Getting my own way… by getting out of the way!

06282009839.jpg I was browsing the merchandise at Walt Disney World a couple of weeks ago when this mug crossed my path. I took a photo and sent it to Facebook, with some crack about wishing that “you have a knack for getting your own way” was true. I put it back on the shelf and walked away.

You’ll notice, it’s now sitting on my kitchen counter, awaiting it’s opportunity to become the vessel from which I drink the Elixir of Life. I figured, if I don’t believe it, then it definitely won’t be true. And if I DO believe, then I’d better start acting like I do. So I marched myself right back there and bought it.

After all, what exactly is wrong with having a knack for getting one’s own way? Nothing! As with all things, if the ability to get what one wants is exercised within a balanced and loving context, then sin cannot live there.

I’m sure that my initial rejection of this concept had elements of socialized (false) “nice girl” modesty lurking beneath. It was also influenced by past experiences, disappointments where I didn’t get anywhere close to my “own way”, my heart’s desire, what I’d been dreaming of.

Well, a dream is just a dream, a thought is just a thought, and neither can venture any further into reality without me driving it. I can drive manifestation either actively or passively. I have lots of experience driving things actively – that’s what has made me successful with most things in life. Notice I said “most” 😉 But driving the manifestation of my dreams passively – well, I have very little experience “letting go and letting God”, mostly because I’m too scared to relinquish control to something I cannot quantify.

StarGazersI’m going to try something new. I’m going to try driving a wish to come true, to manifest it into the physical world, by getting the hell out of the way and letting it happen. First step – believe that I have a knack for getting my own way.

I’ve now got a physical reminder from which to sip the Elixir of Life (coffee) 🙂 Let the manifestation of dreams begin!

PS – a grateful shout-out to a certain fairy godmother for her encouragement *~*~*~*~*~*~*

Posted by Wordmobi

America, get your geek on!

Apple-AT&T: Hints of Strain – BusinessWeek.

Not sure what the big deal is here.  The experience described in this article has not been my own experience with AT&T.  I can send MMS now – well, I haven’t tried video, but definitely photo MMS is working fine, or else I would not be able to send photos from my phone to Facebook.  I never have a problem with coverage, except this one spot on Captiva where EVERYONE has a problem with coverage, whether they are with AT&T or not.  And finally, tethering is a function of an application for my phone (Nokia E71), and has nothing to do with whether or not AT&T “has” or offers tethering.

It’s true that in the USA, we seem to be horribly behind the times in terms of technology, expecially mobile phones and mobile computing.  Europe and Asia are light years ahead in terms of what is available to the consumer as well as the consumers’ technical skills.  I’m not sure, especially  with the tethering thing, why AT&T has to absorb all the fault and blame for the deficits that were highlighted by Apple.  If the consumer doesn’t like what’s being offered, they can change it.  I loved my Blackberry that came with my AT&T service, but it didn’t go far enough.  So I got an unlocked E71 off Amazon to use with my AT&T 3G, months and months before AT&T decided to offer the E71x.  A whole different world of applications and functionality opened before me once I wasn’t working under the restrictions of AT&T’s engineered handset.

The rest of America is free to do this too!  In my opinion, BusinessWeek and Apple haven’t spread the blame around enough.  Some of it is on the American public for swallowing the pablum that’s offered and not looking/thinking outside the box.  Maybe this is just another symptom of the general wail that periodically arises over education in this country as compared to overseas.  We need to become a bit more geekish – it will help to make us competitive.

The choice to be childless

Niece No. 2, aka my God-Niece, updated her status on Facebook this morning and has not been back to elaborate. Her status currently declares that she “never wants to be a parent”.

Never is a pretty long time. I’m intrigued, and looking forward to asking her what brought this on when I see her next. She’s coming to spend a week with me “doing nothing” on the beach next month. I’m sure it will be an illuminating conversation!

It started me thinking, though, about all the reasons I’ve had over the years for not wanting to have children. All these years, I’ve given the impression that it does boil down to that simple, declarative statement – I never wanted to be a parent. But in reality, nothing is ever that simple.

Growing up, my dolls were never really my babies – they were my friends. I never clamored to be the mother whenever the kids in my neighborhood played “house”. I just never had the drive toward motherhood when I was little.

