3 BIDS...FOR WISDOM

I put a bid in for three things in the past month.  

1) One, I was nominated for.  

2) One, I was encouraged to apply.  

3) One, I was selected to represent.

For three different reasons, the Powers That Be decided I wasn't their girl. I could blame myself for my failure to advance, but when I consider all I put together, I can honestly say I was true to myself and did my best work. Don't get me wrong, I have feelings about it. I won't pretend I'm not disappointed or sad. I can recognize those feelings without letting them eat me up because...I just don't believe I am entitled to anything.  

Also, I don't necessarily believe hard work gets you things. I mean, certainly doing no work will get you nothing (unless you are an heiress or heir), but sometimes people work their asses off and still get nothing.  I just finished reading Matthew Desmond's Poverty, By America.  It's about the policies and systems that keep some people poor and other people rich.  It's a good reminder that there are limits to what we can achieve and there are a lot of forces outside ourselves that we can't control.

Instead of getting upset about those things, I'm going to focus on the fact that I am lucky in love.  I had so many people supporting and encouraging me, wishing me luck, and sending love when When I leave this planet, I'm not going to dwell on the speeches I didn't make, the competitions I didn't win, or the impressive salary I never collected.  Instead I am going to be grateful for the people I loved and who loved me.  Being good to people, and cultivating authentic relationships, is something that I have some control over.  This is the lesson I'm choosing to take from this experience.

A CAT NAMED STEVE

I have a cat named Steve.  He's a good boy.  But he gets beat up by other cats.  Sometimes my kids harass him.  They like to pat his big belly and tell him that he's fat.  My husband also molests him.  He likes to pick Steve up and hold him and smells his fur.  I think it's really weird.  I keep reminding him, 'purring is not consent,' but he never listens.  Truly, I'm the only one who respects Steve's bodily autonomy.  I pet him when he approaches me and when I do, he makes little fists with his paws, gripping the ground as though he might float into the air on a cloud of ecstasy.  

Unless he's getting the tar beat out of him by a neighbor cat, his tail is almost always straight up in the air, like an exclamation point at the end of the statement, 'I am happy!'  I can relate.  I'm the same.  I have this weird internal resilience where I keep bouncing back even when people fuck with me or things go poorly.  I don't even hold on to bad feelings about it.  It's just...life, you know?  I'm just happy I get to experience it.

I don't really know what's going on in Steve's little pecan brain, but I'm starting to think he really chooses happiness.  I mean...he purrs when he licks his own butthole.  

FEAR, BRAVERY, ACTION

Fear and bravery are the same things.  The only difference is, bravery is connected to action.

READ THIS POST WHILE LISTENING TO 'THESE ARE THE DAYS' BY 10,000 MANIACS

When I was a little kid, I had this little kid play table.  It had some kind of pattern on the top with a bright orange plastic trim.  I remember dragging that table into the bathroom, and getting a whole bunch of playdoh, and pulling all of that over to the toilet so I could play with my playdoh while I took a dump.  

If you didn't search up the song and play it while reading, as instructed, you can still click here and read the post again for the full experience.

AUTOCORRECT

It's weird that my phone has an autocorrect for the word WOKE, but not for another four letter word that ends in K (that I use far, far more often).

MY FRIEND JANE #2

I'm only now understanding the depth of what Jane meant to me.  Anyone could pull up our old texts and see love.  They would see friendship and support.  It was articulated, openly and often.  But I am feeling it now, a profound loss.  It hurts.  My heart actually fucking hurts.  What is that all about?

Usually before we would go for a walk or a coffee, I would have a short list of things to discuss or tell her.  Here's one thing that happened that I can no longer tell her because she doesn't walk on Earth any longer.

Yesterday, my 10-year-old daughter was going through the dirty laundry in search of pants.  She doesn't care that they are dirty, she wants to wear that particular pair today.  In the pile there's a pair of my unwashed period underwear.  These things...how do I say this?  They trap odor, okay?  My girl is pulling things out and then yells, "something smells like...DEAD FISH!"

Jane would have loved that story.

MY FRIEND JANE #1

 My friend Jane died yesterday.  I knew her for 25 years.  I sat with her for four hours on Sunday morning.  By then she was non-verbal.  We had to guess what she was feeling based on the depth of the furrow in her brow.  On Friday evening she was still talking, although not much.  She kept having to close her eyes and rest because her head was dizzy.  The cancer was in her zygomatic arch.  I sat with her and held her hand until she fell asleep.  Before she slept, I told her that I heard chinstrap penguins take 10,000 3-second naps every day.  She whispered, "wow, that's interesting!"  I am gutted.  I'm going to miss her.

RESTRAINT

I have known this for a long time, but this might be the first time I have actually spoken the words out loud:  I am attracted to repressed men.  Some women are attracted to nurturers and others are attracted to abusive drunks.  I like guys that look uncomfortable with/confused about their own emotions.  There is just something sexy about a guy who is visibly straining to bury his feelings deep inside himself right in front of you, especially if those feelings are about you.  He's kind of a lost puppy and that level of vulnerability in an adult man is kind of endearing.  But if you marry a guy like that, you're going to work.  Just...expect to work.