Beautiful Lies

Mindlovemisery asks…

What does inner beauty mean to you? How do you cope with society’s unrealistic ideals of physical beauty? What do you do to feel attractive? Confident? Inspired? What message would you like to impart about beauty to the youth of today?

That’s a lot of questions. I’ve been reading a bunch of bs replies (no, not yours!) about how this particular writer looks beyond the surface and blah blah yada. All the lovely clichéd things we like to read. But in fact most people (no, not you!) do indeed judge by appearances. And I know this via direct experience from my time on dating sites ~ yes, of course I’m going to mention this yet again. 💤

Anyway. I used to think I was so clever in my search, trying to focus on intelligence and humor and writing ability, but those things are somewhat superficial as well. Is it really important in a relationship that a man is at my Scrabble level? As it turns out, I’m bored with Scrabble now. I have come to understand I should have been looking for kindness and honesty all along.

I guess that’s what inner beauty means to me: kindness and honesty. But many are somewhat kind and reasonably honest. The tricky part is that these qualities also need to be accompanied by a lack of narcissism, disloyalty, selfish agendas, etc. Forex, if someone is kind only because he wants to have sex with me, that’s transactional and doesn’t count as inner beauty.

How have I coped? Not well, in the past. I developed anorexia the summer before high school, partly as a way to deal with the expectations of society for girls at that time. It took me years to return to a semi-normal state of mental and physical health. We are always in recovery, no matter what we look like on the outside.

Decades later, I felt neglected and down, so I began to try to attract attention, mostly online. It’s pretty easy for a woman to dress a certain way, post photos, flirt, etc., and get what she needs from men in that way. But it’s all so shallow and meaningless. What’s the point? I proved I could do it, and then I stopped. It became boring, like most things.

What do I do? Beyond the basics, not a lot. I’m older and have been dressing much more conservatively than I used to. I don’t feel comfortable as a 58 year-old grandma trying to look “sexy,” whatever that even means now. So, I get less attention than before and I’m okay with it. Strangely, I feel more confident being comfy than I used to when I dressed to get noticed, since I was always wondering if anyone did notice me. Now, I simply assume no one does and stay lost in my own thoughts. 🙃

I don’t have any advice to give young peeps about beauty except you probably look better right now than you ever will again so live it up! 😻

~*~

© 2019 Paula Light and Light Motifs II. No unauthorized use permitted. Please check out Paula’s books for sale on Amazon

No Vacancy [musical fiction]

My daddy was no Elvis, but he sure liked singing along to the King’s music as he wandered from town to town, hitching rides on boxcars, destination Bangor, Maine. Sometimes he’d do a couple hours labor and make enough to buy a cheap motel room, no phone, no pool, no pets, but he had enough for a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of cheap whiskey.

That’s how he met my mom. She worked in the liquor store across the street from that motel in Bangor, and it was the end of her shift. They chatted for a while outside and ended up back in his room.

“You do this a lot?” he asked.

“Only a time or two,” she said.

They had their rendezvous, and he hopped a train the next day. Six weeks later, my mom discovered he had left her a present and tracked him down. She found him at the end of Lonely Street, called her daddy to meet her, and they knocked on his door.

“You’ll marry my daughter or else,” my grandpa said as he waved his gun at my daddy.

“Yes sir,” my daddy said. “Go find a minister and I’ll get dressed.”

But instead of getting dressed, my daddy jumped off the roof, which is why they call it the Heartbreak Hotel.

My mom went back home to her parents, and that’s where I was born, but she was never happy in Maine again. We began to wander like my daddy had, staying for a time in various small towns while Mom found a little work, and then moving on again.

We traveled around the midwest and back; by the time I was in high school we were living off aid because employers didn’t care for my mom’s perfume: eau de booze. That winter of my junior year we were staying at a crappy motel halfway between Erie and Pittsburgh, when one Tuesday I got home from school and couldn’t wake her up. She’d mixed a bottle of sleeping pills with her gin. She was my mother and I loved her, but she put me through hell. I grabbed my things and got out of there before the authorities could take me from the Bittersweet Motel.