I was babysitter of choice in my neighborhood when I became a teenager.  The kids adored me, and I them.  I wrote fabulous tales of adventure and heroism, and put them in starring roles in these epics.  I played the best games, and kept their secrets while still keeping them out of harm’s way.  I was their friend and guide – but NEVER their mother-figure.

In my late teens, I indulged in a little pipe-dreaming with a particular boy (yes, THAT boy) about “some day” and how it would be when we established our home and our family together – right down to “two cats in the yard”.  The scenario included a vague quantity of children, at least two judging from a sketch he drew for me one time.  At this point, though, I feel it fair to point out that for me, it really WAS dreaming; I felt very little real identification with the possibility that it could actually come true.  At 17-18 years of age, I’d already had a number of experiences that taught me the rug would be ripped out from under me as soon as I became comfortable and happy, so I don’t think I ever actually believed that “some day” would manifest into reality.

Later in life, I had what turned out to be an ill-fated marriage, to someone else.  But in the beginning, when I still had every intention of going through life with him, I picked out names; Julie for a girl (Julianna, actually, like the queen of the Netherlands) and Jordan for a boy. This was a nod to the name of the female lead in the musical Carousel. It was my first role after starting to study with Gloria, a radical departure from the roles I’d been playing – I’d learned how to sing like an ingenue.  I thought it was neat that “Julie Jordan” had two first names instead of a first and a last.  Anyway – eventually, I accepted that I was married to the wrong person, and actively sought to prevent the manifestation of children. I believed he would not pull his weight as a parent; he wasn’t pulling his weight as a partner, and I saw no reason to believe a baby would change any of that.  I already felt overwhelmed by the responsibilities of being an adult, having a household to tend to along with a full time job and a budding stage career.  I felt responsible for everything, and I didn’t see the sense in adding to those responsibilities.

I recognized, fortunately, that many men want children for the same reason they’d like a Porsche in the garage.  They love being able to brag about having one, but they want nothing to do with the maintenance.  I further recognized that a woman who is married to this sort of man is in for 18 years (minimum) of indentured servitude, self-sacrifice and subjugation of all her wants, needs and desires, always putting the needs of the children first, never getting an assist.

I grew up in a very restrictive environment.  I didn’t get to make the simplest of decisions for myself; everything was controlled to the nth degree.  I had no say in the clothes I wore, the way I styled my hair, the friends I was allowed to have…. no freedom of choice at all.  I was tired of external sources dictating every little detail of everything for me.  I wanted freedom.  The idea of living under restrictions again was not at all appealing.

I feared that, under virtual single-parent conditions, I would become resentful and miserable. This would leak over onto the children. I’d been on the receiving end of something similar. I knew what it was to really hate being treated that way.

Bottom line: I knew it would break my heart to have any child of mine hurt so badly that they would come to hate me.  I could not bear the thought of it. I’d been trying to prepare myself for a long time to not make the same mistakes my parents did. I started a diary at age 13 or so, for the express purpose of never forgetting what it is like to be a kid. I thought that would help me to be a better parent. Probably, it would have.  Definitely, under the “some day” scenario, with the right partner, it would have worked.  But once I piled the wrong partner on top of my fears that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree… there was no way I was going to introduce children into the scenario.  They would only suffer for it.

So, all these years, many of you reading this have had the understanding that I didn’t WANT children.  That is not necessarily the whole truth.  As is typical for me, I knew far better what I didn’t want.  What I didn’t want was to feel used and trapped.  What I didn’t want was to make children who were destined to suffer and to resent me for it.  What I didn’t want was to gift someone with a Porsche that I would then be forced to maintain solo. 

God is good.  Some women who go through chemo lose their ability to reproduce.  I was 33 when they finally decided that those episodes whereby my head felt like it was spinning into orbit were actually hot flashes, and that meant I was entering menopause.  I was not a candidate for estrogen replacement, because that’s what my tumor ate for a living – estrogen.  Therefore, I believe that God picked the right person to visit with this condition.  It would have been a real tragedy if God had picked a woman who would have been devastated by infertility.  From that perspective, I’m glad God chose me.  And it really kind of settled the question once and for all.  Want or not want, it was moot – “can’t” was now the operative word, and aside from a mild twinge now and then, I’ve really been ok with it, with the finality of it.

