MAYBE THAT LITTLE MISHAP IN THE GARDEN WASN’T ALL EVE’S FAULT
Maybe she wasn’t getting enough quality time from Adam. She had to be bored out of her mind. She was listening to a SNAKE. No pun intended.
Boredom is a terrible thing and needs to be stopped. It is dangerous at any age. When a child is bored he gets himself into the most unprovoked trouble. When you are bored during middle age, complete families and lifestyles are in jeopardy and when it happens in old age it is pitiful. Do something TODAY to insulate yourself against that. Surely there is something you meant to do or learn or try that you have been putting off because you thought your everyday routine was more important. REALLY!!!!
You need a project! Become an expert on something. Develop an interest in some off the wall thought you had a long time ago and get involved. It is for your mental health if nothing else..
You know how I feel about ‘getting out more’. Stop creating such a small environment for yourself. Even if you are happiest when you are home, doing nothing, find something to do there that lights your fire before you go brain dead. The brain cells need to be used. (My cousin, Erm, tells me that when she gets into a retirement home they won’t have to teach her to chain stitch.) I concede to that option as well. It takes all kinds and that is the fun of it.
And stop letting society dictate what you should and shouldn’t be doing with your time and ‘self’. We get stuck in ruts that others have imposed. Maybe they need to stretch a little more themselves. Wear white shoes AND white gloves after Labor Day if you want to.
Stay up all night if there is a good movie on or if that is the only time you can enjoy the peace and quiet of the house. Find a new friend in a place you wouldn’t suspect. Stop worrying about whether you have enough in common to hang out. You don’t have to be alike to enjoy each other.
The most interesting people I know are quite different from me. I love that.
I have found people in unsuspecting places that broaden my world and my views and you would never have put us together.
When you become more interested yourself, you are more interesting to others. No doubt Adam was bored with her too. Remember though – they did have children so they were not always bored with each other. They just needed more challenges and to develop other interests.
I can play poker on line while watching a movie on the same screen with the Picture-In-Picture while I am listening to a very old country western album that I am still trying to learn all the words to. My next goal is to learn how to hook all that stuff up because sometime I will be expected to do that for myself as well as load the pictures from my digital camera into the computer and send them to you. I have to go…..I am very busy. (but not bored)
Sunday, April 18, 2010
MIKE AND ME……………………
I am an artist. Michelangelo was an artist. I am a Pieces, he was a Pieces. He is recognized by one name. Even the banks will cash my checks just like that. Coincidence? I don't think so. I was born at least 400 years after he was. He left (in my opinion) the world's most beautiful body of work. Our sameness ended a couple of statements back there. He had a HUGE influence on my life.
No, he didn't inspire me to 'become' an artist. I think artists are born. He inspired me, period. Fairly early in my life, we traveled to Rome to see Michelangelo's Pieta. For creations by man, it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and the thought of it still moves me to tears. I intended to cut and paste a picture of it to include in this article. I just couldn't do it. It would have been such an injustice. You got one of mine instead.
Even though he painted the ceiling of the Sistine chapel which is awesome, just looking at all of it makes your neck hurt.
But he really didn't even like to paint. He was commissioned by the church for most of his work and he didn't want to do that. He did that series of paintings for the ceiling, on the condition that the Pope stop making suggestions. Four years later he finished it but his neck was never the same. Neither, of course, was the art world.
His passion was sculpting. (My son calls him the 'true chipper'.)
At the age of 22 he did this magnificent sculpture, depicting the Mother Mary, holding the body of her son, Jesus. It is larger than life, made from one piece of marble. Even the task of finding the stone, having it carted by hand to the studio would be a story in itself.
But this finished piece sits in Vatican City in a dimly lit area with beautiful lighting. I went. I looked. I cried. I saw people walking by, barely stopping!! There is a lot of other stuff in there, but come on……..I was taught from my early youth about the death of Jesus. I was familiar with that story and I wasn't on a religious holiday. What I wasn't ready for was the talent of this young artist. That was God's work.
