Do you remember that first crush? Maybe you were in high school, and it never amounted to anything more than a flutter in your heart. Maybe he didn’t even know your name, but you wrote your initials beside his in a little heart on the desk, in your notebook, and on the bathroom mirror. You knew the way he walked, and the sound of his laugh. He thought he was cool, and so did you. You imagined what you would say to him, if he asked to borrow your pen, and smiled at him behind his back. And then when your eyes eventually did meet, he was the first to smile before you looked away, blushing. Maybe it became more than that, maybe it didn’t, but you’ll always remember that crush.
And as you got older you still had those crushes to varying degrees. I still remember those butterflies, and how the world would stand still when I was with you. My hand fit in the crook of your arm just so, and you even sat beside me when we ate. You said it was easier to share that way. I remember staying up till 2am and then texting that same morning to tell you I was on cloud nine. Or was it you that told me that? It’s a bit foggy now, but I do remember I forgot to pay my rent. You were the only thing on my mind. And I remember sitting there waiting for you, then the warmth of your hands on my shoulders when you did arrive, and finally that smile. Even though you were late, it was impossible to get mad at you. That was just the beginning –it all started with a crush.
And if you’re still trying to recall those sweet crushes, let the smooth vocals of Yuna and Usher remind you.
I did take down my online dating profile, but I didn’t give up on dating completely. I just decided that I was going to let things unfold naturally. So after a week of exchanging text messages with my Saturday coffee date, we settled on a second date, a Monday dinner date. Although I still felt that we were on different paths, I thought I should give it a second chance.
We agreed to meet downtown at a Szechuan restaurant, but when I arrived I found him standing outside the ‘CLOSED’ sign. This made me smile. He wasn’t as predictable and organized as I thought he was. Still set on spicy food, we found another Szechuan place, a place where he knew the owners, and was given a special menu, which I couldn’t read. We ordered frogs, chicken, and spicy eggplant. When the dishes arrived, he asked if he could serve me, and reached for my bowl before I could answer. For a moment, it felt awkward, and I wondered if it should have been the other way around. Then I flashbacked to my time in Asia, and the only difference was that my date had actually asked, before he started piling rice and chilies in my bowl.
During the course of the meal, our lips turned a deeper shade of red as we discussed dating — online and crossing borders. I told him that I hated online dating, but he thought it was an efficient way to date. I didn’t disagree with him, but told him that I liked meeting the old-fashioned way, in person. He asked why I replied to his online message, and I told him that I recognized him. After he almost choked on a frog, I brought up our mutual friend and her potlucks. Then he also began to recall my name and Thailand in a conversation with our friend many years ago. And in the moments that followed, we felt like we knew each other a little better; we had a context outside of the online dating pool.
And he wanted to know if I dated outside the white pool, if I’d dated Asian men overseas. Yes, to overseas and at ‘home’. I knew he was expecting some profound discoveries, but to be honest, I didn’t have any for him, and I wasn’t ready to open up. I mentioned that I found Asian men more family oriented, and I liked that, and that I found some Thai men had a flexible definition of fidelity, and I didn’t like that. (Now that I am writing this, I have a lot more to say on the topic of dating outside the Western (mainly white) pool, but I will save that for another post.)
As he had asked me about my dating past, I asked about his. He thought Western women were more independent and ambitious. He felt that Asian women were more materialistic. I challenged him on his views, because I felt that they stemmed from his failed marriage, and because I know Asian women who are amazingly ambitious, and Western women who are wrapped up in material wealth. And as we talked, he told me about some of the women he’d met online: the woman who drank wine with every meal, the woman who seemed too good to be true and was — she went to Afghanistan, the woman who was a great badminton partner but nothing more, and the woman he met offline and dated for six months, before she left Canada in search of better job opportunities (she was Asian….sounds ambitious to me?). He concluded that his parents were happy that he was dating again, and that although he is traditional in many ways, he wanted to be the one to find his own mate.
