Ok. This isn’t working for me. While expressing gratitude is a wonderful thing, doing it publicly because I am influenced by what others think is an easy fix and something I do a lot. My blog is about finding balance for myself. Between conviction and cranky. Between want to and have to. Between what I feel and how I deal. I am angry. I am pissed. I am furious. I am doing the best I can in a world I created. I’ve been blaming everyone and everything for my own choices. I am lucky. I had, I still have choices. Not everyone does. It’s easier to blame circumstances, life, the universe. I made choices. Rather, I sat back and let the choices be made for me. I waded around in the river and let life get caught on my arm, wrap around my ankle like seaweed. I made a choice a week ago influenced by others. $@#%^* that #%^**+@!!! (See swearing, day 4). Don’t get me wrong. I cannot sit back and let the rage run the rest of my life. But until I can figure out who or what I’m so angry at, I’m gonna throw a tantrum now and then, cuss like a sailor, write what I feel, laugh too loud, cry a little, love a lot, sing and dance a bit, and create pieces like this….

From the Freak Flag series

carynjune 

…when the world is telling me people will only buy this:

  Teeny-Tiny Heart Bracelet
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And as for gratitude? The people I love who love me know how grateful I am for them, even when I am letting the freak flag fly. 

The Rockettes. Seriously. It is almost impossible to be sad or cranky when your watching the Rockettes. The dancing, the singing, The 3-D glasses !

  It is in the words of my husband, spectacular! It accomplishes exactly what it sets out to do, make us smile from start to finish. And like all 7- year old girls everywhere, it makes you wanna be a Rockette. In a good way. Not in a “Boo-Hoo, why didn’t I ever realize my dream of being in a kick line?!”kinda way. I didn’t feel envy or regret for not being a Rockette. I felt happy. I oohed and aahed with the crowd. I took pleasure in watching my husband’s face light up. It was fun. And while I wasn’t looking, the monkeys in my head slept. And I took a breath.  
 The Rockettes in the Early Days

Sooo grateful for the The Long Island Railroad. Always gets me to and from work in a timely fashion. Today that time was 12 minutes late. ^&^%ING %^#*!!! See Swearing, Day 4.

Swearing. Nothing better. When everything is going wrong, when life seems to hard to bear, close your eyes, breathe deep, and cuss at the top of your lungs.”%^*#^ing blankety-blank }#%^*er-$&%^er!!!”  There. Don’t you feel better, now? 

I am grateful for Mr. Rogers. I wasn’t a huge fan of Mr Rogers’ Neighborhood growing up. Being the cynic-in-training that I was, I found him a little syrupy and not particularly funny. The shame of that is that he was a precious resource for kids all over the world. The lessons he taught, to love and value yourself, to see that we are all neighbors, to look for the helpers, to be comfortable, to share responsibility for this planet we call home, are the tenets for a life well-lived. The most valuable lesson I learned from him is the oldest lesson in the book, you can’t judge a book by its cover. A simple, soft-spoken, mild-mannered minister taught and uplifted, and scolded and loved unconditionally.  And touched millions. 

  Mr Rogers singing a song about all of the fingers. Come on People! Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s Mr. Rogers!

I am grateful for my sense of humor. I’m a funny, funny gal. As grateful as I am that I can laugh at myself and at life, I am not unaware that I’m becoming a little like a sad clown. Making others laugh at my own expense. Its a very handy way not to deal with whatever the real issues are. “Well, that’s just the way, I am…Heh heh heh! Nothing I can do about that! ” How convenient. And sometimes, a little mean.  By all means, let’s laugh at life, about life, with life. A lot of it is #%^^*ing hilarious! And hard, and scary, and not always what we dreamed it would be. So, I would be eternally grateful if I would stop laughing at me, and laugh with me instead.

It has come to my attention that some of my readers find my blog sad. That by putting the negative energy out there in the universe, I might be alienating readers who relate  to what I’m feeling but want to see the journey, the process, the progress, the light at the end of the tunnel. And it’s sort of a vicious cycle. Someone once told me that you get from the universe what you put out there. For example, if you always put “want” out in the universe, you get “want” back. My first reaction was to get defensive. Or cry. I did a little of both. But I am nothing if not adaptable. I’m gonna try a little experiment. A kind of gettingvintage.com 2.0.Everyday, I am going to list one thing I’m grateful for. (Wait…is it actually a list if there’s only one thing on it?). Day 1:

 Tequila

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. A time to be grateful for all that we have. Health, family, dear friends, a job, a roof over our heads. And if the music in my elevator is to be believed, Santa Claus is coming to town! Oprah always recommended keeping a gratitude journal so one can see what one really has, and be grateful. And while one should be grateful for all one has, one can’t help feeling that Oprah has way more than her share and one would like to kick her in the shin. It’s painfully clear that one does not have a real grasp on this gratitude deal. One is pissed. In my last entry, I spoke of a friend whose beauty and figure and hair were, to me an unattainable goal and a source of envy. Being the wise woman she is, she called me out! She reminded me of the things I have, the things I take for granted, the things she longs for. A husband who loves me no matter what size I am and how much of a child I’m being, my family, my health. Things that I assume are my right, and will always be there. There are thousands, maybe millions of people who are sick, alone, poor, forced to leave their war-torn countries with nowhere to go, without hope. I didn’t earn my good fortune. It was the luck of the draw. It’s easy to be grateful for the big things. And I am. It’s the little things. Talent, creativity,  a sense of humor. The ability to acknowledge and appreciate the small steps forward and not beat myself up over the huge steps backwards. The wisdom to see myself as others see me, not how I’m afraid they see me. Small steps in a great journey. These are the things we don’t always see, because we’re too busy looking for the big stuff. Small steps, little treasures, hidden gems. Big life. Happy Thanksgiving all.  

 WOMAN PRAYING*

carynjune

*$10 from each sale goes to Breast Cancer Research Foundation.  #bcrf   #carynjune

Regret and envy. If they are not two of the seven deadly sins, they certainly should be. The other day, a dear friend posted this unbelievable picture of her torso, unclothed. This torso could have been 20 years old. Flat stomach, beautiful skin. Bear in mind, she’s the same age as me. I’m like, WTF?!?!?  I always hated her. I haven’t changed my profile pic in years because I don’t want anyone to see what I really look like.  I’m a  barrel with legs and questionable hair, with a face that’s starting to bear a striking resemblance to Karl Malden. My  torso looks like the sand dunes of the Kalahari and there’s a thing in my belly button that I am convinced grew around a cheese doodle crumb. I struggle to remember that even when we met at 19, I was in awe of her beauty, her fashion sense, and her hair!! Oh her hair! She had this quirky way of straightening it that I copied every night. With little result. I wasn’t her then and I’m not her now.  The hard part has always been accepting the fact that I will never be her, or her, or that skinny, pretty little thing over there. How does one get to the point where they can say “I love myself” and truly mean it. And without giggling. Even as I write it, it feels ridiculous. And as I get older, I struggle to feel that sense of peace that so many women claim they get in their 50’s and 60’s. That sense that they’ve raised their children and now they’re  gonna do whatever they want and not give a #%^ what anyone thinks. I long for that. I long for the ability to see in me what others see. I long for the strength NOT to blame my struggles on everyone and everything around me. It’s not just the flat tummy and gorgeous hair that make my friend beautiful. It’s that she is strong, and resilient, and loyal, and funny. And doesn’t give a ^*&$^% what anyone else thinks.

Namaste, LA

carynjune