I was reading in WordPress management areas. They have many ideas for making money and getting your blog out there, for the masses to read. I have to laugh, because that’s the last thing I would want to do.
I do enjoy people reading my journal, and sharing bits and pieces of my life. But it’s like everything else; too many people just creates a cluster.
But it’s random. The people who are suppose to read it, do.
We are individuals, that the world works to harness, saddle and corral.
It’s not an easy thing to do these days.
Friends are the best. But everyone is not going to be in your tribe. Don’t waste time people pleasing.
Don’t compare your insides, to other people’s outsides. Meditate. Form a relationship with God. Be true to yourself.
It’s a long hard road. Stay out of the herd. Even Warren Buffet knows that’s the beginning of the end. When Warren talks people listen!
Read. Educate yourself. Cherish the night, but avoid the dark. Be a light. Help others.
Love God with all of your heart and Love your neighbor as yourself.
People first ~ Money second
*It’s 3:40 in the morning. I am in my study, in my cave, which is in my garden. We create our lives, with our thoughts. That’s how I got here, at this moment, in time. I am thinking of technology, WordPress, change, life and love. I am grateful for my fisheye farm platform. It assists me. It is my friend. * I normally use my own photos, but all of these intriguing shots are, from the FREE Pexel Pics. — I wonder what it will cost me.
I commented on a facebook post, confessing to a criminal act, that occurred around 45 years ago.
The post was about the struggles, of a single parent, working and living on a wage that barely made ends meet, and when the car breaks down, or the electric bill rises, the person can no longer keep up. They are in trouble. They slide down hill.
I had years like that, that were back breaking. Events in life, that were simple for others, were insurmountable hurdles, for me.
I am, in the count down, to exit. Yet, another exodus. Sure, it’s a vacation, and I am a tourist in Costa Rica, but it’s more than that. It’s a continuance of a dream. Yes, I know my abode will be there waiting, behind the fence of hibiscus, surrounded by bougainvillea, birds of paradise, a large mango, cacti, lemon trees, avocados and oranges. It always feels magical when I enter through that gate. It is my Oz.
The house is on a dirt road, adjacent to a large farm. No crops just land. It was originally a Spanish land grant, to the family that still owns a portion, of the tract.
A hotel, with all of the amenities is in front of me, and on the ocean. Their neighbor is the Costa Rica Sailing Center.
The town of Flamingo/Potrero is currently constructing a large marina. Playa Potrero, Pasture Beach, the one time home to a herd of cattle, that stormed the beach, in a slow saunter, to get their dose of salt from the ocean, is now going to usher in boats and more boats. You can’t have both. Cows and boats don’t mix.
Such is progress.
Here, I leave behind the billowing smoke of two paper mills, on the island, Amelia, which is also an international tourist destination.
Paper mills and high end condos don’t seem the perfect match either. Gone are the days of sand dunes and shrimp boats. Ah, who cares.
I have goals for myself. I always do.
I have to thank my sister Deena, her grandchildren, and my Crossfit group for the outcome of my most recent days; friends and family. And I don’t want to forget God, who never forsakes me.
This year is ending, and I have to say I had the one and only Christmas that I have everenjoyed. I have surfed on Christmas days and they were great, but I was hardly aware it was Christmas.* I have remembered yet another great December 25th. It was the first one that Rooster and I were together, in 1983.
My goals for the future are my health and my attitude.
Do you live in love and kindness? Are you surrounded by people that care for you and support your endeavors?
If you are unhappy in your existence, can you change it?
Can you walk into the unknown?
Or are your feet, blocks of cement, and your mind a hamster wheel?
Be different – Dream Big
I have not been writing. I have been listening to talks by Dr. Joe Dispenza. What a gift! I have turned many corners, following my daughters passing. And I am now more committed than ever to live en-joy.
1.A drunk, middle aged, uneducated redneck. Aimless and unknowingly lost.
2.A sad mother. She tried, working middle of the road jobs, going nowhere.
