Diary Of A Redhead

[mylolita]

When you say, you collect art, people conjure up visions of unfiltered snobbery and pretentiousness. Same if someone asks you at a party, “What do you do?” And you casually throw back, “I’m an art dealer.” People instantly presume, Van Gogh, and air conditioned vaults, and maybe a smidge of Indian Jones behaviour off in a rickety private plane to the East to check out something you got a heads up on in a pyramid. 

That is some people, and that is real life, but, not us. We are, in betweeny.

 

You don’t have to have any money to appreciate art. Nothing necessary. And if you are truthful with yourself and allow your heart to guide you, you will soon see your own taste and style developing.

 

D messaged me about a particular painting a few weeks ago. Nothing out of the ordinary at all, he buys art all the time, sometimes for us, sometimes to sell on, sometimes as an investment. I could write a hundred pages of paintings that have jumped out at me, or things we have been real juicy profit on. This one wasn’t either. But, it just so happens to have been propped up against a flip out table and the dirty ground at the last antique fair, 4am, and now it’s in our holiday let, above the fireplace, looking at me.

 

It didn’t demand much attention, but we knew instantly, it was a personal keeper. Some paintings, they speak too the mood you have right there and then when you discover them. They come at the right time in your life. And like all great novels, you not only grow to obsessed and admire the story but; you feel love and gratitude and curiosity towards the author as well. It’s the same way for paintings that really, settle right there deep into your heart.

 

My husband didn’t know anything of the artist at the time. After bringing it home and resting it afloat the fireplace, I think D went on a little research trip and soon found out the painter is a famous Irish hermit called Jeremiah Hoad. He painted wild, unchanged landscapes. We bought the thing for £250 I think, I think tomorrow it could be sold for £5,000 but that’s neither here nor there and nothing much to write home about. We’re keeping it, anyway.

 

I could hear the wind whistling as it built up speed across the sloping planes. I could see the way the stormy clouds washing over a calm blue sky were rolling, in tune with the wind below. And there, just in the middle of this blustery, exhilarating scene is a tiny, tiny cottage, it’s sides being whipped at by the weather, out there for all the elements. Looking at that house, is like looking at yourself. Or, myself. 
 

Anyway, this isn’t usually what I feel like spouting off about but, excuse my tulips creeping in at the side, but I want to say thank you for Hoad. He died, unfortunately, in 1999. But his painting right up there in the bee line of my vision has brought comfort in a bluster. 
 

I find his art so beautiful, and did some straight away. It reminds me of Van Gogh, but much more relaxed and at peace. 
 

His wife is still alive and sounds absolutely brilliant. She stayed in their rural house, without electricity or running water, even too this day in her 80s. Ben Fogle did a documentary on her. The article, I laughed and wanted to meet her badly. I’ll leave it down below. These things come into your possession abs you feel honoured they are there, silently, assuring your senses.

 

x

 

 

[mylolita]

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-6616507/amp/Widow-80-lives-Irish-wilderness-reveals-late-husband-buried-GARDEN.html
 

“An 80-year-old widow, who has lived in solitude in the Irish wilderness for 20 years, claims that she is entirely content - her only complaint being that she doesn't have anyone to f*** anymore.

Judith Hoad, lives in remote Slieve League, in County Donegal, in a home that she and her late husband Jeremiah shared.

She explains: 'I want to be buried at home and I don't know who will find me if I die here, which is more than probable.'

She adds: 'Death is the next big deal. I'm 80 for god's sake, I'm not going to last forever. It doesn't bother me.'  

Judith's love of the unconventional stems from a young age. Bristol-born Judith disliked working for other people and at 19 became self-employed dress maker.

It was while making costumes for a West End play that she her husband Jeremiah, 13 years her senior.

The artist shared her attitude to life and the pair moved to wales to live closer to nature where they started family before relocating to the cottage in Ireland.  

After her three children had relocated and following Jeremiah's death Judith decided to stay in the family home, now living off a state pension of a thousand euros a month, and a landline and second hand car to keep her connected to outside world.  

Every week she makes the 5km trip to collect drinking water from a public well, and while she is joined by Ben this time, she usually performs the chore alone. 

She tells him over a glass of Poitín, an 'illegal' homemade potato vodka: There was a time when we came to live here when we didn't even have a toilet, we didn't even have a bucket. 

