Window Dressing

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I turned the corner heading down the path on my way to somewhere.
The path was busy, everyone rushing past, phones singing, voices conversing.
The mass continued on past you, unknowing, almost ignoring.
I too have ignored and lived only in my head.
Though what was different about today?
Was the sun angle differently touching the stone and brick?
Was my mind altered from last nights proclivities?
Was fate showing up? Why today?
The reason not known, but life altered forever is truthfully obvious.
I stepped onto the last path toward my destination, unknown that you were near.
The phone in his hand reflected the light directly under my eye, forcing a sudden but fateful turn away
from the direct sunlight.  There were two ways to turn my head, I went toward the shop display window directly parallel
to me.
There you are.
Standing in the window, gown fitting, stunningly gorgeous. I stop suddenly. Your body is aglow in the sunlight streaming
into the window, face radiant, blue ice eyes staring through me. Single braid running behind, arms perched, unmoving.
The gown so staggeringly beautiful as to adorn such a perfect specimen.
I stared at you until your eyes locked onto mine.
~Morgan
Image Credit: praisewedding.com

If Marriage is So Hard then Why Do We Want It So Bad?

This image bothers me.  It bothers me that I’m so totally jealous of it.  I don’t know the chic whose slipping on the final piece of clothing before walking down the aisle.  I don’t know the smiley happy people waiting for her to walk down that flowery, or not flowery, or just plain people tunnel toward her ‘end.’ I don’t know any of the people watching her while they remember their happy moments when they did the exact same thing!
I don’t know the dad, or mom or aunt or brother or dog who will be accompanying them while they make that walk.
The most beguiling part though, she is going to put on that heel, stand up, barely hold on to her emotions the rest of the ceremony and step happily into a life of more servitude than even the moment this photo was taken.  I don’t mean she’s going to ‘hitch’ herself to a horrible man ( notice the use of man here, I go there only because I’m assuming that women marry men, orpinterest_bride_putting_shoes_on_6_3_2018 they magically find a man instead of a horny boy ) but that she is willingly giving herself less freedom.
The relationships with other boys are supposed to stop.  She’s supposed to stop flirting at work, if she even did in the first place, because lets face it, flirting has turned into a semi dangerous affair ( again, not a bad pun but a real use of a real word. )
No more special relationships with other guys or at least nothing secret.
Everything is supposed to be in the open.
When I was hanging out last night, us girls ended up a bar largely because they had the room and we all felt like sipping or drinking something instead of eating away our ( my ) sorrows and/or adding to ourselves physically while emotionally we remove mental baggage.
The calories aside, things can tend to get interesting with a bunch of women sipping mixed colory drinks or asking for a 2nd ( or 3rd ) margarita.
No one went overboard, but as we’re all chatting about all the things in our lives, they deftly gave me the floor for a good bit of the night.  I didn’t call ‘the boy’ any evil names, I may have wrote our married name down a couple of times and possibly ripped those papers up.  I may have deleted his contact and texts from my phone, I even may have changed my Netflix password because there is NO way he gets that! However, I did cry, and it’s so ridiculous, because this didn’t happen recently, it’s been some time, the breakup was months ago.
They’ve all been there, and while everyone agreed with me, they tried to nicely say that it was the ‘right’ thing, he wasn’t the ‘right’  boy. Though, in a lot of ways it only meant that for those who are married, or even dating, they knew in their hearts that they found the ‘right’ man. They also know why I haven’t, or some inkling.  I have wonderful friends, and they don’t know about this blog so they’re not going to know what I’m saying, but this is what I’m saying.  Everyone around that table knew knew KNEW that those who had the ‘right’ relationship were giddy that it was working, and they had ‘some’ amount of guilt being thankful that they weren’t me.
WHY?
WHY DO WE ALL WANT MARRIAGE SO BAD?
WHY DO WE WANT THAT SPECIAL SOMEONE?
I only ask because those same girls were happily complaining about their men.  He leaves his shirts all over the place.  He doesn’t like to wash his hands before a meal?
????? REALLY ?????
He doesn’t like this, or that. Yesterday you WON’T believe what he said about this!
I appreciated their complaints but they rang hollow. At the very least they rang hollow because I knew they were all trying to make me feel better.  Sure, some of them are having some real issues, and they are real issues that I don’t have, but they are dealing with them as a couple, as a twosome. I’m stuck as a onesome.
I want someone to be mad at because he doesn’t pick up after himself.
I want to have someone to come home to me.
I want someone to love me back.
I want to get dressed in the morning and have someone kiss me goodbye.
I want to have breakfast, and then have someone else get up and have breakfast with me ( it can even be a second breakfast or dinner, or brunch. )
I want the cold nights cuddled up together.
I want to fight with someone about money, decorating, or the something or the something else.
I want to have someone to do stuff with.
I want to. Not. Be. Lonely.
If I do a Google search on marriage I’ll find millions of people saying how hard it is, is it worth it for men?  Is it worth it for women? Everyone knows about couples in counseling, divorce happens all the time.
These are all horrible hard things, things I don’t have to worry about.
The people out there who make a living talking about marriage seem to say that it is ‘dying’ or that maybe it is an institution possibly not as important as previously thought. There are a lot of women who happily type about equality, and sleeping around, and how women can do that like men. They say that they need no one but themselves for happiness.
A lot of boys will happily keep dating around forever, no plans to stop their lives, or gasp have children and responsibilities!
If any of them are right, then why don’t I feel that way?
Why do I have to keep reminding myself that ‘I’m happy!’
I just wish I didn’t have to tell myself I have it all.
I wish I didn’t have to remind myself that getting up in the morning and doing everything alone is the greatest thing ever.
I wish my heart didn’t rip wide open when I stared at some photo of a strange woman putting on her shoe before she stands up, puts her arm in the arm of someone who after a small walk together will happily pass her into the arms of a man also willing to be tied only to her. I don’t know her, but I can’t seem to talk myself out of the fact that her life is better than mine, and I want what she has.
If all the things keep telling me that marriage is sooo hard, why do I want it so bad?
~Morgan
Image Credit: happywedd.com

