my destination, I don't use have the stuff I brought. It just sits there in the suitcase a reminder of what I wanted to leave behind in the first place.
When we travel through this incredible journey of life, we seem to do the same thing. We not only carry baggage with us, the load is so heavy we drag baggage with us. We stop often and unpack all our baggage, look at it, and continue to take it with us. We really do not need any of it, but yet, we choose to keep the load heavy, open it up, look at, talk about it, re-pack it, and continue with the heavy load.
It is impossible to enjoy our stay with all this baggage. Impossible. Cannot be done. Today, we need to go through our suitcase of life and do some major unpacking. We will unpack, anger, resentment, fear, neglect, worries, anticipation. You name it. We will unpack all of the past as needed. However, we will not repack any of it. We do not need envy, jealousy, and the dreaded ego. Get rid of it all and dump it. Lighten your load.
Who the heck wants to go through this beautiful life with all that crap. The past is gone. Done. Does not exist. It is an illusion. It is not real. Forgive and move on. We make it real when we continue to bring it up. When we continue to carry it with us. This is a difficult task, some loads are heavy, and we've had them for a long, long time. They've become a part of us. But, it must be done.
I'm tossing out my big suitcase and getting a small, small carry-on. And, the next time I travel when the lovely attendant asks me, "Baggage to check in?" I will flash my big smile and say, "Nope, just a carry on and it's a Gucci."
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Monday, August 10, 2009
Free to Love
We are trapped within a prison fabricated by the mind not realizing that the soul has been free to love. You can only experience true love when you set the soul free; yours and theirs. Souls are not meant to be confined by expectations and boundaries set in the material world. Set them free and love beyond belief will be yours.
Have absolutely no expectations of the person you are with. Just live the moment for what it is. Accept all that is given to you at this moment; this minute without questions because that is all that is real. Cease questions; questions are mere obstacles; live the questions because the answers will come in time.
We cannot own a person, they do not belong to us. We cannot set expectations or rules. Souls are part of the universe, they are not ours. Souls are the sunset and the sunrise; the ocean and the sand; the mountains and valleys. They are the air that we breath; the roses that bloom in summer; the smile of a child. Souls are eternal, they are not meant to be confined.
Say to the person you love, "you are free". Free to be what you want to be. Free to do what you want to do. Free to love as you want to love and set them free. Let them be. In doing so, you set yourself free. You will achieve the most incredible peace within that you have ever experienced.
If this soul is meant for you, they will give all that they are to you. Willingly without your demands, without rules, without judgment. They will return on their own to you to find comfort in your heart, to share your existence.
They will look into your eyes and right to your heart. Words will not be necessary. Not one word will be spoken. Time will stand still and be non-existing. The world will cease and you will melt into one another. As if notes in a beautiful symphony composed at the Master's hand without your understanding, you will come together in perfect harmony. You will be free to love through the ages and for all eternity.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
this is the original writing of the author, Lucy Tamajon, it cannot be copied, distributed or published without her consent or authorization. <3
Take Me Out to the Ball Game
"Take me out to the ball game. Take me out to the crowd. Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks, I don't care if I ever get back."
"Hey! I think the ump needs glasses!" A fan yells out. The Blue turns around, smiles, and shouts back, "probably!"
You got to love it. There's nothing better than a good old fashion game of "softball" to bring the masses together. But then again, I'm an old fashion kind of girl.
Friends of all ages gathered in what probably may have been one of the hottest days of August here in Miami. Yet, there were nothing but smiles and good times to be had. This weekend Hudson County came together at Tropical Park in Miami for what was to be, and was, a great reunion.
In my humble opinion, the hi-light of the reunion was the B-Line Boys bringing everyone together for America's favorite pass-time. No frills, no special effects, nothing but a bunch of guys swinging the bat, running the bases, and scoring some runs.
From the days of old West New York Little League to present day Tropical Park, these guys still got it. This hometown girl was impressed by the quick moves, speed around the bases, and even a home run. The game had it all, action-packed from the first pitch to the last out.
In our old home-town where some of the relics of our youth no longer exists, Roosevelt Stadium, gone; the Hillers and the Bulldogs, gone; it took a bunch of great Tigers to bring us together. Hats off to the B-Line Boys for keeping the spirits of America's favorite pass-time alive across state lines reminding us decades later that we are all still one.
"Cause it's root, root, root for the home team! If they don't win it's a shame. Cause it's one, two, three strikes you're out! At the old ball game!"
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
I Do Not Remember You
I do not remember you at all;
nor the way you looked at me,
nor the comfort of your smile
I'm sorry.
I do not recall at all,
the way you kissed my lips;
nor the way you held me
on those hot summer afternoons
so long ago.
I do not have a shred of memory
of your flesh burning mine;
nor the sound of your voice
as it whispered in the night.
I do not remember you at all;
I am sorry;
nor, do I recall
your heart melting into mine
when you loved me
through those bitter winter nights.
And, now you stand before me
once again,
but, I do not remember you at all
not your eyes, nor your smile,
nor the way you loved me.
I'm sorry.
I don't recall at all.
Lucy Tamajon
nor the way you looked at me,
nor the comfort of your smile
I'm sorry.
I do not recall at all,
the way you kissed my lips;
nor the way you held me
on those hot summer afternoons
so long ago.
I do not have a shred of memory
of your flesh burning mine;
nor the sound of your voice
as it whispered in the night.
I do not remember you at all;
I am sorry;
nor, do I recall
your heart melting into mine
when you loved me
through those bitter winter nights.
And, now you stand before me
once again,
but, I do not remember you at all
not your eyes, nor your smile,
nor the way you loved me.
I'm sorry.
I don't recall at all.
Lucy Tamajon
Saturday, August 8, 2009
A Band of Gold
I just have to put this out there because I have been hearing all different excuses for this or lack of for years. Men that do not wear their wedding bands. Now, I have about heard every story in the book about this one.
"It's too hot, my fingers sweat."
"It's too cold, I can't wear my gloves."
"It bothers me when I drive."
"It gets caught on stuff."
"I don't really like jewelry."
"It's so uncomfortable to wear all the time."
"I usually wear it, but I forgot to put it on this morning."
I have heard them all. I'm not buying it. Not buying it one bit. I am a homing pigeon when it comes to wedding bands. .
I was a bar once, it was dark, crowded, and my friend says, "Oh, look cute guy across the way." I smile, "No, good. He's got a ring." She looked at me astound. "How the heck can you see from all the way here!" "Ahhh, it's a combination of raw talent blended with years of experience on the single scene."
I have become so good at it that I can even spot the occasional guy who tries to pull the wool over my eyes. At one occasion, a guy wearing a ring that I had spotted a mile away, looks my way and smiles. He starts approaching me to ask a question when he suddenly must have remembered, "Damn! I have a wife!" And, so he starts to very smoothly cover the ring. "Too late." I said. "What?" He looks at me trying to be slick. "I saw the ring, dude."
Here's the deal guys. Single girls are pretty good at spotting single guys. Married men whether they wear their rings or not are branded. Sorry, but you are. So do everyone a favor, keep the ring on. If wearing a simple band of gold is a burden, I can only imagine what the actual marriage must be like.
"It's too hot, my fingers sweat."
"It's too cold, I can't wear my gloves."
"It bothers me when I drive."
"It gets caught on stuff."
"I don't really like jewelry."
"It's so uncomfortable to wear all the time."
"I usually wear it, but I forgot to put it on this morning."
I have heard them all. I'm not buying it. Not buying it one bit. I am a homing pigeon when it comes to wedding bands. .
I was a bar once, it was dark, crowded, and my friend says, "Oh, look cute guy across the way." I smile, "No, good. He's got a ring." She looked at me astound. "How the heck can you see from all the way here!" "Ahhh, it's a combination of raw talent blended with years of experience on the single scene."
I have become so good at it that I can even spot the occasional guy who tries to pull the wool over my eyes. At one occasion, a guy wearing a ring that I had spotted a mile away, looks my way and smiles. He starts approaching me to ask a question when he suddenly must have remembered, "Damn! I have a wife!" And, so he starts to very smoothly cover the ring. "Too late." I said. "What?" He looks at me trying to be slick. "I saw the ring, dude."
Here's the deal guys. Single girls are pretty good at spotting single guys. Married men whether they wear their rings or not are branded. Sorry, but you are. So do everyone a favor, keep the ring on. If wearing a simple band of gold is a burden, I can only imagine what the actual marriage must be like.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Love Story
It is ironic how Ryan O'Neil started his young career, with a movie by the name of "Love Story". His character falls in love with the love of his life only to lose her to at the end. I watched this years ago, I was very young, and missed the message. Decades later, life imitates art, and the message is crystal clear to this little girl who still believes in everlasting love.
Tears of joy should be shed when souls find one another and are able to share whatever time the universe allots them. Whether it is a "brief" romantic encounter or "years" of this life's crazy ride. No vows are necessary when true love is found, and words are even more of a burden. All that is needed is to look into one another's eyes and you will know.