Describing herself as a 'genius old bag' Judith is almost entirely self-sustainable having designed and built poly-tunnel, where she grows her own food, and natural medicine. 

As the snow sets in Ben claims there are no 'redeeming features' to Judith's way of life, but she admits that there is only one thing she truly misses - physical contact.

Asked if she misses her husband she responds: 'Would you miss an arm or a leg? That's how I miss him. 

'He was my friend, he was my confidant and he was my lover and I've got no one to f*** anymore.' 

She later tells a 'blushing' Ben Fogle: 'Women don't stop being randy just because they're post menopausal. 

'I'd say that the post menopausal woman is randier than the pre-menopausal one because she's not running the risk of conceiving - she can have fun.'

Apart from a touch of arthritis at the grand old age of 80 Judith is remarkably active, even climbing a ladder every night and plans to continue living as she does until her death.

She tells Ben: I'm a friendly old loner. I've never been hungry and I've never been cold so I have been blessed and I've had friends, and I've lived in places I've enjoyed. 

'Really and truly I've had a wonderful life, and it's going on too, I hope a few more years.' 

She adds:  'This is always presuming I don't lose my marbles and end up in an old people's home. 

'And if I do end up in an old people's home I'll probably wreck the joint because I'm no good at institutional living.'’”

 

x

[BecxyRex]

I’m obsessed with this art! 

[mylolita]

2 hours ago, BecxyRex said:

I’m obsessed with this art! 

Becxieeeeee!

 

I need need need to reply to you! But about this, oh man, I’m glad you like it! I don’t feel like I should own it actually. I feel like it needs returning too his wife! I have that feeling about a few things we own. I am taking pleasure from it but being a voyeur on someone else’s feelings!

 

I’m glad it speaks too you! Maybe you have a wild side as well huh! 🤣 What do you think about it, being an artist yourself!!? I’d be really interested to know! 
 

All the best, 

I hope you are really well and still enjoying Spring,

(Will message back soon!)

((Sorry for all the typos in my posts. I have no laptop and I can’t get away with typing on my phone!))

 

x

[mylolita]

Currently sat in a late night Primary Care hospital department for non-emergency but out of hours things.

 

God it’s bleak. The place stinks. Someone is watching something on their phone full blast volume. I can count the sausage rolls on the back of the guys neck in front. Immigrants everywhere, hardly anyone speaking English and if the few here are they are mumbling druggies or masked up so much it doesn’t matter if they are saying anything or not. 
 

Isn’t my idea of a saucy evening but anyway. The colour scheme is dreadful and quite psychotic. Bright lemon. Why?! I will need a two hour shower after this and my jacket in at the dry cleaners. We pay taxes for this?

 

Walking up through the various parking lots marked for different things (like you should know) I get a feeling welling up of sadness and pity and slight disgust as, this was the hospital where my Grandma died. I look up to the lit ward windows. The building is vast. I wonder which one she had, and if I even saw it coming in and didn’t know.
 

x

[dias]

Hope everything is ok? (or at least under control?) 

[mylolita]

1 hour ago, dias said:

Hope everything is ok? (or at least under control?) 

Oh! Cheers Dias! 
 

Thanks for your concern sweet peach! Just some kind of mild infection. The consultant didn’t even think I really needed antibiotics but gave me a small course anyway. Something has been off kilter with me, can’t work it out. Little pains, nothing to worry about. 
 

Was good getting onto an empty, open highway under a Misty harvest moon, medication on the passenger seat and putting my foot down the whole way back home! Gorgeous evening for a drive. ‘Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone’ by Bill Withers came on the radio. Never would’ve pegged that as a speed freak let’s stretch her legs song but, for some reason, it really was - in that moment, anyway!

 

And then, change of station, this came on! Never heard it yet. Fun. HA! Good mood!

“I've got a feeling I'm gon' be okay Okay (Okay), alright, it's about damn time!”

- Lizzo, ‘About Damn Time’

 

[mylolita]

Woke up this morning not feeling too great. I don’t know what is going on. Headaches every morning. Is this what it’s like to come down from twenty years of caffeine abuse?!

 

It’s killing me! Where! Is! The! COFFEE!

