It’s hard to find something that comes pre-printed with the name “Belinda.” But when I was 14, a t-shirt shop in Eastridge Mall would add your name to just about anything it sold — and that was quite a selection.
This shirt had five little chickies on it, tumbling, standing, waving (but not waving the finger, that was a different t-shirt). I loved it. The hat, I believe, belonged to my brother, and on the night after my junior high graduation, either he or my sister snapped this uncharacteristic shot of me.
Look at those shorts. Good grief. I believe the poster in the background had the poem “Desiderata” printed on it — or something similar. I’m not certain, but it’s quite likely “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” was airing on the TV as the picture was taken.
But the best part of this picture? The shag carpeting, in various shades of orange and red. I remember raking that carpet.
In my last apartment, I longed for a second bedroom, an office and sewing room, with some space set aside for storage. Now I have just that, and I’m hardly using it.
My living room has the perfect corner for one of my desks, so my laptop sits here most of the time. Downstairs (my new townhome is built on the side of a hill, so you enter on the second floor) are both the bedrooms. One, of course, is where I sleep, and the other is on its way to becoming the office/sewing room I imagined. On its very long way to that goal. Right now it’s a percolating mess.
The corner with the desk, not the percolating mess
How is it that the reality never meets the expectations of the dreams? This room is a wisp of a problem, barely worth mentioning, but larger things loom. The new job, the new home, the new spouse, all bring with them (whether they intend to or not) a belief that now things will be better, now my idle thoughts will become golden reality.
Sometimes, the failure of the new to bring fantasy to life dims any good it may bring into our lives. Over time we realize the limitations of others and other things, and hopefully come to appreciate and value the times when good outweighs bad.
Life is never perfect, and many of us are wary in those fleeting moments when it seems it could be so. It’s not a matter of being cynical or negative, of seeing the glass half-empty or any such thing. Rather, it’s an awareness of the reality of this world, and a sense of gratitude for what good we’ve been given and the grace to manage to bad.
As I write this, I feel a bit foolish for seeing any bad in my life, given the horrors so many are experiencing. I’m grateful for a comfortable home, friends I can trust, food on my table. I feel no fear when I leave my front door that danger is imminent.
I pray that certainty doesn’t leave my life.
My sweet babies think the outside world holds wonder for them…but really, it’s just cold, wet and devoid of easy living.
It seems to happen too often: at the tail-end of the year, after many of the retrospectives are complete, we lose a major personality. In this year, when several icons were lost at a relatively young age, it’s particularly poignant. Even more so, because it was mother and daughter.
I’m still feeling the shock of Carrie Fisher’s death, and now I’ve learned Debbie Reynolds passed away late yesterday. Carrie, as most of you know, was Debbie’s daughter with crooner Eddie Fisher. She never lived in her mother’s shadow, however. Her light was too bright.
Carrie was remarkably talented and equally outspoken. She had plenty of pain in her life, but never stopped moving forward, reinventing herself when necessary. As so many have noted, she was best known as Princess Leia in Star Wars, but her work didn’t stop with that character. In my life, I remember her more for her role in When Harry Met Sally… as Sally’s conflicted best friend with the peerless advice who later falls for and marries Harry’s best friend, Jess.
Riccardo Ghilardi, photographer
Her books were funny, wise and brutally honest. Like many writers, she wrote what she was feeling at that moment, and when she later moved past those beliefs, was perhaps a bit startled to be confronted by her own words in an interview. Her blunt yet thoughtful responses are a tribute to a mind that never stopped spinning, never stopped growing.
Like another great actress we lost earlier this year, Patty Duke, Carrie dealt with bipolar disorder. Her work and words on behalf of the multitudes of others who face this disease brought understanding and compassion.
Debbie Reynolds played the sweetheart role effectively, yet she was as feisty and straightforward as her daughter, hardly the demure, sweet girl many saw on the screen. She could be bawdy and raucous, but she remained gracious. And she could tell a story.