After getting the topic of dating off the table, we talked about home renovations, mainly his. He pulled out his phone, pushed the half-eaten plates out of the way, and handed it to me. As I swiped through before and after pictures of his kitchen and bathroom, I couldn’t help but be impressed. Not only does he have a stable, brainy job, but he is a practical DIY guy! And he also makes his own planes — remote control planes. These planes are his passion, his ‘babies’, and he arranges playdates with fellow flyers. At first I thought I would have to pretend to be interested, but after watching some videos on his phone, and listening to him describe the perfect landing, I didn’t have to pretend.
So, yeah, the second date went well. He’s a well-rounded guy – interesting hobbies, well-traveled, healthy lifestyle, good job, family values. Checks all the boxes for a potential mate, and anyone looking in from the outside would think he’s a great catch. But as he paid the bill, divided up the left-overs, and drove me home, I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. Later that evening, when I texted my friend about the date, I wrote that I was holding my introvert card too tight. I felt that I didn’t share enough, and that the silences were awkward. There was a missing connection.
Update: We are still texting, and meeting up this weekend for the third time. We’ll see how it goes! Third time a charm, third time you’ll know, that’s my thinking!
My online dating profile wasn’t stellar, but it was honest. My pictures were less than a week old, and I answered everything to the best of my ability.(Wondering what “everything” is? Look here, a site dedicated to the OKCupid profile.) The answers were brief and to the point – no pontificating. I was going for the soft-sell, but it wasn’t working. My friend, a fellow cupid familiar with pitching in other areas of his life, urged me to elaborate in some places and trim down in others. It was wise advice, but I was still torn between editing or deleting my profile. You see, I am still resistant to online dating; I still want to meet someone the organic way, the old-fashioned way. My friend’s quip to this is, “How’s that working for you?” Yeah, not so well these days. Editing had to be done.
With a slightly enhanced profile, I did acquire a ‘like’ from a guy I had exchanged emails with last time I was on OKCupid, over 2 years ago. As we had already done introductions before, I decided to send a quick message, and he responded with a dinner invitation. Normally, I would have taken a step back, but we had exchanged mini essays in the past, so I felt dinner was a logical progression, plus I didn’t want a penpal.
The date was on a Tuesday night. I was early –I usually am. The walk to my favourite Thai restaurant helped me shake off my nerves, and when he showed up, I didn’t hesitate to step outside and flag him down. The Thai chatter in the kitchen put me at ease, and after a long-winded discussion about our day, I broke out my rusty Thai to order dinner. The conversation flowed, the green curry was mild, the cha yen (Thai iced tea) was sweet, and it was a beautiful night. As he walked me home, we chatted about his son, acupuncture, and meeting up again. At my place, we hugged goodbye, and I thought to myself, I’d like to see him again. Against my friend’s advice, I even sent him a ‘thank you’ text the same night.
Maybe that was my faux-pas? Sending a text the same night came off as too eager? I hate dating rules. Anyhow, it’s been over a week since that date with Tuesday guy, and I haven’t heard a peep. I’m not going to second guess myself and run down the list of possible reasons why I haven’t heard from him. In fact, I haven’t been losing sleep or time since that Tuesday.
The same friend, a fellow introvert, is approaching dating as a summer hobby, or so she says. This isn’t typical introvert behaviour, but I thought maybe I could take this approach too. So, when a message from a handsome, well-traveled, multiple-degreed man landed in my inbox on Wednesday, I responded. Our messages went back and forth –hobbies and travel were the hot topics. Anyhow, we ended up meeting on Saturday for coffee.
