Day 222: The Belly of A Star

Things That Made Me Smile Today:

1. I Am the Belly of A Star

I found the original person’s name who wrote the following quote that has been circulating around social media pages; and then found the person’s promotional Facebook page. And I liked what I found. By the way, by the author’s account, NASA plagiarized his words below; that makes me feel like a kindred spirit. Not that NASA has stolen any of my work, yet. But they do do research on alien life, right? (hehe: I wrote do-do.)

“Consider that you can see less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum and hear less than 1% of the acoustic spectrum. As you read this, you are traveling at 220 km/sec across the galaxy. 90% of the cells in your body carry their own microbial DNA and are not “you.” The atoms in your body are 99.9999999999999999% empty space and none of them are the ones you were born with, but they all originated in the belly of a star. Human beings have 46 chromosomes, 2 less than the common potato. The existence of the rainbow depends on the conical photoreceptors in your eyes; to animals without cones, the rainbow does not exist. So you don’t just look at a rainbow, you create it. This is pretty amazing, especially considering that all the beautiful colors you see represent less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum.” –Sergio Toporek

File:Starsinthesky.jpg
image from Wikipedia

2. Superb Self-Awareness

I admitted to myself that my fixation to blog has turned into a fixation to prepare my son’s homeschool curriculum; and laughing at the fact, that beyond eating and sleeping, all I did today was research. I can plan a month’s worth of curriculum and lesson plans in two days. Yes, I am that good…or quirky…or driven…or crazed. You pick. I don’t care.

Excellent Source: www.learner.org

3. Happy Babies

In the little time I stopped obsessing over homeschool, I found this twin baby video someone had shared on Facebook…..oh….this is joy.  I could feasibly be one of the first 20,000 people to see what is soon to have a million plus views! I’m always the last to know! Not this time.

4. Appreciating What Happens In Between

I took two long hot showers today: one before my massage and one after. Yes!

5. Accepting my Circumstances with Grace and Gratitude

I ate out and had a not so fun reaction body-wise (yes, body is wise to not want chemicals in food). And was on the couch (researching) most of the day. But I didn’t put myself down about my lack of vigor, my fatigue and lingering pain. Instead, I rolled with the flow, and reminded myself of the source: food. And reminded myself how lucky I am to have a husband who never complains when I am on the couch, and who even cleaned the whole of the kitchen. And no, I don’t fake my fatigue to get the kitchen cleaned, but the thought has crossed my mind.

6. Knowing I AM…the ant that moves the  rubber tree plant!

I read (and cried over) a comment a reader left for me under this link on Female Traits which reminded me of why I continue to post. Why despite my fatigue, mood swings, sometimes lack of confidence, and various distractions (euphemism for fixations), I will continue to share with authenticity and high-hopes.

7. No Longer Driven to Take Photos of ME

After several months, I do not have the need to post a photo of myself! I finally figured out what I look like. Yes, I still see myself in parts, but I’ve put the parts together into a makeshift puzzle, glued the pieces together onto cardboard, and hanged a copy in my mind. I’m fairly certain I’m a bendy doll with over-sized alien eyes, elven ears, hair with its own intelligence and stubbornness, and a smile that is still searching for a home, but will always keep knocking.  Yep, that sounds about right.

8. I Have Lost the Angst

Since May I’ve had an ache in my…oh, I better delete this number, as to not depress my husband. Those of you who need to know, see  My Aching Loins.

9. Texting my Son

I pretended to be my teenage son’s girlfriend (obviously he knew I wasn’t) and sent him a text reminding him that his mom (that’s me) wanted him to get off the Xbox game system he was playing downstairs. I am upstairs, and like I mentioned, couch-bound. He texted back “??????What???????” I texted: “Poor Guy.” Then he texted, or at least I thought he texted: “Um, I’m not even close to ten.” And I thought, wow, he really is a Leo, with that witty bite. He thinks I am immature. That I act like a ten-year-old. I felt a tinge of guilt for being so quirky and odd, and was thinking of how to apologize, when I reread his text. It read: “Um, its not even close to ten.” So I’d misread the clock and his text. But my son didn’t make fun of me! At least not like when I told him I purposely got this temporary second brain tattoo just to embarrass him on our son and mother outing.

10. Rediscovering Galileo

There is some language in this one. I think my thirteen year old would like to be homeschooled at this speed and with this language. This is my competition. Oh, boy!

