moonbeams and magnets

Saturday Night Sky

(it doesn't show well, but there was a rainbow halo around the moon last night)

Comments on Comments
I did not have any difficulty writing the last two entries, but sitting with myself after posting them was kind of like having ants in my pants.

Thank you very much for your comments, and I especially would like to say thanks for the honesty. Pretty brave to be so open. Sometimes what we think and feel is not always deemed PC.

For the record, I don’t believe that any of us are always PC.
I think we just try to act like we are.

I believe we all have a thoughts that are not even close to being PC.

We all have prejudices.

We try to act like we don’t have prejudices.
But we do.

(don’t lie--you know that you do)

I used to tell people all the time that I wasn't prejudiced until I started listening to what I was thinking rather than what I was actually saying out loud.

I comprehend that much about getting along in life is about understanding the societal norms and figuring out when to keep our mouths shut.

But I also think that not being honest about the fact that we do have prejudices is one sure-fire way to never have our thinking expand or change.

I mean, really…if we lie about what it is we are really thinking, how can we embrace or change our thinking?

We can’t learn something new about ourselves by hiding the things about ourselves that already exist.
---------------------------------------------

Magnet Still On My Fridge, circa Two-Legged Era—it says: Must…Buy…Shoes…
(I can't seem to toss this, either)

More About The Shoes

The shoes you saw the other day are all from pairs I have bought since becoming an amputee. I still wear the left shoe of all of those pairs.

They are post-accident shoes.

My pre-accident shoes DID sit in the closet for about a year, unworn.

Most of them have heels that make no logical sense to wear while crutching, nor will they work with my prosthesis, which likes things nice and flat.

I did finally move those shoes into a plastic bin, which was tossed into the cramped and messy garage.

I went out there looking for something else a couple of weeks ago, looked at the shoes (which are so many you can’t even get the lid on the bin) and walked away.

I tell myself that there are so many that I would need help to dispose of them.

It’s too big of a job.

Yet, I’ve never asked for help.

I guess I’m just not ready yet. (?)

To ask for help, or to get rid of them, or both…I’m not sure.

They are obviously some tie to my former life.

Now that I think about it, they might actually be the last tie.

Maybe that’s the problem.

~~~~~~Picnic time. Here come the ants :-)