Then I began my own journey and some of it’s a bit hazy in my mind right now. I know I headed west; the East Coast had nothing for me but heartache and pain. I can’t remember exactly how long it took me to end up on that desert highway, cool wind in my hair, but the important thing is that I got here. I knew when I saw her in the doorway as the mission bell rang that I had found my way home again.

There’s plenty of room at the Hotel California. They have a nice courtyard where we dance every night. There are mirrors on the ceiling and pink champagne on ice… honestly, it’s pretty fancy, and I’ve never received a bill. I’m not sure where my car is though, since I can’t find a door to the outside, but I’ll look again tomorrow. I’m tired now.

~*~

This post was inspired by Jim @ Mindlovemisery along with the following songs:

“King of the Road” by Roger Miller

“Third Rate Romance” by Sammy Kershaw

“Heartbreak Hotel” by Elvis Presley

“Bittersweet Motel” by Phish

“Hotel California” by the Eagles

~*~

© 2019 Paula Light and Light Motifs II. No unauthorized use permitted. Please check out Paula’s books for sale on Amazon.

We Don’t Want Him

Nicholas Sparks is trending because he refused to accept an LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 club in the Christian school he founded and there’s some ongoing litigation yada. Apparently part of the case has been settled, and he has the legal right to be intolerant, so that’s cool. I more or less support keeping it legal for private clubs to arbitrarily let in and keep out whom they please, as opposed to landlords, employers, public schools, etc. (Whether they should get tax breaks is a different issue.)

Just because something is legal however doesn’t make it good or right. It’s also legal to cheat on your wife. But that’s not what I came here to discuss today. If you don’t already know, Nicholas Sparks is a writer, a hugely bestselling writer. His books have been made into movies. You’ve surely heard of The Notebook? Well, there you go.

In the frenzy to bash Sparks, people have been conflating his books with romance novels and dumping on the whole genre. Now, I don’t mind bashing Sparks ~ I made a yucky 🤮 face on Twitter myself. I can’t stand his sterile prose ~ and that was before I knew he was super religious. Now my review of Safe Haven from 2013 makes a lot more sense.

But let’s be clear: Nicholas Sparks is not a romance novelist. He says himself he isn’t one, and he is correct. He writes general fiction (“love stories”) with romantic elements. It’s an important distinction, peeps! To be a romance novel, a story must have a Happily Ever After ending. If you want to bash the genre, go ahead. If you want to rag on Sparks, for his politics or his writing or both, have at it.

But please don’t lump Nicholas Sparks in with romance novelists. Cuz that just pisses me right off. 😡💥🔥 He’s not welcome in our club. On the whole, you will find the protags in romance novels to be a tolerant lot, or they become tolerant as the story progresses.

I note that in The Daily Beast article I linked in my first sentence, Sparks bags on the whole romance novel genre because he’s a stupid ass who has read none of the books he’s criticizing. Romance novels are not about “the taming of a man” ~ if anything, they err on the side of misogyny, even though they are written largely by women and mostly from the POVs of the female protagonists. What they are, are fantasies of what it would be like if an alpha hero fell in love with you and wanted you more than anything on this earth, and indeed would do anything on this earth to make you his own. And he succeeds. That is what romance novels are and why those of us who love them, love them. ❤️❤️❤️

Sparks can stick with his yawningly vanilla pudding Ken-doll heroes because there is obviously a market for bland safe smooth love too.

^^^ The sexual excitement level in a Sparks’ novel goes from zero to pudding.

Paula’s Friday Flashback

Fandango has yet another great idea! Is there no end to them? (Rhetorical.) He suggests we repost an older post today to give our readers a {{{ fLAsHBacK }}} to days gone bye. Now, I am not following directions precisely (when do I ever?) cuz I used to not only skip bunches of days but also delete posts on whims. Crazy wot? So, this particular post I’m sharing is dated June 6, 2011, which was yesterday. Deal with it!