3.A whiskey drinker and business operator, at the end of his rope. Thrown into a world over his head. Living in a sink or skim environment, he is gasping for breath.
1. An elder retiree. She once was the boss. Having spent 35 years in a cubicle, pleasing her mother, she is stiff as a board.
2. Her sister. The big one. She thrives on chaos. As the younger ones surround her, she promotes, ill health, obesity and teenage pregnancy. She’s the hero.
There was the great escape. It included domestic violence and poverty. A step out of family. A run down the road. A deep, internal instinct that things weren’t right. Dodging adversity, with a never ending desire to change and elevate, the trot became a gallop.
Life is not about never failing ~ but rising from every fall ~
I have been on the island, for 18 months. My daughter had cancer. A long fought battle to survive, ended two weeks ago. Life requires more than a will to live. She never did relinquish. Her body gave out.
She’s in my mind.
A friend wrote me a note saying; grief is pernicious.
The day started out like any other. I checked my Facebook. Running Fat Chef, had an interesting post. She usually does. I have followed her, for a while. She’s a runner and athlete, not skinny. She is powerful and outspoken. I relate to a lot of her posts, about comments from people, concerning her body. I use to experience similar critiques, in my running days.
She mentioned the term “crabs in a barrel”; which I know as “crabs in a bucket”. When I first learned this term, I was in college. It was showed to us on a film. When you place, crabs in a bucket, if one tries to climb out, all of the other crabs will try to pull them back down.
The message I got from this is, don’t let them get you. Pull yourself up and over.
I earned a B.F.A.. My paintings were out of the box. When I graduated, my piece in the senior show, stole the limelight. People were angry. It was controversial, and if I do say so, it was good. I had to work hard to not let people sway me. The same as when I worked as a plumber, in the 70’s. I was told constantly, “Why don’t you get a job, in an office?” I got my master’s license and then became uninterested. I’ve always surfed. Women did not surf. I was berated as a youngster, for this endeavor. Seems strange now, but that’s the way it was, in the sixties. I left the country. (getting the hell away from people) Zero help from friends and family. I asked my mother if she would get my mail. She promptly told me, if I wanted my mail, to stay home. I went to Costa Rica, not realizing, the world was going to be, on my heels. It goes on and on.
Anyway, I know how people want you to be like them. Often it’s, with a job, in debt, out of shape, etc.
So, when Running Fat Chef, mentioned “crabs in a barrel”, and she said she thought it was a disgusting term, I asked her why.
Whoa!!! Did I ever step into a pile of shit.
I was told to mind my p’s and q’s. And that white women should be silent and listen. My internal response was WTF. I was told by another woman, on this thread, that I was being an ass. WHAT?
It was just a question. And I was being assaulted, by an angry mob of white women. I was viewed as being antagonistic to the Chef. Who is way to cool to ever behave like these whiney women. They see me one way, I see them another. Who the hell are they to critique my question. They were doing the same thing to me that the Chef talks about people doing to her. I told that woman to mind her own business. Nothing like a good, misunderstood barrage of crap, on the internet.
Of course, the Running Fat Chef, explained her perspective, and I PM’d her my thanks, and commented on some other posts. Like the one where she is in a pink sports bra and she gets asked, “Where is your shirt?” —– some people —
Anyway, the woman that gave me this joystick beat down, is as white as the glaze on a Dunkin Donut’s donut. She’s from New Mexico, and she’s a mental health counselor. Her goal in life is to spread joy.
I guess part of that is through policing Running Fat Chef’s page.
She said she thought I was a fragile individual. If she only knew.
I am as shattered as Tiffany glass, tossed from the edge of an empty septic tank.
If you believe that, you will believe anything.
I said good-bye to Running Fat Chef.
It’s the same as my beloved neighborhood. All these whiteys are ruining my day.
I thought it was time I let y’all know that I am black.
Thank God the truth has come out.
The truth will set you free, but first it will make you very nervous.