Author Archives: debaucherysoup

Beautiful lady, beautiful poem

I follow an amazing blog written by a friend I used to go to High School with.  You can find it on the right under Blogs I follow – Everyday Asperger’s.

I’m also friends with Sam on Facebook and she had posted a video of her reading a poem today.   My favorite part (other than the amazing poem) was at the beginning, she was a little self-conscious on camera and said ‘I hate my mouth’ immediately followed with affirmations to put herself into a positive place,  ‘I love my mouth, I love my mouth’.

This lady inspires me.  She moves me.  She exudes love and light.  She is someone I would put on a list of personal heroes should I ever be called to write such a list.

Sam was (and still is) gorgeous, warm, funny, bright, generous and so very sweet.  She was the popular girl without the attitude.  The cheerleader who really had spirit.  (‘She had spirit, how ’bout you?!’ sorry – couldn’t resist LOL!)  And man, could she nail her straight arms and lines – I was on the Varsity cheer squad and she was a Song Leader (I believe that’s right?  It’s been so long.).  Sam was kind to everybody.  You could look at her on the outside and never for one second believe that she ever experienced adversity or sorrow, ever struggled nor knew pain.  Sam exuded joy. 

If we had never reconnected, I would never have had the chance to tell her this.  But I am blessed to have had the opportunity. 

You know that email that floats around – it’s something along the lines of (and I’m SO paraphrasing here) ‘there’s at least one person that thinks of you that you’ll never know about, one person that loves you, one person … etc.’ I’m so blowing it, but I hope you get the point. 

Sam was someone who crossed my mind occasionally, she made that much of an impression on me. And she would never have known that had we not reconnected.

I digress.  Without further ado, here’s her poem, re-printed with her permission.  This brought tears to my eyes, more so after an especially sweet compliment about my spirit from someone I look up to on my spiritual journey.  My friend, Samantha Craft. 

“Dear Soul of Mine ~

I love you. I see you. I hear you. I believe you. I believe in your experience and perception. I believe in your efforts and hopes. I know you. And I adore you. There is nothing you can do or say that will change this. I have the potential to love you in all seasons, through storms and through merriment. I will not leave your side, nor your heart. I am you. You are beautiful. And because you are so beautiful, a spring of fresh light and goodness, I shall always love you. There is only pureness in you. I choose this. I choose to see the glorious child you are. I see through that which is not you. I see into your true form, and this makes me weep with joy. How lovely you are, in all your seasons, in all your ways. How perfectly lovely, my adored one.”

©Samantha Craft

Creative Laryngitis to a loud chastising

I’ve lost my voice.  My artistic voice.  It’s 5:54 in the morning and I’m wracking my brain trying to think of something deep or witty or poignant or even remotely worth your eye time and cannot.

I’ve had a headache for two days (probably a side effect of the eating debauchery I embarked on starting Friday and ending Sunday and the instant 4 pounds I put on my often mentioned small frame).

A-ha!

Let’s talk about that.  Let’s talk about my weight. (See what can happen when you just keep typing?  Eventually something comes up.  Now we need a picture.  I’ll use this one as I’ve been told I resemble her – here’s Ms. Gwyneth Paltrow).

I used to be thin.  It’s in my genes.  My Nannie is thin, my mother is thin.  I’m 5’10 and on average, now weigh 129 pounds.  A few years ago, I was teetering between the mid 160’s up to 172 at my heaviest.  I made a concerted effort to lose weight and it worked.  No soda – no white bread – smaller portions – stopped eating when I was full (what a concept) – no eating right before going to bed.  Nothing bonkers.  Just sensible.

The catalyst was hating to take my clothes off and still seeing the outline of them on my body. LOL!  That, and actually startling at my desk because “something touched my legs!!” (Turned out it was my stomach).

I was also uncomfortable, and my heart condition was getting worse.  Although, my heart issue stems from my sinus node, not the actual heart – I figured it still couldn’t hurt.

Then I quit drinking.

OH!  Do liquids have calories? THAT explains a lot.  More weight came off.  Because if I’m being honest, probably half my daily allowable calories came from champagne or wine or vodka or beer.  And some days many non-allowable daily calories too.

