Will the real (name) please stand up?

Who do you see when you look in the mirror?  No, I’m not trying to be a smart ass; and it’s not a trick question.  I’m being serious.  Because it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s your own true self you’re staring at.  In my experience, at one time or another, we’ve all created a persona we’ve sent out there into the world.

Sometimes it’s who, or what, others — like our parents or spouses or teachers — want us to be.  How many young men and women have become doctors or lawyers or firefighters or teachers or have gotten married or had children in an effort to please their folks — only to end up miserable because they wanted to do something else with their lives?

Sometimes it’s us.  We wish we were like a character we enjoyed in a book or a film.  Or more like a friend or colleague.  Someone we think is more interesting or more intelligent or more successful or more admired or more charming or more memorable.  Someone who seems to have a more exciting, more fulfilling life.  Someone who’s braver than we are.  More daring.  More adventurous.  Naughtier.  Funnier.  More

Well, they say it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind …

If I didn’t know better I’d say someone stole my brain while I was sleeping. Hell, who knows. Maybe it did happen. Something’s up, that’s for sure. Has been for a while, only I’ve just really become aware of it.

Kinda crept up on me, slowly. And it’s confusing the hell out of me, if you want to know.

When I look in the mirror it looks like me, but I don’t know, in some respects it sure doesn’t feel like me. Here’s the thing:

For as far back as I can remember myself — and trust me — it’s far, far, far back — I’ve been a city girl. I didn’t even know what suburbs were and I didn’t like ’em. All I knew was, sprawling ranch bungalows and big backyards and rock gardens and the sound of crickets and peace and quiet didn’t float my boat one bit.

It was always the city I craved. The more congested, the more traffic, the taller the buildings, the noisier — the more I liked it. My whole ‘being’ has always responded to the pulse, to the beat. It’s always made me feel ‘alive’. It’s always inspired me.

Gas fumes never bothered me. Neither did traffic, as long as I wasn’t stuck in it, behind the wheel of a car. I could sit in

Somewhere for me, myself and I …

It’s been a while since I’ve checked out the WordPress Daily Posts.  So I decided to see what I’ve been missing.  Lo and behold, I found something really interesting; and inspiring:

“An extra room has magically been added to your home overnight.  The catch:  if you add more than three items to it, it disappears.  How do you use it?”

Now I know why my cats were restless last night.  Their sixth sense must have been kicking in like crazy.  What self-respecting cat wouldn’t be spooked by the sudden appearance of a room that hadn’t been there before, one that was just down the hall from mine, over there, on the left, beside the living room?

And I guess I wasn’t dreaming when I heard a door gently close.  It was ‘real’ enough for me to open my

Now all I need is waterproof ink …

Funny, I was recently having a conversation with a former colleague about this very subject, and what do you know — it turns up as a Daily Prompt:  “When and where do you do your best thinking?  In the bathroom?  While running?  Just before bed, or first thing in the morning?  On the bus?  Why do you think that is?”

For me, it’s in the shower.  There I am, steaming hot water pounding down on me, drenching my hair, cascading down my face, releasing all the tension in my neck and shoulders.  I turn this way and that, making sure every inch of me gets wet.  Making sure every inch of me gets massaged.  Pummelled.  Relaxed.  Rejuvenated.

Without even realizing it, I sigh with pleasure.

Day 132. Humming Along

What a week this last one turned out to be!  Thursday night a fellow blogger, Evil Squirrel’s Nest, gave me the 2012 Best Blog of the Year Award.  And yesterday one of my posts, Day 120 I’m Afeared, was featured on FRESHLY PRESSED, right here, on WordPress.  All that, on top of you stopping by, reading my blog and taking the time to ‘like’, comment and share.  Thank you so much.  This is one heck of a community we’re part of.  I’m so enjoying getting to know you.

I love music.  Growing up there was always music playing in our house.  My mother had a beautiful voice.  My dad?  Not so much.  Me?  I had a boyfriend who said he was going to start a group called Fransi and the No Tones.  That should tell you everything you need to know.  He silenced me forever.  I don’t even sing in the shower any more.  We all loved listening, though.

And of course, I still do.  How do your tastes run in music?  Mine are pretty eclectic.  Soul.  R&B.  Blues.  Reggae.  Cuban.  Afro Cuban.  Some rock.  Some folk.  Some pop.  Some classical.  Some opera.  Some country.  Some jazz.  Doesn’t leave much I don’t like, does it?  Ahh, heavy metal.  Thanks, but no thanks.  No interest in ‘listening’ to a migraine.

Oh, I forgot.  I love soca.  In case you’re not familiar with it, it’s a style of Caribbean music (calypso), that originated in Trinidad and Tobago.  T & T’s also famous for Carnival, an annual two-day long bacchanal held on the Monday and Tuesday before Ash Wednesday.  People go from all over the world to

Day 111. Say Ohm

I’ve tried Yoga several times.  I like it well enough.  But I prefer Pilates.  While a lot of the movements and poses are the same, Pilates is all about building a strong core, at the same time as it builds your flexibility, strength and endurance.  It also puts emphasis on spinal and pelvic alignment, breathing and improving coordination, balance and posture.

The aim of Yoga, on the other hand, is to unite the mind, the body and the spirit.  It helps you become more aware.  It helps you find personal harmony.  It helps you relax.  All the while, making you more fit and energetic.

Probably the most significant difference between the two, is that Pilates incorporates both mat work and the use of special Pilates machines.  As opposed to Yoga, where your body’s own weight is used for resistance; and a lot

Day 26. Good Vibrations

I’ve taken guided meditation classes in the past, and although I no longer go, I do still meditate.  Probably not as often as I should, but I do from time to time.  And I keep promising myself that I’ll do it every day.  So I am very familiar with the sound, the intonation of Om.  I find it very soothing, and comforting.  I also like the look of the sacred symbol, itself.  So I decided, when I went to India, that I would look for one I could wear on a chain or ribbon, around my neck.

From the moment I bought it, I never took it off, even to sleep. Or shower.  Then, about six months ago, I felt like my neck was always irritated.  And sure enough, when I looked closely with a magnifying mirror, there was some redness around where the chain sits.  I bought another chain.  Same thing happened.  So I took it off before going to bed, thinking that maybe when I moved in my sleep, the chain rubbed against my skin.  Sure enough, the rash disappeared after several days.  At first I’d put it back on every morning.  And then, days would go by and I’d forget to put it on.  And eventually it just stayed in my bedside table drawer.

To be honest, I missed it in the beginning.  It felt strange, like something that had been protecting me was gone.  Sort of how you feel if you drive without a seat belt. But then time passed and I forgot about it.

Until the other day.  Life has been a bit stressful, lately.  Not life threatening.  Not life altering.  But not smooth sailing, either.  I’ve felt it.  And I’ve been carrying it around with me, which is unusual.  Wearing it, like an extra layer of clothing.  An unnecessary layer of clothing.  Which, actually, is stressful, in itself.  So back to the other day.  I woke up and my first thought was:

Where’s my Om?

The inside of the drawer where I’d put it, had become a bit of a mess (and yes, I did hear my mother sigh).  So I had to rummage through papers and little boxes and