I had iced tea, and he had what I can only assume was coffee. If you have been reading my blog for some time, you know that I’m not into coffee dates — they’re like interviews. Anyhow, the interview went well for the most part; we were re-hashing our emails, and he was everything that he said he was, plus nice biceps. But somehow, he seemed like too good of a catch. Then the conversation took an interesting turn — marriage. He had ventured down that path for a brief period, and he told me the bad, the good, and the ugly of that experience. (It was mostly ugly.) At the end, I felt guilty because I couldn’t reciprocate –I’ve never been married. However, I did share my feelings about family and my place in it, which is something I don’t often talk about. For him, family was the touchstone in his life, and his parents were currently living with him. I didn’t tell him this, but when I moved back from living overseas, I lived with my mom for less than three weeks before finding a place of my own. And once I had settled in my bachelor, I felt I had taken back part of my life.
After the ‘family talk’, I thought that our date would be sealed with a handshake, and a half-hearted, “Keep in touch.” So, I was surprised that it ended with a handshake, and a dinner invitation for the following Monday, just a couple days away. I politely declined as I wanted to be with a friend going through a breakup, and because I wasn’t sure how I felt about the prospect of another date. With his line of questioning and the discussion on marriage, I got the impression that he’d figured out most of his life, but was just missing the right woman to start a family with. Although we’re the same age, I’m still figuring out my life in the West, and not feeling the ticking of any kind of clock.
Oh, dating! It’s complicated, and to be honest, I don’t think it is the right hobby for me. I’m open to meeting someone, but it’s not my priority right now. And as an introvert, making a connection with one person, whether it be a friend or love interest, is hard enough without throwing more possibilities in the mix. Tonight the online dating profile is coming down.
P.S. I saw ‘what-if’ guy again tonight. After my run, I was walking home through the Village and there he was — not at a different table, but on the other side of the road.
It’s a whole new dating world and I’m thinking about joining it again. After experimenting with dating apps, going out with safe pseudo-dates, and consuming books like Modern Romance and movies like Everything Before Us, I’ve decided to let technology help me and have one last pseudo-date. This is my warm-up.
To be honest, I’m not really sure how to approach dating again, so I ended up creating a profile on OK Stupid aka OKCupid. I know I should give online dating a chance, but after making a connection without technology, I feel like I am taking a step backwards. I feel like something is wrong with me. Yes, this is me being stupid. Studies show that those who partake in online dating are usually university-educated, often with multiple degrees. (Sorry, I cannot find the source to back this up, but I’m going to take my friends word for it, and my own personal research.) When you think about it, it makes perfect sense — look at the data and algorithms that are used to predict matches! Plus candidates are given a space to write a statement of purpose, and to select ideal mates based on personal data, pictures, and good grammar. For brainy folks, that is sexy. So, why doesn’t this online dating excite me? I will save that for another post – this is about my warm-up to adventures in the new dating world!
Before embarking on these adventures, I ended up going out for dinner with pseudo-date #1. As you might recall, this is the platonic friend that drives me nuts, but I still make an effort to impress. This time it was very different. After six weeks in his motherland, he came home with a ring and immigration documents. When he picked me up, he announced right away, “I’m off the market!” I went into over-analyzing mode –does he read my blog?
Over dinner, he shared pictures of his wife and her family, a sexy cabinet minister (not his wife), and a meme insinuating that the only happy men are single. Me being me, I called him out on this. He defended himself right off the bat, and even though I pressed the issue, I knew that he was genuinely happy to not be single anymore. He had been seeking stability and the ‘right’ someone for quite some time, and had finally found her. I was ecstatic for him, and also fascinated by the arrangement process. After my long line of questioning, we decided to share a dessert. I suggested lavender chocolate mousse — the ‘what-if’ guy had recommended it. The guy who had invited me to an open mic, but I had declined due to laundry.
As I dipped my spoon in the mousse, I noticed the ‘what-if’ guy (with a bit more facial hair and the same glasses) sitting by himself at the bar. Really? Yes, really! Our eyes met and we exchanged smiles, once again sitting at different tables. The married man excused himself, and I was alone at the table. It’s no surprise that ‘what-if’ guy did not take this opportunity to approach me — it looked as if I was on a date! And I didn’t have the guts to walk up to him, and say, “I’m not crazy about the mousse, but I would like to get to know you more.” Lesson learned: if you go on pseudo-dates, you eliminate opportunities for real connections.