He shows Mary as a young woman, not the age she would have been then. I love artist's liberties. The story goes that when the piece was first unveiled, Michelangelo stood in the crowd and listened to comments by the viewers regarding the work. He over-heard someone give credit to another artist for it. It made him mad. He slipped in through the back door late at night and carved his name on the sash of Mary's robe (in immodestly large letters). He never signed another piece but I am proud of him for getting credit where it was due.
It is a true mystery to me that this is even possible. I think of that work on a rather regular basis. I just don't know how he did it. His 16 foot statue of David is impressive but I can look at it without crying. The Pieta I can't.
Put it on your short list of things you have to do.
I am an artist. Michelangelo was an artist. I am a Pieces, he was a Pieces. He is recognized by one name. Even the banks will cash my checks just like that. Coincidence? I don't think so. I was born at least 400 years after he was. He left (in my opinion) the world's most beautiful body of work. Our sameness ended a couple of statements back there. He had a HUGE influence on my life.
No, he didn't inspire me to 'become' an artist. I think artists are born. He inspired me, period. Fairly early in my life, we traveled to Rome to see Michelangelo's Pieta. For creations by man, it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and the thought of it still moves me to tears. I intended to cut and paste a picture of it to include in this article. I just couldn't do it. It would have been such an injustice. You got one of mine instead.
Even though he painted the ceiling of the Sistine chapel which is awesome, just looking at all of it makes your neck hurt.
But he really didn't even like to paint. He was commissioned by the church for most of his work and he didn't want to do that. He did that series of paintings for the ceiling, on the condition that the Pope stop making suggestions. Four years later he finished it but his neck was never the same. Neither, of course, was the art world.
His passion was sculpting. (My son calls him the 'true chipper'.)
At the age of 22 he did this magnificent sculpture, depicting the Mother Mary, holding the body of her son, Jesus. It is larger than life, made from one piece of marble. Even the task of finding the stone, having it carted by hand to the studio would be a story in itself.
But this finished piece sits in Vatican City in a dimly lit area with beautiful lighting. I went. I looked. I cried. I saw people walking by, barely stopping!! There is a lot of other stuff in there, but come on……..I was taught from my early youth about the death of Jesus. I was familiar with that story and I wasn't on a religious holiday. What I wasn't ready for was the talent of this young artist. That was God's work.
He shows Mary as a young woman, not the age she would have been then. I love artist's liberties. The story goes that when the piece was first unveiled, Michelangelo stood in the crowd and listened to comments by the viewers regarding the work. He over-heard someone give credit to another artist for it. It made him mad. He slipped in through the back door late at night and carved his name on the sash of Mary's robe (in immodestly large letters). He never signed another piece but I am proud of him for getting credit where it was due.
It is a true mystery to me that this is even possible. I think of that work on a rather regular basis. I just don't know how he did it. His 16 foot statue of David is impressive but I can look at it without crying. The Pieta I can't.
Put it on your short list of things you have to do.
GET DOWN WITCHU BAD SELF…………
And don’t leave too much on the table.
When I was diagnosed with cancer the doctor said my chances for a full recovery were pretty good, as long as it hadn’t spread into the lymph notes or elsewhere. Then it would be reduced considerably. I bet on the odds being good so I refused to worry about that too much. When I woke up after surgery, I learned that indeed the cancer had invaded about 40% of the nodes they had checked.
As soon as I could think past the medications, I decided I would focus my lifestyle on doing just things that I had been too reserved to do otherwise. There is something a little perversely liberating which strikes you, thinking you might not be around forever. Don’t ask me. I just write this stuff. It seemed sort of like a GET OUT OF JAIL FREE card.
In my real world, having been born and raised in a small town (not exactly Sin City) there were just so many things that I hadn’t done or even considered. But, I think I just wanted to find out if I had left anything on the table. I knew that leopards didn’t really change their spots but I thought I would just do whatever I wanted to. I had absolutely nothing in mind but started honestly running through ideas that I might want to try now that I had the free card.