All of this led to my ability to focus some individualized attention (not to mention disposable income) in the direction of my nieces.  And now I’m wondering if it also led to an example being set for them of an alternative option.  Even growing up in the 60s and being exposed to media coverage of “women’s liberation”, Gloria Steinem, fish having no need of bicycles, etc., I still had some notion that one grew up and got married and had children because that’s what one did.  I’m sure the extremely conservative way in which I was raised contributed to that; my parents often said that a young woman did not leave her parents house unless it was to move into her husband’s house. 

This hasn’t been true for my nieces, thankfully.  They actually get to leave the house and go away to college – without first having to get married!  Although I would never want to discourage them from having a family if that’s what they wanted, I do hope that my life has somehow served to let them know that a person can be legitimately productive and happy leading an alternative lifestyle, that there is another choice besides wife and mother.  There’s the choice to be childless.  When I ask about the mysterious Facebook status update, I might find that this is the case, or I might find that she was just in a very bad mood.  Either way – it’s satisfying to know that there are children in this world whom I love, that I’ve not made them suffer and they don’t hate me 🙂  So maybe it was the right choice after all.

Forgiving Salinger

catcher-coverJ. D. Salinger used to be my favorite author. I first read Catcher in the Rye circa 1973-ish, when I was in 7th or 8th grade; my science teacher was actually loaning it around to people in my class, and I got on the list and read it and loved it. I loved it so much, that by time I got to 10th grade and we were actually reading it in English class, I swiped a copy. I still have it. Ancient, tattered, it bears the stamp on the inside cover, “MARTIN VAN BUREN HIGH SCHOOL ENGLISH DEPARTMENT” (watch me get fined now or something – arrested, even!). It’s well-worn because it has been read a bazillion times.

A few years later, someone loaned me a copy of Nine Stories and I fell in love. With Salinger, too! 😉 I liked “For Esme, With Love and Squalor” best, but his favorite was “Teddy”. If I recall correctly, he had to beg me repeatedly to return the book to him. I think eventually I must have, because the copy I have on my bookshelf now is a mass-market paperback from 1991, and my introduction to Nine Stories was circa 1978. I also have a paperback copy of Franny and Zooey on my shelves.

Still more years later, there came unto us the internet, and Salinger was one of the first of those seemingly day-long searches I used to conduct back then with my CompuSpend oops I meant to say CompuServe account. I found out lots about him that day. He was reclusive. He refused interviews. He’d published short stories prolifically, in such prestigious publications as Colliers, Good Housekeeping, The Saturday Evening Post and The New Yorker, to name a few. There are many pages on the internet devoted to lists of Salinger’s “uncollected works”, nearly all of them mentioning that he doesn’t want them “collected”.

And then came that fateful year I picked up a copy of Dreamcatcher, Margaret Salinger’s memoir of growing up in the orbit of her famous father. Ah, FINALLY, some good and detailed information about my favorite author! I took the book with me on vacation to Sanibel Island and devoured it. After finishing it, this is what I had to say about it in my trip journal:

“I have to say that up until finishing this memoir, J.D. Salinger’s “Catcher in the Rye” was my all-time favorite novel. However, now that I know that he was such a pitiful excuse for a husband and father, my enjoyment of his writings has become tarnished. This man and his wife were classic examples of those who should not breed, for they steadfastly failed to comprehend their responsibilities as parents. If even half of what Peggy Salinger has written is true, both parents needed institutionalization followed by a swift kick in the pants to straighten their sorry asses out.”

Yes, the bloom was off the rose. I’d spent happy decades revering the man whose mind invented Holden Caulfield, only to discover that he was a whacko. No wonder he was hiding. He might be sick, but he’s not stupid. If a life-long fan can become turned off by the truth about him, think what would happen with casual readers. Think of all those unpurchased paperbacks. Think of all those 10th graders whose parents are having a hard enough time with the fact that they’re reading a book spattered with the F word and various other expletives. You wanna see books burning? Just wait until they find out what a horrible father he was!

And so, for the last 6 years, I’ve sulked, refusing to do the annual pilgrimage into the mind of the teenager that is Holden Caulfield. A few of those 6 years, my books were in storage, anyhow, so I didn’t really need to sulk those years, but probably did anyway. I did lay hands upon my Salinger paperbacks, though – twice. I’ve moved twice in that time period, and so I actually touched them without reading them, once to pack them up into storage, and then again when I got to the new house and unpacked them.