Love is not about a big fancy designer dress, or flowers, or a big reception. Love is not about standing at a church, temple, or even a court room to utter vows. Love is not about diamond rings and empty promises that will probably never be kept not because you did not mean to but because promises almost always are broken. Love is not about spending thousands of dollars in a huge production to please the masses.
Love is simply accepting the soul that shares your life as they are. Love is being frightened in the middle of the night and being able to find comfort in the warmth of the soul next to you. Love is knowing that your time together is precious, that you both have demons to battle, and that regardless of life's challenges, you will stick it out together. Love is understanding that we are spiritual souls in human form and will therefore have faults. Love is sharing all that comes our way in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death do you part. And, this does not have to be said out loud, it just has to been known in the heart.
You do not need a priest, rabbi, pastor, or judge to confirm your love. You do not need special vows or a big party. You just need to know, and you just need to be there. Vows are a soft whisper from the heart on a cold winter's night.
Oh, yes, and my favorite line from the movie that was etched in my mind forever, "Love means never having to say you are sorry."
Tears of joy should be shed when souls find one another and are able to share whatever time the universe allots them. Whether it is a "brief" romantic encounter or "years" of this life's crazy ride. No vows are necessary when true love is found, and words are even more of a burden. All that is needed is to look into one another's eyes and you will know.
Love is not about a big fancy designer dress, or flowers, or a big reception. Love is not about standing at a church, temple, or even a court room to utter vows. Love is not about diamond rings and empty promises that will probably never be kept not because you did not mean to but because promises almost always are broken. Love is not about spending thousands of dollars in a huge production to please the masses.
Love is simply accepting the soul that shares your life as they are. Love is being frightened in the middle of the night and being able to find comfort in the warmth of the soul next to you. Love is knowing that your time together is precious, that you both have demons to battle, and that regardless of life's challenges, you will stick it out together. Love is understanding that we are spiritual souls in human form and will therefore have faults. Love is sharing all that comes our way in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death do you part. And, this does not have to be said out loud, it just has to been known in the heart.
You do not need a priest, rabbi, pastor, or judge to confirm your love. You do not need special vows or a big party. You just need to know, and you just need to be there. Vows are a soft whisper from the heart on a cold winter's night.
Oh, yes, and my favorite line from the movie that was etched in my mind forever, "Love means never having to say you are sorry."
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
For Whom the Bells Toll
The life of a poet is probably the most difficult of all. You may think I am crazy, well, I am but that is not the point I am trying to make. Poetry is almost never understood. People just don't get it. It is confusing, upsetting, and just too coagulated to comprehend for most.
The poet's job is to describe emotions through words in the simplest of forms. We give feelings to objects that normally cannot feel. Trees bleed, ocean's roar, bird's cry. Often times the reader just does not understand.
Most of my poetry is dark. I rarely share it, and I understand why I don't. When I write poetry, I tap into a very dark and hidden place within me. It is almost as if it is not me at all. I transform into what I try to write about. I know that this sounds insane, perhaps, it is.
I had a professor once pull the most deepest of emotions from me through an assignment. The lesson was not to just write a poem, but become the object in the poem. "I don't think I can." He looked at me, "if anyone can. You can." And, I learned to transport myself out of my body to another place. I became the person in the poem, the tree, the river, the sky. I closed my eyes and learned to feel emotions and relate the feelings into words of that object. I remember writing about piano keys. He was impressed, "this is exactly what a piano's key would feel like if it could feel."
I keep my poetry hidden deep, deep, deep within my soul because it opens a window that few can relate to. I can now understand completely why some of the great literary minds have retrieved and lived confined within their own minds. The more we give of ourselves through our writing, the more vulnerable we become, and the less understood.
Hemingway was an alcoholic, ultimately committed suicide. Virginia Wolf filled her pockets with coins and walked into the ocean. Sylvia Plath put her head into an oven could not handle rejection. Yet, she earned a Pulitzer Prize for her dark and disturbing poetry. Elizabeth Browning was prescribed opium for her "affliction". Even the great master, Shakespeare was laughed at and struggled as an artist and died thinking he was a failure.
Emily Dickinson was said to be an anti-social and secluded herself. She died a premature death diagnosed by doctors as a cause of stress and depression. Upon her death, her sister instructed all letters and writings not published to be burned. Thank God a friend intervened. Emily kept her poetry vague and was often criticized and labeled as crazy and having a "fictitious lover." The more her work was torn to shreds, the more secluded she became, but she did not stop writing.
It takes great courage to pour emotions onto paper. Your heart bleeds and as it does, you write not with ink but with your own blood. And, then, you are misunderstood. You accomplish what you set out to do in the process, bringing the reader into a world they had never thought of. But, you, the poet is misunderstood. Hence, the struggle of the great love I have for words. Memorized by the power within my soul, I can only write what is in my heart.
My life closed twice before its close.
It yet remains to see
If immortality unveil
A third event to me,
So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell,
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
Emily Dickinson
The poet's job is to describe emotions through words in the simplest of forms. We give feelings to objects that normally cannot feel. Trees bleed, ocean's roar, bird's cry. Often times the reader just does not understand.
Most of my poetry is dark. I rarely share it, and I understand why I don't. When I write poetry, I tap into a very dark and hidden place within me. It is almost as if it is not me at all. I transform into what I try to write about. I know that this sounds insane, perhaps, it is.
I had a professor once pull the most deepest of emotions from me through an assignment. The lesson was not to just write a poem, but become the object in the poem. "I don't think I can." He looked at me, "if anyone can. You can." And, I learned to transport myself out of my body to another place. I became the person in the poem, the tree, the river, the sky. I closed my eyes and learned to feel emotions and relate the feelings into words of that object. I remember writing about piano keys. He was impressed, "this is exactly what a piano's key would feel like if it could feel."
I keep my poetry hidden deep, deep, deep within my soul because it opens a window that few can relate to. I can now understand completely why some of the great literary minds have retrieved and lived confined within their own minds. The more we give of ourselves through our writing, the more vulnerable we become, and the less understood.
Hemingway was an alcoholic, ultimately committed suicide. Virginia Wolf filled her pockets with coins and walked into the ocean. Sylvia Plath put her head into an oven could not handle rejection. Yet, she earned a Pulitzer Prize for her dark and disturbing poetry. Elizabeth Browning was prescribed opium for her "affliction". Even the great master, Shakespeare was laughed at and struggled as an artist and died thinking he was a failure.
Emily Dickinson was said to be an anti-social and secluded herself. She died a premature death diagnosed by doctors as a cause of stress and depression. Upon her death, her sister instructed all letters and writings not published to be burned. Thank God a friend intervened. Emily kept her poetry vague and was often criticized and labeled as crazy and having a "fictitious lover." The more her work was torn to shreds, the more secluded she became, but she did not stop writing.
It takes great courage to pour emotions onto paper. Your heart bleeds and as it does, you write not with ink but with your own blood. And, then, you are misunderstood. You accomplish what you set out to do in the process, bringing the reader into a world they had never thought of. But, you, the poet is misunderstood. Hence, the struggle of the great love I have for words. Memorized by the power within my soul, I can only write what is in my heart.
My life closed twice before its close.
It yet remains to see
If immortality unveil
A third event to me,
So huge, so hopeless to conceive
As these that twice befell,
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.
Emily Dickinson
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The All About Me Newsletter
It amazes me how egos get the best of us. How we lose track of what is really important in order to feed our ever growing and never ending egos. Most people think that it is just men that have these egos, but I beg to differ. Egos are gender-free.
I was recently asked to contribute to a local friendly newsletter put together by a group of what appeared to be very sweet ladies. We'll keep the identities of the parties anonymous so that we do not further feed their egos What started out as a group effort by all parties involved has turned out into the "ALL ABOUT ME" Newsletter for one particular lady. So much so that she is screening and deciding what to print when it is not even her job. Not only does she want to decide what is going to print, she is going to tell the writer what to write. It has become a one woman show all about her. What was a simple five or six page newsletter with basic and simple information has turned into a monster 15-page ego feeding declaration of "look at me! Look at me!" Oh, yes, and we cannot forget to put her name on everything even if it has nothing to do with her.
As a creative soul, I respect her ego's need for attention. However, I will not partake in the One-Woman Show. I simply withdrew from the drama and the bulling. Yes, sorry, bulling of this sweet little lady that wants everyone to know all that she does and how good she is and how much love she has for the whole wide world because she does not miss a beat and reminds us daily.
Oh, brother, lady. Give it a break and get over yourself. Here's a newsflash for your "All About Me Newsletter" ... the world does not revolve around you. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
I was recently asked to contribute to a local friendly newsletter put together by a group of what appeared to be very sweet ladies. We'll keep the identities of the parties anonymous so that we do not further feed their egos What started out as a group effort by all parties involved has turned out into the "ALL ABOUT ME" Newsletter for one particular lady. So much so that she is screening and deciding what to print when it is not even her job. Not only does she want to decide what is going to print, she is going to tell the writer what to write. It has become a one woman show all about her. What was a simple five or six page newsletter with basic and simple information has turned into a monster 15-page ego feeding declaration of "look at me! Look at me!" Oh, yes, and we cannot forget to put her name on everything even if it has nothing to do with her.