Yes, that was a bit of a detour from my real adventures in dating, but it was a story worth sharing. It’s the warm-up and why I believe I don’t need a digital cupid. And you know what? OkCupid was not what I remembered. I received barely any messages — 35, fully-clothed (not even a collarbone protruding), bookworm, elusive answers, what did I expect?!
A few weeks ago, I had an encounter that made me think twice. What if?
It was a lazy Sunday, and cooking for one was the last thing I wanted to do. So, I decided to make my way down to the almost vegetarian café in the Village, the café where I feel totally okay eating alone. As I entered the café, I noticed that I wasn’t the only one dining alone.
He was silently admiring his spread of curry, polenta and fresh vegetables. Well, he was silent until I was about to order, and then I heard a breathy, “Oh my God…..this is Soooo good!” It rang out more than once, making me blush and smile, as though I was eavesdropping on two lovers, who could no longer contain their whispers. It made me look at my bowl of soup with a bit more enthusiasm. I’ve always had a thing for guys who know how to truly appreciate food.
As I hugged my bowl of soup and felt the sun touch my face through the window, I decided to be bold, take the Bumble approach, and strike up a conversation. I tried to let that introvert go as I inquired about his edible romance. Thai curry. I’ve got this, I thought — I lived in Thailand; I took Thai cooking classes in Thailand. But I didn’t offer that up right away; I decided to do what I do best — ask a bunch of questions to avoid talking about myself. Anyhow, he took the bait.
I learned that although he loves food, enrolls in cooking classes, and enjoys friendly cook -offs, he ended up getting a practical engineering degree. He told me that usually he can’t handle Thai spice, taking off his wire rim glasses, and wiping his glistening brow. At this point, I interjected with my Thai experience. He held up his hands in surrender and teased, “Oh, you lived in Thailand. I can’t compete.” I smiled, he laughed. Then he proceeded to describe the fine art of making phad thai, and how his friends fell in love with his sauce, proving that he could compete.
Still sitting a table apart, we moved on from Thai cuisine to music. In between bites, he told me how nervous he was about tonight, open mic night. The last time he’d performed was three years ago, maybe even longer, but this was something he had to do. I got the sense it had something to do with him leaving San Francisco and the end of his marriage. Yes, he shared all that with me without me asking. I did ask how he ended up in Victoria, and the rest just followed. There was no prodding involved, and he talked about it as if it was a wound that was both fresh and healed. Realizing the depths of that, I felt somewhat guilty. I was just listening, asking for more.
“What will you be singing? Is it your own song?”
“Bandages. Not my own song, but I’ve made it my own. My wife used to think of me and my version when the song came on the radio.” A smile, but then a pause, “It’s a song that brings back memories too….some hard times. It makes me think of a close friend of mine….she died a few years ago…..”
I let the moment of silence hang there, in remembrance. I didn’t want to ask anymore.
As I eyed the last spoonful of soup, he turned the tables, metaphorically, and started asking me questions. And I obliged with some hesitation. I talked about my limited musical background — clarinet in high school with a band trip to Hawaii. And I touched on my time overseas, a time that shaped who I am today. That part of the world was close to him, his parents were born in that region, but he’d never really explored beyond his family’s old neighbourhoods. I found myself wanting to ask more, but he had an open mic to get to. He was still on the fence about going, but I pushed him. And then he asked what I was doing that night. And I told him that I was doing laundry.
Yes, laundry. I put on the brakes. I left that night with a handshake, a name, and Bandages. Still, a few weeks later, I wonder what would have happened if I had said I was free? Would he have invited me to listen to him play? Would this encounter have turned into something more?
