Bonnie’s Beach 🏖

My Life. My Experiences. My Love. My Words.

Catcher of Rainbows…

I am not a writer.

I am not a painter.

I am not a poet.

I am not an electrician.

I am not a homemaker.

I am not religious.

So what the fuck am I? Besides annoying and sarcastic and hilarious? Probably the only thing I excel at being: a Jack of all trades. I would say Jill, but then people look at me all cockeyed, so it’s just easier being a Jack. Master? Nope! Expert? Absolutely not! Genius? Hahaha! No! Scholar?Most definitely nope! So what am I besides being subpar or good enough to do as many things as I possibly can?

Scatterbrained. Absolutely all over the place. You thought I’d use a better term, right? Believe me, I thought maybe philomath would be a good one to use as an all encompassing umbrella term, but when it is synonymous with scholar and genius, I have to say it’s a hard nope. If you’ve never heard of a philomath before, it’s worth the lookup. In a way it does describe me. You just have to knock its seriousness down about ten rungs to that whole Jack/Jill level. Nothings against the Jacks and Jills of the world, because we keep this world moving.

Wanting to learn everything I possibly can comes with a price. I have learned (yeah, ba da dum, tsss) as I’ve gotten older that my brain does not like to shut off. It has its moments of pure, determined focus, but more often than not, it is attempting to catch rainbows. My thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I have so many ideas that I can’t seem to recall 90% of them. If I don’t associate your name with something immediately, I will forget it within two minutes of hearing it. If I sit down at a restaurant, and there’s no conversation, I will read everything in range, at least five times, and I will still have to reread the menu to figure out what I want to eat. It is a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse, but it has given me a divine sense of humor that can come out as mean if I don’t watch myself. Which is also odd, because I am actually a nice person. Annoying, yes! Mean, no! But I can be, so don’t be a dick!

I have learned to write everything down so I don’t forget. I also have to remind myself to remember to write it down, because I will forget to do that too. There are so many things I still want to do, see, and experience in my life, that I no longer have a bucket list. I have a CVS receipt over a mile long. In fact, it’s probably hit the two mile mark at this point, but honestly, I don’t remember where it left off. Obviously the list gets longer each year, because I find myself doing things that aren’t even on my list to begin with. Then I add more to that list that I may or may not get to this year. Or next year. Or ever. Eek!

The desire to learn is strong. I do consider myself pretty damn good at figuring things out. I can Google like a champ, and if I can’t find it on the internet, it most likely doesn’t exist. So there’s that. I love puzzles, cryptograms, word searches, and other random, mind-engaging activities. No. I do not like crosswords, chess, or algebraic equations that use Greek alphanumeric characters that have an assigned, mathematical value. Hell nope! When puzzles are associated with math, like the Rubik’s Cube, I’m out. I can add, multiply, figure out angles, and solve for x. Calculators are my friends. Again. Google is my friend. I can get a max of two sides of that damn cube. So I gotta admit that performing at 33.3…% efficiency is sad. Like, really sad.

And yet I must learn more!

But I never seem to want to learn everything about one thing. I just want to learn something about everything. So that whole curse thing happens here: I learn enough to do whatever task is at hand, and then the desire to learn more vanishes once that particular task is complete. I have a minimum of twenty started projects going at the same time, but two new ones are added each time I complete one. I still owe (not really owe, I enjoy giving a lot) multiple Christmas gifts that I am still in the process of making. I put my heart into everything I do and make, and yet my brain likes to travel elsewhere. It is stressful, exhausting, and it takes its toll on my current, physical and mental state. I get tension headaches nearly every day now, and if I don’t get those under control, they evolve into migraines. Those bad boys like to linger a good three days. I want to get so many things done every day that I don’t seem to have time to finish them. That is, if I even find the time to begin.

Everything is fleeting. My writing comes in waves. My desire to paint is like a storm blowing through. I waste time doing absolutely, nothing worthy of said time. When my body wants nothing more than to sleep, because my eyeballs literally hurt, my brain has other plans. Yay! Puzzles!!! That inspiration to get things done, seems to sputter out midway through just writing out my to-do list. I am a mess.