As a creative soul, I respect her ego's need for attention. However, I will not partake in the One-Woman Show. I simply withdrew from the drama and the bulling. Yes, sorry, bulling of this sweet little lady that wants everyone to know all that she does and how good she is and how much love she has for the whole wide world because she does not miss a beat and reminds us daily.
Oh, brother, lady. Give it a break and get over yourself. Here's a newsflash for your "All About Me Newsletter" ... the world does not revolve around you. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Why I Write
"No Tears in the writer. No tears in the Reader." Robert Frost
Writing is more than just a craft or a talent, it is flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. When I write, I open my heart and soul and pour every emotion into the blank pages before me. The colors come alive not with a paint brush or paints but with words.
I sit quietly listening to the voices in the silence that feed the words. Words that will come alive in my pages. I listen to the rain and the sound of the pain of every rain drop. I hear the laughter of the butterflies that frolic in the yellow roses in a random garden. I grasp the shade of blue in the ocean and spill it on to the white page before me. I never cease to ask questions and wait for the answers that come in the form of all that is created by the Master's hand.
I open my heart, and in doing so, I invite the reader into the world born from all that is within me. If I do not shed tears then the reader will not cry. If I do not laugh then the reader will not find joy. My infinite and daunting task is to bring the reader into my heart, open the door to my soul, extend a chair, and let them into to the depths of all of my emotions. In doing so, I become naked and at the mercy of the reader.
If I cannot become one with the reader than I am not a writer.
Lucy Tamajon
Writing is more than just a craft or a talent, it is flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. When I write, I open my heart and soul and pour every emotion into the blank pages before me. The colors come alive not with a paint brush or paints but with words.
I sit quietly listening to the voices in the silence that feed the words. Words that will come alive in my pages. I listen to the rain and the sound of the pain of every rain drop. I hear the laughter of the butterflies that frolic in the yellow roses in a random garden. I grasp the shade of blue in the ocean and spill it on to the white page before me. I never cease to ask questions and wait for the answers that come in the form of all that is created by the Master's hand.
I open my heart, and in doing so, I invite the reader into the world born from all that is within me. If I do not shed tears then the reader will not cry. If I do not laugh then the reader will not find joy. My infinite and daunting task is to bring the reader into my heart, open the door to my soul, extend a chair, and let them into to the depths of all of my emotions. In doing so, I become naked and at the mercy of the reader.
If I cannot become one with the reader than I am not a writer.
Lucy Tamajon
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Taps
Taps
What must it be like
to be a million miles from home;
in a foreign land
strangers staring
while you sleep.
Hungry, tired, and in defeat
marching in the blistering heat.
What must it be like
to be frightened and alone
wondering if anyone truly cares;
praying in your mind
never giving up hope in your heart.
What must it be like
to watch the world pass judgment
on the uniform you proudly wear
and those filled with hate burn the
flag of your loving homeland.
What must it be like
to love your country so
and serve without remorse, questions,
or rewards.
What must it be like to
be brave and cry a silent tear
to defend what so many disregard
for the land that you hold dear.
What must it be like
to hold your brother in your arms
and sooth his restless heart
as he makes his final stance.
7/6/2009
Lucy Tamajon
What must it be like
to be a million miles from home;
in a foreign land
strangers staring
while you sleep.
Hungry, tired, and in defeat
marching in the blistering heat.
What must it be like
to be frightened and alone
wondering if anyone truly cares;
praying in your mind
never giving up hope in your heart.
What must it be like
to watch the world pass judgment
on the uniform you proudly wear
and those filled with hate burn the
flag of your loving homeland.
What must it be like
to love your country so
and serve without remorse, questions,
or rewards.
What must it be like to
be brave and cry a silent tear
to defend what so many disregard
for the land that you hold dear.
What must it be like
to hold your brother in your arms
and sooth his restless heart
as he makes his final stance.
7/6/2009
Lucy Tamajon
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Hello, again
Well, I had taken a break from my blogs because I did not think that anyone was reading them or even remotely interested. Then one friend mentioned how much they enjoyed my blogs, and when I asked a few people they told me that they did read my blogs but just didn't want to comment. "It is the quiet ones, like me, that look forward to your writings the most." That was a comment from a friend, I was touched.
It seems that they find their voice through what I perceive to be my sometimes silly ramblings. They find comfort in my words. And, even look for guidance during some of their difficult times. I was touched and overwhelmed with emotions.
Therefore, if I can touch one person, make a difference in one person's life, then, I will blog. After all, we are all here to do God's work; and, God's work at times may be doing the small things in life often enough to make a difference.
I welcome all comments, ideas, suggestions, and feedback. Your input helps me be a better writer and a better person, and that is what my heart longs for.
I will be blogging regularly. I will make this interesting, different, and uniquely me. Much love and peace.
It seems that they find their voice through what I perceive to be my sometimes silly ramblings. They find comfort in my words. And, even look for guidance during some of their difficult times. I was touched and overwhelmed with emotions.
Therefore, if I can touch one person, make a difference in one person's life, then, I will blog. After all, we are all here to do God's work; and, God's work at times may be doing the small things in life often enough to make a difference.
I welcome all comments, ideas, suggestions, and feedback. Your input helps me be a better writer and a better person, and that is what my heart longs for.
I will be blogging regularly. I will make this interesting, different, and uniquely me. Much love and peace.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Today
Today was one of those days
when you want to scream
but can't;
when your heart is half
a world away
and you want to cry
but can't;
when you question
why there's pain
why there's hate
and you want to sleep
but can't;
when your soul
is somewhere else
and you want to think
but can't;
when you are empty
just a shell;
and you want to love
but can't.
Original Poetry by Lucy Tamajon
when you want to scream
but can't;
when your heart is half
a world away
and you want to cry
but can't;
when you question
why there's pain
why there's hate
and you want to sleep
but can't;
when your soul
is somewhere else
and you want to think
but can't;
when you are empty
just a shell;
and you want to love
but can't.
Original Poetry by Lucy Tamajon
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Letting Go, Moving On
Runners are fascinating beings. I watch in awe as the forge forward without even a second glance back. With fierce power and determination, they focus on what is ahead not on what they have left behind. If they stopped and looked back, they would never get to the finish line.
The story of Medusa is infamous, stop and look into her eyes, and turn to stone. Don't look back. And, from the pages of the Bible, Lot's wife is warned not to look back or she'll turn into a pillar of salt.
I have had several conversations this week with friends either stuck in quick sand or trying to move forward but crippled because they keep looking back. They keep going back to the same place that they are trying to move away from. Bottom line is that moving on, looking ahead, forging forward is not easy. It is difficult. It is painful. Often times, seems impossible. We have to let go of our comfort zone, let go of the security blanket that we have been gripping for so long in order to move forward. Yet, it must be done because the past signifies little.
We need to shed all that is holding us back. As if we were on a ship in the middle of the ocean, the horizon is within view, Paradise. However, we cannot reach our destination because we are carrying too much weight. We will surely sink. We must toss overboard everything that is weighing us down. Fear. Anguish. Hate. Resentment. Anger. Guilt. False belief systems. All of it, off. And, if it is a person that brings these emotions into your life, they must be tossed over as well.
As long as we are trapped within the vast darkness of the past, we will not be able to baste the light of the future.
The story of Medusa is infamous, stop and look into her eyes, and turn to stone. Don't look back. And, from the pages of the Bible, Lot's wife is warned not to look back or she'll turn into a pillar of salt.
I have had several conversations this week with friends either stuck in quick sand or trying to move forward but crippled because they keep looking back. They keep going back to the same place that they are trying to move away from. Bottom line is that moving on, looking ahead, forging forward is not easy. It is difficult. It is painful. Often times, seems impossible. We have to let go of our comfort zone, let go of the security blanket that we have been gripping for so long in order to move forward. Yet, it must be done because the past signifies little.
We need to shed all that is holding us back. As if we were on a ship in the middle of the ocean, the horizon is within view, Paradise. However, we cannot reach our destination because we are carrying too much weight. We will surely sink. We must toss overboard everything that is weighing us down. Fear. Anguish. Hate. Resentment. Anger. Guilt. False belief systems. All of it, off. And, if it is a person that brings these emotions into your life, they must be tossed over as well.
As long as we are trapped within the vast darkness of the past, we will not be able to baste the light of the future.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Whatever Gets You Through the Night
This morning, I woke up to a note from a friend about a young life that was voluntarily ended. This is a topic close to my heart. I cannot get through the day without addressing it because it ties in with some of the events I have experienced in recent days.
We go through life asking, “What is my purpose?” We all do it. We want to have a huge house, money, cars, jewelry, and whatever else makes us happy. We party and drink. We want, we want, and can’t get enough because I suppose we think that our purpose is to be “successful”. Of course, success is measured by the car we drive or the size of the diamond ring we wear. We quickly make it a point to let everyone know about all the things we know and the things we have with our arogant persona.