At 35, I decided that I truly wanted a smart phone. It was time to go beyond Facebook, Pinterest, and Angry Birds. While those apps served as great distractions in my twenties, it was time to level up and make the most out of my idle time. Now, with apps like Pocket, Coach.me, and Goodreads, I’m smartening up, and using my time with technology wisely.
Pocket. The Pocket app lets you easily find, save, and share articles, videos and other online content. The beauty of the app is that it allows you to “pocket” your findings for later, off-line consumption. In the morning, I’ll save a bunch of articles and read them throughout the day. It’s perfect for those days that I forget my book at home. Also, before long journeys, I’ll browse Pocket for some interesting reads, and then read them off-line on my mode of transportation. Last year, I saved an article about the history of the Myers Briggs Type Indicator, and it kept me awake (and disturbed) during my flight from Calgary to Victoria. I used to proudly assert that I was an INFJ, the Advocate, but now I am not only hesitant to put myself in that box, but to identify with a test that was created by such a woman. Curious? Here’s the article: Uncovering the Secret History of Myers-Briggs. Of course, there are a wide range of articles to be pocketed in Pocket. The most recent recommendation for me is The 7 Fatal Flaws of Thinking — and How to Fix Them. Pocket is the app that feeds my curious mind.
Coach.me. This app lets you track your habits, set goals, and connect with an online community. Do you want to meditate everyday? Are you trying to create a daily writing habit? Do you want to know how others stay motivated? With Coach.me, you can create or join goals, give props (thumbs up) to support others, and ask questions to help you in your habit shaping. My current goals are Study, Read a book for 30 minutes everyday, Write 500 words a day, Learn to speak a foreign language, no sweets, wake up early, Exercise, Eat breakfast, Drink more water, and Motivational quotes. Some goals are easier to achieve than others, but since I’ve started using Coach.me, I’ve been reading more, and eating breakfast. Baby steps. Coach.me is the app that keeps me on track, and it comes with messages of encouragement — “Good job, you checked into 3 goals yesterday! I’ll be right here while you eat no sweets, wake up early, and study (hard).”
Goodreads. This app lets you rate the books you’ve read, stack your virtual shelves with the books you want to read, and track the progress you’ve made on the books you’re reading. It’s fun to check out the books your friends are reading, and receive suggestions based on your favourite genres or the books you’ve already read. Recently, I’ve also started tapping into reviews, especially when I’m reading a book that has received rave reviews, but I’m not feelin’ it. It’s validating to read a review that reflects your thoughts; it’s comforting to know that even though a book’s a New York Times Bestseller, you’re not alone in your struggle to finish it. Goodreads is the app that keeps my reading habit alive and lets me indulge in my nerdy side.
These are the apps making my phone smart, and in turn, making me smarter, too. Technology is a double-edged sword; it has the power to boost our creativity and make us more knowledgeable about the world, but it can also do just the opposite. At the end of the day, it’s up to the user. Do you want to be used by technology or do you want to use technology? With Pocket, Coach.me, and Goodreads, I feel like I am using technology and making smarter choices, but they are still distractions. Sometimes it is better to just sit with my idle time or go fly a kite.
“Dating…..don’t wait too long.” This is a memo I store in my phone, because I need to remind myself that the longer I stand on the sidelines, the harder it will be to get back on the field. Yes, I am ready. My heart beats to its own even rhythm; my eyes stay dry when I think of him; my lips speak his name with ease. So, what is my next move? At the moment, I’m in the safe-take-no-risks box; there are a couple dating apps on my phone; I’ve gone on a couple pseudo-dates; and I’ve been dissecting this new dating/relationship culture through movies and books.
A couple years ago, I made a meaningful connection the organic way and swore that I would never date the impersonal Internet way again. Fast forward a couple years and I decided to reconsider that decision. After some research, I found a couple alternatives to Plenty of Fish (Plenty of weirdos), OK Cupid (OK stupid), and Tinder (swipe, swipe, let’s hook up). Bumble, the feminist app, and Coffee Meets Bagel (CMB), the “quality over quantity” app, made it to my phone.
