Circular Context (in order of appearance/awareness):

I don’t know about you, but I have a—love/hate’s-a-strong-word—relationship with social media…

Weeks ago I became soooooo annoyed by FB postings promoting “noble” offerings…and, I allowed myself to be driven to distraction…

(*A—takes-a-toll-(booth)—location tucked behind Girl Power and Goddess Lane.  There, you find side-hustle dressed as empowerment and unity…

(“I’m-here-for-you”) self-interests promising to uncover the amazements that’ll make you worthy of celebrating your God-given magnificence—once you buy (into) a proliferation of anti-aging creams, diet supplements, cute clothes, workshops…blah, blah, blah…

Money-grabbing schemes urging, “If you don’t want to be left behind, ‘Buy, Buy, Buy’ “…

All in hopes that we’ll ignore the—“yada, yada, yada”—small print reserved for critical thinkers…*)

But, as it often does (especially powerful after I’ve harbored ill feelings), Facebook includes posts that have me thinking, “Sorry, social media…it’s not fair of me to shoot the messenger when I don’t like the delivery…there are many times when you soooooo get me!”).

Case in point,

“Kinda tired of being okay with things I’m not okay with.” (Word Porn)

“Yes, and so true!!!”, I cry inside (and out).

For, I’m determined to feel all that I feel; and to honor the thoughts that, in the past, gave my inner-critic free reign to run amok (and a-mock) with my self-worth and optimism.

And, no, I’m not giving myself permission to be bitter and self-righteous—sitting in judgement of those trying to earn enough to feel like they’re enough…

Instead, I’m rejecting the lure of Spiritual bypass…

‘Puts me in mind of Kanaan’s poignant 2012 hit, “You Can Hurt Me Tomorrow”—

(Chorus)

“This ain’t a good time,

But when is it ever,

I know the perfect time,

And baby, its never.

So, don’t you dare leave me now,

Throw my heart on the ground,

‘Cause tonight ain’t the night for sorrow…

But, you can hurt me tomorrow.”

Instead of taking that romantic tact, I’m doing my all to embrace a spiritual practice that includes sobbing harder than I ever have; and howling more often than I ever would’ve dared or imagined (sometimes, aloud; often, silently….always alone, with mouth stretched wide)…

And, I’m experiencing the joys of laughing way harder than I ever did as a hormonal teenager…and marveling at a myriad of miracles and delights that, in the past, would have gone unseen…

Such is the magic and “madness” of healing…

So, this brings you up to speed concerning today’s creative offering. 🙂

Hello, Wonderfuls!

Tired of the expectation that she ignore the “emotional-elephant” in the room—

and that she tiptoe through the two lips’ command that she dress Elly Belly in a pink tutu while egging her on to traipse over eggshells—

E-lies-a Do-little-(more-than-survive) finally stood her ground.

“No”, (moving through another) Stage Mother!”

“I will not go-along-to-get-along!  I won’t imagine my inner child’s groan up to be Ella Fits-Gerald, and that they have a jazzy bond.. a Groovy Kind Of (can’t get my Phil of it) Love”…

“And, I’m not gonna think of her as Ella Gant—a poised pack-a-germ (free) version of herself…a sanitized reflection doused in Lies-all spray”.

“And, yes, yes, yes…. I remember what I’ve been taut…”

“That I’m supposed to stretch a—“Smiles! Everyone smiles!”—on my face”.

“But, you’ve taken Mr. Roarke out of context”.

“He wasn’t saying that everyone smiles…”

“There’s meant to be two calm-“Ah’s” between the smiles…breaks allowing for deep, relieving sighs…

“For, ‘No man is a (Fantasy) Island’!  This is real life…not an escapist vacation!”

“AS THE MOOD SWINGS” (part 2/2 weeks later):

Here’s the thing, Lovelies,

“Video Killed The Radio Star”, but it can’t stop me from starring in my version of “Ferris Beuler’s Day Off”.

(*Context, Trules, the Wonderfuls need context…*)

Oh, write…I mean, right.

I’ve taken to listening to the radio first thing in the morning (rather than only in the car)…

and, today, music has me feeling so awe(-and-then-)some that I called work and said I won’t be in…

So, even though we aren’t allowed to take “mental health days”, I’m handling my business like a boss, and making an executive (functioning) decision…

But–unlike Ferris, his girl, and his best buddy—I will not spend the day Duckie-ing (work-at-any-cost) principles and pesky (anti-soul) sisters 🙂

For, contrary to every John Hughes (“Beuller…Beuller…Beauller…” role) call of the wild,

it’s a rare thing when my Fairy Beulah’s day off features me delightfully breezing  through changes on gossamer wings…

However…I’m so grateful that I’m making quicker shifts…even if, initially, awareness sounds like…

“Holy sh*t!  Really, universe?  We’re doing this again?!”

“If I’m expected to commit—to give my all—I need a promise ring(s true)”…

“For, an—“I’m Still Standing”—mentality is hard to balance when I’m riding a George Jetterson treadmill….caught between, “Jane, get me off this crazy thing!”, and Movin’ On Up!”

