Let’s see/// I’ve dated – an architect, an engineer, a bean trader, a financial planner, a mercenary, an air force veteran, a playwrite, a pharma scientist, a cowboy, an FBI agent, a developer, a truck driver, a salesman, etc… – and yet people ask me to ‘profile the optimal man’.   What the fark?

As my first husband would admit – I am a good person and some people find this offensive because it challenges their own ‘goodness’.   And every ‘bad action’ becomes a point of contention against my goodness or perceived goodness.  I didn’t think turning into a ‘bad person’ to save my marriage was really God’s will.

Not an easy choice by any means, I took with me three young boys ages 5, 2, and 9 months to raise nearly by myself for the better part of their lives.   I make bad choices in men.   A therapist told me I was a walking doormat.   I didn’t much care for her – I thought she must have an evil twin sister and they  pretended to be one another, or else she was simply bat crazy!  Giving her a justification was giving her too much as it turned out.

Yet.   The doormat analysis was not the first time I had been called to the plate.   The first time was by a girlfriend who became an ex-girlfriend.   She basically declared that same analysis – I was fodder to walk all over.   And she did!   Until – I didn’t.

The vast majority of people with whom I have encountered my entire lifetime – I would say are by and large – unfriendly.   Certainly, some feel obliged to be the Great Pretenders, and others are just rather obliquely obsessed with hating my ‘appearance’.

There are curses in every GIFT!

So I prefer the salutary way of being friendly and kind.  I smile and say hello.  I laugh loudly! Smiles are nearly always met with smiles.   It is the antithesis of being flipped off and honked at incessantly for making a road mistake that suddenly is about RAGE and they are willing to literally KILL YOU! Farkalicious!

One would think these were good traits and/or characteristics of a human… but that would NOT be my experience.   Since my ‘coming of age’ I don’t think I have yet to meet a man who didn’t take exception to who I am and immediately enter into a dialogue of how they can make me better, different, and even – most recently – “subject to the authority of their judgement”.   As in whoa thar horsey!

The conversation stemmed when I made the mistake of asking,  “Why would I want to be a registered member of church?  It doesn’t give me any different privileges?”   And the answer I received,  “Because if you are a member then you must adhere to the dictums of the Leaders/Elders of the church within their authority.”

OUCHALICIOUS!   How to really, really support my reticence of ‘joining’ any ‘group’.  Essentially, the point of joining is for them to control me.   Which is akin to putting a bridle on a wild Blue Roan.  Beautiful horse.  They dominated my sculptures.

My first Blue Roan sculpture I named Barnabas.   Suited him perfectly – a young colt, perhaps a year old – still of the youthful spirit!   A favorite.

So I stay to the sidelines and watch and make mental pictures of everything I see.   Like my brain is a camera taking snapshots for me to later pull up on my brain screen to study and analyze.   While this talent came to be quite useful when taking the CPA exam, its usefulness seemed to wane.

I loved sculpting.   Every second I could spend daylight to sundown in my studio working and refining.   The sun was an important ambiance, and so my studio was ¾ windows – floor to ceiling – a small Juliet balcony, and me.   Anatomy was a prerequisite that later made me a snob.   Disproportion that was not purposeful, gained my disrespect for the talent.   Perhaps harsh, but then I am quite a harsh critic of dance having been a dancer.  Career number One.   I know the heart of dance, the soul of dance, the technique of – dance.   And without all three, the dance is bland and uninteresting.

Music is the same.   There are technique afficionada’s who can play to a precise metronome – but lack any heart – and so the soulless music is no different than an elevator drone.  I don’t play to a metronome.   I play when something inside me tells me to go sit down and play.   And so I obey.   Often it is to relieve my soul.   To empty myself of the darkness that is our America.   The realization and the absorption that we are the bad guy is rather – overwhelming.   But ultimately, crawling into a ball certainly does nothing of value – so we have to find how we can be of value.   For me – that evolved into blogging.   Digging.  Researching.   Finding what no one else is talking about.   Uncovering hidden truths.   And of course – analyzing the psychopathic …

I read incessantly.   Almost exclusively psychological thrillers.   An obsessive need to figure out the plot halfway thru or better.  A bit of OCD.

So.  Whatever began this monologue of mine?   I suppose it has to do with my worldly wish that I could once experience the love of a male with the unconditional love I have witnessed in many others.  I know it exists because I have seen it, watched it, reveled in it, laughed with it, and felt such joy in watching it!   So amazing!   I just selfishly would like a taste of that chocolate…

A child of eternal hope I am.   It is not my nature to give up.   I don’t see what purpose that facilitates.   So.   I think now would be a good time to listen to my heart and go play the piano…