I had never drunk an alcoholic beverage. Stop rolling your eyes. I also had never smoked a cigarette. I didn’t do those things because I decided as a teenager that I didn’t want to go down that road. The drinking issue was pretty firmly set by some long list of uncles with drinking problems. Besides, there was not a bar in town. I know it is not a huge thing but I can drink almost a full glass of wine now. I couldn’t even try the cigarettes. There are better ways to kill yourself.
During the chemo period I tried marijuana to reduce the nausea. That wasn’t for me. It is hard to get out of your comfort zone, even when you are trying.
I tried and conquered the idea of dressing any way I wanted to and forget how old I was (am). There was no reason for me to dress my age. Any kind of swim suit was fine. It is all right to shop in the Junior Department if that is the size that actually fits you. I wasn’t on a mission to prove anything. That really is a size, not an age. Anything that looked like ‘cruise wear’ had never appealed to me. It is usually boring. Now I would wear white shoes after Labor Day if I wanted to. (Baby steps.)
My next venture was to use four letter words any time they fit. Turns out they fit really often. I got a head jerk with those. I loved it. Still do.
I lost my last gallery with the cancer so I was ready for a new job. I chose what I thought would be a total departure. I worked as a professional poker player at night. That sounded a lot more risqué that it was. It was a beautiful room with some nice people. I made a lot of new friends but they saw right thru me. They knew the real me and I was still in there, safe and sound.
I tried several other ‘edgy’ things during that time and one of them was this:
Before bed each night I loved to go for a walk. I needed to exercise to get my full strength back and liked to fill my lungs with the fresh night air before I went to sleep.
We lived on a hill at the end of a cul-de-sac with no traffic and few neighbors. It was cold out. So my new edgy self would go out alone with just a little music in my ear and walk……… That was nice but not exciting. Then I pulled out a full length mink coat that never got to leave the closet in California. But when I wore that OVER my other clothes, it was a little too warm. So I started taking off “other clothes”. With just scanty lingerie under that satin lined coat, it made the walks a lot more fun………..Of course, it was dark and quiet but it worked for me. With that get-up and the music, the walks were more meaningful. Mostly it meant that I hadn’t saved that coat for nothing. I hadn’t come up with any other reason but it put a little smile in my heart. When someone would ask, “Are you still walking at night?” Yep. “Doctor’s orders?” Nope.
And don’t leave too much on the table.
When I was diagnosed with cancer the doctor said my chances for a full recovery were pretty good, as long as it hadn’t spread into the lymph notes or elsewhere. Then it would be reduced considerably. I bet on the odds being good so I refused to worry about that too much. When I woke up after surgery, I learned that indeed the cancer had invaded about 40% of the nodes they had checked.
As soon as I could think past the medications, I decided I would focus my lifestyle on doing just things that I had been too reserved to do otherwise. There is something a little perversely liberating which strikes you, thinking you might not be around forever. Don’t ask me. I just write this stuff. It seemed sort of like a GET OUT OF JAIL FREE card.
In my real world, having been born and raised in a small town (not exactly Sin City) there were just so many things that I hadn’t done or even considered. But, I think I just wanted to find out if I had left anything on the table. I knew that leopards didn’t really change their spots but I thought I would just do whatever I wanted to. I had absolutely nothing in mind but started honestly running through ideas that I might want to try now that I had the free card.
I had never drunk an alcoholic beverage. Stop rolling your eyes. I also had never smoked a cigarette. I didn’t do those things because I decided as a teenager that I didn’t want to go down that road. The drinking issue was pretty firmly set by some long list of uncles with drinking problems. Besides, there was not a bar in town. I know it is not a huge thing but I can drink almost a full glass of wine now. I couldn’t even try the cigarettes. There are better ways to kill yourself.
During the chemo period I tried marijuana to reduce the nausea. That wasn’t for me. It is hard to get out of your comfort zone, even when you are trying.
I tried and conquered the idea of dressing any way I wanted to and forget how old I was (am). There was no reason for me to dress my age. Any kind of swim suit was fine. It is all right to shop in the Junior Department if that is the size that actually fits you. I wasn’t on a mission to prove anything. That really is a size, not an age. Anything that looked like ‘cruise wear’ had never appealed to me. It is usually boring. Now I would wear white shoes after Labor Day if I wanted to. (Baby steps.)