Like Tinder, Bumble and CMB have a swipe system and both parties have to like each other to send a message. With Bumble, women have to initiate the conversation within 24 hours or the match disappears, and with CMB you are served a “bagel” (potential match) every 24 hours based on your profile preferences, friend circle, and app history. (Those in my friend circle are partnered up, so I’m not inviting them to this experiment.). The Bumble profile is sparse with a max of five pictures and an optional ‘about’ blurb, while CMB encourages users to flesh out their profiles by answering three questions: Who are you? What do you like? What do you appreciate in your date? Both apps attracted me with their simplicity and easy setup, but after a week with zero bagels and a bumbling about llamas, I’m beginning to think they aren’t working for me. Maybe I should go back to the organic way of dating.
Enter pseudo-dating. What is this pseudo-dating? This is going out with a guy that you’re pretty sure thinks of you as a friend, and you pretty much feel the same way about him, but there is still this underlying chemistry, and desire to smell and look good for each other. A few years ago, I started taking salsa lessons and met such a guy. In between dances, we’d have heated debates, exchange occasional messages, and gush over our recent loves. I was the one gushing, and he was usually agonizing. When I became single, we started hanging our socially. We go out for dinners every few months, followed by long drives discussing our fears about dating, marriage, climbing the career ladder, etc. In between these dinners, we exchange long-winded texts and books, followed by his unsolicited reviews of the books. As much as I enjoy our interactions, he makes my blood boil with his unknowingly sexist and closed views, and when I arrive home after our ‘dates’, I wonder why I spent so much time getting ready! That is pseudo date #1.
Psuedo-date #2 is a bit of a hybrid. He’s the old lover that you catch up with after finding him online. When I was 22 I met him through a mutual friend, and there was no underlying chemistry — it was explosive, it was the kind of chemistry that could withstand a year separation, or so we thought. After a few sizzling months, I left for Thailand, and a few months of emails, phone calls, pictures and mixed CDs later, our “love” fizzled. It was bad timing, and part of me has always thought of him as the one that got away, the one that I should have settled down with. Over the years, we disconnected; he got married and had a child, and I fell in love with Thailand and had a short fling with Korea. A few weeks ago, when I was thinking about getting in the game, and doing my due diligence browsing Plenty of weirdos, I came across his profile. I don’t know if it was his dimples or my curiosity, but I emailed him, and a week later we had a ‘catch-up’ dinner. It was different; we had this familiarity, but no sparks. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed; I had treated it as a date, but he never even took his jacket off.
I’m not sure if these pseudo dates are good for practice, or just good for nothing. Sometimes I feel it’s safer to just consume books and Netflix. My first book of the year was Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari, and I followed it up with his Master of None series on Netflix. Both look at love in this modern world, and the ever changing landscape of dating and relationships. In Modern Romance, Ansari points out that we limit ourselves with online dating. We select pre-requisites, such as age and income brackets, body type and height requirements, that narrow our choices. I know I am guilty of that. When it comes to organic dating, I usually end up with someone that I would have never found online! Then there are arranged meetings (dating) that leads to arranged marriages. To be honest, I’ve always wished that this was a viable option for me. Meet the Patels directed by Ravi Patel is a great documentary that highlights the ups and downs of the whole arranging process. There truly are so many different ways to approach dating and relationships.
Sometimes I wonder how this whole dating world is going to evolve, but for right now I am just happy that the Department of Emotional Integrity (DEI) doesn’t meddle in my affairs. What is this DEI? Well, it’s the fictional government department in the new Wong Fu production, Everything Before Us. This was my Netflix fix last night, and it truly is an imaginative and insightful look at how our relationships and choices could affect all areas of our lives. Imagine not being able to get a job because you have one too many failed relationships? Imagine being denied a loan or entrance to an establishment because of your low relationship credit score? Imagine having to register and terminate all your relationships with the government? (This isn’t so difficult to imagine. Hello, marriage, so sorry, divorce.) Imagine staying with someone to boost your score? Although all of this may seem a bit far out, it made me think about an online profile question (How long was your longest relationship?) and our acute interest in the relationship histories of our partners. I know I am somewhat hung up on the relationship histories of the women in my family. Zero marriages, four marriages and four divorces, two marriages for two divorces. Oh dear, my EI score would be so low.