We sit back in our plush living room furniture and gossip about the neighbor, or “so and so’s” kid who just got a piercing and a tattoo. We gossip about “so and so” who was at Starbucks with “so and so”. We assume we know what is going on in everyone else’s lives and proceed to put in our two cents about how to “fix” it. We judge people because they have long hair, smoke (whatever), or wear too much makeup. We won’t give a man the time of day because he is in jeans and T-shirt and not in a three piece suit. We quickly point fingers at those we don’t even know and voice our opinion without a second thought, without a shred of compassion.
I wonder when it was the last time we smiled at a “stranger” ; or took the time to pick up the phone and call a friend just to say “hi”. For that matter, even if we don’t feel like talking in this new technology age that we all embrace, we can send a text or an e-mail. When was the last time we took five minutes to listen to someone when they needed to “vent”? When was the last time we just helped someone for the sake of helping them out? Kindness, lending a helping hand, a friendly smile, taking the time to listen does not cost a dime.
I guess I am lucky. I have found my purpose. I will never be rich or wealthy. I will not drive a big fancy car or have expensive jewelry. I do not care about those things. I will smile, hug, and listen constantly. I will not judge but just be here for those that need me.
If someone, anyone, would have sat with this kid and poured him a scotch…
From the bottom of my heart and with tears in my eyes, I am making a promise to everyone who needs to talk about anything, please do so. Know that no matter how difficult things maybe for you today, tomorrow is a new day.
Sometimes, all we need is a little “something” to get us through the night; and, whatever gets you through the night it’s alright, it’s alright.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
We go through life asking, “What is my purpose?” We all do it. We want to have a huge house, money, cars, jewelry, and whatever else makes us happy. We party and drink. We want, we want, and can’t get enough because I suppose we think that our purpose is to be “successful”. Of course, success is measured by the car we drive or the size of the diamond ring we wear. We quickly make it a point to let everyone know about all the things we know and the things we have with our arogant persona.
We sit back in our plush living room furniture and gossip about the neighbor, or “so and so’s” kid who just got a piercing and a tattoo. We gossip about “so and so” who was at Starbucks with “so and so”. We assume we know what is going on in everyone else’s lives and proceed to put in our two cents about how to “fix” it. We judge people because they have long hair, smoke (whatever), or wear too much makeup. We won’t give a man the time of day because he is in jeans and T-shirt and not in a three piece suit. We quickly point fingers at those we don’t even know and voice our opinion without a second thought, without a shred of compassion.
I wonder when it was the last time we smiled at a “stranger” ; or took the time to pick up the phone and call a friend just to say “hi”. For that matter, even if we don’t feel like talking in this new technology age that we all embrace, we can send a text or an e-mail. When was the last time we took five minutes to listen to someone when they needed to “vent”? When was the last time we just helped someone for the sake of helping them out? Kindness, lending a helping hand, a friendly smile, taking the time to listen does not cost a dime.
I guess I am lucky. I have found my purpose. I will never be rich or wealthy. I will not drive a big fancy car or have expensive jewelry. I do not care about those things. I will smile, hug, and listen constantly. I will not judge but just be here for those that need me.
If someone, anyone, would have sat with this kid and poured him a scotch…
From the bottom of my heart and with tears in my eyes, I am making a promise to everyone who needs to talk about anything, please do so. Know that no matter how difficult things maybe for you today, tomorrow is a new day.
Sometimes, all we need is a little “something” to get us through the night; and, whatever gets you through the night it’s alright, it’s alright.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Have Heart Will Travel
This is a very special dedication to all of my friends afraid of "loving". Don't be.
Back to romance, love, and what makes the world go around. In the last couple of weeks I have had a few friends call and/or e-mail me regarding “long distance relationships.” The question posed by all of them is, “I don’t know if I can handle a long-distance relationship?” My answer, “what’s to handle?”
Love is love. Distance is just an abstract perspective. When one of my girlfriends told me that her love was thousands of miles away and she wasn’t sure if she could handle being apart. She’s in Miami, he is in Spain; I said, “What are you talking about? He is just two inches away!” She looked at me like she has many times before; as if I had three heads and just landed from my home planet. “What?” I answered matter of factly, “look at a map, Miami is just two inches away from Europe.”
Point is that distance is just an abstract form of measurement. Once two hearts make a connection, the bond is there. Distance is irrelevant. You can be with a person on a daily basis, sleep in the same bed, eat at the same table, see them every day, and be “miles” apart emotionally and spiritually. The physical distance has no connection with the emotional distance.
What you are struggling with is the physical distance. In that case, you need to know that you do not have to touch or be with a person physically to experience love. Love is beyond all physical perspective.
Therefore, to all my friends whom have a love that is “miles away”, I simply say, love without boundaries. Forget the physical and material world. It is a world created by your mind. Live for the moment that you are granted NOW. Do not look to the future because it is not promised to anyone.
Step outside your boundaries, love from the heart, and baste in the joy of that love. Do not pack a bag or luggage, it is not needed. Just take your heart and board a plane. For the bonds created by the soul supersedes all earthly components of what we perceive to be “love”.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Back to romance, love, and what makes the world go around. In the last couple of weeks I have had a few friends call and/or e-mail me regarding “long distance relationships.” The question posed by all of them is, “I don’t know if I can handle a long-distance relationship?” My answer, “what’s to handle?”
Love is love. Distance is just an abstract perspective. When one of my girlfriends told me that her love was thousands of miles away and she wasn’t sure if she could handle being apart. She’s in Miami, he is in Spain; I said, “What are you talking about? He is just two inches away!” She looked at me like she has many times before; as if I had three heads and just landed from my home planet. “What?” I answered matter of factly, “look at a map, Miami is just two inches away from Europe.”
Point is that distance is just an abstract form of measurement. Once two hearts make a connection, the bond is there. Distance is irrelevant. You can be with a person on a daily basis, sleep in the same bed, eat at the same table, see them every day, and be “miles” apart emotionally and spiritually. The physical distance has no connection with the emotional distance.
What you are struggling with is the physical distance. In that case, you need to know that you do not have to touch or be with a person physically to experience love. Love is beyond all physical perspective.
Therefore, to all my friends whom have a love that is “miles away”, I simply say, love without boundaries. Forget the physical and material world. It is a world created by your mind. Live for the moment that you are granted NOW. Do not look to the future because it is not promised to anyone.
Step outside your boundaries, love from the heart, and baste in the joy of that love. Do not pack a bag or luggage, it is not needed. Just take your heart and board a plane. For the bonds created by the soul supersedes all earthly components of what we perceive to be “love”.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Friday, April 17, 2009
Spaghetti Hair Sally
This is a special request and a special dedication to all my little babies out there that I love so much. I have stashed away a collection of children's stories that I wrote long ago for my babies. Recently, I came across a binder stacked with stories. Here is one I thought I would share. They are silly, made up stories used to grab the attention of three wacky kids. With much love,
Spaghetti Hair Sally
Spaghetti hair Sally,
does not like to wash,
"No soap! No water!, she'll loudly shout.
And, rushes quick as a flash right out.
Her long spaghetti hair,
just wiggles all around.
The most peculiar things I've ever seen
sometimes just pop out!
Little green toads hopping all about,
tadpoles, orange slices,
and once even a giant purple ant came crawling out.
"Yuk!", the other children shout as they squirm,
at the horrible scene.
"Oh, don't be silly, it's just a worm!" she smiles,
and giggles shoving it in her jeans.
Spaghetti hair Sally,
has never used shampoo
and so her tangled hair just grows and grows,
with grasshoppers, potato skins,
and even a kangaroo!
"Oh my!" the people yell at her,
as they see Sally passing by
with her long spaghetti hair.
But, she doesn't stop to look their way,
off she goes with all her flair.
Spaghetti Hair Sally,
is happy as can be and lives without a single care,
it's just her and her long spaghetti hair,
and all the creatures and things that live within.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Spaghetti Hair Sally
Spaghetti hair Sally,
does not like to wash,
"No soap! No water!, she'll loudly shout.
And, rushes quick as a flash right out.
Her long spaghetti hair,
just wiggles all around.
The most peculiar things I've ever seen
sometimes just pop out!
Little green toads hopping all about,
tadpoles, orange slices,
and once even a giant purple ant came crawling out.
"Yuk!", the other children shout as they squirm,
at the horrible scene.
"Oh, don't be silly, it's just a worm!" she smiles,
and giggles shoving it in her jeans.
Spaghetti hair Sally,
has never used shampoo
and so her tangled hair just grows and grows,
with grasshoppers, potato skins,
and even a kangaroo!
"Oh my!" the people yell at her,
as they see Sally passing by
with her long spaghetti hair.
But, she doesn't stop to look their way,
off she goes with all her flair.
Spaghetti Hair Sally,
is happy as can be and lives without a single care,
it's just her and her long spaghetti hair,
and all the creatures and things that live within.
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Visions of Shoes Danced in my Head
I am not one to be skittish about bugs. As a matter of fact, while my friends are freaking out over a little itty bitty roach, I stumped it dead while wearing my black and gold 2-inch single strap flats, scooped up the guts from her floor, took a sip of my wine, and dumped the corpse in the kitchen trash. The End, problem solved.