My next venture was to use four letter words any time they fit. Turns out they fit really often. I got a head jerk with those. I loved it. Still do.
I lost my last gallery with the cancer so I was ready for a new job. I chose what I thought would be a total departure. I worked as a professional poker player at night. That sounded a lot more risqué that it was. It was a beautiful room with some nice people. I made a lot of new friends but they saw right thru me. They knew the real me and I was still in there, safe and sound.
I tried several other ‘edgy’ things during that time and one of them was this:
Before bed each night I loved to go for a walk. I needed to exercise to get my full strength back and liked to fill my lungs with the fresh night air before I went to sleep.
We lived on a hill at the end of a cul-de-sac with no traffic and few neighbors. It was cold out. So my new edgy self would go out alone with just a little music in my ear and walk……… That was nice but not exciting. Then I pulled out a full length mink coat that never got to leave the closet in California. But when I wore that OVER my other clothes, it was a little too warm. So I started taking off “other clothes”. With just scanty lingerie under that satin lined coat, it made the walks a lot more fun………..Of course, it was dark and quiet but it worked for me. With that get-up and the music, the walks were more meaningful. Mostly it meant that I hadn’t saved that coat for nothing. I hadn’t come up with any other reason but it put a little smile in my heart. When someone would ask, “Are you still walking at night?” Yep. “Doctor’s orders?” Nope.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
ITS BEEN A LONG TIME
since I have seen my artwork hanging in a gallery. In fact, the beginning of the cancer chapter was the end of the gallery gala. (Not exactly accidental.) So, since then you can imagine how that collection of art has been treated. You can’t exactly justify getting rid of them. You can donate them to different places; you can rent a storage room. You can hang them end-to-end on walls in your home that don’t really want them. Most products you can name have better solutions for storage than paintings do.
I have done all of the above.
Now I have an office in the largest gallery in East San Diego and have been invited to participate in their monthly exhibits. Then I had to take a critical look at those things I had been playing mother hen to for these eight years. They are scratched, have damaged frames, some not that good in the beginning, and others that I have grown so attached to that I don’t want to hang and sell them.
That leaves a small window there for ones good enough to hang, bad enough to get rid of, the ‘might work if I did a little more work on it,’ plus frames that might be fixable, and scrap those that are not. You see the problem here.
For those old enough to remember (or care), I have been painting for many, way too many years; until eight years ago. In total I have owned four galleries, so most of my life has been spent with that. The last one I opened was exactly three months before I was diagnosed with cancer. Since it was breast cancer, holding my arms up long enough to paint was an effort. Actually that is a cop-out. With the closing of the gallery was also the loss of the studio, so there was no convenient place to put up with all the mess, much less the smell of paint and thinner in any room you choose.
Factor in that without a gallery, and the speed with which I paint, it is always a problem with where to put them. So, I stopped painting. It was a life-changing event for me.
So, I pulled together a show last week and it will be hung this weekend. I am excited. My solution for the whole dilemma was to just triple the prices and then I won’t shed many tears if some of the loved ones sell. Maybe no one will like the ones I do and we will all be happy.
Gotta go now. I need to paint…
since I have seen my artwork hanging in a gallery. In fact, the beginning of the cancer chapter was the end of the gallery gala. (Not exactly accidental.) So, since then you can imagine how that collection of art has been treated. You can’t exactly justify getting rid of them. You can donate them to different places; you can rent a storage room. You can hang them end-to-end on walls in your home that don’t really want them. Most products you can name have better solutions for storage than paintings do.
I have done all of the above.
Now I have an office in the largest gallery in East San Diego and have been invited to participate in their monthly exhibits. Then I had to take a critical look at those things I had been playing mother hen to for these eight years. They are scratched, have damaged frames, some not that good in the beginning, and others that I have grown so attached to that I don’t want to hang and sell them.
That leaves a small window there for ones good enough to hang, bad enough to get rid of, the ‘might work if I did a little more work on it,’ plus frames that might be fixable, and scrap those that are not. You see the problem here.
