Stream of consciousness…

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Being retired and to a degree physically limited means I end up with a lot of quiet hours when my brain free-wheels. For instance, today I’m deeply conscious of the fact that Facebook has given us a string of expressive emojis, but as with all things social – and human – we need more. A few helpful suggestions: an icon that means “I agree with your comment but not the meme/link/article attached”; a general WTF choice; one that says “Jeez, I’m sick of this shit”; one for “If I see this post again in my feed I’ll do bodily harm to whomever is in my path”; like that. It would be easy-peasy for the coding gurus and it seems so little to ask in return for our unwavering fealty to their product, amirite?

* Summer truly kicks into gear shortly before it’s over, spring and fall in Kansas are mere blips on the seasonal chart, and winter lasts for freaking ever. And if that seems like a fair deal to you, you’re probably voting for someone I wouldn’t hire to manage a Christmas kiosk.

* Much like summer, life takes its own sweet time getting underway, and some of the most vital lessons aren’t mastered until we’re past middle age and don’t need them as urgently. That strikes me as sad, but I can’t call it unjust – maybe some humans just figure out how to pay attention better and sooner and it’s my bad for being such a happy-go-lucky farm girl and believing most of what I was told, far past when I should have figured it out.

* I thought it would take a lot longer to get old, and the day I own it is theoretically far into the future, but here I am, watching where I place my feet, being aware of my environment at all times, simply because there’s nothing like a broken bone for holding up progress. Not sure how many falls I have left in me before I’m under house arrest, so caution beats impulse now, deflating as that is.

* The trouble with submitting to what hurts – bodily, mentally, emotionally – and sitting down to wait for the pain to end is that the day never comes when it doesn’t make you wince, and it gets worse not better, so whatever it takes you have to do, think, feel that thing until you can work it out the ends of your toes before it morphs into a permanent personality and/or lifestyle change. It takes work.

* The sum total of today’s musings is that if I couldn’t read books and write words I would be verbally frustrated, a big weather baby, a past-dweller who could never move on, and a chronic aging whiner who gave up and let all the chips fall. Writing as therapy isn’t free, but it’s amazingly no-cost in its effectiveness since the toll it does extract is added back to our personal pile at the end, when the results speak for themselves and we’ve managed to acknowledge our own hearts and find some truth. Takes a LOT of work.

* Here’s how much work: I started musing on Monday and we’ve landed smack on HumpDay already! There’s much to be said in favor of having something to show for your work, and this isn’t it, bwahahahahaha!!

* Oh, but look! This morning when we click Farcebroke’s LOVE icon we get a sweet surprise. Think of the possibilities …

Have a happy, whimsical, lighthearted day if life permits…and if your heart is breaking I send you hug vibes and empathy.  ❤️

 

 

 

 

 

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