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 wednesday, january 17Personal space My link yesterday to saranwarp's "please get out of my personal space" prompted Karen to muse about personal space ending with "In the past few years, I've worked hard at recognizing the barrier, but I still have no idea why people need to have it so badly." Personal space is a funny thing. I must admit, I'm pretty hung up on mine. At times I've felt like the shit magnet of the world. If something horrible is going to happen, well, it's going to happen to me. And for the longest time, it did. "To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness." - Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest I lost all three of my parents, mother, father and step-father within a relatively brief period of time by the time I'd reached twenty one. I wasn't ready though I don't think anyone ever is. Then I married a man who was all kindness and light but within five years had descended into an unending personal darkness. It ended badly. I was left with literally, nothing. That was six years ago, and much has changed both for the better, though sometimes a little for the worse. The result? A big, fat inner tube of personal space wedged around my middle. For every disaster and disappointment another blast of compressed air inflated it just a little further to the point where I must have quite resembled the Michelin man. Personal space can be very good for keeping people at bay. Then again, it can also keep people at arms length.
Pick One: "If you could pick just one picture that you have taken, what would that be.....?" I've linked to this before and I'm linking to it again. The 29-year-old Nova Scotia native who played Joe Canada has moved to the United States. "The beaver is a proud and noble animal. A tuque is a hat, a chesterfield is a couch. And it's pronounced zed. Okay? Not zee. Zed." Oh, and Plastic has a "Canadians" topic with it's own fancy icon. It was only a matter of time. Someone has been playing with his StorTrooper. "Nudity" warning for those faint of heart. Cock-a-doodle-do! I'd forgotten the conclusion to yesterday's title. Thanks to Shauna for the blush: "...and give him head whenever he wants!" - Sneakers. Yesterday? Be a beacon. |
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