For those old enough to remember (or care), I have been painting for many, way too many years; until eight years ago. In total I have owned four galleries, so most of my life has been spent with that. The last one I opened was exactly three months before I was diagnosed with cancer. Since it was breast cancer, holding my arms up long enough to paint was an effort. Actually that is a cop-out. With the closing of the gallery was also the loss of the studio, so there was no convenient place to put up with all the mess, much less the smell of paint and thinner in any room you choose.
Factor in that without a gallery, and the speed with which I paint, it is always a problem with where to put them. So, I stopped painting. It was a life-changing event for me.
So, I pulled together a show last week and it will be hung this weekend. I am excited. My solution for the whole dilemma was to just triple the prices and then I won’t shed many tears if some of the loved ones sell. Maybe no one will like the ones I do and we will all be happy.
Gotta go now. I need to paint…
FROM DIAPERS TO DIAPERS
All those years in between are what we refer to as life.
I was meeting this week with a publicist and we were talking about the book I wrote on breast cancer. His concern was with the title. He is a writer and editor as well so he thought that was his job. It is called Tittatts: Life After Breast Cancer. He wondered if that might be offensive to anyone ‘given my age’. He also wondered if people of all ages would know that ‘tatts’ referred to tattoos and would that be accepted by the masses? I stopped short of hurting him but it has been on my mind ever since then.
His perception was that perhaps a teenager might refer to breasts as tits but it might not fly well with all older ages. In fact, perhaps it is not even a word women refer to as often as men. Did I ever consider changing it? No. The name won’t be changed. You know exactly what portion of the anatomy I am referring to.
I went on to tell him that I had been wrestling with the name in the beginning and late one night, while talking to a publisher who was working with me, I said, “Kent, just call it BOOBS. I am going to bed.” The next day I was shopping at a book store with my daughter and I ran smack into a book on breast cancer with that name. My daughter said, “Mom, just call yours Tit Tatts. No one will use that.”
The publicist’s next question was “Can I mount a campaign based on your looks at your age?” He may be left with a scar. “NO”.
You think I might be a little sensitive? Probably. But if he had known my feelings about that he wouldn’t have put himself at risk. I am pretty sure I wouldn’t care if I were 25 but I do think I have always been interested. Otherwise I wouldn’t have formed such a strong opinion. I remember hoping I lived a long, long time – providing I was not disabled by health or age. I didn’t want anyone having to change my diapers.
I read something a few years ago that impressed me more than it should but it matched my feelings so closely I adopted it as my very own. Once you announce your age, you become that age. It is not merely a matter of vanity. Age defines you immediately. You automatically change your perception of that person as soon as you know their age. You know what a ‘person that age’ should look like, act like and be.
We have a preconceived notion of what you are supposed to look like at each milestone. You are expected to ‘act your age’. Until you know that number, you don’t really expect anything. It is the announcement of it that starts the wheels turning. Pick up the newspaper and see how many stories have the person’s age immediately following their name so you can form an opinion of this person and slip them into a slot. It definitely colors your perception. Until then you are just mail or female. No other qualifiers.
I read a lot of medical reports on a variety of things. One day I read that all people can expect their body parts to ‘wear out’ by age 84. I dreaded the day that my mother would become 84. It caused me great pain to know that her parts were worn out. It is information I didn’t need. The truth is sometimes over-rated.
I have decided to work with that publicist because he is dedicated to the same cause I am and he is well qualified (especially now that he knows me better). He went on to ask if I would give anyone an honest answer if at a book signing, they asked my age. Of course. I don’t lie about it; I just don’t lead with it.
All those years in between are what we refer to as life.
I was meeting this week with a publicist and we were talking about the book I wrote on breast cancer. His concern was with the title. He is a writer and editor as well so he thought that was his job. It is called Tittatts: Life After Breast Cancer. He wondered if that might be offensive to anyone ‘given my age’. He also wondered if people of all ages would know that ‘tatts’ referred to tattoos and would that be accepted by the masses? I stopped short of hurting him but it has been on my mind ever since then.