 

Something on here got me thinking, and, teamed with a conversation I had with D yesterday, about how I have this inappropriate crush on my father in law and we joke about it all the time but, at the end of the day, after an eye roll from the hubs, he really doesn’t want to hear it!

 

I say, “You look so much like him! You should take it as a compliment!” And I’m nudging him and laughing. “In fact, all the men on your side of the family are HUNKS!” And, he is not appreciating my genetic adorations! HA! It’s kinda half serious, I even forgot this ever happened. There was a little event with my father in law that I only rekindled until today! 

 

My in laws have a really bad, strained and resentful relationship. I never knew this until quite recently. A year ago, D would come home from the pub having chatted with his Dad. Whilst drunk, his Dad would say, that he wishes he had got a divorce years ago. That they haven’t slept in the same room for over 8 years, even more. That one day she just said, no sex, ever again, I want nothing too do with you.

 

I realise it takes two to tango. I reserve judgement on this. After all, it’s none of my business and I feel wrong even knowing this stuff now.

 

We sold our house very quickly in November and needed a place to stay. My mother in law reluctantly offered us the guest room for a week, until our holiday let came available where we were wanting to buy. It was so strained. I suddenly realised how bad their relationship was. The constant arguing, the sleeping on the couch. The nit picking and emasculating. I got the brunt of her bad moods also. Passive aggressive remarks, and then when I would call her out on it she would completely deny it. When we left, I was so relieved. She shuffled into our new place for the next few months, and gave me a very quick, timid, half apology. I accepted. I felt bad for her, actually, like something had maybe been wrong for decades.

 

There is stubbornness and resentment there in spades, and I don’t know why.

 

But. My father in law is very fit, intelligent, and ruggedly handsome. He worked a labour intensive factory job in a steel works until recently retiring at 65. He looks 50. He could even pass for late 40s sometimes. Thick head of hair, only slight salt and pepper. My mother in law has given up. Her moody, nasty nature takes away from any attractiveness. She is 5 years older than he is and it seems a lot now she is 70. Her health complaints are endless. She is scrawny and coughs constantly. She used to be very pretty, with cropped and slicked jet black 80s hair, high cheekbones, heavily lidded eyes -a handsome face. Tall, slim, with endless legs. My father in law told me when he met her he was only 17 and she was 22 and she pressured him into marrying her.

 

He drove me and the kids in his own car when we left. Catching this lift, he started revealing all his personal problems too me. He said she had accused him of an affair. He said he had never had an affair. I believed him, actually. He did say, “Chance would be a fine thing! She is in her late 30s, goes to the gym! Really sweet! I wish!” 
 

It made me think. As a man, as a human - how could you go on, decades, in a hateful and sexless relationship?

 

And then, I remembered a few years back, before the kids. He was drunk, and he was a handling me, pressing me close. My husband was right there but he was busy chatting to another group, his face turned. His hand was at my waist, my back, and then, he squeezed my butt! And he growled into my ear, “You have a really good body. Your figure. It’s really…. Nice” he was wasted. I put it down too that. But he had always been so friendly to me, and always took my side. 
 

I told D the night it had happened. 
 

“Are you serious?! I don’t wanna know!” I said “Well, least you’re both have great taste in girls right?” Joke fell flat. At the time, he didn’t make a big song and dance about it because he put it down to a real drunken fluke and, he was right too. That happened about 6 years ago and it got shelved in the back.

 

It doesn’t take away the fact that, he is a really good looking guy, in a rough around the edges way. Not a man of words but, he’s always there if you need him, he is for anyone. He is not a flirt and he is quite shy in many ways.
 

And then, back to the inappropriateness. I have always, always, ALWAYS! Had such a thing for an older men! 
 

My last tease was, if you die D, I will have a wild, passionate and taboo affair with your Dad, whilst he’s wearing his boiler suit! That was it, we never spoke of it AGAIN! 

 

One woman’s coal is another woman’s… hubba hubba!   
 

x

[mylolita]

I keep having this absolute paranoia that I am pregnant again.

 

Oh Lord, not this time round. That’s all I can think. Three babies in 4 years is, I have just settled on, enough for me. I need some rest. I don’t know how anyone has lots of children close together, retains their energy and manages to juggle it all. With two, I can quite easily manage everyone’s needs and even keep ontop of my own. Throw my little bambino in the mix and sometimes I am really lagging behind on my own wants, which is okay, but not when it builds up over days and weeks.

