Accountability Partner?

What would happen if I had an accountability partner?

My room would be cleaned, completely organized, and kept that way – it would be glorious.

I would write quality pieces, just about every day (maybe something like an average of five to six days a week, with about eight days off per month).

I would take photos every month, and have them ready within a week of taking them.

I probably would take photos about once a week.

I would meditate intentionally, and often.

I would do laundry weekly, and put al my clothes away almost immediately.

I would be working actively on writing a book.

I would learn the extra details of sewing clothes that I have wanted to learn for years now.

I would paint.

I would bicycle-ride.

I would teach my art and yoga class I have wanted to teach.

I would read an average of 30-40 books per year. (Actually doing well in this one without a buddy, but the official book challenge on GoodReads has kind of been like an accountability partner…. so yeah…)

I would play music often.

I probably would do some acting and performing.

I probably would wake up early on most days.

I probably would spend more time with friends.

I would be doing all sorts of wonderful things I have only imagined and haven’t even imagined yet, and it would be awesome.

Yet I have no accountability partner.

Perhaps it is time to find one, already…

Hmm…

Post-a-day 2019

Stressed irony

Jump– jump– jump– jump

—-jump-jump

Aaaaaaahh!

Fleas are just darn terrible, especially without a pet… at least, with a pet, they stay on the pet… without the pet, they spread everywhere, and attack every warm body that passes through (which happens to be my warm body, my being the only one who actually lives here and isn’t a big of some sort)…

Ugh…

Help me, Lord… I have a struggle beyond this, and the fleas are just making everything worse and somewhat terrible.

……..

You see, have you ever heard the song “Ironic” by Alanis Morissette?

This section has lived in my head off and on ever since I first learned the song, way back when:

A traffic jam when you’re already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It’s meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn’t it ironic, don’t you think
A little too ironic, and yeah I really do think

It is all too ironic, I dare say, that this line about the man and his wife always stuck with me as a child, and now it has resurfaced in the face of reality hitting the mark of a reasonable validity in the statement.

That is, in more sensical wording, that line has come true for me.

I met this “man of my dreams” several months ago – and he even became the actual man of my daydreams over time.

Every time we are together, I am filled with light and love, and I am inspired to be the best version I can be of myself… and I want him to enjoy himself and have a wonderful time, and I take care to help along his enjoyment in the interaction.

We inevitably have a wonderful time.

And I drink up his smile.

And his eyes… those eyes that keep contact… they are that kind of eyes.

Every new thing I learn about him and every new experience I have with him increases his perfection as this “man of my dreams”.

Everything except the seemingly inevitable, that is…

I finally paid attention enough to his hands this last time I saw him – something I never seem to check on people, and so it had to be a conscious effort this time – and discovered a wedding band.

…::face palm::…

He had on another ring, too, so there was a chance it was just a ring and not a wedding band…, but then I learned of his beautiful and wonderful wife, and their beautiful darlings of children.

It was confirmed…

When I considered it all, I discovered that I truly was unsurprised by the information… just bummed.

All the good ones really are taken…(!!!)

A somewhat jokingly thought thought, but it seems to strike rather truly these days. :/

I never really expected him to be single, available… he’s too great, too comfortable in himself and with me and others… he has confidence in his place with his partner and family.

But there’s always a chance that a great guy won’t be unavailable, I tell myself, because I’m not with anyone, you know, and I’m great…

Anyway…, moving onward…

It stresses me sad to know that this guy, for sure, is not a potential partner in my life.

And… surprisingly,… yet not surprisingly,… I find hope in it all.

Firstly, that this guy exists suggests that it is possible someone else like he is could exist, someone so wonderful.

Secondly, that this guy is such a good guy that he can have a wonderful, non romantic time with me, even though he is married, makes him an even better guy than thought….

Which, then, makes the first point an even bigger and better deal…

Thirdly, there were two tiny, unchangeable aspects to him that I don’t particularly love (but that I found myself to be okay with reasonably quickly as I spent more time with the guy), and perhaps this is a piece of why he is not the one for me nor I the one for him… and perhaps the one for me will share many qualities with this guy, and yet those tiny disliked aspects will be gone in the one for me…

So, ultimately, it’s a good thing… all of it.

And… I’m even relieved a bit… no offense, but I didn’t and don’t want to have those tiny drawback aspects if I don’t have to have them, you know?