However, yesterday, I spoke with my son about some of his experiences in Kuwait. During the conversation, he mentioned the fact that there were six-foot lizards in the deserts, among other “friendly creatures.” “What! That’s not a lizard! That’s Godzilla” I yelled in horror. “Yeah, well, they are more like dragons.” He said. I was horrified. I don’t know about anybody else, but if I would see a six-foot lizard headed towards me, I’d get the “Yadda” out of there!
Then a friend said, “Think of the nice bag it would make”. I stopped dead on my tracks, no pun intended. “And, the shoes! “ I smiled. Suddenly, Godzilla looked very appealing and the fear had disappeared. “Damn, for a pair of pumps and a bag, I wrestle the creature myself! Let me at him.”
In order to understand my take on this, you need to know about my love and my obsession with shoes. Shoes make everything better for me. When I am sad, feeling down, feeling happy, excited, or bored; I shop for shoes. I look at the new designer lines and dream of them. I love everything about shoes. From Milan to New York City, from the patton-leather mary jane two tone platforms (no not an urban legend) to the metallic bronze 6-inch strappy sandal, I love them all.
As I spoke to my son and the visions of shoes danced in my head, “only you mom can take a desert storm, a mission in Kuwait, and a 6-ft dragon, and turn it into a pair of shoes.” He signed. “Think of it! If everyone was turning dragons into shoes what a wonderful world it would be!”
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
However, yesterday, I spoke with my son about some of his experiences in Kuwait. During the conversation, he mentioned the fact that there were six-foot lizards in the deserts, among other “friendly creatures.” “What! That’s not a lizard! That’s Godzilla” I yelled in horror. “Yeah, well, they are more like dragons.” He said. I was horrified. I don’t know about anybody else, but if I would see a six-foot lizard headed towards me, I’d get the “Yadda” out of there!
Then a friend said, “Think of the nice bag it would make”. I stopped dead on my tracks, no pun intended. “And, the shoes! “ I smiled. Suddenly, Godzilla looked very appealing and the fear had disappeared. “Damn, for a pair of pumps and a bag, I wrestle the creature myself! Let me at him.”
In order to understand my take on this, you need to know about my love and my obsession with shoes. Shoes make everything better for me. When I am sad, feeling down, feeling happy, excited, or bored; I shop for shoes. I look at the new designer lines and dream of them. I love everything about shoes. From Milan to New York City, from the patton-leather mary jane two tone platforms (no not an urban legend) to the metallic bronze 6-inch strappy sandal, I love them all.
As I spoke to my son and the visions of shoes danced in my head, “only you mom can take a desert storm, a mission in Kuwait, and a 6-ft dragon, and turn it into a pair of shoes.” He signed. “Think of it! If everyone was turning dragons into shoes what a wonderful world it would be!”
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
God's Time Out
Okay, so as you all know, I have been stranded in a secluded island somewhere in Miami where there are bacon trees, sparkling rainbows, and baby ducks to rescue. So, I will bring everyone up to speed and hopefully I will start my blogging ways again very soon.
Last Thursday, my computer crashed! My internet went down! And, finally on Sunday evening my cell phone decided not to allow me to answer any incomming calls. I will not bore you with the technological details. At first, I went bonkers. Then one of those voices in my head said, "you need a time out. Disconnect from the cyber world and reconnect with the real world." So, I did.
I have done a lot of very interesting things, and I will fill everyone in on the details and specifics. One of the most important things I did was read a book that a beautiful soul gave me to read. Many Masters, Many Lives. It answered a lot of questions that have been really bothering me for a very long time about the people and voices in my head. Whatever, I know you all think I'm nuts. I am so deal with it.
I decided to take out my "Giant Eraser" which is awesome, (I will write about this tomorrow so that you can understand the process); and my magical rainbow marker and redo my whole life going forward. I know that you are all having issues following this blog. I understand completely. You will need to follow closely because I will elaborate on everything in the future.
This morning as I set off on my regular boring work routine, which I have decided to use my magic rainbow marker and make interesting and fun, I am pondering, "I was able to send my computer back to Dell, they are working on it. However, where do we send our souls for repair?"
Have we lost the human touch? Are we all so caught up in our cyber-space worlds that we have lost the connection to our souls? How do we re-connect with our souls?
Last Thursday, my computer crashed! My internet went down! And, finally on Sunday evening my cell phone decided not to allow me to answer any incomming calls. I will not bore you with the technological details. At first, I went bonkers. Then one of those voices in my head said, "you need a time out. Disconnect from the cyber world and reconnect with the real world." So, I did.
I have done a lot of very interesting things, and I will fill everyone in on the details and specifics. One of the most important things I did was read a book that a beautiful soul gave me to read. Many Masters, Many Lives. It answered a lot of questions that have been really bothering me for a very long time about the people and voices in my head. Whatever, I know you all think I'm nuts. I am so deal with it.
I decided to take out my "Giant Eraser" which is awesome, (I will write about this tomorrow so that you can understand the process); and my magical rainbow marker and redo my whole life going forward. I know that you are all having issues following this blog. I understand completely. You will need to follow closely because I will elaborate on everything in the future.
This morning as I set off on my regular boring work routine, which I have decided to use my magic rainbow marker and make interesting and fun, I am pondering, "I was able to send my computer back to Dell, they are working on it. However, where do we send our souls for repair?"
Have we lost the human touch? Are we all so caught up in our cyber-space worlds that we have lost the connection to our souls? How do we re-connect with our souls?
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The Wall
I was told yesterday by a good friend that I have a wall built all around me and that it is really difficult to get through. I looked at my friend in awe, "Really?" I had not realized this. I wondered about the walls we all build and the "safety" we find in our own confinement.
My friend is right. I have built quite a huge wall all around me, but there is reason for this. I trust and I love. It is what I do, what I have always done, and what I will continue to do. My actions are often misinterpreted. I am often hurt. I do not mind the pain, it is through pain that we grow emotionally and spiritually eventually moving on.
I thought about the walls that we all build around us finding comfort and safety behind its confinement. We become accustomed to the "nest" that we settle in and ignore the turmoil around us. We settle for lesser things because we are afraid of stepping outside the safety of our cell. We live and share a life with someone we do not love. We hope and pray that things will get better and when they don't we start stacking up bricks and cementing ourselves in. We cry in silence. We pray before we fade into sleep. We hope for the freedom that we can only give ourselves.
We hold the key. We have the way out. We built the wall and only we can dismantle it. It will be difficult, it will be painful. There will be fear, anguish, and tears. But, it must be done. We cannot allow ourselves to sink and die in a dungeon that we have created.
This morning as I set on another glorious day in Miami, I ask you to look around you. Take a very hard look at the walls that you have meticulously built. The darkness that confines you. I ask you to release the pain, the fear, the anguish, and all that is holding you back; and, start taking the wall apart one brick at a time. Find the light. Head to it. Be brave. For there is no greater fear than that which we have created ourselves.
My friend is right. I have built quite a huge wall all around me, but there is reason for this. I trust and I love. It is what I do, what I have always done, and what I will continue to do. My actions are often misinterpreted. I am often hurt. I do not mind the pain, it is through pain that we grow emotionally and spiritually eventually moving on.
I thought about the walls that we all build around us finding comfort and safety behind its confinement. We become accustomed to the "nest" that we settle in and ignore the turmoil around us. We settle for lesser things because we are afraid of stepping outside the safety of our cell. We live and share a life with someone we do not love. We hope and pray that things will get better and when they don't we start stacking up bricks and cementing ourselves in. We cry in silence. We pray before we fade into sleep. We hope for the freedom that we can only give ourselves.
We hold the key. We have the way out. We built the wall and only we can dismantle it. It will be difficult, it will be painful. There will be fear, anguish, and tears. But, it must be done. We cannot allow ourselves to sink and die in a dungeon that we have created.
This morning as I set on another glorious day in Miami, I ask you to look around you. Take a very hard look at the walls that you have meticulously built. The darkness that confines you. I ask you to release the pain, the fear, the anguish, and all that is holding you back; and, start taking the wall apart one brick at a time. Find the light. Head to it. Be brave. For there is no greater fear than that which we have created ourselves.
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
This morning, I read a report that said that men with sisters are better people. They are more sensitive to a woman's needs, better listeners, more attentive, better husbands, and happier people as a whole. I take full responsibility for my Little Brother.. without me he would be just another insensitive, careless guy.
So this blog is all about sisters and how truly wonderful we are. We are loving and caring. We give hugs and kisses when we must and a good smack down as needed (which is often). We define "space". "This is my space and don't you dare step over the line!" Smack down if you do.
We mess up all of their toys when they are little, and we mess up all of their toys when they are grown. We constantly remind them how silly and rediculous they are, but in a loving way. We make them sit through all the "girly stuff" that we do and if they don't comply with our demands, we scream at the top of our lungs! Hence, they quickly look at us in horror, shut up, and do as we say. Otherwise, smack down. They place with tea sets when they don't want to, and they have to be nice to all our dollies regardles of how many of their stupid boy toys we break.