I had to do a book purge when I got here. I don’t know what possessed me to own so many books, never mind pack them and pay to move them from Long Island to Florida. I knew it had to be done, but it still felt like an amputation. I posted the titles online to various forums and lists, and mailed out the ones that people wanted. The rest went to Goodwill in Lehigh Acres, where the manager of the place was grateful to receive them.

Interestingly, I gave away Margaret’s hardcover, but kept J. D.’s paperbacks. Oh, I was still mad at him, but somewhere inside, I was still deeply attached to ol’ J.D. and his stories. There are other items I’ve dragged with me from pillar to post over the years, items that I keep in a certain Box, items that I have not wanted to read but not wanted to part with, either. But that’s another post for another day.

My recent run-in with personal history, compliments of Facebook led to a raid on that certain Box… (when I can face The Box again, I’ll let y’all know). The raid on The Box led to remembering Nine Stories in ways in which I had not indulged in many, many years. And so I left The Box and proceeded to comb the bookshelves in my home office, whereupon I found the book, turned immediately to the last chapter where I knew I’d find “Teddy”, and read it through.

J.D. is a talented, sensitive, brilliant writer. These attributes coexist with ineptitude as a husband and a father. Margaret Salinger commented something to the effect that she’d expected the man who thought up the role of the catcher, the guy who keeps kids from running off a cliff, to be that for her. Given that she is his child, I’d say she had a right to expect that, and has a right to be disappointed about it. I hope writing the book has helped her to cope with that disappointment, at least somewhat. I know that such profound disappointment in a parent is not something you ever really get over, but you can’t let it cripple you for the rest of your life, either.

So I read “Teddy” and I enjoyed it. And remembered. And shed a few tears. I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive ol’ J.D. yet, just as I’m not quite sure that I’m ready to forgive myself. All this time, I thought I’d abandoned Salinger in solidarity with his daughter, because he was such a poor parent. But now… now, I think I realize that it may have less to do with his sins than it has to do with my own. Like a lot of things associated with that time in my life, J.D. now makes me feel like that 17-18 year old fuck-up I used to be, flailing around on the bottom rung of Maslow’s hierarchy, so desperate to survive, so heedless of the wounds I was inflicting upon others. And, let’s face it – upon myself.

Clearly, I am in need of redemption. Got any ideas, anyone? Perhaps the answer lies somewhere between the covers of Nine Stories. Perhaps I should read the whole thing. Just to find out.

The POTUS picks up poop?!?!?

I’ve been doing some studying each night, so didn’t catch this Brian Williams Inside The Obama White House news special when it aired on NBC. However, I went to MSNBC.com today and found a bunch of video segments from the show, which was actually a good way to get this watched – in chunks and at my leisure.

MUSIC – I love the fact that they chose modern music to go with our modern President and his young staff. A few of my faves – Bittersweet Symphony “the most popular song Jagger and Richards never wrote”, and Everclear’s Wonderful make prominent appearances. They used Mika’s Lollipop for Sasha and Malia, which was totally charming.

BO, THE DOG – I cannot believe the POTUS picks up poop! Clearly, Brian Willaims is a sucker for dogs. He’s got that lovey-dovey I-am-a-sucker-for-dogs voice on when he speaks to the pooch. I’m really sort of in love with that dog, which is unusual for me… I’ve been SO set on leading a hairless existence and not being tied down by pets when I travel or go out. However, I now believe that there MIGHT be a puppy in my future! OK, maybe not… I have to think long and hard about this.

THE VEGETABLE GARDEN – What a great idea this was. Cost effective and charitable – they use the veggies at the White House and also donate some of them locally. When the First Lady visited the school kids who helped her plant it, I liked the fact that she dressed in yellow, which is apparently their school color (all the kids had on matching yellow t-shirts). When she did the sit-down with Brian Williams in that outfit, there were yellow roses in a bowl on the table behind her, which was a nice, coordinating touch.

SACRIFICES – And now we know why Bittersweet Symphony may have been selected. Working in the White House, no matter whose White House it happens to be at the time, is a huge honor, a once-in-a-lifetime, rare opportunity to directly impact the direction of our country and its people. But it is also a sacrifice for one’s country, second only to serving in the military. These people are not spending a lot of time with their families, although clearly the administration wants them to be able to. Some left their families behind in a different city when they joined the administration. When you have this kind of job, this is what you do 24×7. It’s what you breathe, it’s the REASON you breathe. This is what it means to go into public SERVICE, to SERVE your country in government. I know something similar to this kind of life, remember it well. Wouldn’t want to go back to it. No wonder they’re all so damned young; it’s a lot easier to take the grueling pace when you’re still young.