Remembering Galileo. Remembering my favorite song Galileo by my favorite band (in the 90’s) The Indigo Girls. Remembering I dragged my boyfriend to an Indigo Girls’ concert on a hot August day. Remembering that we squeezed our way through a sweaty thick crowd to get a better view of the band. Remembering I started to look around. Remembering there were only women. Remembering all the women were kissing super close. Remembering that my boyfriend looked at me and said, “You do know that the band members are lesbian? Right?” And me, with my eyes growing wide, asking, “Really?”

Did I mention, I’m usually the last to know?

I now bring you awesomeness….

Oh, look; it’s post 222….

Okay…so I just posted this post: Day 222: The Belly of a Star. We call it “publishing” in blog world. Right after I posted WordPress (who gives me this blog) sends me a notice, like they always do, if someone has commented on my blog or linked my post to their blog. A little orange light goes off in the upper right hand corner of my blog to notify me.

Well, I’m looking at this light and reading, and I see it’s someone named The Belly of a Star, and I’m thinking: Wow, that’s a really cool name. I wonder what their blog is like?

The truth is, I do this each and everytime that I link back to an older post of mine. Everytime I think someone else has linked to my blog. I forget it’s me!

This time, I even thought: Wow, what a coincidence that she was looking at the exact same post I was at the exact same time; and she linked to her blog, just like I did.

And then L.V. (The little voice in my head); she says that person is you CRAZY LADY. You wrote The Belly of a Star. Remember it was like two fricken seconds ago, brainless!

And I think: Wow, that’s a cool name, Belly of a Star.

I know…I know…you don’t have to tell me. I know I say Wow way too much. 🙂

Day 221: Smile

Smile.

Smile for as long as you can.

Smile like you have a little secret.

Smile with your eyes.

Smile with your lips.

Let your whole body smile an I-just-baked-you-a-cake smile.

Puff up your cheeks and curl your nose.

Add some sparkle and sunshine.

Smile through the weather and circumstance.

When another approaches, think: You are beautiful.

And hear: You are love. You are love. You are love.

Let the outside fade away.

See only light.

See a light that lives the best way light can live.

Smile.

Smile because inside you are peace and knowing.

Smile because you have released.

Smile because you are truth.

Smile at the miracles.

Smile for opportunity.

Smile and smile again.

Imagine the smile the lungs of the collective souls.

Smile so we can breathe.

~ Sam Craft, August 2012

I can now smile a full hour straight while walking in public! Can you?

Day 220: I Gotta Be Me

My ten-year-old son made his way towards the aisle lined with big, bulky twenty-dollar televisions. “Those are ancient,” he commented. “Yes, they are,” I answered.

We were at Goodwill, a national chain that sells used items. After twenty minutes of strolling together, looking at various treasures and collecting a few homeschool materials, I had explained to my son, amongst other things, the complexity of college statistic textbooks and why he might not be interested in purchasing one today, the perplexity of eight-track tapes and how they don’t sell new players any longer, the oddness of bowl-shaped old hair dryers that went atop the head, and the sad reality that this store didn’t have used goldfish.

As we wrapped up our mini-excursion, and the mini-lessons, we stood in line to make our purchase. Seeing us there, a fellow lady customer, standing in front of us in the checkout line, motioned to our mostly empty cart, and said, “Please, go first. You don’t have much.”

I smiled and replied, ” Thank you. I do that, too, let people go in front of me. That was kind.”

As she backed up her cart and we swapped places, I noted there was a Starbuck’s coffee cup in her cart. I don’t normally drink coffee. It turns me into a very dynamic thinker who believes she can solve all the world problems, if given an hour. In fact, during my walk today, around the lake, I think I completed three blog articles in my head. As today, I had coffee.

At the store, I turned to the young lady, motioned to her coffee cup in the front of her cart, and said, “I left my Starbucks in the car. I can’t wait to get back to it.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt like a goof. I always feel like a goof when thoughts quickly brew and percolate in my mind, and spit themselves out before I have time to stop them.

