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
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.
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. 🙂
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!
(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.
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California Golden Poppy by Sam Craft
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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.
Everyday Asperger's 