Dear Early Thirties
Here I go, blogging again after two years! Quite inconsistent I am!
I've been remembering a time 29 years ago, when I was in (unrequieted) love, & in my professional music element! I can't even remember how it all came about, but I was asked to join the local city professional Army Band as keyboard player, to learn around 45 charts in two weeks. All in readiness for a V Day ball (come dressed in the era). I certainly went all out, & looked pretty sharp, even if I do say so myself!
I starved myself, didn't think to eat on the night, & got quite drunk later. The only night I ever stayed out all night. Woke up in my black tulle and satin gown on the conductor's dais in the rehearsal room! Shocking! The object of my useless affection had left quite a bit earlier...apparently.
He turned pages for me for another call I had, then asked if I woukd play at his upcoming wedding. Of course I couldn't quite come at that, & that's how things were left.
Now, years later, I know he is still happily married, teaching at a private school some distance away, and has four daughters. I will never forget. I have chosen, after a couple of affairs & flings, that I amnot a relationship person. Lots has happened since-death of my father, decline of my mother, cancer for me, financial ruin with that, marriage of my son, and a grandson. I am slowly getting back to reception/office work, & most recently, playing keyboard. I have Christmas "gigs".
I will never forget. I am very happy for him, truly. But now, not because of that experience alone, but because it's just how things have moved along, I do not consider myself a relationship person. I just can't do it. Will continue to try and fill up my life with sufficient pleasantness not to miss being part of a couple.
Saturday, December 12, 2015
A New Idea for Clarity
This blog will take the form of letters to various events, experiences, people, epiphanies that have impacted on my particular life journey. I will use it as platform for free expression, the occasional rant...but always a step towards "sorting" all the various stages and compartments of my life so far. I hope to achieve clarity, a certain freedom and positive frameworks for building a happier, calmer and more fullfilled journey. It will probably end up being chronological for the most part. Also, hopefully, a tool for "letting go" and "moving on".
Dear Childhood,
If I'd have known how hard and devoid of "speaking up" it would be, I feel sure I would have chosen not to go through this part of my life. I remember being part of a loving family, but my gosh, "difficult emotional stuff" was never talked about or shared. Is this why we 50s kids are reasonably screwed up? Anything new my sisters and I discovered in play or at school seemed to be scrutinised and commented on by our parents and other elders before we could even consider including them as part of growing up.
For example, I always wanted a barbie-my parents thought she was vulgar (perfect plastic breasts, delicate feet always in high heels, and that face? just not very nice!) So we were given tammy dolls. Same idea-more demure. We still loved them, and our versatile mother employed herself endlessly supplying hand sewn or knitted outfits for them. Now, as an adult, I still needed to get the barbie thing out of my system, so I collected them later in life.
Dear Childhood,
If I'd have known how hard and devoid of "speaking up" it would be, I feel sure I would have chosen not to go through this part of my life. I remember being part of a loving family, but my gosh, "difficult emotional stuff" was never talked about or shared. Is this why we 50s kids are reasonably screwed up? Anything new my sisters and I discovered in play or at school seemed to be scrutinised and commented on by our parents and other elders before we could even consider including them as part of growing up.
For example, I always wanted a barbie-my parents thought she was vulgar (perfect plastic breasts, delicate feet always in high heels, and that face? just not very nice!) So we were given tammy dolls. Same idea-more demure. We still loved them, and our versatile mother employed herself endlessly supplying hand sewn or knitted outfits for them. Now, as an adult, I still needed to get the barbie thing out of my system, so I collected them later in life.
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