After I blushed, this kind customer, a woman about half my age (say twelve), began a full-blown monologue that sounded something to the tune of:

“I thought about leaving my coffee in the car. But I didn’t. I brought it in. It’s the same coffee I always get. I don’t know why I always get the same flavor, white mocha, but I do. It’s silly, but I always get the same. Maybe I should try more variety. I was going to leave the coffee in the car. I was. I wasn’t sure I should bring it into the store, but then I thought, what if I die. I mean, what if I drop dead, and the last thing I think is: I should have brought my coffee. I mean if you’re going to die, you might as well have had coffee first. Who knows. This could be my last day. My last hour. And here I’d be dying without my coffee. And with the way my life’s been going lately—lots of personal crisis and stuff, that just makes me upset. Well, this coffee is a real treat. If you know what I mean. I need to treat myself, now, more than ever. Plus, I’m anemic, and I get so cold. That’s why I’m wearing this. (Motions to two or three layers she’s wearing, and the high neckline of her cotton sweater.) I must look pretty silly wearing this in the summer. But my anemia, it makes me very cold. I shiver sometimes. I have to dress this way. That’s why I’m shopping. This cart had my whole fall wardrobe. Can you believe it? The whole season, right here.”

When she was finished, she grinned wider. At first I was speechless, as I watched my son’s eyes grow from super large and then shrink back to normal size. But I was certain to politely validated the lady, before I set out to pay for my few items.

Hours later, I keep smiling knowingly to myself as I visualize the woman with the mulit-layers and white-mocha coffee. I keep hearing her words in my head, seeing her cart full of clothes, and watching her weave her story.

I can’t help but think that my big guy in the sky (multiple gods, or woman or tree or void, depending on your beliefs) is smiling down with a wink and saying, “See how grand it is to be quirky! See how grand to be you!”

I can’t help but here the phrase I gotta be me resonating in my mind.

I can’t help but chuckle in delight.

I can’t help but like myself a little better.

And as a bizarre-o side note, I do have this rare superpower. I can tell when white paper cups with lids are empty.  Amazing, I know.  When I’m watching a movie or sitcom, when the actors are drinking from paper coffee cups, I can tell they don’t often have a full cup. And I can tell when people in real life have hardly anything left in their cup. It’s true! I haven’t figured out how to use this rare, and now probably sought after, superpower. But stay tuned. I’m sure to find out soon! I just hope no one tries to steal my superpower from my amazing mega brain!

Day 219: Between the Poopies and the Poppies

(There was a previous photo of me going into an outhouse. lol)

I didn’t actually go into the outhouse. It’s like my least favorite place in the world. I prefer bushes. And I don’t poop. I’m a princess, and princesses don’t poop.

