Bonnie’s Beach 🏖

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

The Choices We Choose…

…all come with a price. The cost of doing business so to speak. The consequences of our inactions are just as consequential as the action itself. Everything comes in threes, right? You’ve heard it before. Celebrity deaths seem to happen in threes even if it’s more like five. Good things come in threes. Bad things come in threes. The Holy Trinity. Three strikes you’re out. Third time’s the charm. So why three? Fuck if I know, but I have a theory.

We may think the smallest number of things we could possibly choose from is two, right? Yes or no. Stay or go. Good or bad. Point A to point B. Left or right. Night or day. The list goes on.

If you are a lover of psychology you know it is all logical. A lover of philosophy understands that not everything can be solved by logic. Assume logically you have to choose A or B. You have to make a choice. You can only choose one or the other. This has always bothered me, and in turn I didn’t do very well in my college psychology class. Philosophy I aced. Go figure. I had been told do just that a good many years ago, and because I chose neither, or refused to choose one of the given options, I was removed from the question group and put to the side. I refused to believe that I had to pick one of two options I didn’t want anything to do with, nor did I think either one was correct. But in doing so and choosing not to choose, I created option C. Option C was not even an option, but I stood my ground. Once I chose not to choose, I opened up a door that in turn created additional “non-choosers.” So at least I had some friends in my refusal group. Woohoo!! We didn’t get to participate with the two groups, but we got to enjoy hanging out and discussing why we ended up in our own little club of outcasts.

And so it seems to go in life with other things. Life is not black and white. Those who truly see that life is full of inexplicable wonders, understand this third option. The trifecta. Life or death. Choose to live, or choose to die. We all know we will never make it out of this life that we know alive, and we also know that just because someone is alive doesn’t mean they are truly living. Even with the dead, do they not still go on living in our hearts, minds, and the energies around us? I’m not just talking about ghosts or things that catch your eye in the mirror as you walk past. If you have ever been still in a place of death, you can sense it. The air is heavy, the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, overwhelming sadness seeps into your skin. It’s the same with places of happiness and joy, where the living come together in order to feel good or smile or laugh. I don’t know many people who would choose to go to a comedy show to cry. Just like people who visit cemeteries don’t typically go there to laugh. Even day and night has an option three: an eclipse.

In all honesty I have no idea why this popped into my head to write about. I am obviously procrastinating from doing something else that needs to be done, but I guess it’s better than doing absolutely nothing. Maybe? There are times when I want to write but can’t. There are times I don’t want to write but have to. And there are times when I don’t plan to write but need to and do it while I’m able.

I guess to tie this in with my current life situation, I can choose to move on and live my life to the fullest, or I can choose to live in the past while not being fully present. But neither of those choices sound fulfilling to me in either way. Are we not told to learn from the past? Reflect on the past? Remember the good times? Are we not told to plan for the future? Set life goals? Look ahead? And while doing both of those things we are reminded to be in the now, be present, enjoy today as if there won’t be a tomorrow, because we truly do not know when our time has come to an end. When life makes the decision for us. Even when we are given choices, there’s that third option that comes into play. Sometimes the third option isn’t even ours to choose.

For example, why do we hear about the people who work hard their entire lives but always seam to be beaten down by life? The ones who give everything without question but never seem to get anything back? The strugglers? The givers? The weary? Aren’t we taught that if we work hard, are kind, good people, it will come back to us? Are we missing something? Look at people who seem to have it easy. It’s as if some can dance through life without a care, haven’t worked a hard day in their life, and things are given to them without being asked or even needed. What third option has come into play with these? Seriously though, if you know the secrets to this I’d really like to not have to work until I die. I sorta have a thought on this as well.

