I know I have been radio silent… to a degree I’m sorry, but kinda not. I did promise “something nicer next time” and maybe I set myself up for trouble by doing that. I’ve been working on writing new stuff, but have been having a rough go finding words. I will have something to post soon, but have a feeling it won’t be what is expected. I seem to be spending too much time trying to provide something witty or with some underlying nugget of wisdom – trying to fit some mold of what I think others want. I didn’t start out writing for anyone but me. Writing was a catharsis, a means to release my feelings. And unbeknown to me when I started, was an extremely useful therapeutic tool. I miss the freedom I felt when I started writing almost 8 years ago. I miss being fulfilled by even posting something so simple as:
It has been a while since I’ve written anything, but what better to pull me out of my writing slump than food. The tamale lady came to my office today. The beautiful amazing tamale lady. Why is she beautiful and amazing??? She had chili-cheese tamales and she doesn’t use lard. Oh Happy Day!!!!!! I am sitting here at my desk enjoying the bounty of her labor, toasting the beauty that is the Mexican culture and it’s fine cuisine. My mouth is on fire and yet I still smile. oh yes it will be a good day.
The Israelites /2004
That I posted in December ’06.
Or in November ’05 when All I wrote was
I need more cowbell…
It was easy to just be free. Of course I didn’t post status updates of Facebook and there was no Twitter so my writing was it. I will figure out what to do to change whatever it is that I need to, in order to find fulfillment in my writing again. Maybe I have already answered my own questions.
Until then I wanted to share a about a woman who no one really knew about. She was discovered by accident after she died. Who knew what could have been different for her, maybe she would have flourished (though I doubt her work could have been better) or maybe it would have stunted her creativity. I hope she was happy and fulfilled by taking photographs in her day-today life.
I hope today you have a moment for you that leaves you fulfilled. I just did. with love & solidarity ~sars
Sometimes it’s just like that: when you‘re on vacation and the only t-time you can get is the six-am , but you take it anyway; mostly because you know the course is beautiful and your dad who is on vacation with you won’t mind the Bailey’s in the morning coffee, (so the hang-over doesn’t really start as soon as you try to grip the club).
I’m learning it’s the attitude you jump in with. You could be pissed that your only time away from the day-to-day grind of life is being interrupted by a 5:30am wake up call – by your mom no less – or you could be stoked that you are with the pops on a beautiful sunny morning- before it’s fry-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk hot, while he pays for brunch at the turn, and Bloody Mary’s are included.
We make the choice every morning what the day will be. There are those days when we make Par-5 on what’s really a Par-5 (doh!) so midway through we have to adjust our stroke (I’m using the theme here, go with it).
the beauty of life is choice. We could look at everyday (alright, who am I kidding?); I could look at everyday as if I’m the ball, the club, or the player. Some days I really am the ball and I get the shit beat out of me every few minutes. When I think there’s a reprieve, not so much… it’s just the turn and the players are resting up before the back nine to beat the shit out of me again. Other times, I’m the club waiting for my chance to show off my shit, only to learn, it’s all dependent on the player. I could be primed and ready with all the stuff I need and my player is having an off day then damn it – so am I. (What is that all about?)
Some days you can choose to have a great attitude, but you are the mercy of other things, for some it’s scheduling or finances or whatever, and for some it’s their body just not wanting to cooperate; ether way, neither the club nor the ball chooses the day. It’s all dependent on the player. The player controls how much practice they get, whether they are mentally prepared to be up at 6:00am and ready to play, or whether they just want to have a round of whack-fuck with the boys and enjoy the weather.
It is all a daily choice. We can be the ball and get the fuck whacked out of us at the whim of others, or be the club and do the whacking, but never know when or where. I think it far better to take control and be the player. Choose the course, the ball, and the club of your liking. Most importantly: what state are you in when you take the perfect club and whack the fuck out of the ball for yourself (it doesn’t mind). Grab each day with all you have and know you will come out on top. Make the day yours and own the course. After all, isn’t that how you earn the right to be a Tiger? Oh, er, wait.