More on Romance and Porn

Because you are not tired of this topic yet, nope. 🙂

(Look, it was either this or complaining about how my dad can’t handle his banking any longer and now I have to pay his bills on top of all my other monumental burdens like, um, deciding whether to blog or hem my beige pants.)

So this Salon article, which was criticizing a hit piece targeting romance novels, purportedly set out to defend both porn and romance, but did neither very well. Sometimes I wonder why I visit Salon at all; so much of the writing is pure crap.

But that’s not what I’m here to discuss. I followed the link to the KSL article warning women away from the potential addiction of romance novels, which I have to say was much better written than the Salon piece, even if you disagreed with it. I suppose there is a nugget of truth to the idea that if you spend all day every day reading about perfect alpha fantasy men you’ll eventually find your own normal lump of a husband not measuring up in comparison, but most women aren’t going to be consuming romance novels like the way they eat bags of Snickers bars in the closet for Pete’s sake.  (Not SAYIN’ anyone here does that with the Snickers bars, ahem.)

Never mind that in any case. I followed a sidebar link from the KSL piece to Moore to the Point’s romance novel bloggery. Obviously this is a religious dude with an agenda, but so what if he makes a good argument, I say. And I’m saying that.

Both are based on an illusion. Pornography is based on the illusion of a perfectly willing, always aroused partner without the “work” of relational intimacy. Often romance novels or their film equivalents do the same thing for the emotional needs of women that pornography offers for the erotic urges of men.

And in both cases, what the “market” wants is sameness. Men want the illusion of women who look just like women but are, in terms of sexual response, just like men. Women want the illusion of men who are “real” men, but, in terms of a concept of romance, are just like women. In both artificial eros and artificial romance, there is the love of the self, not the mystery of the other.

Ooh. Interesting, no? I think so! Discuss. I have to get ready for work.

~*~

I don’t actually have to get ready for work today, June 7, 2019, cuz I took the day off to celebrate National Donut 🍩 Day!

P.S. My dad passed away March 11, 2013.

The Mighty Quinn

Jim writes about this song today and gives various ideas on what it might be about. An ex told me it was about a drug dealer. That makes sense. I nicknamed a character in a book “the Eskimo” because of that, and yes he was a drug dealer. I didn’t write much about the drugs themselves, since I don’t know anything and research is boring; instead I wrote about two guys having a long funny convo in the drug dealer’s house about which women they’d rather bang, such as Ginger or Mary Ann, etc. My story got way off-track because I began to enjoy writing these conversations more than the lurve scenes between the actual main characters, and I struggled with giving the protagonists enough screen time, so to speak. For some reason, this book isn’t even up for sale in my glob of books. That must be because I couldn’t decide which version to self-publish. Let’s take a vote.

1. The long one with all the off-track scenes left in that don’t even have much to do with the lurve story at all and make the book way too long for a romance novel but are funny?

2. The semi-cleaned up one that is less funny but more focused on the actual lurve story?

3. The super cleaned up version?

Then vote:

A. Prologue, which Elmore Leonard hates, but adds texture.

B. No prologue.

Title:

i. Attractive Nuisance (relevant legal term).

ii. Sweet Nothings (name of her lingerie store).

Thanks for your help!

P.S. Please remember that I still can’t read minds and you actually have to tell me in the comments what you want! 😀

FPQ23: I Burn Whole Cities

Fandango provocatively asks…

“How do you manage or deal with stress? Is there a specific strategy or approach that you’ve found to be particularly effective?”

My post title comes from the HBO show Game of Thrones where dragons have been known to release stress by destroying cities with fire. I am not a dragon, alas, though I have gotten vicarious pleasure especially during stressful times by reading A Song of Ice and Fire and from watching the show.

