Home Alone

I don't know if it's because I'm an only child and had to know how to entertain myself, but I enjoy the occasional home alone nights. When DH has to work late, it means it's a quiet night for me to watch what I want, while doing my nails after having carefully performed a blue-wax lip hair removal treatment. (Listen! I'm Mediterranean, it's in the genes!).

My parents were young when they had me and enjoyed a very social life. While I grew up with a lot of love (I'm still incredibly close with my parents), I was often left to keep myself occupied. My parents bought me lots of great dolls, games and books. But I have very few memories of actually playing with my parents. I loved TV, which I guess helped pass the time without needing company. I watched my shows (from cartoons to series that would probably be deemed inappropriate for children) and listened to a lot of music in my room. Played with my dolls and games. At night, no one ever read to me: I had these books-on-tape things and I'd just put on my walkman and turn the pages until I was ready to go to sleep. I think I was probably doing such a good job at being on my own without ever getting into trouble that my parents began to let me babysit myself at age 6! Something that is unfathomable to me today. (I'm smelling a new blog entry here: "Fucked up things my parents did that I would never do!" More to come.)

So, point is, I grew up with a capacity to just make the time pass... Up until I met DH, I always liked being alone. Sure, I had friends to go out with and boyfriends to bring back home, but at the end of the day, I liked my own company just as much. I knew DH was the one when life with him was better, brighter and more fun than when I was on my own. In fact, 99% of the time, I want him by my side.

But on occasion, I enjoy spending a night or a day on my own (I threw in the "day" part as wishful thinking, of course). Free to do whatever I want. Minutes turn into hours and I can honestly say, I had a great time all by myself. When I have the privilege of having my babysitter for the day, I doll-up for no one else other than myself and do a little window shopping, go for lunch and end the day with a nice latte somewhere fancy. All without ever feeling the need to call a single soul.

While no one would label me anti-social (No really. I promise I have lots of friends), I relish the quiet, the silence. And perhaps because I get so little of it these days, a night like this one is just worth sharing with all of you.

Now, if you'll excuse me...

Yogi Tea Wisdom to Live by

I have a bunch of blog entries sitting in my draft box that have never seen the light of day and probably never will. I worry sometimes that they will just pop out into the bloggesphere, like an evil plan to air out my dirty laundry. And by dirty laundry I mean blog entires that would qualify as incomplete thoughts, unfinished points, and aimless rants at best...

I usually start writing with a purpose. I start with a real thought. One that I hope will intrigue you, make you laugh or at least have you nodding along. And don't think I'm completely insecure in needing your approval, I do also write for myself. After all, that was the whole point of this blog. And then along the way, I get caught up in trying to be "clever," for lack of better word at this time of night. Why do I get in my own way, I wonder. Just write the thing, post it and see what happens!

I think therein lies my problem. I am thoroughly incapable of just writing something (or even at times doing something) without self-critisizing -- This could have been better written; You sound so dumb; What if they don't get it; Really?! Is this the best you can do?! -- it's quite sad, really.

So, before I start questioning this simple, random entry, I have decided to follow the wisdom imparted to me this evening by my Yogi Tea: "A Relaxed Mind is a Creative Mind."

I don't take to preaching at all, but I shall take master Yogi's advice and allow myself to just write without fear.