I mean, I definitely am still not quite over it all… it is still a blow to know for sure something like this, even when you had somewhat suspected it all along…, but I also can see that I will be over it, and likely rather soon.

I don’t recall at present which character where said it, but pain demands to be felt… I agree with that… when we ignore pain, it changes, but ultimately worsens.

So, I talked with my cousin, just to communicate my frustration and sadness today, because I realized it was time to let this all go… we discovered that I think I need to have a final cry to get the last dregs out and gone in the matter, so that then I can resume a wonderful friendship with a wonderful, inspiring guy.

Post-a-day 2019

The Shinkansen

There is a general air of ‘nothing special’ as people mill about the car, taking their time sitting down.  Suddenly, though nothing inside has changed, everything has changed – the train is moving.  It began without a start, reminding me of the ever-odd sense of perspective in 1984, where they are now at war with whomever, and, therefore, have always been at war with that same whomever – the train is now moving so smoothly along, it feels as though it has always been moving, never having been stopped in the first place.

And, for some currently-unknown reason, I find myself looking out the window, listening to my wonderful Spanish music (Mexico), and crying.  As in the case of my seeing Le Roi Lion (The Lion King) musical in Paris, I am suddenly overwhelmed with some emotion expressed with intense tears and a heavy tremble of breathing, deep in my chest.  I don’t know what emotion this is, but something is saying to me, “It’s okay, honey.  It’s okay,” and meaning it.  Everything is all right, and I can be at ease.

That’s when I notice that I have a joint experience of joy and terror.  

I have joy for the excitement of being on such a train.  I am, after all, on a Shinkansen, one of the world-renowned bullet trains of Japan.  Something I learned existed when I was a child, and never considered my ever having the opportunity to see, let alone having it becoming an easy weekend thing for me to ride on a whim.  Being here, right now, on this train, is like I am living in the middle  of the history I once studied in a book.  Like when I wandered around Spain with my class, like it was no big deal, seeing the places where all of these people and things once were making history.  I’ve been to so many places like that, I don’t even remember where all I have been.  How crazy is that?!  And here I am, doing just that sort of thing all over again.  And like it’s no big deal – it’s just part of normal life.  Insane.  Joy.  : )

But recall this terror, this fear that also finds itself within me as the train begins its southward journey.  What is this terror?  Why did someone inside have to tell me that things really were all right, when they seemed to be obviously so?  

I think this ties into what I was considering last night about dreams and such, though it isn’t just that.  I think I am somewhat afraid of living my life to the fullest on my own, because why would I want or need anyone else, if my life is already amazing solo?  (By the way, this is huge for me right now.)  If I am 100% content and delighted with my life, then why would I want anything to change?  Why would I want someone else to come into it and to join me in all of my endeavors?  It sounds silly to me, but I think it has some truth to it for me and how I live my life.  I think I am terrified right now on this wonderful train experience, because I am not with my future partner (or anyone else of particular importance to me), yet this is still something amazing.  It is as though a part of me was asking if it were okay to enjoy the experience, even though I’m all on my own.  Even though this might always be something that stays shared with only ‘me, myself, and I’.  

Is that why I was so afraid, so worried and concerned?  I don’t know.  But it feels more and more the case by the moment.  

I have all of these absolutely amazing things in my life, happening all the time.  Just take the fact that I am listening to this Spanish music for example.  (As a side note, I found some old headphones!!)  Much of why I live the artist is that I understand and can sing along to the songs.  I can sing along, because I have studied in Spain, I have visited Mexico, and I have various ties to Spanish native speakers.  And Spanish wasn’t even anything to do with my major in college or anything – it was just a sort of passive hobby for me, and it still is.  Just one of the many amazing things that have happened and continue to happen in my life.

The thing about these amazing things is, they never seem to me to be much of anything special, abnormal.  I’m not living in a hut in the middle of Africa, hunting baboons at night with spears and rocks, so my life isn’t really crazy or unique or anything special, right?  I think I expect to be doing things closer and closer to that sort of life once I’ve found a partner to share in it all with me.  But, until that time, I feel like my life is just a matter of this and thats, a feeling of ‘just hang on until your real life begins’ in the air.

Interesting, huh?  : )
Post-a-day 2017