So why am I writing now? Why am I sharing my nightmare of a mental state with you? Why am I sharing with you the things I enjoy starting and never finishing? Yeah. I don’t know either. Maybe it just helps me organize my thoughts a bit. Maybe I have some deep, philosophical urge to let others know they’re not the only crazy people out there. You are not alone. We are not alone. Know why? Because we are all fucking crazy. Seriously. The quicker you learn that the easier life becomes, because no one thinks the exact same way you or I do. At least we are unique in some way. Ok. Not really. We just like to believe that lie we tell ourselves. We are sooooooooo not unique, and the universe is completely indifferent to our measly, blip of an existence. Even knowing all of that, I still want to learn more. Yes. I’m crazy. But at least I admit it.

Keep doing your crazy. I’ll keep doing mine.

Just don’t be a dick about it.

-Bonnie

Yeah. I can write poetry to scare people, and paint one hell of a bear. I can make a grilled cheese that’ll give you a heart attack ten years down the road (I’m trying to shorten that to five by adding even more butter. I think it’s working), and I can organize like a motha fuckah! I can lay waste to a bag of Dove silky, milk chocolates, and I can get my cat Sausage to “do the thing” which involves getting her to rear up on her stocky little ham hock back legs to get more scratches. Yeah. She’s a special one with her own IG account @catsausage. I can also continue writing random shit about myself, because your level of crazy wants to keep reading it. Sucker! I kid! I appreciate you reading my randomness. I really do. I think it’s fun sharing my weirdness, because you can maybe relate to a fraction of it. If not, I at least hope it was entertaining. Go check out my cat’s page. You know you want to. Just do it. Yes. I am pushing my cat now. You’re welcome. 😉

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Nine Lives…

Part III

He watched and he waited
There could be no hesitating
As she made her way home
All alone
Reflexes were ready
Gotta keep those hands steady
Deep breaths in
Deep breaths out
There could be no doubt
The next moves were so perfectly planned
Up the stairs to her floor
Slowly quietly he crept to her door
Getting in was too easy
He still had his key
Funny she never changed the lock
Obviously a sign
(She’s fated to be mine)
Of course he would have such a thought
His knife at the ready
Remember keep those hands steady
Can’t be too quick there needs to be torture
A heart broken like this
Will make a man sick
Revenge is the only known cure
As she remained oblivious
To his insidiousness
His darkness continued to grow
Harder and harder
He couldn’t take it much longer
This bitch has got to go
He lost focus
One quick moment
A split second was all that it took
He tripped over her cat
Which hissed and spat
Alerting it’s dumb clueless owner
Evil had gotten inside
It could no longer hide
She knew her life would soon be over
What she saw surprised her
A blade meant to be inside her
Was sticking up straight through his chest
Her cat sat beside him
Proud and delighted
Watching blood pool and making a mess
Looks like God’s gift
Hadn’t planned for this
For surely he would have known
His dark inner demon
Was no match for a feline
Dumb fuck you should have stayed home

-Bonnie

Though this story has been dramatized These things happen from time to time. Anger and frustration An excuse for justification That murder is the only way to go Think of a wife best friend brother Sister cousin aunt uncle son daughter Could they be dealing with their own stalker I think it could be said No one wants to end up dead Especially at the hands of a lover So check in on your people Good bad (and or evil) It’s time we took care of each other If they say they are fine You know they are lying No one gets away with that Maybe they need a companion Or just some compassion Take them out to go adopt a cat.

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Lovely Rafters…

Part III

So that is the tale
Of a love turned stale
A woman can only take so much abuse
A heart can beat again
Even though it’s been dead
And its murderer left quite the bruise
If he says he’s an asshole believe him
He won’t change no matter how much you cry
Don’t be a stupid witch
Become what he says when he’s pissed
Here’s to you
You delightfully salty dumb spiteful bitch!

-Bonnie

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. When creativity strikes I have to run with it before it fades. Even if I get yelled at for basically hanging out in the bathroom for over an hour with a writing bug! It’s fucking stupid to some people…

I am feeling there might be more to this story.

So you may want to keep an eye out…

May love inspire you through life.