 

We joke that my husband just has to look at me and ping, pregnant! I just feel so… strange. And off. And tired. And weird. But it could be so many other things.

 

I don’t know how I would feel if I was. I dare not even take a test, I am in that much suspense about it. I might let a few more days pass and then take a test. I never keep track of all these womanly things. When I was at the walk in centre, the doctor quizzed me on my cycle and I told her I didn’t know. She said, “You don’t know?!” I know. 32 and still just rolling with it like a 14 year old. I said, “I just don’t keep track of it.” 
 

Organisational, practical things, have never been my forte. 
 

Maybe I just need some sleep. We have a lot going on at the moment. I feel like I need some kind of vacation from being a Mammy! Is that possible? No, I don’t think it is. No holidays, no days off. It’s okay. I realise this is a short time where the slog is a heart breakingly happy one. But insanity inducing one. All at the same time. 
 

It’s strange. People tell you how hard it is, tell you about the sleepless nights. You hear all that and there is a big part of being a parent which involves some major sacrifice but, no one ever tells you that it will break your heart. No one ever warned me. That you will be so in love, so desperately and blindly and conditionally in love with your baby, that you will feel love sick, and the attachment will never, ever let you rest. It makes my heart feel like it is physically aching sometimes. It can be exhausting. It’s beautiful but, wow, what a trip. Some days, I am emotionally overwhelmed by it, in the best possible way.

 

‘As they say, two can play
But keep that song away from me
In my time too much love
Has made me sad for so long.’

 

- Take A Chance, Bryan Ferry 

[mylolita]

 

[mylolita]

I have always lived a vibrant, turbulent, deep and twisting inner life. I live this inside my own mind. It forms the screen over which everything else is viewed. A blessing, a curse, neither here nor there? Who knows, I can’t decide. I always presumed everyone was exactly the same. Later in life, I soon discover, this isn’t always so.

 

This wiring has maybe made me a little intense. Or eccentric. Or follow my own road. Or; take the path with the least footfall. I don’t seem to care about the weeds. In fact, I often find the cold shade and overgrown winds very beautiful.

 

These little quirks mixed in with a fly off the handle, dreamy mentality in the body of a slinky 15 year old girl who was well aware of her sexuality but exceptionally virginal were, the command of me. I found it all hard to handle, and I revelled in it all at the same time. 
 

I was highly indulgent of every whim and feeling. Quick to speak and say most of what was on my strange little mind. A spontaneous, cheeky, mischievous flirt, just for the thrill of it. I found that, this either filled people with a quick disdain for me, or it inspired a type of admirable fandom of a small following. People either loved me or hated me and too this day, it still seems to stand that way. There isn’t that much inbetween. You are either all in, or all out. I’ll see to the details of either.

 

In school, I was popular, in an unorthodox kinda way. I would table hop one lunch to the next. I could sit with all the gorgeous, so much older seeming girls at the top of the social chain and their car owning boyfriends. They would end up getting the same bag I had the month before. Then I could rest with the artistic outcasts the next day. I had jokes with the geeks. I got chatted up by the jocks. I stuck too myself mostly, but was highly social. When it came time to choose a team, or take a seat, I was never in short supply on offer. But still, the other groups never mixed. Only me, with them. 
 

Again, in life, I have navigated the social waters of the most extremes. Gathered intense loyalty from beaten, Coke addicted lapdancers. Had a not so distant member of the British Royal family drop by our house on the way too a hunt, and been very amused at my tittle tattle. Sat in private members clubs in London opposite celebrities and talked this and that, mostly listened. They hate it when you pretend you don’t know who they are. I have chin wagged with Directors of large, serious companies. Spent hours debating with divorcee wags. I can sit in a working class pub and go to a real party, plumbers and brick layers faces smudged with dust. Have them buy me drinks. Laugh genuinely at their banter. Down rum and Coke, have them slap my ass, watch with glee as they get themselves tanked and pull their bulking frames up to dance on the rickety table tops. Waiting in a queue at the supermarket to end up in an open cans Frank conversation with an old lady about her life, her family, feeling alone. Dragged myself through all the student house parties when I wasn’t even a student. Left the door with phone numbers and invites and, call me! LETS DO THIS AGAIN! 
 