RAHM EMANUEL – Speaking of sacrifice, this is someone to admire and respect. I know this personally, from years and years of mergers, acquisitions and re-organizations at the firm. Sometimes you fall into a spot that you’re not thrilled with, but you do it anyway because you are called to it. It takes HUGE self-discipline to do something you don’t necessarily want to do but are called to do, and to do it REALLY well – actually kick ass at it. Hats off to Rahm, he’s earning it.

THE OPPOSITION – the nation is less safe because people who work in the White House now take off their suit jackets? One wonders how they reacted to the M&Ms, the darts and the basketball… what is this, Microsoft? ROTFLMAO! How do they come up with crap like this? Can’t they find something REAL over which they can act scandalized?

As to the Supreme Court appointment, I like that our President can be a bad-ass, be firm with the nonsense, without straying into the land of also being a butt-head about things. He pushes back against and has little patience for the ridiculous. I’m wondering…. since when is it wise to completely ignore one’s hard-won experiential knowledge and not leverage it when making decisions? That’s called LEARNING, when you use past experience to be successful in a current situation. Since when would the experiential knowledge of a white male be the same as that of a Latina female? Not saying one is better than the other in general, but under certain circumstances, each has experiential knowledge that could certainly inform their actions and decisions better than the other. No need to act scandalized – this is only logic.

Finally, he’s got a good sense of where news reporting ends and entertainment begins. I like that he doesn’t watch the pundits because he understands them to be entertainment. “It feels like WWF wrestling – everybody’s got their roles to play…” Wise of him to recognize that!

WHEN THE GIRLS REACH DATING AGE – loved Brian Williams’ advice about greeting their dates at the door with a shovel! 😀

AMERICA’S RELATIONS WITH THE WORLD’S MUSLIM POPULATION – Are there really people who feel that ALL Muslims are America’s enemies? I don’t know what to say to them to relieve them of the burden of such ignorance. I pray that God – anyone’s God, everyone’s God – opens their eyes and their hearts.

“A ROCK STAR” – love, love, love the reactions at the Five Guys burger joint. I would have flipped out, too, had I been there. That’s one way to treat your staff to lunch! He cracked me up later on with the remark, “I never thought I’d have a bobble-head…” LOL! 🙂

“OUR” GENERATION – “The hand that we were dealt – this is a challenge for our generation.” This president is barely a year younger than I am. Because we are part of the same age cohort, he is a leader with whom I can identify. We grew up listening to the same songs on the radio, watching the same sitcoms, learning about the same world events on the news. He was shaped by the things that shaped me, too. I really feel that he “gets” the challenges facing people of our age – the fact that our mortgages are upside down and our retirement is in the toilet and that the most important thing he can do for us is fight to lower the cost of health care, because at our age, we’re going to be needing that very soon.

FINAL THOUGHTS – I appreciate that Obama is smart, personable and articulate; he represents the best our country, our generation has to offer. I don’t approve of EVERYTHING he does or will do, but I’m overall very satisfied with him so far. I think he was handed a sack of shit, and he’s doing his best to turn it into something useful that can be brought forward into the future. May he be successful, for ALL of our sakes.

An exercise in geekery

I’m a girl geek from way back in the dark ages, when the internet was either green or amber text glowing against a black screen. Over dial-up!

Well, I’ve got big girl toys now. This is my first attempt to post using WordMobi, an application in beta from Nokia. I just installed it on my E71 smartphone. It uses the Python language, so I had to download and install that too. I wonder if I can attach a photo?

20090604_225659.jpg

Wow, it let me take a photo and inserted it into the post. It did not allow me to access zoom or focus, though.

Posted by Wordmobi

Healthcare is a consumable, let’s act like consumers

Why aren’t medical practices being run like consumer businesses?

Why should I pay in full BEFORE services are rendered?  Do I hand over my money to Publix supermarket and walk out of there without my groceries?  Do I pay Toyota BEFORE they fix my car? Of course not!  So, why should I pay the dentist in advance, when I’m not going to walk out of there today with my crown?