And death…

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It’s Happening…

To start off I finally was able to get my hair done after a few weeks of watching my natural color grow out more and more. Let’s just say my natural, ashy light brown does not fit my skin tone or my personality. With the extra 2 1/2 inches came my first officially noticed gray hair. Then came a second one. Yikes! Not like I didn’t know they existed (thank you hair stylist and boyfriend), but as long as my hair remained highlighted, I could pretend they weren’t really there. A win for me!

But this is a milestone year. I will be turning forty in December. And though it’s going to be just another day, and just another year older, I don’t feel forty. I don’t feel old. I look it more and more, and I see the lines and loss of elasticity, but my personality and body don’t feel like they’ve hit that mark yet.

And yet, so it begins.

It’s happening!

What is happening you might ask? Oh, just the “back in my day” stories. It’s not like I haven’t noticed me stating how things used to be or that such and such place used to be open fields or whatever the case may be, but yesterday marked the first time I fully recognized just how blatant it had become. I could no longer ignore my comments of “way back when” were happening more often.

Let’s set the stage, shall we. My regular stylist, who is a few years older than me, was advised by her doctor to take it easy for a couple weeks due to health reasons. Salon let me know I could reschedule with her when she gets back or I could schedule with another stylist. I’m super picky about my hair (it’s my single beauty splurge), but remember those grays were showing, and I didn’t want to see them anymore. So I bit my lip, took the jump to get my long overdue hair into the shop for a tune up, and I went ahead and booked with a stylist I had never met. She was super sweet, a mother of two, and thirty this year. She did an excellent job, btw, but while you allow someone to play with your hair, there’s a lot of time sitting in a chair and coming up with conversation topics.

Mind you I am not super social. The older I get the more I avoid human contact and small talk. I am not a conversationalist unless I know you, and we have reached that level of comfort, although there are some people in the world that are very easy to talk to even when you don’t know their names and end up never running into them again. Imagine ships passing in the night. You know how the line goes. So while I am sitting in the chair with a mask (requirement to be in the salon) covering half my face and blanketed in basically a tarp, I was trying to find worthwhile subject matter we could discuss. It would be even more weird if I just sat there and didn’t say a damn thing. It would be extremely rude if I just whipped out the phone and either kept up with what I could for work or played sudoku nonstop.

The music playing over the speakers was an easy topic. It was horrible, country music neither of us had ever heard before. We couldn’t even figure out who was singing the songs. Not only that, but there was an awful cover of “Heaven Let Your Light Shine Down”, and we were both grateful for that one to end. So music. Music became a topic. Which, of course we had already discussed COVID-19 issues, I just rolled the music into how COVID will affect future concerts. We talked about concerts we had been to. She mentioned she had wished she’d gone to a George Straight concert last year when he was in town. I jump in with “I got to see him at the old Cowboys stadium in Irving for the George Straight Country Music Festival!” So here we go. Setting the stage for the backstory of days long past from my youth. Good Lord. I mention when that concert took place, ‘96 I believe. Holy crap! That was 24 years ago! Then another concert I went to back in ‘97 at the Texas Motor Speedway. It had just been built and basically held two large concerts before even having a race. The first was a country fest. No. I did not go to that one. I did however go to their Rock Fest ‘97!!! Let me tell you! Awesome concert!!!! Bush, No Doubt, Counting Crows, the Nixons, Collective Soul, and more. It was so kick ass!!!

So it may not seem like much to the average reader, but I have now noticed just how much those old stories kick in to create a connection with a younger crowd. The older party explaining how they are still relevant and how their experiences can correlate with the experiences yet to be had by the younger party. The younger party struggling to follow along since they don’t quite realize just how cool that story really is in the mind of the older party. No wonder the youth have a hard time listening to stories about the days of old. No wonder the majority of people I know don’t have a passion for studying history (yes, some of you are crazy for wanting to do that, imo). It’s right up there with telling someone they can’t do something. They’re going to do what they want to do, no matter how much you may try to explain what happened to you and how badly it turned out. It’s allowing them to touch the flame to not want to touch it again. Same with experiences. The older we get, the more we experience, and the more we want to share to keep those memories alive or relevant or teach or inspire. But that younger generation, they want to have their own experiences, and it’s hard to set time aside to hear about someone else’s when you just want to make your own.