Why So Harsh, Why ( most ) Men Suck

Waking up in the morning can be a bitter pill.  Some days I wake up and look forward to the happiness of the day, but today everything sucks.

I hate that my hair seems to default to frizzy and broken.

I hate that my stomach has more fat this year than last year.

I hate that my ears are too big.

I hate that my face seems to break out when I’m stressed, or sad, or too hot.

I hate that I live alone.

I hate that my friends keep finding their ‘soulmate’.

I hate that all the clothes in my closet are horrible and I have nothing to wear!!!

I hate that I don’t have a boyfriend.

I hate that a number of months ago I thought I had a boyfriend but he wasn’t interested in the long term. Or was he just not interested? Or was I not interesting? Was I not pretty enough? Was I not funny enough? Do my knees look funny? Was I too prudish? WHAT WAS IT?

I hate that though I wasn’t in love, (yet?)

pinterest_girl_crying_black_whiteThat there were real possibilities. Or was it that there never was a possibility, and looking back why was I thinking there was?

I hate that I believe in marriage, but none of the boys ( yes boys ) have any reason to marry because all of us ‘normal’ girls are so desperate to find someone ( anyone ) that we end up doing and giving up our values and beliefs just to have someone near us.

 

 

I hate that this morning I have to get up, preen myself ( boys call them the 3 s’s ) do my hair, paint my nails, wear something presentable just so I get noticed.

BUT WAIT! WAIT YOU SAY! You don’t have to do that!!!!

I KNOW! I answer back.  I so so know.  Buuuuuuuut if I don’t, if I fall out of bed, leave my jammies on and plod around the house in my slippers, if I leave that broken nail broken, don’t hide my ugly toenails, wear the ugly closed foot sandals, or worse, wear the cute open toed strappy sandals, with the sloppy shorts and old t shirt, I find that the boys I attract are worse than the ones I was dating in the first place.

 

WHAT DO I DO????

I’m not horrible looking, but I’m not perfect.  I look at all the insta posts about blah blah get a new body blah blah. You’ll be happier blah blah blah!!! I even post on instagram ( shameless plug instagram.com/morganwerhen ) mostly with beautiful pictures, largely with happy women and/or brides. I find that men pictures are mostly too hulky or ‘look at me I’m Goliath and I can eat 5 steaks a day!’, or they’re so into themselves that I can’t possibly relate or want to relate. I DON’T NEED A GOLIATH, I JUST NEED SOMEONE.

 

I used to be pretty confident in myself, I was dating frequently, but as I turn the corner into my 30s I’m finding that I just want a man who loves me for who I am. Who will hold me when I’m sad, laugh with me, and largely someone I can get along with.  Is that so much to ask?

WHERE ARE YOU MAN????

Currently I don’t believe that man exists.  If he does or if I think I meet him, he definitely wants inside my panties, and he isn’t interested in commitment. Or he is interested in commitment but first lets get into my panties and then we can talk about the holding. I’m not sure if it’s me or society or it’s just that I’m not worth the time?