I am not skinny!  But I get comments a lot that I am.

This prompted me a while ago to quip on my Facebook status ‘why is it ok to point out someone is thin, but not that someone is fat??’.  I think both are rude.

I came to the conclusion that ‘thin’ has negative connotations.  It brings to mind disease, addiction, poverty.  While having some meat on the bones has historically meant ‘privilege, wealth, success’.

Um.  Can I ask again, why is it ok to mention the thin?  It’s sort of ruder now I’ve pointed out what it brings to mind.  What if they have just beaten a disease??  Or really can’t afford to eat? Ouch.  That would be horrible!   Because it’s never said privately out of concern, it’s usually flippantly thrown out there in public almost like it’s a compliment, except for that touch of distaste in the sentence.

I mean, you don’t just say to someone ‘Wow, your hair is really thinning.’  Or, ‘Your nose is so BIG!’.  Why do we think it’s ok to point anything like that out? Boggles the mind.  Just stop it.  Keep your eyes on your own paper.

Now, if I wasn’t eating or if a bone was protruding, a well-meaning ‘aside’ from a friend would be not only acceptable but expected!

But I went from a size 14-16 to a 6-8, not a zero.  I’m not skin and bones people.  Trust me, I see me naked.

Giggle Snaps

 

What is WRONG with me?  Since Friday I’ve been on a roller coaster of moods. 

Went from snapping at anything that dared to cut its eyes at me (inanimate objects included) to breathlessly laughing with my son.

Had flashbacks today of some of that laughter – which brought about the giggles at my desk.  Of course, that also brought eyes upon me and when they saw my screen was displaying something as mundane as the VA web portal, I’m sure they wondered whether or not they had a sane person in the helm of the loan ship.

I must have seemed a teeny bit demented.

Then I’m driving home today and started thinking about Christmas, the ever working in overdrive tangent part of my brain kicked a metaphor into my head, so now I’m maniacally laughing while driving at this thought:

My sex life (past tense as I am now in a self-induced celibate state) was much like a Christmas gift.  You know, the one you got that you give the mock ‘Oh!” eyes to, so you don’t hurt the gift givers feelings?  The one you politely smile at and say ‘thank you’ – all the while knowing you’re going to have to take responsibility for giving the gift you really wanted to yourself. My fault really for never telling Santa what I really wanted.

Left a scathing message for an Account Executive today after speaking to what seemed like a Rue 21 associate at their headquarters.  Did they want our business or not?  If so, assign a damn professional person to answer the phone with wanting to help coursing through their veins. 

I won’t even go into Sunday’s escapades – suffice it to say, when I want a burger, I WANT A BURGER and the mere fact that it’s 10:15 should NOT be an obstacle.  I think I scared my son.  He mentioned we really needed to get food into me.  He’s used to peace/love/compassion/tolerant mom.  Not mood swing mom. 

I’d blame all this on PMS, but apparently the male scientists have proven that doesn’t actually exist.  So I’ll blame it on the fact that I’m a Gemini. 

 

 

6 a.m. with the stars

I just sat outside with my coffee – bundled in my fleece pajamas and looked up, and around. The stars are amazing.  My kingdom for a camera that would capture them for you! 

A sip of coffee and a silent prayer, “God, speak to me …”  A rooster crowed from somewhere down the dirt road and from the corner of my eye, a falling star.

A Leonid? I thought.  I heard they were coming.

Back inside and I hear birds.  My sons alarm clock is apparently set to the nature sound feature.

Other than that all I hear is my dog sighing and now the tap-tap of the keyboard.

Only I am disturbing the quiet.

I think about the post I wrote yesterday and the line “He never showed up”. 

When really, I never showed up.

But I’m here now.  And my eyes are open to falling stars, butterflies and bees.  My ears are open to roosters and my loved ones. 

Good morning friends.

Desert butterfly & a bee

Taken from my porch steps.  You know, it’s really, really hard to get a bee to stay still long enough to focus.  I had to ask it very nicely. 😉