With this new “happening“ I now want to hear those stories I didn’t quite appreciate when I was younger. The stories of how my mom had actually gone to a Beatles concert and even experienced Inna Gadda Da Vida. The stories of my dad taking out his metallic blue glitter dune buggy, the same one he would take me and the neighborhood girls out for sno-cones as a little kid on hot, Texas summer evenings. All of those things that get talked about over and over again, but they just went in one ear and right out the other, because they couldn’t be appreciated yet. Now I know.

Now I’m listening.

-Bonnie

And if I have any typos in this thing, I couldn’t care less. I’m typically picky about grammar, but I just don’t have time to fix all those written mistakes when I have so much more listening to do now. 😉

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Tell Me Lies…

Honestly I’d rather you not, but we all do it. Don’t lie. You know you do. We all lie at some point.

I bring this up, because a lie is bothering me this evening. Not one I told, but one that was told to me. The problem with lies is that when you’ve done your fair share of lying in the past, you become quite good at it. So good in fact that you know when you’re being lied to even when it’s something small. It is easier to believe these false words than so as not to fully accept them. So this lie, that shouldn’t really matter to me at all is pestering my mind like the single mosquito in the room when you’re trying to fall asleep. It wasn’t recent, and yet it pops up from time to time as if it happened yesterday.

So with my bringing up lies and lying and liars in general, it’s funny how people are offended or angry when their lies are called out. No one likes to be called out on their bullshit. For example, the older I have gotten the more I enjoy not going out. Oh! I miss the energy of friends and the memories of social gatherings, but as I get more crotchety and lazy, it doesn’t always feel like it’s worth it. It is. It’s worth every damn bit of stress or anxiety or primping, but it’s So. Much. Easier. To just stay home. So what do we do when this happens? How many of us say that we are currently enjoying our hermitting stage and just don’t feel like dealing with the hassle of going out? I have. It’s rare. But mostly it’s an excuse, or I don’t feel well, my partner isn’t feeling well, or I have an early morning, etc, etc, etc. The lying comes with ease, because it is so so so easy. It’s easier to explain we don’t feel well rather than go into why we would rather have a stay in and watch a movie or why our current mental strength is not up to the task of being around others.

We lie. We lie to make others feel better. At least we liars believe that our lie is saving someone some grief, but is it? Let me ask you something, when you lie like this, to get out of something, does it make you feel better? Or do you feel guilty after it’s come out of your face? You know you may have just lied to your best friend, and deep down you know they know. So does it ever feel worth it to ourselves? Are we really saving anyone from grief when they 99.9% of the time know you’re making shit up? Not really. We make ourselves feel like shit for lying about something we shouldn’t have to lie about to begin with, and yet we continue the tradition.

Think of all the times you have lied to save someone’s feelings. The lies of encouragement when you don’t have the heart to be real, because it will spare a person pain. So many lies. I love your outfit when you wouldn’t be caught dead in it. Or I love your makeup even though someone has obviously spent too much time and money to look like a cheap whore. Even the silent lie to save not just their embarrassment but also our own. How many times have you let that person smile at you without saying there’s something in their teeth and then watch them smile away at others who do the same thing? Maybe not the same thing as lying, but it’s far from pointing out some honesty.

How many lies do we tell ourselves on a daily basis? How many do we believe? Do we eventually tell these personal lies so often that we believe them? Do our lies control our feelings toward ourselves? Sometimes we even lie to ourselves, repeating over and over and over again that we are happy. We look good. We feel good. Mantras to get as motivated in the morning can begin as a lie and then slowly progress towards the truth. Funny how that works. Day in. Day out. Every day. I feel good. I feel happy. Lying until it’s true. Sort of like the whole fake it til you make it. The way we dress. The way we speak. The way we act. We are all just a bunch of liars. Always trying to show others we think they want to see. Putting on our costumes and masks to hide the real us. It’s easy to pick out the ones in the crowd who don’t care anymore, who aren’t out to be something they’re not. The ones who choose their lies more carefully and use only when needed.

The one person I lie to the most is myself. Deep down I don’t like me. I don’t like being lazy. I don’t like feeling unattractive. I don’t like who I am anymore. Only the lies I tell myself get me through the day anymore. They’re the only things that boost my confidence levels enough to get things done. I lie and say I like me. I lie and say I look good in this outfit. I lie and say my hair looks good. But it’s all lies!!!!!!!!!