Last night I cried about it. This morning I’m plodding around my apartment in an old t-shirt.

Tonight I’ll preen and hang out with girlfriends and hopefully I’ll feel better.

~Morgan

Image Credit: Pinterest

Who Is This Person Staring Back at Me?

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My eyes opened suddenly, a rush of emotions and panic flooding my mind.  “Who am I” I thought.  “Where am I?” Laying on the bed I turned my head to attempt to look at my surroundings.  The room was dark, it smelled slightly musty but I smelled a floral scent mixed in with slightly damp, and cold feelings.  I moved my arms and legs, they felt different, like they haven’t been moved in while, but they all responded as if everything was fine.  I sat up, but felt a little stiff and slow.  There were a couple of windows in the room, they seemed large, but with hardly any light in the room I was struggling to see what or where I was.
Where was I? I felt calm, the panic was replaced by a feeling of excitement, but I didn’t know why?  I remembered going to bed at some point wearing my yellow sun dress, with a white hairpiece holding back my hair..  I remembered running in the grass with my friends as we would ride our bikes around a neighborhood?  The thoughts and memories started to flood in.  I was 12.  It was summer. The light wind would play with my brunette bob and blow it around my face, always forcing me to wrap the stray strands behind my right ear.  My mom always getting after me about picking up my dolls. My white strappy sandals left in the middle of room.
The light was starting to peak into the windows around the heavy blinds. I decided to try to stand up.  It went fine but I was surprised to feel hair falling at my back.  I habitually moved my hand to place it behind my ear. What? It cascades down my back? I grabbed hold of it. It was full of ‘body?’ why did I know that term? It smelled floral, like lilacs in the summer just before their peak. “Why is my hair so long?” I kept walking toward the window, slightly shocked that walking in a sundress would feel so constricting. Still reeling from these mixture of sensations that felt both new and familiar at the same time.
His name was Jordan. I remember a Jordan. That day, “why do I remember that day?” the sun was bright, shining through the small oak in our yard causing the shadows to dance on the house.  He lived across the street from us, though I remember it was a street where cars went back an forth. I remember standing at the curb and we were yelling back and forth about something. He was in a light blue t-shirt with muddy shorts.  His ‘race’ bike with the orange handle grips sitting next to him tossed on the ground, the kickstand shoving up a mound of grass and dirt next to it. “You have to come over today!” He was yelling.  “I can’t!” I yelled back.  The sun was hot, I could see he was sweating a little, his two front teeth gleaming as he moved his mouth.  “Why couldn’t I come over?” I asked my self?
Whoa!! I almost tripped on something on the floor. “What is that?” I felt something sliding next to me. The excitement also seemed to make me breathe harder.  Something is restricting my chest? “What??” I stop. “Just stand here, calm down” I think, that decision causes me to start relaxing a bit.  I was almost to the windows, for some reason it felt like opening the shade would allow me to understand why nothing makes sense.  I start to explore who or “what” I am. I immediately realize that I must be a woman, no longer 12, long long past. I feel below my waist and my breath heaves in a panic, but an excited twirl of happiness.  My pajamas seem to not be pajamas. I take both hands, and lean down at the waist. and it seems I have a dress on with a skirt full of luxuriant “where did that word come from” ruffles.  They cascade and follow my body well past my legs and around the floor.  This new body of mine is so confusing, but it feels like “me.”
Jordan kept yelling but the cars were too loud, the wind seemed to pick up and I remember the day feeling darker. I instinctively remember fixing my hair behind my ear, but there was a sound, a loud screeching sound.  Everything slows down in that moment, but I remember turning my head toward the noise.
