Free Advice: On What Others Think

Sunday


Who cares about what you are wearing?
When I was twenty-one years old, a wiser and older friend came to a party wearing a beautiful blue and white flowered sun dress. She was stunning.. I complimented her on her dress. She laughed and said "You always tell me how much you like this dress. I wear it everywhere you know. It's funny, people don't remember what I was wearing - but how I looked in it." She looked confident and happy in her little blue and white sundress. That is what people took home with them. So pick an outfit you love and wear it out. Nobody will remember it anyway.

Who cares about you?
Imagine you are attending  a cocktail party. You might know two people in the room. Are you concerned if you are over-dressed or under-dressed? Possibly a little nervous about making small talk because you hate small talk? Maybe the people at the cocktail party are just not your type and you feel uncomfortable or less confident than you would be with a group of good friends? Do you feel judged? Assessed? Evaluated? You're not alone. 

But if there is one thing that I have learned in life it's that most people are self absorbed Judging, assessing and/or evaluating you requires too much energy. They are more concerned with how they are dressed, what they might talk about, how they are being judged, assessed an/or evaluated. so, when you have to go to another cocktail party of strangers - have pity on them and try to put them at ease - they are under a lot of pressure.

Who cares what you drive?
Who cares where you live?
Who cares what you buy?

The only person who should care, is you. 

An interesting take on the subject by anAmerican physicist
Striving for authenticity
As an adult, caring what other people think has not been a real problem for me. I think it was the way in which I was raised. If you knew my mom, you would know what I'm talking about.

My mom really didn't care what other people thought. Really. But she had an incredible sense of humor and taught us how to laugh at ourselves and to be compassionate towards others. "Never judge a book by its cover" was one of her many repeated phrases, along with "Don't judge a man until you have walked in his shoes". She had a million of them.

As a teenager, I was mortified on a daily basis by her "who gives a shit?" attitude. As an adult, I found it refreshing.  Now that she's gone, I miss it.

There's something to be said for someone who stands by her own principles in all aspects of her life. Like her or not, she was as authentic a person as I have ever known. I think she would be surprised if she could hear me say today that I strive to be more like her.

My Rob: Part 3

Friday

"If you build it, they will come."

...And that was how Rob responded to my dilemma between choosing the somewhat trashy beaded lampshades vs. the sophsticated shabby chic simple white ones with rosebuds.  

Made sense to me.

              Why would I redecorate my bedroom to look like 'Martha Stewart'?
     ...when what I really wanted, was to channel my inner 'Pamela Anderson'?
OK. Pam Anderson might be a stretch ... but my point is... a "boudoir" was my goal.

Rob and Steve agreed that my current boy-friend-less situation might not be helped by having a mattress and boxspring on the floor, a  white particle-board dresser with matching nightstand, a shade-less table lamp and beige roller blinds covering my windows that were, at one time, white.

So the bedroom make-over began...
The transition began with purchasing two trashy lamps.
I love(d) them.

Then, my bed was picked up off of the floor (adding the benefit of additional storage space - woohoo) and placed on a frame. 

New linens, a dark walnut dresser, two nightstands, a bench at the foot of my bed. Steve dressed the windows artistically in white tulle and pale peach silk flowers (it was the 90's).  

Remembering Rob gushing ..."He makes such a good gay guy" while beaming with pride of his partner's flair for home decorating still makes me smile.

That was 17 years ago. Rob died the following year. Mr. Something came into my life a few weeks later.

The trashy lamps flank the daybed in our guest room now. A token reminder of my past life and of my cherished friend. 

Paranoid in South America

Anticipating travel to South America was both exciting and scary. Admittedly, reports of muggings, kidnappings and police corruption go...