Th'Muse

Thank You for. . .Vs. I’m Sorry. . . Women, we say “I’m sorry” too much. Yes, I know it is nice to hear sometimes, and some people can’t forgive until they hear those words. However, it can also be the words that heighten a situation, grow tension, and even makes the other person feel bad. For instance. I show up late to an appointment. Nevermind the reason. The fact is, I’m late, and the other person has been needlessly waiting and wasting valuable time. Me - “I’m so sorry I’m late.” - I feel repentitive and “less than”. I’m on the defensive, and not sure how much I need to share about the WHY of the lateness. Other person – Now, they have to either say something to ‘forgive’ my lateness, which they may not feel. Or, they may be nudged into snarkyness or passive aggressiveness. It may not have been a big deal to them, but if it is a business relationship, I’ve said something huge about my reliability, and “I’m sorry” can’t fix it. They are on the side of having to be t...

I’ve been thinking about this for awhile actually. We all love a good sincere compliment, but I’ve noticed, that the ones from family, and good friends, while appreciated and helpful, don’t hold the same weight as ones from complete strangers. Not that they are less important, we all need support from our inner circle, but there is just something so concrete and organic about a complete stranger going out of their way to tell you that they noticed something good about you. Here is an example I shared on THREADS. Never mind the comments and the tangents they went on, that is a whole other post, about people who hijack the spirit of one’s words, and make it their own sounding-board or soapbox.) Anyway, back from my own tangent! I am getting older. In fact that was part of what sent me onto this topic. When a woman begins to age, they pretty much become invisible. In my experience anyway, and since I am the expert of my experience, that is what I know. Lack of the previous le...

 Blog... What does that mean anyway?  Wlog I'd get.  (Writing Log) - Thog?  (Thought Log) - and the lovely Flog (files logged) - Or I know, Jlog (Journaling log) but what is the B?  I digress.    I have files.  I'm old, I admit it, finally.  When I was cautioned to signed up for Medicare, it crashed in on my poor, perpetually 42 years old brain.  What? Medicare?  Me?  But, but. . . I'm not OLD!  Ahem.  I also used to be a redhead.  (We won't go into the 'once a redhead, always a redhead rant. . . today. . . ).  Silver seems to be the new red.  I did (tangent alert) have a cute young thing stop me on the street to tell me I had 'princess hair'.  I'll take it.      Anyway, files.  I have filing cabinets.  Yes, metal ones with drawers, even a lock.  This was my computer.  My organization, my google, my encyclopedia and my memory.  I don't think I've op...