His perception was that perhaps a teenager might refer to breasts as tits but it might not fly well with all older ages. In fact, perhaps it is not even a word women refer to as often as men. Did I ever consider changing it? No. The name won’t be changed. You know exactly what portion of the anatomy I am referring to.
I went on to tell him that I had been wrestling with the name in the beginning and late one night, while talking to a publisher who was working with me, I said, “Kent, just call it BOOBS. I am going to bed.” The next day I was shopping at a book store with my daughter and I ran smack into a book on breast cancer with that name. My daughter said, “Mom, just call yours Tit Tatts. No one will use that.”
The publicist’s next question was “Can I mount a campaign based on your looks at your age?” He may be left with a scar. “NO”.
You think I might be a little sensitive? Probably. But if he had known my feelings about that he wouldn’t have put himself at risk. I am pretty sure I wouldn’t care if I were 25 but I do think I have always been interested. Otherwise I wouldn’t have formed such a strong opinion. I remember hoping I lived a long, long time – providing I was not disabled by health or age. I didn’t want anyone having to change my diapers.
I read something a few years ago that impressed me more than it should but it matched my feelings so closely I adopted it as my very own. Once you announce your age, you become that age. It is not merely a matter of vanity. Age defines you immediately. You automatically change your perception of that person as soon as you know their age. You know what a ‘person that age’ should look like, act like and be.
We have a preconceived notion of what you are supposed to look like at each milestone. You are expected to ‘act your age’. Until you know that number, you don’t really expect anything. It is the announcement of it that starts the wheels turning. Pick up the newspaper and see how many stories have the person’s age immediately following their name so you can form an opinion of this person and slip them into a slot. It definitely colors your perception. Until then you are just mail or female. No other qualifiers.
I read a lot of medical reports on a variety of things. One day I read that all people can expect their body parts to ‘wear out’ by age 84. I dreaded the day that my mother would become 84. It caused me great pain to know that her parts were worn out. It is information I didn’t need. The truth is sometimes over-rated.
I have decided to work with that publicist because he is dedicated to the same cause I am and he is well qualified (especially now that he knows me better). He went on to ask if I would give anyone an honest answer if at a book signing, they asked my age. Of course. I don’t lie about it; I just don’t lead with it.
JUST SO I DON’T SPILL
I have spent so much of the last nine or ten years researching breast cancer, even though I try not to share everything I learn with you, right now I am compelled to share yesterday’s news.
There are a few people on the tube that I really admire so when they say something, I listen. One of those is Dr. Sanjay Gupta. We are tight.
‘Sanjay’ says that the newest revelation in cancer research was the low dose aspirin a day to keep the cancer from returning. That is too easy. If that proves out, there will be a cluster of pharmaceutical companies rushing to refute it. Aspirin is not patentable. Cancer research and treatment is a $200,000,000 industry. It has to be more complicated than that.
They are also claiming that estrogen is being used for the ongoing treatment as well. That too will be fought like the plague. It is not a belief shared by the cancer fighting industry. The toughest period of my life was the year and a half that I was denied estrogen. It ended with a trip to Mexico. I was much more concerned at that time with quality of life. I knew from nothing about the rest.
My adamant following of ‘Sanjay’ was reinforced not long ago when I saw him holding a baby in Haiti and you could see the pain on his face when he had to admit that he couldn’t help the child. He reluctantly handed the baby to a nurse but not without kissing his fingers and placing them on the baby’s head. That kind of caring and empathy go a long way toward healing people (and getting perks from the baby freakazoid in my soul.)
Please hand me the bottle of aspirin.
I have spent so much of the last nine or ten years researching breast cancer, even though I try not to share everything I learn with you, right now I am compelled to share yesterday’s news.
There are a few people on the tube that I really admire so when they say something, I listen. One of those is Dr. Sanjay Gupta. We are tight.
‘Sanjay’ says that the newest revelation in cancer research was the low dose aspirin a day to keep the cancer from returning. That is too easy. If that proves out, there will be a cluster of pharmaceutical companies rushing to refute it. Aspirin is not patentable. Cancer research and treatment is a $200,000,000 industry. It has to be more complicated than that.
