Just Kids

I was captivated and deeply moved by this book by Patti Smith. An artist I was immediately taken with-- from the first time I heard her debut album, "Horses." This, despite the fact that her music was outside the musical boundaries of my social stratosphere at that time (1975), when it had to be "the San Francisco sound", or Southern rock, pretty much. Something about Patti's darkly poetic style pulled me in. My Lake Tahoe contemporaries didn't get it. How could I call myself a Deadhead? Ah, labels...

"Just Kids" chronicles a magical time. A time of immense creativity, combined with the unbridled freedom to express it. A time that came and went like a white-hot flash. It follows the friendship of two incredibly artistic and misunderstood kids. Robert Mapplethorpe was Patti's first friend in New York City in 1969. They clicked from the start, sensing something remarkable in one another. That love and friendship propelled them both toward eventual success and major recognition.

And the rest is history... Smith writes in the most jaw-droppingly beautiful style. Such a tribute to her friend!

Throughout, I thought of my own wonderful friend and muse, James. When we met in 1979, it was love at first sight. Never physical love, though we shared a bed many times. No, this love was different. We both felt like we had finally met that person who really "got us", after feeling odd and misunderstood for the better part of our twenty-something years.

Through life's various misadventures, our love and mutual respect remains steadfast. Through heartbreak, marriages, parenthood, loss, and more. Some friendships didn't stand the test of time. They crashed and burned or fizzled out quietly. But not us. We made it through.

There have been occasional speed bumps in our friendship over the last 34 years, but it always come back to one undeniable fact. That we need each other in a way that no other friend or partner can ever fulfill. It continues to be a necessary force in our very different lives.

Someday, I will fill a book with our own stories. Some day.

Facebook Rehab

It's been a month since I deleted my Facebook account. Here are some observations...

First and foremost, I feel less overwhelmed/frustrated/agitated as time goes on. There were too many meaningless details in that world for my psyche to process. And most of those details had absolutely no bearing or impact on me personally. Yet there they were, all day, every day. From many people who would never think to call me on the phone, or send a letter. Since I speak to my 3 children regularly, I do not need Facebook to know what they're up to. The same can be said for my close friends--the ones I've known for decades. We communicate in other ways.

The thing that really clinched it for me was realizing that more than a hundred Facebook "friends" were observing my day to day happenings, and in some cases, I had never met them, or else we had not communicated since high school-or longer. And that made me feel strange. It wasn't that I had issues of any sort with these people, only that it felt creepy to share personal stuff with people I did not know.. Especially when they rarely, if ever commented or communicated. That felt like straight-up voyeurism, and there are countless lurkers out there, who want to read all about you, yet never share their own happenings.

Blogging is a better format for me. I generally think about what I want to post, rather than the stream-of-consciousness, share everything style of Facebook posting. My blog is an opportunity to write about what's happening, or express my opinions in a more edited and less in your face form. And it's kind of like a diary--a diary that now spans close to 8 years of my life.

The benefits of no more Facebook have been clear. Am reading books like I have not done in years, and am focusing on writing every day. I am less drawn away by the distractions, and able to be present in my new life here. I feel like my life is my own once again, and not public domain. My man notices the changes too, especially since he never submitted to Facebook. My father was on it for a time, until he deleted his account about 6 months before his death. He called to tell me that he was deleting it because he found it tedious, trite, and increasingly annoying. (He was never one to sugar-coat!) I am so thankful he did that, since there isn't much creepier than dead people's Facebook pages. Case in point? My man's now-deceased father's page. Where people STILL comment as though he is somehow seeing it. This despite the fact that he died over 3 years ago! Sigh...

I guess I just am not Facebook material, and am alright with this realization. Many I love enjoy it, so no judgement if you do as well.

Monday Meanderings

OMG! The pope wants a pass... First resignation in 600 years tells me there is something funny going on in the Catholic church, and I am not referring to their silly hats. Even if Benedict's sudden departure is due to health/longevity issues, haven't countless popes before him died "in office?" This news has startled Catholics around the world. Personally, I am thankful to have joined the ranks of former Catholics many years ago. One day in 1971, my mother announced that we would no longer be going to church every Sunday. Something I had done every Sunday of my then-young life, and that mom had done all of her 40-something years. Thank goodness she came to her senses. I know that she'd have been disgusted and dismayed, but not surprised at what has been revealed about the church over the last couple of decades.

It feels good to be writing here again. I have little doubt that some of my chosen topics may irritate, infuriate, or induce boredom, but that won't stop me. I had completely forgotten about Q, a commenter at a friends blog and here. Let's just say that his viewpoints and opinions are pretty much the complete opposite of yours truly. Five and six years ago, it was tough for me to not get riled-up by our differences. These days I am okay with varying opinions. Just know, Q, that you won't be changing my views, and I have no hopes of shifting yours to mirror mine. As long as things are kept civil and peaceful here, comments are encouraged and appreciated.

I'm reading "Just Kids" by Patti Smith--about her years with Robert Mapplethorpe. I am still processing "Start Where You Are", by Pema Chodron, which presented itself to me at an optimum time. Lastly, I admit that I am now shamelessly drawn into Downton Abbey, and was wondering what my reader(s) in the U.K. might think about all the fuss? We do not watch much sappy t.v. around here, but I admit to enjoying it, even though it IS sappy, and much like a soap opera with fancier clothing. I appreciate that it provides sixty minutes of frivolity and fantasy. A welcome escape from this week's murderous rampage, wherever it may be. Aloha!

On Returning

to blogging...

This time, I will write whatever the hell I want. For no one in particular... Just to set some thoughts free. Last time, the blogosphere became just another sort of clique.

So much of my life has been social. I liked it that way. In fact, there is an old family tale about my early interest in people. We had a wonderful babysitter named Colantha. She looked after my brother and me when I was 3-4 years old, while my dad was getting his master's degree and my mother was working. One day, when it was our nap time, a friend of Colantha's came by for a cup of coffee. I apparently heard the chatter of the two women, and snuck into the hallway to listen-in. Before long, I was caught snooping. Colantha scolded me, saying: "Anne, what are you doing? This is none of your business! I replied: "People ARE my business!!" And that pretty much describes me for about the next 40 years. I thrived on knowing lots of people, which kept me happily distracted. My old pal Jim even referred to me as the social director, and called it my "real job."

Somewhere over the course of the last ten years, that changed drastically. Blame it on menopause, my eye-opening job at Thanksgiving Coffee, or the disappointment in one too many long-term friendships. The fact is, I now thrive in solitude and adore the beautiful silence of our Hawaiian hideaway. Sometimes days go by, and I see no one but my beloved. There was a time when that scenario was my worst nightmare. No more. It's beneficial for introspection, writing, and just being.

Especially these days, when I am trying to come to terms with the death of my complicated, beautiful father, and the various intricacies of my grown children's lives.

I can't let myself get pulled into popularity contests anymore. I admit that this is no easy task for someone like me, who has spent far too much of her life worrying over what people might think. After all, life is so fleeting, so ultimately insignificant in the great scheme of it all.