But do I want to hear the truth? We know how much the truth hurts. Do we all want to know the truth about everything.? Or is it better to accept the lies and believe them to be true? As easy as it is to lie, maybe it’s even easier to just accept it and move along. so that lie that continues to haunt me, I might as well accept it as a lie someone told me to keep from hurting my feelings. It was a lie made to make someone else feel better about themselves. And that’s fine. But it’s still a long way away from the honestly I was craving at the time.

So be honest. Your loved ones deserve it. Even when it hurts. Even when it makes them feel guilty. Demand the truth from them in return. Now go drink some expensive tea and relax. Repeat some mantras until you believe them. Then go out to the world and show them the real you. There no resin the hide yourself under a blanket of lies.

Enough rambling on and on. Have a good evening. Would love to hear some comments on how this post makes you feel.

-Bonnie

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Hey stranger…

Been a while.

In fact, it’s been too long since I last took the thought of writing and then actually started typing. It’s too easy to give up after a few sentences these days. Thoughts become jumbled messes. The mind wanders. Feelings drift past. The words get lost. The distractions take over.

The past year has been quite the adventure! One that has flown by far too quickly. My best girlfriend reminded me today that this time last year we were getting ready for a trip to Aspen. It feels like a lifetime ago. Things have changed so much since then, and the people I knew then aren’t really in my life anymore. Friends of convenience is what they became, and it’s a lonely feeling. I no longer do so many of the things I did just a year ago. But, priorities have changed.

Even as I lay in my bed writing this out, I have to force myself to keep at it. My mind feels like it needs to be everywhere at once, and even then it feels boring in a way. Those distractions I mentioned earlier run me ragged, and my mental strength is waning. I’ll be forty this year, and I already feel that I need to start prepping myself against Alzheimer’s and dementia. I’m honestly not even kidding around. This past year I have had what I like to call glitches. There are times I wonder how the hell I remember all that I do, but then there are the times it takes a while for my mind to process questions or recall things or even interpret what someone has said completely wrong. Like I misheard it, and then a couple seconds go by and my brain processes it correctly. It’s frustrating. I can’t find the right words to use at certain times. They’re there. I can see them. But I force myself to use my brain’s old thesaurus to figure out what the damn word should be. The deeper I get into this tonight, the more my brain just wants to quit and stop trying come up with things to say. It’s sad. Something I once loved to do had become quite the challenge.

So with that, I am going to leave you with that terrible jumbled mess but I will attempt writing more tomorrow. It’ll have a much better point. I promise. For now, I am going to drift off to sleep and dream of all the words that never even had a chance. Tomorrow will be better. I hope. 😉

Good night!

-Bonnie 💙

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Life As I Know It…

It’s a tad crazy to say the least. You’re up one moment and down the next. But then you zoom back up again only to fall further down, and then you’re ok. Not great. Not terrible. Just ok. And I have learned that ok is ok. It could always be worse.

But it does seem Life has its curveballs, and sometimes you just can’t hit the damn ball that’s been thrown your way. It’s football season, and why the hell am I using a baseball analogy? Whatever. Moving on. So yeah. Life. It’s the greatest adventure we will ever know. It’s our life. We make it what we want. Yes. There are plenty of external factors that can influence it for good or bad, but overall, it’s yours. It’s yours to do with as you please. Waste it. Grow it. Destroy it. Expand it. End it. All things we as humans are capable of doing with this gift we have all been given. Not that we had any say as to whether we wanted one to begin with, but I would like to think I am quite happy that I was even given this opportunity to live. To laugh. To cry. To create another life. To love.

Our parents passed this gift of life to us, sometimes by accident. They happen. Their lives will one day end, and ours will continue on for a while. It’s inevitable. We have the choice to give life to another, and the cycle continues. The first few years our lives are not our own. They are governed in some form or fashion. The attempt to mold us while we are young and susceptible to influence to become more in the eyes of our parents and others. But we grow up and realize this one major thing: it’s my life. Some people never grasp this. Some grasp it early on. Some grasp it only when they have passed it on to another. There are an infinite number of ways that people become aware of their life belonging to them. So how do we decide, out of the endless possibilities, what we want to do with it?