*

*

California Golden Poppy by Sam Craft

~~~~~~~

This is me thinking I am standing up straight. I have no idea what I look like most of the time. Am I a bendy doll? Now I’m starting to realize why guys might think I want their number.

Between the Poopies and the Poppies

I have a difficult time understanding the middle ground.

I am at one extreme or the other.

I am a prude or I am sexy.

I am trying whole heartedly or I give up.

I am excited or I am bored.

I am starving or I have no appetite.

I hyper extend my body backwards or I hunch forward.

I  smile huge or I frown deep.

I  have extreme hope or I have extreme sorrow.

I feel joy or I feel agony.

I think I’m cute enough or I believe I’m too ugly to leave the house.

I worry obsessively or I let everything go.

I am overly fatigued or I have extreme energy.

I  cling or I walk away.

I smoother another or I want nothing to do with a person.

I overshare or I clam up.

I’m talkative or I want complete silence.

I obsess or I walk away in disinterest.

I am confident or I am insecure.

I like myself or I hate myself.

I’m trying to find that middle ground, somewhere between the poopies and poppies.

Between the crap and the sunshine.

Between the stench and sweetness.

Between the ugly and the beauty.

I just don’t know how to get there.

Day 218: To Be Happy

To Be Happy

Sometimes people remind others to tone down their joy more often than they remind others to boost up their sadness.

Sometimes people enjoy gossiping about others’ plights, misfortune, and perceived failures more than their successes.

Sometimes people analyze, judge, and label the glee-filled person.

Sometimes people make fun of smiles.

Sometimes there are more words spoken about sadness than of joy.

Sometimes people remind others to act more serious, but rarely do they caution to act more goofy.

Sometimes people think to get anything accomplished fun must be set aside.

Sometimes people hush the laughing child.

Sometimes people reflect upon the sad person’s dilemma more than the happy person’s celebration.

Sometimes fear and loss pulls people closer, while good news and abundance pulls people apart.

Sometimes more energy is spent on trying to relieve someone’s pain than on how to increase someone’s happiness.

Sometimes giddiness is perceived as immature.

Sometimes people don’t trust the funny person.

Sometimes a comic, joker and jester are made the bad guy.

Sometimes people run from circus clowns and punish the class clown.

Sometimes people mock someone’s laugh but never make fun of their cry.

Sometimes the sad news tops the happy news.

Sometimes brightly colored garb and shiny attire scare people.

Sometimes when passing a stranger, a frown feels safer than a grin.

Sometimes people gravitate towards the sad and are suspicious of the happy.

Sometimes people believe happiness is lost and to be found.

Sometimes to be happy we must smile through all the sometimes.

© Everyday Aspergers, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. https://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com

Day 217: And the Award Goes to….

Search Engine Terms Awards

Yes, even search engine terms long to be noticed and adorned.

Below I’ve listed some of the less common search engine terms that led people to my blog. In my infinite desire to process and analyze and sort data, (and to chuckle), I have spent hours scanning through thousands of words to create a list of my favorites. (Yes, this is what I do for amusement.)

“Search engine term awards?” You query, with a wry grin.

“Well, yes! Why the heck not?” I quibble, with a devious wink.

The Picturing in my Mind Award

mermaid butt

naked man with a butterfly on his buttock

vampires naked

The Sweetness Award

memory of a little girl who once danced like a butterfly

innocent women pics

The Spit-with-Laughter on my Keyboard Award

invasion of the body snatchers kill and replace

Mememememememe

Youboob

organizing a messy aspergerian

Collective term for sloths

The Shades of Aspie Award

addicted to aspergers man

Sexy Asperger girl

Everyday naked people

Sexy Aspergers

Your sexy grandmother

wooing aspergers girls

do dominant guys like asperger girls

hot guys with asperger’s

aspies in bikinis

best female voluptuous sensual nude body

how i surprised my hubby for his birthday- naked

The Must Answer Award

can women with aspergers be sexy (Oh, Yes!)

asperger’s brain vs normal brain (Asperger’s wins)

do all aspergers girls lack empathy (nope, but you might)

how to tell if an aspergers guy likes you (ask him)

What are qualities women with aspergers want in a man (authenticity, humor, honesty, nice butt and eyes)

Can aspie girls be popular (yes)

What’s normal (good question)

why do aspies hardly text back (I think there might be another reason)

how to tell someone you have aspergers (I have Aspergers)

is it true girls lose their ass (no, last time I checked there were no assless women)

How do you make an Asperger man to love you (You learn proper grammar)

why are asperger people handsome (Because they radiate truth)

how to tell if someone with aspergers likes you  (If they talk  to you and compliment you all the time, send you little gifts, and smoother you in love)

do people with asburgers understand humor? (I’m laughing at your spelling!)

The Heart Smile Award

i am in love with an aspergers girl

caution i may hug you

embrace the beauty

aspergers visions god

what is aspergers indigo world change

incarnated angels asperger’s syndrome

for my song is a lullaby to soothe your soul…

i’m female, intelligent, emotional, imaginative – Asperger

need a list of care to take care of myself to look feminine everyday and pretty, beautiful for my husband to be?

my son has aspergers what is your superpower

The What the Frick? Award

not using the aspergers anymore

aspergers love to fish

husband hears wife ask rapist to please come again

Watch Out! Award

why am i attracted to other men than my husband all the time

Been There, Done That Award

aspergers crying music

asperger i cant help my blank stare

aspergers fixations love dependency

aspergers too much caffeine

aspergers need to escape reality

seven truths we must accept about  our ego

aspergers in children wont sleep and wont mind

aspergers need to write lists

aspergers mixing up words

choking on saliva while awake

I’m falling inlove

Why I can’t keep my friends, am I too intense

What to do when you are losing your mind

Prude

doll hiding closet scary

So Me Award

lady with messy hair & no makeup

california burger veggie patties real good food from this good earth

My Cupid Award

how to get to an asperger girls heart ( you just did)

~~~~~~

Great unplugged concert. Love the second song…..sigh…..

