Why am i doing this again ?

How many blogs have I written on various blog sites; only to lose them when I forget my password? I blogged continuously on myspace for several years and, then, in a moment of supreme madness, closed my account without saving my blogs. Those blogs were certainly not crown jewels and I suppose I don't need them but I want them. So here I sit at 3:45 a.m., deep in the desert, trying to write a sensible blog. Frankly, I'm not good at sensible blogs and analyses. I can do that, but my years in academia have ruined all my desires to prove I am intelligent. I figure I am intelligent enough and don't need to prove it. At this point in my life, I'm more filled with with memories; both good and bad. Sometimes memories are all we have left.

For example: Both my parents died in 1998. I loved them dearly and was shaken to my core by their deaths. I clung to anything that belonged to them as if they were first degree relics (yes, I'm Catholic of the cafeteria variety). Now, I am letting go of those things that make no sense to keep forever enshrined. Things don't bring back my parents but memories do. So, I guess I have moved along somewhat in the seemingly neverending grief process.

I'm a very happily married woman and I love my memories of my husbands
and my courtship and that heady feeling when we first met, when we decided to make a life together, when we married, when I realized someone finally loved the wicked black humor and slight oddness that is me.

I have lesser memories of the few men I loved before I found my one and only and I sometimes think of them in a strange detached way. But I like those memories and I am actually glad that I was a little bit wild during my late teens and early 20's. I lived in Austin at just the right time...when Willie was singing at the Broken Spoke and the world hadn't come and knocked down the doors. Austin was like a small town then and everyone seemed to know everyone else. And, it was heading being young, a bit wild, and discovering the power of femininity. However, even then, I was a duck out of water as I've always been.

I can't be pigeonholed. People try but they are wrong in their guesses as to what makes me ME. I'm either so out I'm in or so in that I'm out or none of the above. I seem to be one step ahead of the times but don't know how I got to that place. I've been a lucky woman to have been loved and to be loved and to give love. After all, I do realize that love is really what matters in this life. Yes, it sounds trite, but without love, life has little joy. So I am thankful for the love I've given and that I have received and for the good man I found in my middle years.