Yes, being a sister rocks! It rocks big time! All you ladies lucky enough to have a man in your life who has been "tenderized" by their sister should thank us. Afterall had we not put them through the rigerous Sister Boot Camp training, they wouldn't be the men they are today.
Here's to Sisters! Cheers!
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
So this blog is all about sisters and how truly wonderful we are. We are loving and caring. We give hugs and kisses when we must and a good smack down as needed (which is often). We define "space". "This is my space and don't you dare step over the line!" Smack down if you do.
We mess up all of their toys when they are little, and we mess up all of their toys when they are grown. We constantly remind them how silly and rediculous they are, but in a loving way. We make them sit through all the "girly stuff" that we do and if they don't comply with our demands, we scream at the top of our lungs! Hence, they quickly look at us in horror, shut up, and do as we say. Otherwise, smack down. They place with tea sets when they don't want to, and they have to be nice to all our dollies regardles of how many of their stupid boy toys we break.
Yes, being a sister rocks! It rocks big time! All you ladies lucky enough to have a man in your life who has been "tenderized" by their sister should thank us. Afterall had we not put them through the rigerous Sister Boot Camp training, they wouldn't be the men they are today.
Here's to Sisters! Cheers!
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Do You Get that Funny Feeeling?
That was the question that a very close girl friend asked me. “What funny feeling?” I asked. “That funny feeling in your stomach?” “You mean like when I’m hungry and crave nachos with extra cheese?” “No, No. That funny feeling in your chest, you know.” “You mean like when I eat too many nachos with extra cheese and wash them down with half a dozen margaritas?” “No, no! With a man!” “OH! That funny feeling!” Giggle. Giggle.
I’m not sure we know what that funny feeling is. How do we describe it? How we define it? Do we really feel it, or is it a mere illusion of the moment we are caught in and we remember “that funny feeling” the way we want to remember it.
“Do you mean…. “ The earth suddenly coming to an abrupt stop, stops spinning, and there is a stillness beyond belief. The universe rearranges itself so that for one second time stands still in what may appear to seem like an eternity; and, two souls join. You are trembling and your knees feel weak. Your head seems to be in a spin. The world around you disappears and you melt into the being holding you in his arms. The only sound you hear is the pounding of your hearts so loud and so strong that your chest feels like it is going to rip open. Nothing else matters. You forget who you are, who he is, and where you are. You are surrounded by a hundred eyes but you are completely alone and his smile cures all the pain that you have inside. And, as if a princess in a fairy tale, his kiss sets you free. Suddenly, you are awake or are you dreaming. It is all a blur. There is no rhyme. There is no reason. There need not be. All is right with the world and it’s a beautiful place, a paradise.
“That funny feeling?” I asked. “Yes, yes! “ She said. “I haven’t got a clue what you are talking about.”
Cheers!
Written by Lucy Tamajon
Writer
I’m not sure we know what that funny feeling is. How do we describe it? How we define it? Do we really feel it, or is it a mere illusion of the moment we are caught in and we remember “that funny feeling” the way we want to remember it.
“Do you mean…. “ The earth suddenly coming to an abrupt stop, stops spinning, and there is a stillness beyond belief. The universe rearranges itself so that for one second time stands still in what may appear to seem like an eternity; and, two souls join. You are trembling and your knees feel weak. Your head seems to be in a spin. The world around you disappears and you melt into the being holding you in his arms. The only sound you hear is the pounding of your hearts so loud and so strong that your chest feels like it is going to rip open. Nothing else matters. You forget who you are, who he is, and where you are. You are surrounded by a hundred eyes but you are completely alone and his smile cures all the pain that you have inside. And, as if a princess in a fairy tale, his kiss sets you free. Suddenly, you are awake or are you dreaming. It is all a blur. There is no rhyme. There is no reason. There need not be. All is right with the world and it’s a beautiful place, a paradise.
“That funny feeling?” I asked. “Yes, yes! “ She said. “I haven’t got a clue what you are talking about.”
Cheers!
Written by Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Mr. Creepy
I was chatting with a friend about “girl stuff” yesterday. Well, let me be honest, “girl stuff”, we were talking about men. We were shocked that perhaps we have dated the same man.
During our conversation and in comparing notes; yes, yes, we compared notes; it appears that we had both dated Mr. Creepy!
Ladies, I think we all know Mr. Creepy; but for those of you that have been away from the dating scene for awhile let me refresh your memory.
Mr. Creepy is the guy that calls you from different phone numbers so that you don’t recognize the number and hence he will “catch” you “off base”.
Mr. Creepy asks you were you spent the afternoon and when you say, “oh nowhere really, just stayed home.” He says, “No! You didn’t! You were at Starbucks at three o’clock with someone having coffee!” Wondering how he knows your every move, you say, “Oh, yeah, I stopped by for a quick cup with “so and so”. He says, “Why do you lie about where you were?” Here’s a newsflash, Mr. Creepy, maybe we just forgot because it wasn’t a big deal.
Mr. Creepy lurks in the background and watches and just pops up when you least expect him in the most unexpected times with an “ah huh! I thought you said you had a meeting! Why are you at Victoria Secrets instead? What are you buying? Why?” You look at him and you are thinking, good Lord, I need to run not walk away from this guy, and say “I did have a meeting. I’m buying underwear because I need it; and, I’ll see you maybe never!”
We have all met Mr. Creepy. Here’s my advise ladies when you come across Mr. Creepy, run fast!
Cheers! EXIT, Right! Next!
During our conversation and in comparing notes; yes, yes, we compared notes; it appears that we had both dated Mr. Creepy!
Ladies, I think we all know Mr. Creepy; but for those of you that have been away from the dating scene for awhile let me refresh your memory.
Mr. Creepy is the guy that calls you from different phone numbers so that you don’t recognize the number and hence he will “catch” you “off base”.
Mr. Creepy asks you were you spent the afternoon and when you say, “oh nowhere really, just stayed home.” He says, “No! You didn’t! You were at Starbucks at three o’clock with someone having coffee!” Wondering how he knows your every move, you say, “Oh, yeah, I stopped by for a quick cup with “so and so”. He says, “Why do you lie about where you were?” Here’s a newsflash, Mr. Creepy, maybe we just forgot because it wasn’t a big deal.
Mr. Creepy lurks in the background and watches and just pops up when you least expect him in the most unexpected times with an “ah huh! I thought you said you had a meeting! Why are you at Victoria Secrets instead? What are you buying? Why?” You look at him and you are thinking, good Lord, I need to run not walk away from this guy, and say “I did have a meeting. I’m buying underwear because I need it; and, I’ll see you maybe never!”
We have all met Mr. Creepy. Here’s my advise ladies when you come across Mr. Creepy, run fast!
Cheers! EXIT, Right! Next!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
A Life Not in Vain
I was told not too long ago, “oh, you are just too nice”. “Thanks, I guess,” was my response and a flashed my smile. I’m not sure exactly why I wouldn’t be “nice”? What’s the alternative? Being mean? Being bitter? Being angry? Why? I don’t understand it.
In any event, I take being “nice” as a compliment; Lord, knows I have been called worse things.
I don’t see myself as being nice, however, I just am. One of my favorite poems is, “Not in Vain”, by Emily Dickinson. I have it taped on the front cover of my daily planner. I want to share with you because it is how I live my life on a daily basis.
Not in Vain
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain.
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live my life in vain.
Today, smile at a stranger. Say good morning to someone that otherwise you would have ignored. Don’t cross the street when you see the “homeless bum” walking your way. Say, “thank you” to the cashier at the grocery store. Give your child an extra hug and a big sloppy kiss. Write your hubby a little love note. And, when the angry jerk on the road cuts you off, flash a smile and say “God loves even you!”
Mother Teresa said, “God does not desire us to do great things, but to do little things with great love.”
In any event, I take being “nice” as a compliment; Lord, knows I have been called worse things.
I don’t see myself as being nice, however, I just am. One of my favorite poems is, “Not in Vain”, by Emily Dickinson. I have it taped on the front cover of my daily planner. I want to share with you because it is how I live my life on a daily basis.
Not in Vain
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain.
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live my life in vain.
Today, smile at a stranger. Say good morning to someone that otherwise you would have ignored. Don’t cross the street when you see the “homeless bum” walking your way. Say, “thank you” to the cashier at the grocery store. Give your child an extra hug and a big sloppy kiss. Write your hubby a little love note. And, when the angry jerk on the road cuts you off, flash a smile and say “God loves even you!”
Mother Teresa said, “God does not desire us to do great things, but to do little things with great love.”
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Pruning
Every year, I prune what is the garden of my life. We cannot grow, we cannot blossom, if we do not prune. Those that have known me for awhile, know the process. For you who are just getting to know me, it's weird but did you expect anything less?Pruning means I sit down and take a look at the year, at my life. I face things I don't want to face. I smile at things that I do. I take a hard look at what's holding me back, what's causing pain, what is stopping me from growing.