 

Day 216: Let the Grumpy Lady Pass

Let the Grumpy Lady Pass

“Guess what happens if you eat a raw snail? They have a parasite that goes into your brain and eats it. And our brain is not prepared for snail parasite. And you can’t defend it. It’s pretty much if you eat a raw snail, it’s all up to the snail if you live or die. If the snail has the parasite, you die!”

I am looking at snails with new eyes now, since my son’s enlightening comment on parasites. I have also reassured myself over and over that the chances are null that I will accidentally eat a raw snail and die from parasites eating my brain away.

Words are powerful, how they can alter the way you once viewed a person, place, or thing….even snails. Words can change the course of a life, too. Certainly happened for me. Just yesterday, in fact.

It was early afternoon, and I was strolling down the aisle in my favorite grocery store, when I spotted a blonde mother with five children. The oldest of her children, a young girl, was carrying her plump baby sister. The other three youngsters were little tots, all boys, ranging in height by a couple of inches from the next.

I stared, because that’s what I do when I’m processing. And about a dozen thoughts traveled through my mind all at once. I examined the mom’s facial expression, and instantly wondered if she was happy or frustrated with the shopping excursion. I noticed two of the boys had little shopping carts and that as a collective clan the family had barely gathered any groceries—just a couple bags of snack food. I evaluated and reevaluated, concluding that the mother enjoyed the attention of onlookers watching her shop with her little crew of miniature hers. In fact, I am quite certain she liked the attention. There were several of us shoppers trying to maneuver around the cute little ones, a line of about five or six of us squeezing our way down the aisle.

I was still watching and evaluating as I crept my cart forward. When I was near the mom, she eyed me closely. Then she turned to her troop and said, “Wait,” putting her arms back in stern gesture, “Let the grumpy lady pass.”

Immediately my right eyebrow shot up. Had she meant me? I was fairly certain she had. I rolled my eyes up and gave a quizzical expression, and then moved onward. A few steps ahead, I stopped to retrieve a can off the shelf. I noticed another lady standing close behind me. Feeling extremely self-conscious, and a bit flustered, I said, “Oh, I am sorry, if I am in your way.” She said, “No problem at all. But maybe you can help me find the artichokes.” I did. We scanned together, and I pointed them out with my over extended finger, while smiling big and glancing the direction of the meanie mom, as if to say, “See, how cheerfully helpful I am!”

Five aisles later, and I couldn’t get the meanie mom out of my mind. Was my expression seriously that sour? For a moment, I wished I was an always-smiling golden retriever.

By the time I reached the last aisle, my thoughts were still wrapped around the incident. By then, I had rationalized that the meanie mom wasn’t a very patient woman, and certainly wasn’t showing an effective example of behavior to her children. But I also reckoned she likely was juggling a full plate and was having a tough day. I also decided, with a mischievous little smile, that her husband, if she still had one, probably didn’t like her.

At the checkout area, I found the safest checker I could—a round-faced, middle-aged woman with a friendly natural grin. At the end of any shopping excursion I don’t look for the shortest checkout lines, I look for the least-threatening face. Typically, I chat it up with the grocery checkers as they are scanning my items. Conversation helps the time go faster, and alleviates some of my anxiety. Not much makes me more self-conscious than a line of strangers watching me; especially when they are waiting with those daunting expressions, seemingly cursing my high-piled grocery cart and wishing they’d chosen another route.

“I hope I don’t look grumpy,” I said, as I approached the checker and eyed the nametag Marge on a purple blouse. (Interesting conversation starter, don’t you think?)

I then explained, with rapid fire, what had happened on the aisle with the meanie mother. Marge smiled and responded kindly, and we bagged the groceries together. I told her about my Aspergers, and the man at the park who gave me his number as a result of my practice smiling, and she told me about her grown son with Aspergers. Turns out she homeschooled her son. He is now twenty and doing very well. We exchanged a lot of information and support in only a few minutes. I dodged the evil glares from the people in line. We were packing up the groceries rather slowly.

As Marge was bagging up the last of the food, she looked up at me, and said, “The main reason I homeschooled my son was because when he went to school he had to become someone else. He couldn’t go to school and be himself and still be accepted. He had to let go of who he was. God made my son in perfection. I wanted my son to be able to be who God intended.”

A bell went off in my head right then. My middle son was struggling in middle school even though  he was attending part-time. His anxiety was very high and depression was setting in.

I decided then and there to not send my son back to school and to instead homeschool him fulltime.