In general, I find that losing myself in a fantasy world of a novel or movie for a few hours is a great way to deal with stress. I do prefer movies over series, or series that have finished, because I don’t want to have to wait for the next season (and these days, that can be so unpredictable), which ends up leaving me at the mercy of people yapping online about the show and giving their predictions. Annoying!

Depending on what the stressful even was, I may wish to talk about it privately, with a daughter or a friend. I’m careful what I say to whom these days though, so as not to end up with more stress from the convo itself. I may write about the situation in a diary for my own clarification. I find the act of writing words on a page/screen to be therapeutic.

For immediate relief, deep breaths work. For a 24 hour period, repeating the mantra that “this too shall pass” helps a lot. If I can’t sleep, there’s always the Valium or Benadryl last resort. It’s really bad not to sleep because then I’ll feel even worse the next day, which will increase my stress. Cuddling my kitty and spending time alone at home usually helps me feel better.

Here are some stress management techniques that are supposed to help but do nothing for me:

1. Exercise. I know it’s good for me, but it makes everything hurt more and I end up with a (worse) headache.

2. Taking a vacation. Way out of my budget and I would be completely stressed about the money I spent.

3. Glass of wine. This is a migraine trigger about 50% of the time.

4. Music. This is tricky because a lot of songs pull up sad memories for me. I have to be careful about music. Plus, Gatsby doesn’t like it. Mostly I only listen in the car.

5. Sex. With a man? This was generally the cause of almost all my stress and giving it up has reduced my anxiety to nearly zero.

Dracarys! 🔥🔥🔥

Laura’s Music Challenge 13

It’s that time again, peeps! Join us for Laura’s music Monday and share some tunes. 🎶😀🎉

1. Post a video clip from a movie that involves dancing.

2. Post a video of a song that makes you think of medieval times.

3. Post a video of a song about sex.

Denial

Alyssa tweets that we should deny sex to protest strict abortion bans, and while I am Pro-Choice, her idea is wacky. Only women who believe the same will be on board, and most of them are already with like-minded men, so we’re punishing men who agree with us? Not to mention the fact that sex shouldn’t be used as a prize. Plus the fact that the anti-sex people couldn’t be more thrilled. 🙄

~*~

Via Sammi

Anniversary [100]

“Those petit fours look so luscious, Sandy,” Eva said. “They must have five hundred calories each.”

Sandy smiled. “Thank you! I thought we all deserved a special treat for the anniversary of our club.”

Jill shook her head. “My doctor told me to avoid sugar. Honestly Sandy. We’re all too old to splurge like this. You should have made something more suitable.”

“Geez,” Sandy said. “You ladies are–”

“Hey hey!” Norm shouted. “Are we all ready to draw names for our partner swap?”

Sandy, Eva, and Jill rushed toward the front of the room, forgetting all about the petit fours.

~*~

May 2 Prompt ~ The Haunted Wordsmith

FPQ21: Rainbow White House 🌈

Fandango’s back and there’s gonna be provoking, hey la, hey la, Fandango’s back!

“Do you think America is ready for an openly gay person to be elected to the office of President of the United States? Explain your opinion.”

I’m going to be very “Zen” about answering this question: The U.S. will be ready for an openly gay President if and when we elect an openly gay President.

We were ready for a black President when we elected President Obama for two terms. Apparently we were not ready for an LDS President, as Obama defeated Romney in 2012. We also weren’t ready for a female President in 2016, but maybe we will be at some point. Sometimes we accept male Presidents who cheat on their wives (Bill Clinton, Donald Trump, et al), but other times we toss them out of the lineup (Gary Hart, Herman Cain, et al). We’re a moody country and you can’t depend upon us to react consistently.

So, you will know when we’re ready for an openly gay POTUS when we in fact elect one and not before. If “Mayor Pete” goes up against Trump (not gonna happen), MP will lose. Nothing personal. If I had to bet on 2020 right now, I would unfortunately have to bet on the incumbent. 🤮