Literally and figuratively. I clean clutter, throw away garbage that's piled up, and make room for new and wonderful things. "What do you mean?" asked a friend of mine, "do you clean your house?" Yes, it my house, but, more importantly, my life.The most difficult thing to do is prune people, but I do. Sounds crazy? Of course, it is but it's a must. There may be people in your life (and we all have them) that are negative, constantly focusing on all that you dont have, constantly bringing you down. They've got to go! Those are the weeds. There is just so much you can try to convert a weed into a flower. It doesn't happen. As long as you have weeds, you won't grow.So, this week I am pruning. :o)
Not much to prune, I'm happy to report. Just a little here and there. I'm looking forward to 2009. I have put all my troubles in the Hands of the Lord, especially that that I cannot handle on my own. I will laugh often, as much as I can. I will love unconditionally remembering that I am here to do God's work; and, God's work is simple. I will remember that regardless of how difficult my life has been at times, it has been amazing always; and, He has never let me down.
I am so grateful that my friends, my family, and all that I have. I have met such wonderful people. And you have all reinforced my faith and my love in God. We are all connected. We are all here to help each other get through this mess... called life. Now let's just do it with a big old smile on our face!
I love you all. Much Love & Peace in 2009!
I wrote this in January of 2009, it's time to take a loook and prune again.
Literally and figuratively. I clean clutter, throw away garbage that's piled up, and make room for new and wonderful things. "What do you mean?" asked a friend of mine, "do you clean your house?" Yes, it my house, but, more importantly, my life.The most difficult thing to do is prune people, but I do. Sounds crazy? Of course, it is but it's a must. There may be people in your life (and we all have them) that are negative, constantly focusing on all that you dont have, constantly bringing you down. They've got to go! Those are the weeds. There is just so much you can try to convert a weed into a flower. It doesn't happen. As long as you have weeds, you won't grow.So, this week I am pruning. :o)
Not much to prune, I'm happy to report. Just a little here and there. I'm looking forward to 2009. I have put all my troubles in the Hands of the Lord, especially that that I cannot handle on my own. I will laugh often, as much as I can. I will love unconditionally remembering that I am here to do God's work; and, God's work is simple. I will remember that regardless of how difficult my life has been at times, it has been amazing always; and, He has never let me down.
I am so grateful that my friends, my family, and all that I have. I have met such wonderful people. And you have all reinforced my faith and my love in God. We are all connected. We are all here to help each other get through this mess... called life. Now let's just do it with a big old smile on our face!
I love you all. Much Love & Peace in 2009!
I wrote this in January of 2009, it's time to take a loook and prune again.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
In Search of John Wayne
It seems, “the gentleman” have all disappeared; vanished before our eyes like the soft dew on a rose’s petal.
Last night a friend of mine was watching an old movie, Casablanca. Ah. A classic, love it. I could not help and think of all those beautiful, wonderful gentlemen of long ago. One of my all time favorite, Cary Grant. Tall, dark, smooth, funny, charming, and absolutely adorable. How about John Wayne? An incredible man tough and rough, but a pure gentleman with the ladies. These men were incredibly beautiful. The ultimate gentleman, a dying breed.
Recently, I went to a local sports bar with friends. We were standing by the bar surrounded by men sitting at the bar. Not one man would offer their seat. Not one. As a matter of fact, a couple of them were paying their bill and had finished; and still would not offer their seats. Doors are not opened for us anymore. Chairs aren’t pulled out at restaurants. The Boogies, Grants, Gables, and the John Waynes of days of old are extinct. We ladies are left with the luke-warm left-overs, at best.
Suddenly, I was jolted back to the future this past week. I was
leaving a local establishment with a “gentleman”. We were walking side-by-side; however, I was a step or two ahead of him. As we approached the door, he intersected and stepped in front of me. I was taken back and missed a step. I looked at him shocked as he reached for the door and opened it. “What are you doing?” I asked. He saw the shocked look on my face and flashed a dashing smile, “I’m being a gentleman. Is that allowed?” I fell on my ass!
I am left to ponder on the thought, have we women in our quest for equality given up the fringe benefits of being a lady?
Written by Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Last night a friend of mine was watching an old movie, Casablanca. Ah. A classic, love it. I could not help and think of all those beautiful, wonderful gentlemen of long ago. One of my all time favorite, Cary Grant. Tall, dark, smooth, funny, charming, and absolutely adorable. How about John Wayne? An incredible man tough and rough, but a pure gentleman with the ladies. These men were incredibly beautiful. The ultimate gentleman, a dying breed.
Recently, I went to a local sports bar with friends. We were standing by the bar surrounded by men sitting at the bar. Not one man would offer their seat. Not one. As a matter of fact, a couple of them were paying their bill and had finished; and still would not offer their seats. Doors are not opened for us anymore. Chairs aren’t pulled out at restaurants. The Boogies, Grants, Gables, and the John Waynes of days of old are extinct. We ladies are left with the luke-warm left-overs, at best.
Suddenly, I was jolted back to the future this past week. I was
leaving a local establishment with a “gentleman”. We were walking side-by-side; however, I was a step or two ahead of him. As we approached the door, he intersected and stepped in front of me. I was taken back and missed a step. I looked at him shocked as he reached for the door and opened it. “What are you doing?” I asked. He saw the shocked look on my face and flashed a dashing smile, “I’m being a gentleman. Is that allowed?” I fell on my ass!
I am left to ponder on the thought, have we women in our quest for equality given up the fringe benefits of being a lady?
Written by Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Have Heart, Will Travel
This is a very special dedication to all of my friends afraid of "loviing". Don't be.
Back to romance, love, and what makes the world go around. In the last couple of weeks I have had a few friends call and/or e-mail me regarding “long distance relationships.” The question posed by all of them is, “I don’t know if I can handle a long-distance relationship?” My answer, “what’s to handle?”
Love is love. Distance is just an abstract perspective. When one of my girlfriends told me that her love was thousands of miles away and she wasn’t sure if she could handle being apart. She’s in Miami, he is in Spain; I said, “What are you talking about? He is just two inches away!” She looked at me like she has many times before; as if I had three heads and just landed from my home planet. “What?” I answered matter of factly, “look at a map, Miami is just two inches away from Europe.”
Point is that distance is just an abstract form of measurement. Once two hearts make a connection, the bond is there. Distance is irrelevant. You can be with a person on a daily basis, sleep in the same bed, eat at the same table, see them every day, and be “miles” apart emotionally and spiritually. The physical distance has no connection with the emotional distance.
What you are struggling with is the physical distance. In that case, you need to know that you do not have to touch or be with a person physically to experience love. Love is beyond all physical perspective. Therefore, to all my friends whom have a love that is “miles away”, I simply say, love without boundaries. Forget the physical and material world. It is a world created by your mind. Live for the moment that you are granted NOW. Do not look to the future because it is not promised to anyone.
Step outside your boundaries, love from the heart, and baste in the joy of that love. Do not pack a bag or luggage, it is not needed. Just take your heart and board a plane. For the bonds created by the soul supersedes all earthly components of what we perceive to be “love”.
Cheers!
Lucy Tamajon
Writer
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Love Letters
Recently we saw a movie where the topic of love letters came up. One of the characters was reading a book composed of love letters written by “famous” men to their beloved. Of course, we asked, “Have we ever gotten a love letter?”
Some of my friends automatically said, “yes, I think so, in High School.” Or, “I must have.”; Or, “I’m sure I have.” Naturally, I thought about it. Had I? I couldn’t remember. Now, I know I’ve gotten cards on Valentine’s day, but a “love letter?” I could not recall and if it was not memorable then it did not happen.
The art of letter writing is all but a myth. We now have texts and e-mails. How sad. Then I thought some more, of course. Would a text or an e-mail qualify as a “love letter?” I don’t think so. How could it? How romantic or how much emotions can one pour into a text? You can’t. Perhaps, an e-mail.
That led me to my next thought, “What was the most romantic and memorable thing a man had ever done?” Thankfully, there was a spark. I had a boyfriend in high school who every month on the 18th of the month would give me a single red rose. He did this so that I would never forget the day we started going out. For over a year and a half come rain or high water, where ever I was, he would stroll in holding a red rose. I did not think it romantic at the time. I thought it was “cute”. However, he succeeded. To this day, I remember.
Romance to men is trivial; to women essential. Romance makes our eyes sparkle and our faces light up. Every single time I saw him walk in holding that rose, I could only smile. “You light up.” He would say. “You are so silly,” was my response; but, he loved me and he wanted me to know it.
If you are wondering who he is, cannot say. We are still friends; we still talk; he is married and has a beautiful family; and, yes, on occasion tells me, “I still love you.” My response, “you are so silly.”
Cheers!
Some of my friends automatically said, “yes, I think so, in High School.” Or, “I must have.”; Or, “I’m sure I have.” Naturally, I thought about it. Had I? I couldn’t remember. Now, I know I’ve gotten cards on Valentine’s day, but a “love letter?” I could not recall and if it was not memorable then it did not happen.
The art of letter writing is all but a myth. We now have texts and e-mails. How sad. Then I thought some more, of course. Would a text or an e-mail qualify as a “love letter?” I don’t think so. How could it? How romantic or how much emotions can one pour into a text? You can’t. Perhaps, an e-mail.