I steadied myself in the room, the sun continued to push more of it’s yellow light through the windows. It was time to finish this slow walk and see where I was. Moving toward the windows again, taking daintier steps, I heard my dress swish and swirl as my legs bumped against the skirt. At the windows I could see two of them had blinds, the type I remember were in my room, wide wood slats that would pivot to hide the light, forcing streams to pour in at the edges. However, the middle window was different. It seemed to hold something smooth, or attached to the window. There was a little light, but it was forced only at the square edges of the window. The beams shot out like a line, almost a sign with no backlighting for the words that would be seen if the light could shine through.  I reached the wall, I felt what appeared to be cold brick, but the warmth from the other side was apparent. I moved my hand along the surface of the wall where the light could penetrate enough for my eyes to see my hand.  Whoa, again, my heart quickened! Fingers so long, rounded nails, perfectly manicured with a light pink detail. The sun danced off my nails as they shimmered. Then it caught my eye. I gasped! On my finger sat a ring with a diamond.
The sound was deafening! The wreck caused one vehicle start coming my way. I sat there frozen as a hunk of steel was rolling toward the curb, I could see the panic in the drivers eyes, mouth wide, words streaming out but I couldn’t hear. I did hear something, or wait, someone screaming. “Judith!!! Judith run! RUN!” It was Jordan.  He was screaming to run, but where? I turned away from the driver barreling toward me and tried to move my legs.  It was like they were filled with lead, like a dream where I was running out of a classroom realizing I forgot to put on pants, but I couldn’t move.  “I’m coming!” He yelled, I couldn’t see him, but his voice kept getting closer. I tried desperately to run but my legs were stuck, the car was still screeching towards me, and now I could smell burning rubber and smoke.
Something hit me. I remember that. But, it hit me from the side. Arms wrapped around me and I was “tackled?” I remember falling, fast, smacking my head, but there was a rush behind me, as dirt and grass and flying debris hit me and Jordan? “Jordan!” “Jordan tackled me and shoved me away!”
I sat there desperately trying to remember more.  I remember my room, noises, people surrounding me, I remember being carried, I remember hearing a siren.  I remember hearing words about Jordan, that he wasn’t answering, they were panicked. I remember closing my eyes. Nothing after that.
That foreign hand, with the large cut diamond moved over to pull up the blind. “It’s time to meet me” I think, “Judith is my name I believe, who is Judith and why does she have a ring on her hand?” I pulled up the blind and light streamed in, I quickly walked across the middle window and pulled up the other blind. The light instantly filled the room and my eyes blinked while attempting to adjust. There definitely was something on the center mirror, it appeared to be writing. I blinked again and gasped as I saw this room for the first time. Though, it felt familiar in a way, like I’ve been here before.
The bed I was in stood alone, but there was a framed photo of Jordan an I by the nightstand, I was in the yellow sundress, and he was just smiling at me. The sheets were white, but there were yellow notes posted everywhere. I couldn’t read them, but they had an order, and appeared slightly tattered, or well used. Turning toward the center window I saw what was pasted in the window. There attached somewhat permanently was a giant letter starting with the words  “Your name is Judith Winters, on July 24th 13 years ago you hit your head but you were saved from death my Jordan Reetherin. You need to read the letter by the mirror next to you to catch up on what has happened to you so you can move forward with your life from this morning on.
The feelings of panic started again, “I couldn’t remember anything since that accident! I’m standing here a woman and I have to re learn who I am.  I have a ring.” I turned toward the mirror and at that point is the first ( or thousandth ) time I met me.  I had long brunette hair, floating past my shoulders, I was wearing makeup, light pink lipstick and earrings adorned my ears. I was thin, but not gaunt, I had the body of a woman but only memories of a child. The person staring back at me was familiar with her body, but the mind was trying to wrap that fact with missing memories.  Who is this person staring back at me? The dress was gorgeous, my shoulder blades heaved in anticipation and fear as I removed the envelope from the far left of the mirror.  I opened the flap and removed the new letter, folded three times. It was long, very detailed, and hand written in a mans handwriting.
Dear Judith,
This is Jordan.  I love you, and today is our Wedding Day.
Image Credit: gabbytaangeles.tumblr.com