Later that day, as I calculated the probability of choosing the one checker out of a few dozen that so happened to have homeschooled a son with Aspergers, and as I processed that typically I would have not mentioned my Aspergers to a checker at a grocery store (had I not been upset), I smiled to myself about that mother and her five string of words that had changed the course of my life: Let the grumpy lady pass.

© Everyday Aspergers, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. https://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com

Day 215: Why You Don’t Want to Date Me

Why you don’t want to date me…

1) Well first off I’m married, and that can get complicated; and my husband has a black belt in a particular branch of martial arts, which I can’t spell tonight. So it would be a surprise attack.

2) I used to sing a song about my grandmother’s boobs when I was younger. I taught the song to my younger cousin. We would stuff our shirts with socks, cup our hands over our chest, and sing together: “Grandma’s little boobies go boom, boom, boom, boom. Grandma’s little boobies go boom, boom, boom!” It was a favorite party song. I choreographed the whole thing. On the first line our hands would shoot out in front of us. On the second stanza, we’d drop our hands down with each boom, until they almost touched the floor. Grandma’s boobs weren’t little, still aren’t. Don’t know why I called them little to begin with. But sometimes I still sing the song. Only now I’m crying in the mirror. (Don’t ask me how this is related to dating. It just is. Boobs are always related to dating.)

3) I get super excited. Just ask anyone who has ever taken a walk with me. I like to process when I walk. I like to process even more when I am first getting to know someone. I always apologize for my rambling. And I always get the same half-smile and bewildered eyes, in response. People usually say, “It’s alright.” But I secretly want them to tell me they really enjoyed all my insights. That has yet to happen.

4) I am a very picky eater and will stress over where to go out to eat. Then when I finally decide where I want to eat, I will take forever to decide between the three things on the menu that I might like. I discuss the pros and cons of each particular appetizer. I analyze the menu and point out to the waitress misprints and errors. I question the authenticity of the food description. I try to remember is it farm raised salmon that’s better or wild. I interrupt patrons to ask what they have ordered, and if it is indeed any good. I will taste your food from your plate without asking, especially mashed potatoes. I try to help people. Once I interrupted a couple and said: “Based on your conversation, it sounds like your grandson might have Aspergers.” No worries, I introduced myself first. The grandpa wasn’t too thrilled. I heard him say: “Boy, that lady has got some big ears on her!” I didn’t take it personally because my ears weren’t showing.

5) I will ask you many questions, such as: Is there anything in my teeth? Do I look bloated? How much do you think this would cost to make at home? Do you like the food? Are you full? Did you get enough to eat? Do you want dessert? Do you know soda is bad for you? Are you having a second soda? How are you going to work off all that soda? Are the refills free? Did you leave enough for the tip? How much? Are you sure? What do you think of the waiter’s personality? Would you hire him? Can I have the rest of your potatoes? Want to guess what color I’m thinking of? Will you guess the number? Did you have a good time? Do you like me? Do you think I’m pretty? Why?

6) As a former teacher and mother of three energetic boys, I am programmed to play games for survival. While we are waiting for our food, I will likely engage you in a game of hangman, connect the dots, I-Spy, and guess the animal I’m thinking. Electronics are not allowed at the table, as I require your full attention. And it is important to follow all my rules. And don’t even try watching television. Before we sit down in a sport’s bar, I will make certain there are no televisions in your line of vision, as to not take away from our time together. Of course, I would question why you were taking me to a cheap sport’s bar to begin with.

7) I am not a meat eater, and haven’t been since 1984 (the year I was born). So, if you ask me to help you cut your meat, especially ribs, I will try to use a butter knife and the ribs will fly across the table and plop on the floor and people will stare. But you will likely cut your own ribs, and I will give a look of disgust and tell you that I hate meat breath. Then I might, depending on my mood, remind you of one of the many documentaries I have viewed. I might even write the name down for you on a napkin. I will then eat your mashed potatoes when you are not looking.