My ease in any social situation, up too now, seems to be not much of a secret. I just love people. I adore people. Anyone. I need to know all about you, the more, the better. I want to be surprised. Please, tell me something I have never heard before. Challenge me. Let’s enjoy ourselves. Let me make you feel good. Let’s have a moment we will never forget. I never stop endlessly, being eternally curious, about you. 
 

I think this gave me a heady mix as a lapdancer.

 

Going into sex work isn’t exactly everyone’s calling card. But it was mine. I was d**n good at it. People think, I think they think, you are forced, by the money. They think the customer is this massive drunken sleaze. Sometimes all of that is true, often, like anything in real life, it is much more complex, much more varied, and much, much more interesting than that. 
 

I have always been a tease. Sexually, the journey is much, much more enticing than the destination. And I will often draw it out, naturally. Throw in a good dose of exhibitionism and a big shot of confidence, and you end up naked on a pole in front of hundreds of men and you absolutely love it and think, I will never stop. I am getting paid for this when I would do it happily for free. Talk about a thrill. 
 

As the lovely Britney once said, there are only two types of people in this world -
The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe. Well, baby, I'm a put-on-a-show kind of girl! 
 

I treat the exotic dancing like some sexual bit high form of expression, because, being sexual is not an act for me and, I never put it on. It wasn’t a performance. I was being honest. 
 

When you close the velvet curtains of a private booth, that is when the communication really starts. If you played the game right, you would haunt a man, and it would be so much more than, a brush against a crotch. He would be back, and back, and back. He would start missing out on obligations to come see you. He would pay to sit down and talk too you. He would walk through the doors, down the steps, into the shag pile, right across that room and straight too you. Money took, book signed, gone for two hours. And you knew you wouldn’t have to walk around any floor tempting anyone for most of that night. He was the one naked, not you.
 

A lapdance, in it‘s highest form, is an illusion of a promise. Because once they have seen you nude, in 3 minutes, for £30, you would think where else is there to go with it? Surely, onto the next? Wrong. The way you move, the way your lips brush their lobe. You permit a tiny, tiny, micro advance. Maybe answer a question. Maybe reveal something yourself. Not physical. They think, in a week; she will be mine. When the months go by and they slowly realise, you were never their girl, a bitter sweet transition happens where, they are desperate and ravenous and consume dance after dance to try to persuade you to leave with them. Then they eventually make their plea, sometimes literally in their knees, at your feet, then knowingly, they leave, as if they knew it would be that way the whole time. They fell in love with the idea of you, but in the daylight, really, it would never hold up. It didn’t always happen like that, but they fell over in lust and came out into something else. And that’s when you know, you were captivating something in them. 

 

No one knew it, but every time I danced, I danced for me. I danced for my husband, who wasn’t even there. I danced for everything I felt that day. I danced for all the things I couldn’t say.
 

Are you the dancer? Or do you observe? Do you run the show, or do you watch it? 

 

We are all involved in some kind of dance. Some people just don’t know it.

 

x

[mylolita]

 

I could show you in a word 
If I wanted to

A window on a world 
With a lovely view 
From close up inside a single room 
With an open book aside 
Like you read in school 

It's so easy, believe me 
When you need fun 
I do anything to turn you on 
Anything to turn you on 

It's raining in New York
On fifth avenue 
And off broadway after dark 
Love the lights don't you?
I could walk you through the park 
If you're feeling blue 
Or whatever 
Spring summer whenever 
Winter through fall 

I'd do anything to turn you on 
Anything to turn you on 

I could leave you as you were 
If I wanted to 

Then I wonder is it fair?
Now you're on your own 
Who cares about you 
Except me, god help me 
When things go wrong 

I do anything to turn you 
Must phone me, you know me 
When things go wrong 
I do anything to turn you on

 

x

[Seraphim]

You are a good writer . 

[Fudgie]

13 hours ago, mylolita said:

Are you the dancer? Or do you observe? Do you run the show, or do you watch it? 

We are all involved in some kind of dance. Some people just don’t know it.

x

Highly insightful and very true. 

[mylolita]

15 hours ago, Seraphim said:

You are a good writer . 

Seraphim!

 

This is a huge compliment. Thank you. I would disagree with you but, I will happily take your kind words today! I am really honoured you have even read my journal.
 

