joypassiondesire recently posted the pic and quote below. It’s been my experience that people’s actions speak much louder than their words.
Show the fuck up.
I’m not sure where, how or why I’ve given off the impression that I am a robot and that my feelings don’t get hurt, but I need to rectify that. Immediately.
My feelings do get hurt, and I don’t like it one bit.
It is only something that I’ve come to recognize significantly while living in this city for the past decade. The influx of carelessness, and of last-minute declines (after verifying attendance) with weak excuses, of non-responses to texts or emails or calls – things I really never concerned myself with prior to 2003 because it very rarely happened to me, and I very rarely did it to others.
It is important to me to keep any promises that I make, or any commitments I take – even if I don’t feel like it, I will follow through because I. Said. I. Would. Should I be unsure of whether I can commit, I don’t. I’m a ‘maybe’ until I know for sure. My mother always emphasized how important it was to say what you mean and mean what you say. In other words, don’t say you’re going to do something and then don’t. It makes me lose faith in anything you have to say to me – especially anything that requires a commitment on your part.
So while my mother’s mantra has been my forte for as long as I can remember, I’m not sure it’s the vibration I’ve been sending out. As of late (or to be honest, prior to as of late), I’ve been attracting the least committed people experiences of my entire life! Which had me thinking…
Who have I NOT been committed to? Who have I blown off? Who have I told that I would do something and didn’t follow through? I’m like f***, no one!
Except me, of course.
So yes, some one. ME. I have a long list of commitments to myself that I have blown off for some one else, some thing else, some where else.
Entering a new decade of life – my most favorite decade – it is time for me to wholeheartedly release that which does not support me or my growth. It is time to acknowledge and respect and commit to the most important person in my life.
I am revamping my life.
revamp [rēˈvamp/] – v. – 1. give new and improved form, structure, or appearance to.
Yes, it’s about time. Not only am I leaving the big lights, camera, and action of the past ten years, but I’m moving towards a goal that I have held for a long time.
Not only am I working towards this goal, but I am working on how I think about this goal. I envision the people I wish to surround myself with, and how I wish to interact with them. I see how this goal continually expands as I dare achieve it. I think about my life and how it is changing. I think about the lessons learned and the regrets averted. I feel there are some things I let slip through the cracks over the years, but now I know better. Yet, I also think about how good I feel in the process of this revamp.
More importantly, I recognize that I am actually revamping me.
Little things have shown up consistently in my life that confirm I’m moving in the best direction for me. I like to acknowledge them every chance I get. I high-five myself in my head.
I’m feeling good and I like it. As a matter of fact, it’s my most dominant intention that I feel good.
Did you know that it’s good to step out on a limb every once in a while? That’s where the fruit is.
Have a spectacular week, i miei amici!
I don’t. Usually.
Actually I do, but not on purpose. Quite the opposite of my attitude while I was in Italy – where I would walk all the time, anywhere, anytime. But not here in America. I always think that there isn’t much to see here, unless I’m at the park.
I just started walking to my local library instead of driving. It’s a nice little 20 minute uphill/downhill walk both ways. Its funny the things you see as you walk, that you automatically ignore when you’re in your car. I noticed this:
And this close up:
I’m getting to know my neighborhood in a whole different way. I’m sure I would have never seen this carved into the sidewalk if I were driving by:
Its also funny because sometimes I get odd stares when I walk, I guess because most people are only used to seeing teens or the elderly walking along the street. Or maybe they are wondering where I’m headed to. Or why I don’t have a car.
Either way, its good exercise, and as long as I can do it, I will.
Thinking of espresso again today, I want to note that of course I found my favorite coffee spot only a few days before departing Roma last year!
I was supposed to meet an SGI member at Stazione Termini for a morning coffee that day and she stood me up. Anyway, instead of walking back along my normal route home from Termini, I decided to walk a few blocks out of my way. I ended up going to a cafe and ordered a macchiato and cornetto, but they didn’t put latte in my cafe so I drank it without. I couldn’t remember if a macchiato had latte or not, and I didn’t feel like asking. Anyway, I left there and continued to walk out of my way and came upon the Piazza di Santa Maggiore. Ah, finalmente! The place on my map!