8) I will compliment you. I will tell you have nice eyes or a nice smile, and mean it. I will likely compliment the restaurant staff, as well. Then I will stare at parts of your body that don’t look perfectly to scale. I will point out the facial hair that needs to be shaved, the rouge eyebrow hair, the freckle that looks questionable, the blemish, the grey hair, the wrinkled shirt, the old shoes, the nostril hair, and whatever else catches my attention. Unless you are a stone statue perfectly carved, I will find something to wonder about. I will obsess that perhaps you have a terrible disease or are allergic to something, and that is why there is a pimple on your neck. I will point out the bug bites on your arm. I will try to memorize your face, close my eyes and reopen them, and see if I can remember your hairline and freckles. Most of this I will do in my head and not say aloud. So I will be sitting there preoccupied, with a weird expression on my face, and one eyebrow raised high, and not listening to a word you are saying.

9) I will have to guess the amount on the bill. I will say, “Wait, wait, wait, let me guess!” Then I will calculate everything we consumed and add the totals up in my head, including tax. Then I will proclaim my guess. If I am within a dollar, I will smile so proudly. If I am wrong, I will go back and justify my answer, figuring out something I forgot, like the price of your soda. I will blame you for my error. Then I will lean over your shoulder to make sure you leave a twenty percent tip or higher; unless the service was terrible, then I will insist you leave fifteen percent exactly. If the waiter is exceptional, I will ask to speak to the manager about the wonderful service. I will tell the waiter first how great he is. And ask you to agree and nod. Then I will double-check the tip. I will still be worrying about the tip by the time we reach the car, and ask you to verify we calculated correctly. I will then ask if you remembered the boxed leftovers on the table, and ask you to go back and get them. I will complain if you have to use the bathroom, as I am tired, and want to go home.

10) You will be in shock, because on the first and second date, I was on my best behavior.

Day 214: Because I Am

I know who I am.

I have self-awareness. I see myself clearly. I accept myself.

I understand myself, as wild as I might be.

I know I am “good.”

I know I am light.

I know I have a purpose and a drive. I have a calling. I know my calling. And I follow my calling.

I know the difference between authenticity and pretending.

I know genuineness and pureness of heart.

I know suffering, deep suffering; and because I know deep suffering, I know your deep suffering.

I understand your pain because I have been in pain. I understand your joy, because I have known grand joy.

I do not feel separate from you or different; I feel as you; both of us souls on a journey of discovery.

I am light and can only love what is inherent beauty.

I see the light in everyone. I see it everywhere. And this adds to my sadness as it adds to my joy.

I see people walking in spirit. I see past the flesh and past the games that are invented by the lonely, lost man. I see past the visions that others paint in front of them in an attempt to hide. I see beyond their fears and happenstance, their intentions, motivations, and at times intended and unintended manipulation.

I see into the heart of man; and if I have to suffer to see so, then I suffer.

My mind is a miracle, a glorious miracle, and my heart even grander.

I love who I am in every aspect.

I have faced my shadows. I have faced the demons, the voices, the hauntings of mind and ghosts.

I have dreamed of the future and watched it unfold, and in so doing, stood in awe of the universe.

I have experienced life in the deepest capacity, at the deepest levels. I have lived.

I have watched my wishes come true. I have treaded through the darkest of days and come out stronger and self-sufficient. I am supported by myself. I have a companion in my own being. And I am supported by the angels, or spirits, or whatever is beyond our capacity to sense.

I feel energy around me from everything and everyone. I understand others in a way many do not yet understand.

I am humble. I recognize the pride in me and face this pride and gently release. I am insecure and recognize this too, embracing my beauty further, so insecurity may have a place to rest.

I am not ashamed of any part of me. I can speak my mind fully, my thoughts fully, and not wonder if I am being true to me. I am always true to me.

I can openly say when I am scared or frightened.

I am in totality. I am me.

I will be the first to say sorry and have no regret in doing so. I will be the first to say I love you with no intention but to say the words.

I don’t follow a guidebook to feel real. I follow my own book. And I get to write the present each moment.

I am genuine in my intentions. I constantly seek to be truth, to speak truth, to resonate truth.

I do not hunger for fame or attention. I do not hunger for success or material gain. I only hunger for peace and serenity.

I am truly gifted. I am gifted in my ability to live each moment as if it were my very testimony of being. I am gifted in my continual thoughts to be the most beneficial being on this plane of existence that I can be. I am gifted because I have no curtain. There is nothing to pull back and see. Nothing I hide. Nothing to take, expose, or corrupt.

I am hiding no secrets. And without secrets, there is no weapon anyone can use against me.

I embrace love, peace and serenity, and nearby is the continual quest for growth. I am growing.

I am worthy simply because I am.