I hope you’re well,

 

x

[mylolita]

12 hours ago, Fudgie said:

Highly insightful and very true. 

Afternoon Fudgie!

 

It’s corny isn’t it, but I guess… you are a get too it kinda gal yourself! Am I right or am I right?!

 

And, thank you! 
 

We all see life through our very own unique little lenses, don’t we!

 

x

[mylolita]

It’s all become so clear now.

 

I was sat in the primary care hospital, after weeks of feeling terrible, because - I just needed my energy drink fix.

 

I was, junkie sick.

 

It’s kinda funny, and stupid. Oh man. Fridge is like a vending machine full of this stuff. 50 cent walk in cooler in his mansion with rows of all his vitamin water has nothin’ on my set up! 
 

Let’s not do these things by halves!

 

x

[Fudgie]

On 4/19/2022 at 9:38 AM, mylolita said:

Afternoon Fudgie!

It’s corny isn’t it, but I guess… you are a get too it kinda gal yourself! Am I right or am I right?!

And, thank you! 

We all see life through our very own unique little lenses, don’t we!

x

Not corny at all!

Indeed, I consider myself a "go-getter" overall. I find that many people, both within my work and outside of work, frequently confide in me and entrust me with some pretty shocking, grave information. I don't violate that confidence but I've always found it interesting that so many people entrust information to me despite knowing very little about me in return. I'm aloof and enigmatic. 

I suppose for me, my "dance" is less with me dancing - I recline, adorned with mirrors with an obscured face, and invite/encourage others to dance for me. When they look at me, they don't see me, they see themselves from different angles. 

 

 

[mylolita]

1 hour ago, Fudgie said:

Not corny at all!

Indeed, I consider myself a "go-getter" overall. I find that many people, both within my work and outside of work, frequently confide in me and entrust me with some pretty shocking, grave information. I don't violate that confidence but I've always found it interesting that so many people entrust information to me despite knowing very little about me in return. I'm aloof and enigmatic. 

I suppose for me, my "dance" is less with me dancing - I recline, adorned with mirrors with an obscured face, and invite/encourage others to dance for me. When they look at me, they don't see me, they see themselves from different angles. 

 

 

This is very honest and revealing of you Fudgie!

 

And I can see how this is the case for you. I don’t know you of course but, I know even with myself, I have come running to you for advice in my darkest hours and you have a calm and assuring way about you. And YES! You are no overshare are you! I guess you keep your cards close? 
 

x

[mylolita]

21 minutes ago, mylolita said:

This is very honest and revealing of you Fudgie!

 

And I can see how this is the case for you. I don’t know you of course but, I know even with myself, I have come running too you for advice in my darkest hours and you have a calm and assuring way about you. And YES! You are no overshare are you! I guess you keep your cards close? 
 

x

And, just a thought as I read your response. I can tell you are a go-getter. 
 

It’s funny, I realise my post could give that impression, but I would not class myself as a go-getter at all, I realise you are Fudgie! I am not a high flying career girl. I do not aggressively pursue much. Running in the background are plenty of desires and wishes and, goals, I guess you could say. More like ideas. But I never openly plan or, even actively plan. I must do something. I don’t know what it is. I do go with the flow a lot. I don’t know any other way to operate really.

 

I think for me, if I go into a situation, anything really, be it work, social, love, family, even pregnancy and baby raising! I do it with, wrongly or rightly, immense passion, for better or for worse. I step into things like it is a playground and I am just thinking to myself what fun and mischief can I amuse myself with but also, what can I learn and, let’s see what this throws at me. I weirdly HOPE I am challenged, or, surprised. I am begging for an assault or delight of some kind on my sense and if it’s not happening I create that for myself. I walk into social situations with a giddy delight and I think to myself, “What joy! Let’s play.” 😜

 

I am insatiably curious, probably to the point of rudeness looking back, and invasiveness, about absolutely everything and everyone. I do try and filter myself and water my impulses down, to say certain things. And I find in social situations, I turn it all around on myself. I find the whole room silent and listening too me; and then people are looking to me for instruction or, I kind of, take the lead but, I don’t mean too! I never want to overpower. I actually think it’s not a good trait of mine. I need to tone down. 
 

