INCONCEIVABLY BLONDE....

Yes, I'm an Oingo Boingo fan. Yes, I love this song. Yes, I have so much to be grateful for. Like, laugh lines. Stretchmarks. Wrinkles and crinkles. Skin that sags more than is supple. Freckles on my face. Memories of all the joy and happiness and sunshine and laughter- mixed-with-seaweed and sea foam. Aches and pains, callouses to remind me how far I've come, where I've been, and "miles to go before I sleep." Tears, heartache, sorrow, loss, pain. Isolation, loneliness. Fatigue. Loss of hope. Loss of love. Loss of family. Loss of friends. Holding hands with ones who pass from this dimension onto the next, leaving me behind to mourn and carry on. Muscle memory, stored with the thousands of hugs and squeezes, and pats on the back. Also for bruises, scars, lacerations, tears from dog bites, car accidents, stab wounds, sports injuries and breaks, fights, rape, and other superficial yet traumatizing ticks of life's clock. After all, h

Seems logic has flown Reality has shown some mighty unreal hands as of late. But I hate to ramble on  and take up your time. It is what it is, after all,  according to stoicism --and news flash:  I'm the world's WORST STOIC. EVER. However, one concept that stands out  that I must better embrace is "Amor Fati--love it all" --in other words, take the bad with the good and love it all, however you can.    Damn, that's a hard one for me right now.  Learning to embrace the suck  right along with the stuff that almost sucks life away too...woo hoo!!!  Sorry, my rose-colored glasses  I nearly always wear  were steamrolled,  torched, and  blew away in a tornado  that tore through my life.   But, alas, life goes on,  and so must the show,  and so must I.   Time's the one thing  of which we don't have nearly enough. I should know. It's my business. To be in the know. To be able to show others  how to handle themselves when the time comes.