And why do we need insurance, anyway?  Insurance is nothing more than legalized gambling.  The insurance company is betting that the consumer will not get sick, and the consumer is betting that they WILL get sick. And isn’t that just putting negative karma into the universe? If you EXPECT to get sick and prepare to get sick won’t you … get sick?

We would not need insurance if the rates were reasonable and competitive. Why is there no competitive pricing from which consumers can choose? “Crazy Dr. Eddie – his prices are IN-SANE!” (I think only people from the northeastern USA who grew up in the 60s and 70s will get that reference). If competitive pricing were in effect, we’d be able to afford doctors and surgery and dentistry without insurance, and without taking out a second mortgage… that is, if we can even qualify for a mortgage these days.

Medical professionals say they have to charge so much because a) they owe so much in student loans, and b) malpractice insurance. Again with the freakin’ insurance! If it wasn’t so easy to sue people these days, they wouldn’t need the freakin’ malpractice insurance! And if education wasn’t so exorbitantly expensive, they wouldn’t have quite so much in student loans.

What the world really needs right now is for someone to find and push the global economic reset button.

Is there anybody… OUT THERE?

I’m fascinated by a Beatles song called “I Will”.

Who knows how long I’ve loved you?
You know I love you still.
Will I wait a lonely lifetime?
If you want me to, I will.
For if I ever saw you
I didn’t catch your name
but it never really mattered
I will always feel the same.
Love you forever and forever
Love you with all my heart.
Love you whenever we’re together
Love you when we’re apart.
And when at last I find you
Your song will fill the air
Sing it loud so I can hear you
Make it easy to be near you
And the things you do endear you to me
Oh, you know I will
I will.

The song seems to support the idea that there is someone for everyone, out there, somewhere – and that whether or not you’ve met, you’re already in love and always will be.

How can you love someone you haven’t met yet? How can you be willing to “wait a lonely lifetime” for this one particular person? What about the theory that there are SEVERAL someone’s?

If there are several someone’s, it would seem I’ve squandered all of mine. I sometimes wonder, did I give up on love, or did love give up on me? Was it really MY decision to be done with all that, or did the Universe decide that I’d had my chance(s) and blew it?

Being thrown into a chemo-induced state of early menopause at the ripe old age of 33 might have had something to do with it, too. I felt decidedly unattractive during and after chemo. You never know how much you depend upon your hair to feel attractive until it’s gone. After it grew out and I was feeling better about myself, I noticed that … no one was noticing. Not any more. I used to have some fun turning heads walking down the streets of Manhattan in my Victoria’s Secret power suits with a hemline up to THERE. But after chemo, after it had been confirmed that I was no longer child-bearing material, that all ended.

Did I look all that different? Not really. But it was like they knew – all the guys that used to wink, smile and wolf-whistle, they KNEW, somehow, that I could not process their DNA into little legacy beings for them, and they looked right through me. Maybe it’s pheromones? You know, like the little ant scouts that find food and send a chemical signal, and the next thing you know all their little friends are on your doorstep. Maybe the chemical signal dies with menopause. Or maybe it was more of a psychic signal, a change in my own attitude, that put them off.

It was a bit hard to swallow, and baffling too. But of course, not everyone is interested in procreating, and there were still dates to be had, just not with the wolf-whistlers. After a good run of disappointments, I decided to hang it up once and for all. I was done. All the energy and angst, for what, exactly? Was it better than being on my own? No, I can honestly say, it wasn’t.

So now, every time I hear “I Will”, I have to wonder. Is this person REALLY out there, unknown, but already loved, already loving me? Have I passed him on the street, or maybe bumped carts with him at the supermarket?

Can love REALLY start before you have ever met the person? 1 Corinthians 13 tells us that love is this, that, and the other thing, and that it abides. It endures, it continues… I guess the assumption here is “forever”, that love is infinite. Which means not only does it abide into the future, but it must also abide into the past, with no alpha or omega. Kind of like God.

If I never meet this person, or if I have met him but did not recognize him – if I must “wait a lonely lifetime”… then how can this love be real to me, and what was/is the purpose of its alleged existence? Or is it all just a crock?

Which brings me to the title of this post, inspired by Pink Floyd this time – is there anybody… OUT THERE?

I’ve got more questions about love than answers. As usual. As always and “forever and forever” 😉 And if anyone has an answer – even a partial answer – I’m listening!

Treading the fine line between "alone" and "free"…