They are also claiming that estrogen is being used for the ongoing treatment as well. That too will be fought like the plague. It is not a belief shared by the cancer fighting industry. The toughest period of my life was the year and a half that I was denied estrogen. It ended with a trip to Mexico. I was much more concerned at that time with quality of life. I knew from nothing about the rest.
My adamant following of ‘Sanjay’ was reinforced not long ago when I saw him holding a baby in Haiti and you could see the pain on his face when he had to admit that he couldn’t help the child. He reluctantly handed the baby to a nurse but not without kissing his fingers and placing them on the baby’s head. That kind of caring and empathy go a long way toward healing people (and getting perks from the baby freakazoid in my soul.)
Please hand me the bottle of aspirin.
YOU ARE TELLING ME YOU ARE SURPRISED?
I have been studying this for years and it has never changed nor even wavered and yet people seem to be genuinely surprised to learn that one more man has been caught having sex with an inappropriate partner.
David Letterman is the target for the day (week). He is not even in politics. But he has enough power and since absolute power corrupts absolutely, would you think that might happen on a fairly regular basis? It has always driven men and I can’t see how we can expect it to change.
The Catholic Church has been all but brought to their knees with the amount of priests who have succumbed to the temptation. That is power which eclipses even politics and skips right past these entertainment icons.
The most obvious is the amount of power money creates. It is the driving force in our society and in spite of how many goodies it can buy, there are other perks to be had. Sex is number one on the list.
If we could harness the drive, think of the energy it would create. It would all but empty out the jails, drive divorce courts out of business, and …………bankrupt our society. It is indeed a driving force. It is what gets men out of bed in the morning but it is also what gets them back into bed!! Those in between hours can be spent building an empire so he can have more ‘advantages’.
I don’t think there is a ‘fix’ for it so I believe the only change has to be in our perception of the issue a.k.a. problem. It has long been thought that women could effect a change in this behavior. Well, that may be true for one night or maybe even a month. But there would be no real change. Men are wired to think of sex first and then whatever else is on their mind a distant second. (Even golf isn’t that good.)
I am sure men fall in love just like women do but more often they fall in lust and that just doesn’t last as long. Our marriage rolls are really getting beaten up on. The divorce rate is over 50% now and growing. The only real change in a man’s behavior happens with age. Even then the mind stops well after the body.
I’ll be right over here if you need my take on any other problem and then I will spread these pearls all around again.
I have been studying this for years and it has never changed nor even wavered and yet people seem to be genuinely surprised to learn that one more man has been caught having sex with an inappropriate partner.
David Letterman is the target for the day (week). He is not even in politics. But he has enough power and since absolute power corrupts absolutely, would you think that might happen on a fairly regular basis? It has always driven men and I can’t see how we can expect it to change.
The Catholic Church has been all but brought to their knees with the amount of priests who have succumbed to the temptation. That is power which eclipses even politics and skips right past these entertainment icons.
The most obvious is the amount of power money creates. It is the driving force in our society and in spite of how many goodies it can buy, there are other perks to be had. Sex is number one on the list.
If we could harness the drive, think of the energy it would create. It would all but empty out the jails, drive divorce courts out of business, and …………bankrupt our society. It is indeed a driving force. It is what gets men out of bed in the morning but it is also what gets them back into bed!! Those in between hours can be spent building an empire so he can have more ‘advantages’.
I don’t think there is a ‘fix’ for it so I believe the only change has to be in our perception of the issue a.k.a. problem. It has long been thought that women could effect a change in this behavior. Well, that may be true for one night or maybe even a month. But there would be no real change. Men are wired to think of sex first and then whatever else is on their mind a distant second. (Even golf isn’t that good.)
I am sure men fall in love just like women do but more often they fall in lust and that just doesn’t last as long. Our marriage rolls are really getting beaten up on. The divorce rate is over 50% now and growing. The only real change in a man’s behavior happens with age. Even then the mind stops well after the body.
I’ll be right over here if you need my take on any other problem and then I will spread these pearls all around again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