That led me to my next thought, “What was the most romantic and memorable thing a man had ever done?” Thankfully, there was a spark. I had a boyfriend in high school who every month on the 18th of the month would give me a single red rose. He did this so that I would never forget the day we started going out. For over a year and a half come rain or high water, where ever I was, he would stroll in holding a red rose. I did not think it romantic at the time. I thought it was “cute”. However, he succeeded. To this day, I remember.
Romance to men is trivial; to women essential. Romance makes our eyes sparkle and our faces light up. Every single time I saw him walk in holding that rose, I could only smile. “You light up.” He would say. “You are so silly,” was my response; but, he loved me and he wanted me to know it.
If you are wondering who he is, cannot say. We are still friends; we still talk; he is married and has a beautiful family; and, yes, on occasion tells me, “I still love you.” My response, “you are so silly.”
Cheers!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Our Lives in the Snap of a Flash
I have been sitting here looking at old photographs; smiling as I do so, crying at times, and wondering. Wondering about the people that have come, those that have gone, and those that remain. Wondering about the laughs we shared and the laughs we are sharing now. It’s great to look at the old cars, the clothes, the hair styles, and squinting as I stare at the picture and try to remember an old familiar face. “Oh! God, yes I remember.” We shout with excitement as if it was Christmas and we were opening a present.
When I was little, well maybe not me, I was always a ham; we, always got mad at our moms for snapping those pictures. We pouted and frowned, “stop it! No more pictures!” we’d scream, we’d stump our feet and walk away hearing her complain about how difficult we were. Now, we are digging through old boxes for a scrap of some old time memory; wondering what happened to that best friend we had in 6th grade; or that kid we had the crush on in 8th. We dig and hold on to the picture like if it was a life line; sometimes, speechless when we see the face of someone no longer with us; or, smile when we remember the words of a teacher that made an impact on our lives with us even knowing it.
We wish someone would have given us a “heads up” on life; maybe they did and we just didn’t listen. We wish we could have said something to someone at sometime, but we didn’t. We wonder about what we’ve done and haven’t done; and, in an attempt to recapture the carefree days of our youth, we reach out to those we shared so much with so long ago and hope they can somehow restore and heal some of lives hard knocks.
The days have turned into years; and the years have slipped through our fingers in a snap of a flash.
Here is to good friends and good memories, Cheers!
Friday, March 13, 2009
The First Note I Ever Wrote
All this chit chat about love notes, love letters, and my writing got me thinking. I know! Shocking, me thinking! I remembered the very first note I wrote which happened to be a “love” note.
I was six. His name was Luis (I'll leave last name out of note to protect the innocent)> We were all in the same class; first grade, Robert Waters School. He was funny, the class clown, and cute. Always made the class laugh, well, he made me laugh. Maybe, I was the only little girl laughing; but, I liked him.
So, I did what any six year old “sassy” little girl would do. I sat down, pulled out my crayons, some paper, and wrote my first “love note”. I remember it. It had a big red heart on it with little hearts all around it, and I boldly announced, “Lucy and Luis – Love 4 ever”. There. I was quite satisfied. I folded my note and tucked safely away in my book bag. The plan was to give it to him the next day.
The next morning, I was nervous, my heart was beating fast. What would he say? Would he like me? I fixed my pig tails, adjusted my glasses, ate my fruit loops, and I was ready to go! As I went to get my book back, I came to an abrupt halt. There in front of me, holding the school bag in her hand, and snooping as no one else can, was my mother! In her hands, the note! The horror; I flashed my smile.
I was six. His name was Luis (I'll leave last name out of note to protect the innocent)> We were all in the same class; first grade, Robert Waters School. He was funny, the class clown, and cute. Always made the class laugh, well, he made me laugh. Maybe, I was the only little girl laughing; but, I liked him.
So, I did what any six year old “sassy” little girl would do. I sat down, pulled out my crayons, some paper, and wrote my first “love note”. I remember it. It had a big red heart on it with little hearts all around it, and I boldly announced, “Lucy and Luis – Love 4 ever”. There. I was quite satisfied. I folded my note and tucked safely away in my book bag. The plan was to give it to him the next day.
The next morning, I was nervous, my heart was beating fast. What would he say? Would he like me? I fixed my pig tails, adjusted my glasses, ate my fruit loops, and I was ready to go! As I went to get my book back, I came to an abrupt halt. There in front of me, holding the school bag in her hand, and snooping as no one else can, was my mother! In her hands, the note! The horror; I flashed my smile.
Let me elaborate, my Cuban mother. Who proceeded to tell me how little girls never did such a thing! It was like a scene from Charlie Brown when the teacher is talking.. waah…waahh.. waahh. What the heck did I know? He was cute. I had something to tell him. What was the big deal? She confiscated the note. I was pissed. So, I did what I do best even at six. “Hmm.. I’ll teach her!”
Next day, I sat down, pulled out my crayons, and well, wrote note number two. This time, I had learned a lesson. I would have to keep the note away from the Gustapo. So I tucked it in my sock, put my shoe on, and walked safely to school to deliver the note. Which I did, and I knew he liked me so this note would inspire him to be extra nice to me.
However, I couldn’t understand Luis’ reaction? After, I snuck the note in his desk, and he read it; all he did was constantly pull my pig tails, poke me while I was on line, and be constantly borrowing my crayons. I just didn’t get it. I guess he just wasn’t that into me. Sigh.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
That's what Friends are For
It’s amazing to me how “friends” seem to wander in and out of our lives. I think this is okay. Sometimes, we have friends that last a life time. Sometimes, we have friends that last a week. I am okay with this. I understand the concept of friendship. We cannot talk to people all the time. We are busy adults. We are not 15 anymore and friendship means something more.
However, there are those so-called “friends” that are more like “leaches”. They hang on to us when the ride is good, when we are on top, when things are going are great. They make sure that you know that they are your friend by making comments like “you know I’m here”, but they are not the ones calling. Yet, when things were good, they were the ones calling you. They were the ones texting and leaving messages on the machine. Real friends don’t even have to say those words because we already know they are there because regardless of the situation that you are in, they call, they care.
It always makes me giggle when this happens because I understand that people come and go in our lives. They serve the purpose that they serve and that is ok. I understand that there are people that feed off others and really do not understand the concept of friendship at all. As long as you are picking up the tab, they are your friends. When you can’t pick up the tab, they move to the next table.
I understand that there are those that will be there forever. We do not have to speak every day. We have grown up; and, we understand the plight of life, the importance of friendship, and the meaning of love. Hats off to friendship in all its stages.
However, there are those so-called “friends” that are more like “leaches”. They hang on to us when the ride is good, when we are on top, when things are going are great. They make sure that you know that they are your friend by making comments like “you know I’m here”, but they are not the ones calling. Yet, when things were good, they were the ones calling you. They were the ones texting and leaving messages on the machine. Real friends don’t even have to say those words because we already know they are there because regardless of the situation that you are in, they call, they care.
It always makes me giggle when this happens because I understand that people come and go in our lives. They serve the purpose that they serve and that is ok. I understand that there are people that feed off others and really do not understand the concept of friendship at all. As long as you are picking up the tab, they are your friends. When you can’t pick up the tab, they move to the next table.
I understand that there are those that will be there forever. We do not have to speak every day. We have grown up; and, we understand the plight of life, the importance of friendship, and the meaning of love. Hats off to friendship in all its stages.
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The Odd Lama on the Love Boat
Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and the excitement is titillating. Everyone is talking about special gifts, special dinners, special vacations, special cruises, special flowers, and romance is everywhere. Not that I don’t love Valentine’s Day, I do. I love love, but I could just puke.
Being single in Miami these days is not an easy task. Being single on Valentine’s Day is just brutal. Everyone is paired up, smooching, giggling, and letting us single women know how happy “couplehood” is. I feel like the odd lama on the Love Boat that can’t find her pair.
What is worse is that I get to hear from all my married and coupled-up friends not to mention family about how I shouldn’t worry that eventually “Mr. Right” will eventually come along. I get that “look”, you know the kind. That sympathetic look that really says, “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you find someone?” Or, worse, they try to match me up with some friend of friend who is single and “very nice”. You meet him, he is middle aged, bald, has a beer belly from here to eternity, and then tells you that he’s looking for that “special feeling, looking for butterflies in his stomach, and that you are just a little too old.” You have got to be kidding me. It’s a Valentine’s Day Nightmare, and I have just had enough of this love fiasco.
Therefore, this year, my quest is to find a Valentine for next year for all us odd lamas. However, I am going to go out of my way to find and extra, special, sexy, out of this world man. A stud that I can flaunt proudly on my arm with a smile on my face from ear to ear. A gorgeous hunk of a man that will turn heads, make my married coupled-up friends, tumble over on their butts spilling their martinis as they do so; and make every bald middle aged man that turned me down gag on his Viagra.
Ladies and gentlemen, if you are in search of your lama the quest is on. I will travel from east to west, hit every club, happy hour, networking event, seminar, gallery, and festival. I will bring my readers along for the ride. Hop aboard the Love Boat, we are headed into unchartered waters. Are you in for the ride?
Cheers and Happy Valentine’s Day!
Published at the Savvy Times
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)