(Part 3/2 weeks before part 1):

My adorable 7-month-old Cockapoo puppy, Beau, triggerd a spontaneous word-play that had me laughing with myself…and, the dominoe effect was this… 

My exuberant puppy is soooooo out-Beau-ing…

Hell hath no furry…

Beau kisses me with the urgency of a contestant in Jeopardy of losing his winning streak of naked affection….

And, that reminded me of a snippet I wrote weeks ago (after laughing at the look my Cockapoo, Wheeler, gave a yapping Beau)…

Dear Wheeler,

Your canopy of bushy, old-man-eyebrows isn’t sufficient to cover the hypocracy in your signature stare as you observe Beau’s bids for attention.

True, you radiate a stolid, and impervious sense of superiority as he implores you to engage….

But, tell me this—

Where is that impassivity when you spy a large truck—or leaf—-passing by the window?

Where is your “dignified (I’m-almost-two-going-on-80) maturity” then?

Oh, wait, I know!

It goes out the window to greet “antagonists” with a zeal akin to that of a heavy-metal rocker on the verge of self-induced whiplash.

Head, perpetual motion—and, ears flouncing with a flare Mick Jagger would envy—your harking barking calls for acknowledgement you are too “superior” to grant your adoring sibling…whom, BTW, I got (mostly) for the love of you…

However, even as I enjoy this small, smug victory at your expense,
you have me using the word “stolid” for the first time in my life…

So…perhaps you can’t be blamed for acting as though you’re the stuff of British Aristocracy….

Well played, sir….well, played!

Dearest Mother,

Mayhap, rather than pandering to your self-congratulatory critique of me, you would do well to heed your instinct to slumber while Beauregarde-Huggins and I embrace repose after being awake into the (“We have to) wee!” hours of the morning…

Dear Wheelmeister,

Why are you wasting breath talking to mom when you could be kissing her so fast it takes her breath away…

Dear Beauregarde-Huggins,

Why don’t you make like Jubilee and avoid me like the plague…

(*Slight pause…then, reverting to customary interaction,  my muppet-like moppet…my riot of curly exuberance…pounces on Beau; and they melt my heart with their joyful jostling. 🙂 *)

And, on that (makes me) high note, here ends my offering.

I love sharing with you, Terrifics….it doubles my pleasure to hope I’ve triggered insights and smiles.

Stay wonderful…and God bless you and yours. ❤

Affectionately,

Truly 🙂

P.S Context for my wordplay:

“Good Write, John-Boy” and, “Dear Wheeler” is a play on The Walton’s (1972) TV series that ran for 9 seasons…(“Good night, everyone–good night, mama–good night, Ben–good night everyone–good night, mama–good night, daddy–good night, children–good night, John Boy…”); Tiptoe through the two lips is play
on “Tiptoe Through The Tulips” (Tiny Tim’s (1968) hit); E-lies-a Do-little(more-than-survive) is a “My Fair Lady” (1964) pun…Audrey Hepburn played lead Eliza Doolittle…the male lead bets he can transform “a poor Cockney flower seller into one who speaks “proper” English, thereby making her presentable in the high society of Edwardian London”.  In the end, she reverts to her true self, and he loves her for who she is…

(*Side Note: Here’s proof that deep/multi-layered wordplay comes through–not from–me.  I wrote the “Dear Wheeler” musing weeks before writing the Eliza pun…and, having heard of–but never seeing the move–all I knew was Audrey Hepburn starred in it, and a “cultured” man teaches a woman to be a “lady”…*) 

Ella Fits-Gerald is a jazz legend, Ella Fitzgerald pun; pack-a-germ(-free) is a pachyderm (pronounced, pack-a-derm) pun (any mamal with a very thick skin)…

(*Again, proof that random puns are magical gifts meant to delight me when I realize how very apt they are…for, my spiritual growth has provide me with a “thicker skin” in the best possible way…all the sensitivity, but less prone to being “bruised and battered” by hurt feelings….and, it wasn’t until I Googled “pachyderm” to get the proper spelling that I realized I was wrong…I thought the term referred to mammals with trunks.*)

Smiles! Everyone Smiles! is a play on the opening line of the (1977-1984) TV show, “Fantasy Island”…Mr. Roarke says, “Smiles, everyone, smiles”; “Video Killed The Radio Star” debuted on MTV in 1981″, and it was one of the songs that came on the radio the day I stayed home; “Ferris Beuller’s Day Off” is a John Hughes (1986) movie, and if you’re a Hughes fan, you will get the “deep-puns” and Duckie-ing (Duckie) reference (from “Pretty In Pink”); executive functioning is a pyschology pun; “I’m Still Standing” (Elton John’s 2000 hit) played the day I stayed home/started writing the “music” portion of my post…and, came on again as I was finishing up yesterday!!!; (“I Keep) Working My Way Back To You” is the (1980) Spinners’ cover that played the day I stayed home…and, it suddenly hit me that it is a love song to myself…a tribute to the me I  was hyper-critical of, and mean to…the me that never gave up…the me who is finally reclaiming an inspiring, loving, trusting, healthy, makes-me-get-up-and-dance relationship with the me that (for decades) I thought was forever-lost to toxic socializations/the human condition.  

And, yes, as I danced, I sobbed with delight, relief….and the pain of letting go… ❤