I remember seeing her in an interview once years ago, speaking about her role in Singing in the Rain. Apparently one of the first scenes they shot was of Gene Kelly giving her a passionate kiss, and passionate it was. It was her first french kiss, and she pulled away from her acclaimed co-star, gagging and coughing and demanding some 7-Up. Kelly wasn’t used to this sort of reaction from women, and remained offended for a short time — but got over it.
Allen Warren, photographer
She endured a scandalous divorce when Eddie Fisher left her for Elizabeth Taylor (imagine the pain of that!), yet in later interviews said she understood his reasons for leaving and had moved on from that challenge in her life. In fact, she rekindled her friendship with Elizabeth Taylor years later and the two remained close until the latter actress’s death.
The reason for her understanding? She told Vanity Fair she wasn’t a very sexual woman, preferring instead to raise her children. That can be a painful truth to admit, yet her candidness was very much in character with the way she lived the rest of her life.
My heart goes out to the family and friends of these two women. Christmas will never be the same for them.
Two years ago today, I opened my WordPress account and posted my first post. The page was bare; I later added a small picture, but there were no graphics, no widgets, no header photo, nothing. Black words on a white page. I got three views and much later, one like.
It wasn’t until the following May I really put effort into this blog, and began the design you see now. I went through multiple headers and a few themes before landing here. I added the premium plan because I began to have ideas I couldn’t achieve with the free option (something I’m glad I did) and eventually started two more blogs, one for classic movie reviews (Classic for a Reason) and one for knitting.
But some things haven’t changed. My first post still rings with truth, although I’ve changed and grown in the two years since I wrote it. I was in pain that day, and you may be able to sense that when you read it. I’ve gotten past that pain, but the lessons still apply.
A large part of my growth has come through the process of writing about my experience, beliefs and dreams for the future. This blog doesn’t have a theme (one of topics, that is) like my other two do, and it’s likely to evolve over time. Just as I do.
So here’s the original post, just as I wrote it then. Many of you likely haven’t seen it, but I know some of you did when I re-posted it this day last year, and a handful of you perhaps read it the very first time.
Blessings to all of you!
resolutions and revelations
I’m not motivated by New Year’s Resolutions. No surprise there, most people aren’t. No surprise what does motivate me either: trying to impress someone important to me is always a big one. Problem is, that comes and goes. Here’s the reason that actually works: finally realizing my life is truly better and I’m going to attract better things when I do things the right way. And typically it has taken failure in my life, and some humiliation, to get to that realization.
My friends say, oh, we each worry about those things a lot more than others do. After all, we have to live with our own failings, our stupidity, our repeated efforts to resolve what’s gone wrong with yet one more foolish gesture.
Right now I’m faced with what seems to me to be huge failure brought on by circumstances I had no control over. Wisdom from others tells me to learn to control what I can and live with what I can’t, but what I can’t control has taken over and felled me. Now I need to stand up and return to where I was only a short time ago. But will I fall again? Probably. That which I do not control will always be with me, and I fear that those I care about will leave me.
So I must do what I can to perhaps ward off the beast that follows me everywhere for longer than before. I must learn from this and pray I have another chance that will allow me to succeed. I weep at the thought I won’t, and realize I now have little control over that, but in and of itself there could stand a truth I need to learn. Truth that belies what I have held so dear for so long.
I face difficult yet not insurmountable odds. I tell myself I can take advantage with hard work and fierce resolve, with fortitude and purpose. No trite quotes for me, but strength of mind and character prevail. This year was better than last. I can’t guarantee next year will be better than this, but I’m hopeful it will be.
This shirt had five little chickies on it, tumbling, standing, waving (but not waving the finger, that was a different t-shirt). I loved it. The hat, I believe, belonged to my brother, and on the night after my junior high graduation, either he or my sister snapped this uncharacteristic shot of me.
Two years ago today, I opened my WordPress account and posted my first post. The page was bare; I later added a small picture, but there were no graphics, no widgets, no header photo, nothing. Black words on a white page. I got three views and much later, one like.
My World With Words 
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