One thing I have learned is that life is uncertain as all fuck. I have written plenty about how my plans for my life never seem to go accordingly. It’s like I’m swimming, swimming, swimming and then WHAM! I swim into a fucking wave this hits hard! Really hard! So I get confused. Wonder what the hell just happened. How did I get pushed backwards from how far I thought I had gotten? Maybe I swim around in circles until I’m completely lost. Maybe throw in a little panic mode for good measure. Then I look at my options of how to get through the wave currently making a beeline for me to wash me up on shore. Sometimes I just have to swim over it. It might take a while, or maybe it was a small wave I could have easily dove under if I was paying the slightest attention to the details? Each wave is different. I like using the wave analogy, because even though they can stop you in your tracks, they can also make you fall backwards and tumble, tumble some more, lose your breath, force your head onto a rock, panic, tumble again, scratch your legs up pretty bad, and maybe even throw some seaweed into your face. Which seems ok until you actually experience seaweed in your face! But eventually you make it through and breath deep.

So back to this whole gift of life and the choices we make thing. We can take the highs but be prepared for the lows. We can take the lows and hope we can find that high again. Hope. An extremely important motivator. A small thing that has great influence in our lives. We can use hope for any bad scenario. It helps us look at our low points as if they are ok.

Life is full of ok moments, and life is full of good moments if we choose to see them that way. It may seem like I’m rambling on about this, but trust me. In my head it’s all perfectly laid out and makes complete sense. Or so I would like to believe. Just when I think I have it all figured out, that curveball is sent straight for my head hoping to knock some sense into it that I have absolutely nothing figured out at all. And that’s one of the beautiful parts of this gift I have been given. I’ll never figure it out, but hopefully I can prepare myself to enjoy it to the fullest. I’ve had my share of hurt and pain and heartbreak and endless wave upon wave, and I choose to look back and learn from those lessons to make my life better for the future I hope I get. Because honestly, we don’t know when this gift of life stops giving.

So, with my ramblings, I hope that you see your life as a gift too! The millions of people that have had a butterfly effect on my life and vice versa are all gifts in some way. Hopefully when I am feeling low I will think back on this post and remember the hope I have expressed here. Don’t lose hope. Don’t lose the light. Don’t forget your gift. It’s too easy to lose your way in the darkness, but don’t give up hope. Remember, we are all sharing this gift of life with each other. Maybe this time it will go as planned…

Love,

Bonnie 💙

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The Little Things…

They always make the biggest difference. All those little things. I can talk about all the bad ones, but that’s too easy at this point. It’s the small, sweet, kind things that have the biggest impact. You know, the kind words from friends who know you’re going through a rough patch. The random phone call to let you know someone is thinking about you, just because. Getting the last bite of someone’s dessert, because they know it’s your favorite. The smiles from complete strangers that can brighten your dull day. The wise words of people who have been there and done that. Someone putting your grill together for you while you’re at work and then breaks it in by grilling some steaks for dinner. Someone taking you out for spur of the moment ice cream. All those little things.

When life gets you down, or you’re just sort of blah. It’s like no matter how much shit the universe throws your way, it also seems to know when you need a slight break. When you’re trying your hardest to brighten other’s days, and you could use some brightening of the spirit yourself, it just happens. A funny joke. A funny story. Maybe something you do that makes you laugh at yourself for a second and hope no one else saw it happen. Even just witnessing others do kind things for their friends. All things that make me smile and feel that the world is better because of all of them. Even my own, little world. It needs those kind reassurances that there is happiness and joy and love, especially when it doesn’t feel like it.

There’s always some weirdness in my life, and sometimes it throws me off course. I get off schedule. I get flaky. I hide away in a book with not much to say to anyone. I avoid others. Even the ones I need to have around me. And I know better. I know I should be surrounded by friends and loved ones when I get this way, but for some reason it’s just easier to hide away. Not that I am truly hiding. I guess I am just better at being alone with my thoughts at times. Or maybe I’m better at hermit-ing. I don’t know. I just get blah and disappear.

So thank you to everyone who is patient with me during these periods of hiding. Your kind gestures help pull me out of my funk. You help me heal. And although it may seem like forever, it helps me see the light again and get back to being myself in due time. Those small, sweet bits of light make more difference than you’d ever realize.