Growing up a good Christian girl, I went to private schools, read the Bible, accepted Jesus, went to church, and I asked for forgiveness of my sins. And though I don’t pray as often as others say I should, or go to church even for Easter or Christmas Eve. I swear more than the typical sailor, have a dirtier mind than most would care to admit, and seem to come off as someone who worships trees, and yet I can’t seem to forget all the things I had been brought up to believe. Yes. I believe in God (in a slightly different way). Do I believe the only way to connect with God is through church or being with others of the same belief? No. Does that mean I want to hang out with a bunch of assholes who murder kittens? Absolutely not! But that doesn’t mean I have denounced all the teachings and parables and songs and lessons. The wisdom passed from generation to generation is a guide, a gift, and a warning.

So why the hell am I talking about my spirituality? Because it is my influential third option. Because growing up I was taught that my entire life is already known. My plans have already been laid out. That somehow I still have a choice baffles the shit out of me. That even if I choose either A or B, it doesn’t fucking matter, because C was already chosen for me. I may want to spend the rest of my life with a partner rather than without, but obviously that doesn’t always work out. I don’t know, maybe my plan is to die surrounded by my cats who will eventually get hungry and realize that eyeballs are a delicacy? Maybe I will spend my life with someone only to have them die first? Maybe I will be involved in a head-on collision tomorrow, because someone wasn’t paying attention and had to answer a text and didn’t react in time when they drifted into my lane? I don’t know! The third option is a killer! Or it could be. Yikes!

Call it fate. Call it destiny. Perhaps it’s option C through option infinity? All I know for sure is that I won’t always be given a choice between one thing and another thing. Even the black and white becomes gray. The day can be dark. The night can be bright. I can choose to work until I die in order to continue living my life comfortably. I can choose to be happy or sad, but I gotta tell ya, it’s hard enough choosing to be ok. Being sad is exhausting. Being happy is exhausting. Being present can also be exhausting, but it’s a choice. Look, Yoda may have said do or do not, there is no try, but is that really all there is? I mean, if you don’t try something how do you know you’ll like it or even want to do it? What about practice makes perfect? Isn’t that just a better way of saying you’re trying to be better at what you are doing?

And again we see why I did not do well at all in psychology. I question everything. I learn something about everything I can. I start hundreds of projects and never seem to finish most if any of them. I am trying my best to live my life and pretend believing I am actually trying to live my life. I feel disillusioned. The more I learn, the more I see, the more I know I am not in control of anything. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it does make it more difficult to live life as though I haven’t peeked behind its curtain. There’s no wizard there. There’s no control center where I can push a button and continue dreaming. There’s nothing there but another curtain. And once you peaked through the next curtain, you find another curtain. So you stand there and try to look up and see if maybe there are some curtain rods to count how many more curtains you have to go through, but you can only see the one you’re facing. You look down, believing the light and shadow from beneath the curtain gives a brief hope that there is something behind this one, only to realize the curtains beyond are moving to an eternal breeze, shifting light and shadow, and reinforcing an illusion you so desperately want to believe.

Options A or B or C are all inherently illusions, and life is filled with choices, as we all know. Do you choose to see the magic trick never wanting to know how it’s accomplished, or do you want to know how the magic trick works? Or, for your third option, do you choose to learn how it works but continue living as if you never saw it? That you continue to believe in the wonder and excitement even knowing it isn’t what it seems? The disillusioned are seen as being negative. That knowing how something works or why it works takes the fun and joy out of seeing it work. And all I can think is why wouldn’t you want to learn more? I don’t want to spend my life only learning about one, single thing. How disappointing that would be when there’s nothing else to know. And even though the more I learn the more I see comes into play, it doesn’t make me want to stop learning. It doesn’t make me not want to start yet another project I will most likely never complete. It doesn’t prevent me from adding more and more to my bucket list even when I know I have less and less time to do any of those things.

So I’ll continue living my life neither the good way nor the easy way, but more like whatever option three decides to throw at me. In reality, it isn’t even my choice to begin with, but I can still choose to see what it has in store. Bring it, option three! Let’s see what you got!