I saw a stylish looking cafe across the street and decided to try this cafe thing one more time. First off, the gentleman at the front greeted me kindly, and in my broken Italian, I asked for a cappuccino. He was very nice and told the barrista what I wanted. The workers were young and multicultural — it looked like every nationality worked there. I loved it! And they were all very friendly and accommodating – I guess so, since I was the only person at the bar!
I never had a chance to return to the cafe before I returned to the states, however, I will stop by again the next time I’m in Rome.
To the city with the best coffee in the world – Ciao Roma!!
Before I traveled to Italy last year, I had moments where I thought it best that I brush up on my Italian. At the time I had no idea I was going when I did, I just thought it would be a good way to improve on what I knew already. I wrote this to myself:
I was shopping in Barnes and Nobles (yes, there are still some standing stores!) for a friend’s gift the other day when I came across a cd set in the bargain section for learning Italian while you drive. I immediately snatched it up!
I’ve been playing the cd’s for the past week now, and I must say I’m impressed with myself. The instructions and sample dialogues have songs to assist you, and it’s actually quite helpful. So helpful that I find myself breaking into song at random moments in my day! My colleagues giggle at me because my outbreaks are really quite random – I could be in the middle of filing and start singing “Un momento per favore” or “Gli daró un messaggio”, or even the entire Italian alphabet. Most of the material is a review for me, but since I haven’t practiced much since I took my first class several years ago, I feel like it’s still one step closer to fluency.
Alex the security guard, whom I drive pass each day, heard the music one morning and thought I started listening to the Disney archives. Funny that he didn’t think it was odd since he’s heard all kinds of music coming from my car on any given day.
Who knew that learning Italian through song would be fun? Because I”m on the tail end of that party. When I first began, I would constantly miss letters in the pronunciation of the alphabet in Italian. I’d struggle with some words here and there, or think that I heard one word when it really was another. I’m proud of myself now that I can recite it without pausing. In song though, only in song.
It’s time for me to break out those cds again. Practice and repeat. Practice and repeat. Pratica e ripetere.
Now see, just when I wrote a positive review of your revenge fantasy flick, here I read that there were some Django action figures on the market.
Although I liked Django, I did not like him that much. My child (the one I expect to have in the future and any other children I decide to adopt) will not have a Django action figure. Or action figure of any other such character in the film.
And then I see a pic of Quentin with his hand wrapped along the lower torso of a naked Black woman, on the cover of a magazine I can’t recall at the moment since I saw it in my twitter feed.
Ok, yes, I agree with causing a stir and all, but dang, how many times do I need to see yet another devaluing of Black women in popular culture?? It’s so funny, because I’m writing this after standing in line at a Barnes and Noble, where there is a rack of magazines near the coffeebar. Out of the six magazines, four covers show women smiling, with fitted tops/collared tanks and bikini-esque bottoms, while the Bicyling magazine shows Patrick Dempsey standing next to a bike with layers of clothing on. The last magazine showed a smiling Kate Middleton, wearing a dress that fully covers her body. So, if I were to analyze my split second perusal of these covers, what it might be telling me covertly is that unless you’re a princess, you better expect to show off your body and as much as skin as possible — no matter how intelligent or talented you are — if you want to be on the cover of this magazine, or *gasp*, valued.
Yes, sex sells. But these magazines assume that heterosexual woman don’t like sex. Or that sex is only represented by the naked woman’s body. I honestly don’t picture another woman when I think about sex, I think about the man! So if sex does sell, why is it that a woman’s perspective of what could be considered sexy is never displayed? Especially when woman make up a majority of the people who actually purchase magazines?
I didn’t expect this to turn in to a sociological review, but that’s what happens when things start popping out at me. Oh, this has gone on a totally different tangent than I expected, hasn’t it? Sooo, anyway —
Quentin – get it together! Thank you.