I have absolutely no problem standing up infront of crowds, public speaking, performing, all of that. I do get nervous, but I am on edge quite a lot of my daily life. I do have a bit of a, quiet jitter, internally. It feels like it is inside my head. Bit hyper. Hyper in thoughts and speaking. But I don’t mind the nerves, I’m used to a type low key nervousness daily, so I feel at home with a nervous thrill! I am familiar and it doesn’t make me feel too bad to get a little nervous. I like it!
 

I need to do things my way, that’s just about it. I don’t think my way is always the right way. It’s, I openly acknowledge this, probably often not the right way! But I take some kind of satisfaction that, God bless ya Sanatra, I did it, myyyyy waaaay! Mistakes n’all. 🥲 I want to do things with my own personal flare and style and I don’t know any other way to do it so I just have to stick in my lane.

 

I am obviously influenced plenty by other people. It comes out when I don’t expect it. But all in all - yeah 🤣 no go getter, unfortunately, I wish I was. HA!

 

There is a word, in Italian. There is no English equivalent. It means, something that secretly takes great effort, but appears to be done cooly, and without obvious care or thought. I first heard it when I worked for a stint in Edinburgh, and a whole bunch of Italian lawyers would fly in and stay, to work on a legal project, for a few weeks. Whilst I was there, I thought they were just, elegant as anything and SO stereotypically ITALIAN! Espressos, constantly. Slim, handsome. Full of dramatic expression! And casually stylish and chic. Three piece suits, woollen overcoats. Slicked back hair!

 

Anyway, this is what I mean. Someone used it once in conversation. Maybe I try harder than I let on? Who knows!

 

“Sprezzatura ([sprettsaˈtuːra]) is an Italian word that first appears in Baldassare Castiglione's 1528 The Book of the Courtier, where it is defined by the author as "a certain nonchalance, so as to conceal all art and make whatever one does or says appear to be without effort and almost without any thought about it".[1] It is the ability of the courtier to display "an easy facility in accomplishing difficult actions which hides the conscious effort that went into them".[2] Sprezzatura has also been described "as a form of defensive irony: the ability to disguise what one really desires, feels, thinks, and means or intends behind a mask of apparent reticence and nonchalance".[3]

The word has entered the English language; the Oxford English Dictionary defines it as "studied carelessness",[4] especially as a characteristic quality or style of art or literature, although it is also used in the aesthetic context.”

 

As my mother always repeated too me often, “Don’t care was made to care young lady!” 
 

x

[dias]

15 hours ago, mylolita said:

God bless ya Sanatra, I did it, myyyyy waaaay! Mistakes n’all. 

Sinatra my dear

 

[mylolita]

1 hour ago, dias said:

Sinatra my dear

 

Regrets, I’ve had a few, like typing “a”, even I should have used an “I” it’s truuuue! 

[dias]

51 minutes ago, mylolita said:

Regrets, I’ve had a few, like typing “a”, even I should have used an “I” it’s truuuue! 

Aren't you a witty girl!

 

Is your sister still in that relationship? Lol

 

[mylolita]

38 minutes ago, dias said:

Aren't you a witty girl!

 

Is your sister still in that relationship? Lol

 

I am definitely not Dias quite a corn ball and also yes, terrible at grammar and spelling - LOL!

 

And trust me, I’ll take the compliment but, you wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with someone like me OR my sister. We are both nightmares in completely different ways. We also don’t get on! 
 

She’s currently supporting a lazy dead beat who, I honestly can’t see what he has going for him. Must be something I don’t know! (Let’s not get seedy now!) 🤣 He promises her marriage every year then fobs her off with a new excuse like, he is building his programming algorithm empire, just another year. This has been going on about 10 years now. The guy didn’t even know what a Bitcoin was ten years ago. She’s just turned 30, she’s the same age as you!

 

You young child! LOL! 
 

x

[dias]

24 minutes ago, mylolita said:

She’s just turned 30, she’s the same age as you!

91 chick?😎 she must be cool!

Funny thing, my brother is your age, June 89!

25 minutes ago, mylolita said:

We are both nightmares in completely different ways. We also don’t get on! 

I like nightmares!  They make me sweat 

27 minutes ago, mylolita said:

This has been going on about 10 years now.

Exactly, time for a change!

28 minutes ago, mylolita said:

The guy didn’t even know what a Bitcoin was ten years ago.

Don't tell me he is one of those wannabe crypto millionaires