-Bonnie

No matter what my option three may end up being, I still stop to smell flowers and to watch butterflies flutter by. I smile at others and open and hold doors. I make my PB&J in two folded-over halves. I pause for those fleeting moments when a deep breath of the air around me and the view before me yearn for me to take them in and enjoy the present, and I am reminded that my choices are all part of how I ended up in that place, regardless that I did not opt for a flat tire to stop me in the middle of nowhere forcing me to stop for a damn second and let go of what I can’t control. Thank you Option C. I am forever grateful for your interference. Good or bad. And whatever is in the middle.

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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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Encouragement I sent in ‘16

Look, life sucks. It sucks a lot! But even when it’s cold and lonely and looking bleak, and you’re at the point of giving up, don’t forget that you can either stay in the dark or choose to come up into the light. You have the strength to decide whether to continue sinking to the depths where the pressure becomes too much on you, or you can swim as hard as you can up and up where you can finally break the surface for a breath of air. Life is going to continue shitting on you. People will continue to use you. The world will constantly try to break you down into nothing. But there is beauty and joy and peace everywhere. You just have to open your eyes and your heart and your soul to it, otherwise you won’t see it. I know you are strong. People like us are fighters. We struggle to be happy. We battle to make it day to day. I know you can do it. I have the utmost faith in you and your abilities.

I had saved this in my notes from a few years back. Hard to believe it had been kept hidden away for so long. Sometimes these little words of encouragement are worth reading again.

-Bonnie

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Something Old. A Little Hope…

I am thousands of feet in the air, and all I think about is you.

Hopefully one day sharing my life fully with you.

Hopefully one day you sharing your life fully with me.

And I hope.

And I hope you are wanting to do that.

I hope you are ready, and I hope you are wanting.

I am happy and yet sad. My heart wants to run to you knowing full well it could be suicide.

It could be another past come to claim my future.

It could be destroyed, and yet, it still hopes.

With every ounce of its being.It knows full well it can be crushed.

It can be cracked. It can be forever broken.

But there is always hope.

Like a beam of light that pierces through the vast darkness of pain, stabbing through the black like a dagger.

It itself has hope.

To survive.

To live life fully and completely and without hesitance.

To know love regardless of heartache.

To love completely without reserve.

To give all and want nothing in return.

Hope has its needs, mind you.

But it does not want. It needs hope in return.

It needs love. It needs warmth.

It needs the good.

It needs the bad.

For without the occasional bouts of pain and sadness, can there truly be hope.

Just don’t allow the dark to take over.

Always be aware of the light.

Always choose to love.

Where there is love, there is hope.

There is always.

There is you.

There is me.

There is us.

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To Dream and Fade Away…

With all of the weirdness going on the world, it’s difficult finding something good to write about. There’s the projects around the house that finally get started on and sometimes finished. Then there are new ones that may or may not reach a starting point. There’s checking on friends and family and neighbors. Check in. Check in. Check in. Do your part in making sure those you know haven’t lost their sanity. set up those family zoom calls. Talk to people you haven’t seen in years. Do it. Show humanity at its simplistic version of itself.

Talk about the past. Talk about the present. Talk about the future. Discuss changes. Cause and effect. The fun topics. How’s life. How’s work. How’s school. How’s it going without a job. How’s it going being alone. So alone. No one there to even check in with.

Share food. Share toilet paper. Share stories. Share a beer. Share a space six feet away. Share carefully. Cautiously. Anxiously. But share nonetheless.

It’s true. We’re all in this bs together. We are all sharing the uncertainties and the fear. We should all be sharing love.

But that’s as simple as it gets. Share love. Share hope. Share strength.

Dream of something better. Being better. Doing better. Don’t fade into the darkness alone. You can find a friend or family member. Find them. Bring them to the light. Bring yourself into the light. Keep them safe. Keep saving everyone. We’re all going to need one another.

And done.

