I have found reaching certain goals to be less gratifying than anticipated. Perhaps some goals are better not realized, serve better by retention of enthusiasm.
Three things I personally find wrong with holding onto hate: 1. It distorts my vision. 2. It distorts my hearing. 3. It distorts my speech.
I'm not giving up! I got up this morning. That was a good start.
Individualism fades with age. Motivation is disrupted by stress of body parts. Age, like oxygen shortage, whittles at the recall mechanism, the ability to concentrate, and visual efficiency, and we find ourselves with smaller lives spent in smaller rooms, have small kitchens stocked with boxed food, make more sensitive phone calls, feel deeper, and if we do it right and well, can be happier, more at peace than before.
When you run into an old classmate, and he/she says you haven't changed a bit...you do know, don't you, that sometimes that isn't really a compliment?
Aging is a slow eater, not an especially attractive guest, but sometimes mannerly at the table of life as it eats you down to the soul.
Remembering with a smile: As with all things, kissing, in my opinion, is an art. A creative gesture between people. It goes well beyond the pucker and the press to a physicality with flare and substance. Done well, it is politely intense, not a mouse sniffing as it approaches cheese, not a high-speed baseball that knocks your head against the wall, not something that requires after-toweling. A memorable kiss has in itself-- hands, arms, a heart, creative soul and underlying etiquette. In all my life, only two...let's call one B, the other J, brought true mastery to the event. I salute them!
I love men. They are like that big, well-lit house you run to for shelter from the storm, or a protective garment, an overcoat of skin. They bruise language in the most delightful manner. When they work hard they glisten, smell of cut grass, and grab at air with hungry lungs. Some have nice patches of hair on their face and it's acceptable, whereas I must use blade or wax to extricate a pale moustache and sideburns.They walk with a long and confident stride, unconcerned with clods, sticks, rabbit holes, toward life's goalposts. When one is especially fine, he belongs not to specific place, not to specific time or activity, carries no burden of boast or disappointment, but owns himself to be strong in it and strong for his family. And his humor is bold, maybe even racy, his laughter-- exact and sharp, often an explosion. I love men! But at this stage of my life -- just not taking up space in my bathroom...