So this will be short and sweet and a sort of thank you note. A nod to those who help me find my smile and my self again. To those who know me well enough to know I go through funks when life can drag me down. Don’t ever stop. For my sake, please keep them coming. I love you all. You make my life brighter in the darkest of times.

Keep smiling. It’ll help someone’s day, somewhere, when their life is blah.

-Oceangrrrl 💙

My sweet, little hairball of happiness and joy. She’s my little Sausage buddy. 😍

A place where I found a nice chunk of joy, and where I wish I still was.

Water. A place of peace. The little things…

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I Miss You…

We all miss something or someone or some time or some place or some experience. There’s a hole somewhere. A place that can only be filled with memories or imagination. I know a lot of times I’ll say I miss being a kid. And it’s not that I can’t run around or go climb trees or explore, it’s just that I make excuses that I’m tired, I want to sleep in, that’s private property, I don’t want to get hurt, I don’t have time, my knee is acting iffy, etc. It’s sad that I somehow deny myself those simple, childish joys. I feel the urge to get out and do more, but it’s so nice just relaxing in the hammock with my book or sitting on the back porch with Sausage, whose favorite thing to do is relax:

That’s Sausage. I really need to leash train that little beast so I can drag her around with me in the great outdoors. I’ll let you know if that is even a possibility. 😂

But back to missing things.

So what has brought about this sort of laziness? I miss the never ending curiousness and energy I once had. I think once you get to my age it’s not that you’re old, but it’s more that you’re well aware time is actually pretty short. I’ll be thirty-eight this year, and yeah, I know, to some people that’s not old, that’s very true. I’m not old per se, but I am old enough to understand I’m not young anymore. I’m old enough to understand that life is short, and I need to spend time with the ones I love before time runs out. That also means I understand I have a limited amount of time to try things I’ve never done and enjoy things I love to do. Still, I don’t do them (not all of them anyway). And I know I’ll miss them if I let them slip away.

It is a curious thing to try to understand why these choices are made. It sort of circles back to my post about those super go go go people. It’s like they totally understand time is short and are doing everything they can to fill it. Then there are those people who really just don’t gaf. They let time go by and, well, maybe it doesn’t matter if they don’t care. Maybe that’s just one of the “keys” to getting through life happily (or just getting through it). You either understand and act upon squeezing as much life in as you can, or you go through life not caring so it doesn’t bother you? Am I an in-between-er? Is that even a category? Everything is categorized these days anyway, so I may as well stick a label on it right? But still, missing things. I keep missing my point here and drifting.

Missing things! I miss the youth I used to have. I miss the memory skills I used to have. I miss friends who were toxic to my life, and even though they were toxic, they were still a part of who I have become. I miss the family members in my life who are no longer with me. I miss the freedoms of being a kid and not having to adult. I miss summer vacations with cousins, and just being able to actually go on one. I miss the newness of experiences growing up. I miss you. I miss me.

So here I go with another balance spiel. I keep getting myself stuck in the past at times. I know this doesn’t do me any good. Reminiscing about the past only makes you sad. It makes you long for things that are no longer obtainable. Memories, good or bad, can have a negative affect the more you dwell on them. Even the good memories can make you begin to wish for them again and distract you from experiencing good things right in front of your face. This seems to be a recurring issue with me. Maybe it is with everyone? Maybe some people are just better at jumping back into reality before the past begins to take over their thoughts? Here I go again creating more questions and digging deeper into something without actually fixing it. But maybe that’s what I need to do to be a better me? Maybe this sort of inner reflection is what I need to see me more clearly? To realize that I don’t need to miss who I was? Maybe I need to see past the past, and take joy in who I am becoming? Back in the times that I miss, all those experiences have helped shaped me into me. They helped shape you into you. And do I miss your younger you? Do I miss your not-as-wise-as-you-are-now you? Not at all! So why should I dwell on missing the old me? Well, the younger me, really, but you know what I mean.

Maybe this post can help us both look forward to what we will become. Maybe that’s the key to motivation and living life to the fullest? And maybe you have to take the time to miss the past, because it helps you plan and get excited about the future? Obviously I can’t answer that, but I think I’m pretty good at the introspection part of it all. So, me and balance. Gotta find the balance. Gotta enjoy the now. The past is done. It can’t be changed, and even if it hurts, it’s still there. The past can teach us so many lessons if we choose to learn from it, but it can also rip us apart and drag us down to live it over and over again and miss our now. Our own sort of Hell if you will.

