This Life is what You Make it

 

“This life is what you make it. No matter what, you’re going to mess up sometimes, it’s a universal truth. But the good part is you get to decide how you’re going to mess it up. Girls will be your friends – they’ll act like it anyway. But just remember, some come, some go. The ones that stay with you through everything – they’re your true best friends. Don’t let go of them. Also remember, sisters make the best friends in the world. As for lovers, well, they’ll come and go too. And babe, I hate to say it, most of them – actually pretty much all of them are going to break your heart, but you can’t give up because if you give up, you’ll never find your soul mate. You’ll never find that half who makes you whole and that goes for everything. Just because you fail once, doesn’t mean you’re gonna fail at everything. Keep trying, hold on, and always, always, always believe in yourself, because if you don’t, then who will, sweetie? So keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life’s a beautiful thing and there’s so much to smile about.”
― Marilyn Monroe
For all of us, at one time or another, we find ourselves, well, by ourselves.  It's those times in life that instead of concentrating and dwelling on how we feel, i.e. lonely, abandoned, sad, relieved, etc, we should take stock of:
~~ where we are -- are we safe? fed? warm? If not, call on friends and family to provide the help you need.
~~ who we are -- did we compromise our own integrity in the last relationship? What can we do to make a positive change in ourselves and not repeat the pattern?
~~ where are we going -- now's the time for new goals and renewed dreams.
~~ who is taking the journey with us --  keep people around you who love you for you.  Surround yourself with people who will be there for you and who challenge you to be a better person.
Here are some simple life rules I have picked up along the way:
~~ Make peace with your past so it won't mess up the present, or the future.
~~ Time heals almost everything, give it time.
~~ Don't compare your life to others and don't judge them. You have no idea what they have been through.
~~ Stop over thinking things, it's okay not to know all the answers. Let life surprise you.
~~ No one is in charge of your happiness, except you.
~~ And, last but not least; smile, you don't own all the problems in the world.
Marilyn really said it best. Always, always, always believe in yourself. People will come and go, things will come and go, jobs will come and go, loves will come and go. The one thing that is constant? You. You will always be with you. Never give up. Never stop learning, loving, dreaming, striving, growing. Stop settling.  If you don't like your life, make a change.  After all, it is your life.
Blessings,
Tamy Burns
 

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A Poor Boy’s Love Song

Sandy Hartman is a poet and blogger and a fellow member of www.NLAPW.org,  Jacksonville chapter. Her extraordinary blog www.Eonwriter.com contains an impressive collection of poems read aloud by herself. Have a listen!This is how Sandy introduces her choice for this blog:


So much turmoil in the world today.  It is time to write of one of the toughest issues that exists globally....unemployment and the lack of futures for so many young men. These youth will never reach their potential and we well never benefit from the loss of their talent and their work in our world. They hold our futures. We will share their loss, no matter how indirectly.  What better calling for writers than to write of the great global issues that we as a people face.

What does it mean to me
All the fine talk
Of tender lotus buds simmering gently
Or of steamed chili peppers
Opened to find their hidden seeds

When my garden lies fallow
In the drought’s sweltering heat
When my land is lost to power and to greed
When there are cesspools
At the end of my street

What to me are honey drenched dates
That drip in sweetness
From sugared moments
When my hope is choked in terror
Buried in the drifts of dust and sand
And the olive trees die

In the rage of war and hate

What to me
Is the taste of ripened pears
Laid bare by hungering shank
When the smug of self satisfaction
Wreaks in the hallowed halls of banks
And destroys the honesty of leaders
Who only use their power
For privilege and for rank

All my journeys end in alley ways
Scribbled corners
Graffitied walls
And the ruins of concrete

But come here anyway
Tell me that you love me
Tell me that you dream of me
Each night you fall asleep
Make this one moment’s lie
Sweet
Somehow make me want to be

c  5/21/13
Sandy Hartman

 

 

Sun, Sand and Sex

 It’s hard to resist the allure of the sun.  In the early morning its rays beckon me to come to the beach, following my Adonis just as dawn announced itself, first with pink, then buttery orange colors.  The slim sickle of the moon is disappearing, giving way to another hot day.

The air is full of smells, more pungent in the early hours of the day, of seaweed and little critters that lay scattered on the silvery sand, stranded over night by the receding tide.  Sea gulls start their morning feed, parading down the beach in search of fish bits and sand fleas.

The chosen spot on the sand, flattened by our bodies, now feels smooth and warm under us.  I stretch my exhausted limbs and reach for the tanned man beside me.  His hands run the length of my body, caressing my curves, and placing one on my breast.  His fingers feel the line of my lips, nose, and eyes.  He places two featherweight kisses on my eyelids.

I open one lid, blinking against the sunlight.  Waves are crashing on shore.  Content with the world, I close my eye again.  I don’t want to come back.

But it wasn’t the ocean; it was the rain outside that was banging on the windowpane.  Drops splattered from the roof onto the windowsill.  The room felt chilly and the only aromas permeating were those of Patrick frying bacon and eggs in the kitchen.  I crawled out from my duvet.

The actual coastline was sunken in autumn fog.  The seagulls had taken cover out of sight.  Below my window, people in the little estate got in their cars to go to work.  Reality was waking up.
(Excerpt from : Next Time Lucky)

NPR picked up on the Comparison of Dating and Home Swapping

When I wrote about 'Home Swapping is like Dating I had in mind that you have to separate the wheat from the chaff. The local radio station picked up on it (NPR: see link), put the emphasis on home swapping still plugging my book, however.
You may have had several phone calls with each other establishing a bond and asking critical questions. Same thing with homes.On a dating site you never know who you meet until you see them face to face. In spite of excellent profile crafting and careful answering of questionnaires, people can still hide behind the anonymous front of the Internet. Sometimes without bad intentions as I learned in my home swapping adventure. On a date you can leave as soon as you wish. If you actually stay abroad in somebody else's home...and they are in YOUR house for a duration of several weeks, it's more complicated.
Most people want to meet the person of their dreams as close to home as possible. Home swapping is different by nature. You want to travel, you want to explore foreign lands.What both types of searches have in common, however, and the corresponding websites going with it is a lack of rating system. Wouldn't it be great if at least a home swapping site evaluated the house you're interested in? or let you do it after a bad experience like we had? Like a trip adviser. No such thing even planned on the horizon.
I understand entirely that it's impossible for a dating website to evaluate people. In short, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, if we all fell for the same man/woman..God help us. What chaos and tragedy would ensue. In my time while I was actively Internet dating, a little help regarding a man's over all cleanliness and sense of order or propriety would have helped. Or in general, a background check like we used to do in my marriage bureau years ago. the days are long gone. There are very few personalized "heart-hunters' out there for the privileged few who can afford it. Maybe there is a demand for such a service in this country too. Especially older folk, second time rounders (or more) who are not internet savvy or afraid of who they might meet there, would appreciate a chaperon.