It's a trap

I don't understand why I'm not independently wealthy.  Just doesn't seem right.
Bought a new car Friday, and I want to quit adulting for awhile.  Just want to open the moonroof, crank the tunes, and annoy the shit out of everyone driving around me.
Not too much to ask, right?

I would have loved to have anything remotely like I have now back in the day.  Couldn't have afforded the SOB, but man, it would've been brilliant.
And now that I can afford the SOB, I have to work in order to do that.
What fresh hell is this?

So.  Must work to afford car.  Just want to go drive car but can't because of work.
Quite blows.

I always thought it would be a great thing to be an adult.  All adulting and stuff.  Making decisions. Working for my own money.  Spending my hours like I want.
Ha.
Ha some more.

It's a trap.
I didn't have the knowledge I have now when I was young and so were my kids.  I didn't realize, at the time, how precious that time was.  I don't remember any Christmas Break or Spring Break with any degree of clarity.  But I do remember grabbing books from the library and going home to read FOR HOURS uninterrupted.
Total.  Complete.  Bliss.

Now most of my hours are spent doing something else for someone else so I can afford my shiny new car.  Her name is Pearl, by the way.  She's a good kid.

I will, however, instruct my precious grandson about what I've learned.  Teach him to embrace the moment he is in.  To not wish away time because it doesn't slow down.  It spins faster and faster.  I'll try and show him to appreciate what he has, when he has it.
And maybe view childhood and adolescence with a little more love instead of disdain.
I'll enjoy those moments with him.  Treasure them.  So when I'm old and dotty, he'll know that our time together was one of the best gifts I had ever been given.

And Syrus, don't grow up too quick.
It's a trap.
Love,
Mimi*

Every story is a love story

Yes.
I said it.

I'm prone to tangents.  I untether my mind and let it wander about.  It's interesting.

When I say every story is a love story, I mean it.

Love of another.  Romance Happily-Ever After.
Love of an object/item.  More like idol worship.
Love of self.  Any self-help book on the shelf.
Absence of love.  Any non-fiction that tells of war/hate.
Love of violence.  True Crime stories.
Love of animals.  Rescue stories.
Love of the unknown.  Adventure stories.

No matter what book you pick up, there will be love or the absence of love.  The love will be twisted and possessive.  Or the love will be hidden and demure.
But there will be love.

It's a funny thing, love.  It's an intense feeling of deep affection.  And we all have that.  Though some of us don't have it for other beings, we have it for other things.  If we're lucky, then we have both.

I love words.  Absolutely love them.  I want to snatch them from a piece of paper and crush them in my hand and rub them into my skin.  I want to roll them around on my tongue and taste the bitter and the sweet.  I want to inhale them into my being and let them disperse in my soul.

Every story deserves to be told.  All of them.  Whether to instruct or deconstruct.  Positive or negative.  Learning or leaving.  The story, itself, stands.

But perspective.  Ah, she's another beast.

We bring our perspective to everything in our lives.  Our jobs and family.  Our relationships and interactions.  Nothing we say or do is objective, even if we try to be.

But if you do everything with love, that will shine through.  People may hate it.  But that's okay.  That's their perspective.  That is their experience.
And we should have enough faith in our offering that we are able to understand how it may not suit everyone.
Even on the most beautiful day, someone will say it's too hot/cold.
But you and I?
Let's enjoy it.  Let's, shall we say, love it.  Because anything written from the heart is a love story.
Grins*