Anyway, I’m rambling. Plus I’ve noticed my posts are sort of boring lately. I keep doing this look inward thing, and I can only imagine how exciting it is to continuously turn the mirror back at myself/yourself whatever. I’ll post something upbeat again soon I promise! It’s almost my mini-me’s 17th (yeah OMG!) birthday, and there are some good time’s ahead! Oh! I got to see the Alamo for the first time and cruise San Antonio’s river walk a little bit this past weekend! Yeah. I know. I live in Texas and hadn’t seen any of that yet. It’s a big state dammit!!! I’ve been pretty blessed to see some other things in my life that many will never see, so I’m just checking off some sites from my to-see list! I’m sure there will be some more San Antonio exploring and some river floating in my near future. Maybe even some peace and quiet and relaxation. I’ll let you know! Til then, ciao!

-Bonnie

Oh yeah! I’m getting more work done on a tattoo piece that I am so looking forward to getting done!!! So excited!!!!!!

Volleyball time with my mini and her bestie! Oh summer days and sunshine!!!!

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Sometimes I Feel Lost…

There are times in my life where I feel as though my ship has drifted off its course. There are times when I feel like the universe has aligned the planets just for me. When things fall into place, I feel as though I am on top of the world. It’s like a bow-of-the-Titanic sort of feeling. Well, prior to the whole iceberg thing, but you know what I’m saying. So when things aren’t going the way they “should”, it’s frustrating as all hell. Like why? Whyyyyyyyyyy??????? Why can’t things continuously go with the flow?? What did I do to fuck all of this up???? Why is the universe/God/existence/karma/whatever trying to punish me? What in the world could I have gotten so wrong?

It’s funny. Life does NOT work out according to plan. Ok. According to MY plan. But still. It’s MY life dammit! Every time I think things are going the way I planned them to, they are upended by life. Things change. Circumstances change. The universe feels I should be moving in a completely different direction from where I am currently headed. It gets frustrating. Some of you may totally understand what I am trying to convey. Some of you will say this life is not really ours, it belongs to God or god or whomever. Some will say this isn’t even real anyway. Everyone has an idea or a lesson or an experience that helps them answer this question to themselves, and it’s amazing how most everyone believes their views are the correct ones. But! That’s a discussion for a different time. When that one comes up I’ll throw in some money and politics for fun! Hahaha!!!

Anyway. Back to being derailed by the powers and energies that be. We all know life has its ups and downs. People are born. People die. There are miracles. There are disasters. It all comes back around to the balance of it all. Something any of my sadist blog readers know I am a huge believer of. You can’t have highs without lows. And you can’t appreciate those highs without being brought to your knees. It’s a vicious cycle that all you can do is learn to prepare for. And even in that there lies a balance. Spend too much time preparing for the worst, and you won’t get to enjoy the best. Worrying too much about the future takes the experience away from the now. Remaining stuck in the past keeps you from applying those past lessons to your future. And on and on and on it goes. It only stops when we’re dead, I guess.

And here I go again not really answering anything at all. I continue to have my crazy highs and lows in life, and just when I get comfortable the universe says move along there’s nothing to see here anymore. Gee thanks a billion! I really need to work on my worrying though! I’m really good about stressing myself out the instant I feel I need to fix whatever just happened. So I jump on the problem and freak the fuck out and stress myself out. Thankfully I have people in my life who know what to say to get me to be in the moment, take a deep breath, and realize I’ve got this. Stop worrying about the things I can’t control. Do what is in my power and roll along with what is thrown at me. Sometimes you have to duck and dodge. Sometimes you have to block. Sometimes you just have to take it. Sometimes you have to throw something back. But nothing sharp though! We don’t want to gouge anything! It’s always fun and games until someone loses an eye!

Well, I hope I succeeded in getting the wheels turning and the gears grinding and not answering any questions I asked myself. Eh. It happens. Keep living and loving life as best you can. Remember, you got this!

-Bonnie

Sometimes the simplest views are where all the beauty goes to show off. All about the little things… 😊

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