Today is another day. Smile. Love.

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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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A Trip To Paris…

Texas!!!!!!!

This week’s trip has me working from Hugo to Idabel, OK. With my coworker living in Paris, TX, that is where I’m hanging my hat for the next couple days. I’ve always wanted to go to Paris! 😂

With me traveling again, I’ve finally convinced myself to get the fuck out of my hotel room (and comfort zone) to explore the towns/cities where I’m staying. I’d heard about the Eiffel Tower in this town, and I had to see it, especially since I probably won’t ever see the real one in my lifetime. As much as I’d love to explore all of Europe and the surrounding countries, I’ll be just as happy to get to see all of the US. There are a lot of places on my travel bucket list, and I have to be realistic, right?! So, I decided to check this thing out, and I wasn’t disappointed! It’s super cute! The bigger perk of checking this thing out was the Red River Valley Veterans Memorial right next to it. It was beautiful! It had presence, and I could feel it. Although when I visit places like that I feel immense sadness. As hard as I try to enjoy the beauty and love of memorials, I can’t help but feel that way, and it takes all I have to not allow myself to fall any deeper. So after perusing the memorial I went back to the Eiffel Tower to cheer back up.

“The Paris, TX Eiffel Tower! Of course it has a red, cowboy hat!!! Why the hell not?!”

At this point I was debating on going back to the hotel (I was stupid tired) or go find something else. When I had searched for the tower I remembered seeing something about a historic site and a fountain. One thing I truly enjoy checking out are historic downtowns. The courthouses at the centers are usually pretty awesome! I searched for Paris’s original town center and headed that way. On my way I passed by a huge cemetery which I plan on checking out while I’m here. I heard there was a monument there that’s an angel with cowboy boots. Only in Texas, right?!

I find the historic downtown, and I gotta admit, it’s pretty cool! Lots of construction going on, old buildings being gutted, road work, etc. it looks like they’re trying to keep it in working order, and there are the usual antique shops, eateries, and randomness. The fountain was dead center to the south of the courthouse. It was pretty and peaceful, and I parked to check it out. It wasn’t anything grand, but I could definitely imagine people hanging out and eating lunch around this thing in warmer weather. I’d totally be eating a sandwich there on my lunch break!

After the fountain I figured I’d sort of drive around and check out some more of the buildings in the area. That is when I came across something I thought was pretty damn awesome!!!!! In the parking lot across from this old, crazy huge and odd looking church, was a community park. One side was a water park for warmer days, and the other side was a park of musical instruments. Now, when I say water park, I’m not talking something huge with slides or anything. It was basically a bunch of holes in the ground for water to come shooting out of at children playing in it. I gotta say that’s pretty fun and nice on a hot day! The music side had a large central set of pipes, surrounded by various xylophones, bells, and drums. All but the drums had attached mallets. Yes! I totally tried them out like I was a six year old! Even the sign for the music park was a xylophone, and of course I had to check that out too!

After feeling like a kid for a few minutes I decided to head back to the hotel. It was beginning to get dark after all, and I was exhausted. I figured I’d found plenty of new stuff to share with everyone, and I hope you enjoy it! It’s funny what you can find when you’re not looking. Seems a bit like life. I can sit in my hotel room longing for something to happen that never will, or I can get off my ass and find the beauty in the random and enjoy it! I hope you like the pictures below! Until next time!

-Bonnie

The RRV Veterans Memorial. This place was incredible!

Underneath the tower was a cool Texas inlay. I had to take a selfie…

The Culbertson Fountain which was dedicated in 1927! Construction on this thing had actually started in 1924, and it took three years to complete!

Harmony Park! Yes! I tried the instruments, and they sound pretty amazing! I’m not sure I want to know what it might sound like when twenty kids are beating on everything though…

Pretty much my view the first day of work this week, but it beats my computer monitors any day!!!!!

Of course I got one with the tower in the background!

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