Let’s go back to the beginning. “Dating….don’t wait too long.” Regardless of my score, fruitless dating apps and awkward pseudo-dates, it is time to get out of the safe-take-no-risks-box.I might have to go back to the organic way and take the feminist approach of Bumble, and get the conversation rolling. I’m in no rush though; I’ll get out there sooner or later. In the meantime, I am happy to spend Friday nights studying and watching Netflix.
Sometimes I think I am over him, but then I tell a friend how we met, and my eyes tell another story. Sometimes I think I need to be over him, when he passes me on the street, focusing on what is ahead, and it’s not me, but my heart won’t let me be. Sometimes I wonder why I am not over him, when he once told me his heart wasn’t in it, but my patience persisted then and it still does. Sometimes I feel that I am over him, but then I remember his embrace. An embrace that told me I was his and he was mine, and that maybe it would be like that forever. Sometimes I know that forever is only in fairy tales. Sometimes a day goes by when I don’t wonder how he is, or if he still reads my blog. Sometimes a day goes by when I don’t whisper his name before I sleep. Sometimes I think of him and am simply thankful for the memories we shared. Sometimes I am free and my heart simply beats. Sometimes…..
So, this is how it’s going down. It’s NaBloPoMo day 19 and my 100th post, and I’m going to write it in less than an hour. I’m already getting anxious and wondering how I’m going to pull it off. You see, I usually let my fingers hover over the keys for at least 30 minutes before the tapping begins. And that tapping usually involves the delete button being tapped repeatedly. Yes, that’s me, never quite certain how much I want to share, and never planning ahead. I’m sure most NaBloPoMo bloggers have a plan, or some kind of outline. Well, not me. When it comes to this blog, I just jump right in. Whatever is on my mind is what you’ll find here. Tonight, I’m quite certain that this will be a random ramble. You’ve been warned!
So, why do I write? Yes, I will write about that. I like lists. Most of us like lists, so here I will share with you a list, a list of the reasons why I write.
I have a monkey mind, and when I write my thoughts down, I stop swinging from thought to thought. It gives me some mental clarity.
I have a sense of humour, but I rarely let it shine through in my spoken life. Now that I am getting older, I’m trying to let my light side flow though my life, and writing is helping with this. I’m not the quiet, conservative girl, anymore.
I like to share. I’ve always liked to share. Whether it’s cookies, flowers, or my words, I’ve got enough to go around. Maybe my words will make someone think, or smile, or laugh, or feel a little less lonely.
I think I’m good at it. Yes, I do. And to be honest with you, I don’t think I am good at many things. Being able to write helps me boost my self-confidence.
I like being alone. Writing is my solitude. It gives me time to recharge for the next social engagement.
It helps me develop and articulate my ideas. Writing gives me the time I need to process my thoughts.
It’s my mirror, and I can take it wherever I go. It’s my camera, too, capturing snapshots of my life.
So, there you have it. My 100th ramble on lotusgirl80! Thank you for reading. (I hope it was time well-spent.)
Oh, Wordless Wednesday, you have arrived! After a long day at work and an evening of cleaning, I am out of words. However, I’ll share with you (whoever you are) a little story about the photo below. Every morning, I catch the bus in front of a trendy, retro hair salon. The flowers in the window change weekly, and I usually Instagram them. They bring a bit of joy to my mornings, so I like to share them. This morning, a young artist was painting a tree, and when I arrived home tonight there was a lovely, winter scene. It was too beautiful not to snap and share!