You can’t…

“You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you might find
You get what you need”-Rolling Stones

To have
teeth, white as fresh snow that bedazzles the eye, I want that expensive Sonic toothbrush

To have
the cleanest floor, one a Queen can eat off without plates, I want that Roomba

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To have
the fittest body, tight in the right places and loose where it ought to be, I want that Equinox membership with a personal trainer

To have
the best frying pan, that distributes heat evenly across its radius, frying food to perfection, I want a Le Creuset Toughened Non-Stick Shallow Frying pan

To have
the best running shoes, that will propel my body forward, moving faster than any others running with mediocre shoes, I want the Nike Zoomx Vaporfly.   squareSole-Trees-usage-pictures-162.gif

To have
the best piano, whose strings would bring out the highs and lows of classical music, the best of my banging, I want  a Bösendorfer

Well…

I can have all I want in my mind
Because the money to buy the things I want
is not sitting on fluffy golden cushion in my bank account

At times, the want is not what I need.

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Once or…one time only.

Once,

I dated a Boy who loved me and whom I loved.

This sensitive Boy was a poet who composed songs with fragile words on a guitar.

I,

was the girl who recorded black and white visuals of everyday life on an Olympus camera.

Alas,

the Boy needed care in ways which depleted my heavily guarded plethora of emotions.

Drained,

the guard broke, and I left, taking my reserve with me.

The Boy,

recovered, found strength in his songs with fragile words on guitar and now tours all around the states.

His followers,

follow him in awe of the songs with fragile words on guitar.

Once,

I dated a boy who looked like Sting.

This boy,

was an aspiring editor who cut through slices of life with no remorse.

I,

was the girl who recorded black and white visuals of everyday life on a Nikon F3.

I,

married the boy who didn’t love me but loved what I offered in terms of him moving ahead.

Sycophant,         Image result for sycophants

is what a co-worker once called him.

I,

did not know what the word meant and looked it up in hardcover bound dictionary.

Sycophant,

suited him well for he used people for his own benefit.

The Boy,

who composed songs with fragile words on guitar was far more truer to himself.

He,

reached for the stars when they were out of reach and grasped a bunch that paved the way for his travels.

I,

self-sacrificed my recorded black and white visuals of life on a Horseman 4×5. For no one said I was good enough and I was not true to myself.

The boy,

moved on, to a sycophants’ ultimate dream of scoring one who had connections that would propel his self to a lucrative outcome.

Pity the boy could never relied on his own strength and worth.

Tara-Habby Natural Born Killer or…”I killed a mouse and got away with it.”

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Tara-Habby came to Berkeley Place as a kitten, curious and full of, well…serious attitude!

Who would have known this independent, my way or the highway kitty would grow into adulthood with a ‘tude (attitude) of ‘God save the Queen’ (she is the Queen­—all others, peasants).

The Hab lived with mom and each respected the others’ routines and weirdness. With mom’s passing, she was confused, normalcy disrupted and left alone for long periods of time in the apartment she shared with a person no longer there.

As I was also going through grief, I felt sorry for Tara-Habby. We bonded as kindred souls missing the one who loved us unconditionally. Not sure if grief is over for her as it isn’t for me.20545222_10214218078151672_6773839232260018413_o

She’s adapted well to living in a household with three cats, bent on dethroning her reign with a stint in the dungeon ending with a beheading!!! The greyhound she accepted as I believe she thinks dogs are stupid and not worth the stress.

And yes, the greyhound is basically Santa’s Little Helper.

Tara-Habby is a natural born killer of mice. No compassion, no empathy, no nothing…

She’ll taunt and growl as she plays soccer with their precious bods and although I have tried to intervene, she manages to grip the mouse in her mouth, threatening me, sort of like, “If you come one foot closer I’ll off the head”.

She drives me crazy, but alas she is my mother’s cat as I am my mother’s daughter.

Happy New Year Tara-Habby!

 

 

 

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The way we were…

The Way We Were…

The way we were is no longer but has become the way we are.

The way we are is ever changing, here today gone tomorrow.

Here today and gone tomorrow are the fleeting bits of reality we wish didn’t exist.

Fleeting bits of reality we wish didn’t exist are here to stay.

Here to stay with nowhere to go, we struggle to swim in what is now.

Struggle to swim in what is now is no easy feat when it was so easy to swim in the past.

So easy to swim in the past when waters were familiar, trusted and predicatable.

Waters were familiar, trusted and predictable when the way we were was in the present and not the past.

The way we were was in the present and not the past but the past no longer exists as it went out the door October 2018 and never came back.  

October 2018 will never return and neither will you so the way we were has now became the way I am.

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