All of These are Important

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To love is to be alive
To be loved is to live
To care is to abundantly provide without expectation in return
To be cared for is humbling while desiring to return the same
To need is human
To be needed is fulfillment and care and love
Separate these all matter, but together they create
a life everyone desires.
Love, care, need, help, do, be. Live abundantly!
Image Credit: gabytaangeles.tumblr.com

I Love Paris!

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The sun is up and the morning has shown her beautiful face.
I dress for the day as the light breeze floats through the window.
The blossoms launder the room with their fragrance and their
shadows dance on my face, and bed while they move about in
between the sun and shadow.
I smell Parisian coffee from the cafe’ below my window.
I hear small silver clinking and spreading the luscious tasties on
warm delicious breakfast morsels.
The day is glorious and I get to spend it HERE!
The morning beckons and I push my door open to see this
beautiful city Paris!

The Song Remembers

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There is a place in everyone’s heart that doesn’t seem to have a switch with a mappable location.
It snuggles in, hidden from your sight, even hidden from your life, but makes itself aware in small subtle ways over the course of our lives.
To call it a switch is unkind really, as to actually turn it on is transformative.  The change takes place in your entire being, your heart beats faster, hands seem to be shaky, legs less sure.  The mind however, no words can describe the changes there.  Once the change happens, the mind becomes euphoric, or depressingly sad. The delicious meal that was causing so much happiness suddenly turns to gruel in the mouth. Of course, the opposite is also true.  The tears falling with no possible end, may suddenly change to divine joy in which for every tear the sun shines brighter, and even the rain turns into a pitter and patter of diamonds dropping out of the sky.
I’m talking of course about the power of music, a sound, a smell and its ability to conjure up memories from a far off time.  The switch of course is that single moment when you were doing one thing, in fact, you were living your life as if nothing had ever happened. You were effectively doing things any human would do, and then out of nowhere something changes. Your ear hears a sound, you smell a meal, a flower, even a smell that means nothing to anyone else near you.
This single moment changes everything.
The second your mind hears said audible note, or notes, you’re transformed. If the memory is a good one, it feels like being wrapped in a soft blanket on a cold day, or hugging a long lost friend for a long period of time without the worry of needing to let go.  If it is a reminder of a loss, then time seems to stop, you feel your body twist backwards through the tunnel of sadness, and your entire being is as emotionally distraught as if the event just happened again.
Sometimes these memories are so powerful, the person you were before the memory, and the person you become after are two completely different versions.  Some people have regressed so far as if they either lost 30 years and appear as a young boy or girl.  Others mature to the point of “walking out of a there a new woman.” There is simply the possibility that the memory will bring with it joyous thoughts which float around the mind, change the eyes, and mouth for a small minute and disappear as if they never floated back.  Others will roar back and take over, possibly never leaving and effectively changing the individual for the rest of their living life.
How can it be that one sound, one song, or noise, or smell or feel is so powerful?
I don’t know, but  Trisha Yearwood did in  “The song remembers when,” and everyone who listens to that song can place themselves in a similar situation where during one second everything was perfect, and suddenly without notice, everything changed.
Image Credit: pinterest.com

What Used to Be

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I climbed this mountain today, remembering a time that seems so long ago.
The sheets wrap around me like linen on a body laid in state in front of the masses quietly mourning the loss of a soul once brought to life because of you.
My room is a tomb, cold, without life or light, sitting alone. No perfumes adorn my neck, no iron has worked through my hair.  I lay here in jammies made only for warmth, remembering a time when I laid here next to you.
The tulle skirt lies crumpled on the floor a heap on top of the lacy top. My shoes were picked specifically for the twirling and dancing we used to do.  The roses you bought, still in their vase now wilting, petals falling one by one as if forgetting they used to be part of something beautiful, lovely. With each loss the once whole flower now becomes a broken husk that someone remembers once had beauty.
The tears begin anew like the rain pelting coldly outside.  I don’t know if I’ll make it today, so I close my eyes and descend the hill back into my bed, maybe tomorrow I’ll crest this sorrow and escape this sadness.
Image Credit: www.luciadress.top

Heels are Glorious

I was traipsing around various stores, loving all the things. Tops, rompers,  jumpsuits,  sun dresses.
I love that the sun excites me about stepping outside in that cute lacy tunic, hair not frizzy, makeup actually works and feeling like people around me see me as I feel.
The feeling comes so seldom, I have to write about it as soon as my mind agrees with my mirror!
I’ve often wondered what it was that magically transforms my feelings about me.
It’s the shoes. Actually, it’s the heels!
They’re sometimes impractical,  slightly not comfortable and mostly not for non gymnasts like me, but I love how they look on my feet. I even love walking into my closet and just staring at them imagining how they will look with my outfits that week!
I love that the right pair of shoes transforms my outfit from chic to lustrous. The perfect accessory is the right shoes. The little straps, chunky heel, cute toes, they all make it pop.
When it pops right I feel amazing.
Is it okay to admit this? I feel that society sometimes pressures me (us) not to be beautiful, to fit in and not to pop. I love shoes, I do, and I guess I’m not going along with the pressure. Beauty is a thing and I love to feel beautiful.

Am I Enough for You

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Am I enough for you?
Do you see me sitting here waiting to be loved by you?
Do you know the power you hold over me? How vulnerable I am? I put on a good show. I make you work for me, I don’t let you run me over. I know you care. But do you really know what I’m capable of doing,  blossoming into when you care for me likeI need you too.
Do I trust that you will?
Do I trust you?
I’ve lived this life being told so many things, I can conquer, I can do, now I sit on this bed, holding these flowers and all I want is to be enveloped by you. I desperately want to give in to these feelings and know my heart will be held closely by you. Can you? Will you?
I wish I knew for sure, but my heart has been handed to you to take, and I’m not sure I have the strength to take it back and run away.
I love you so, do you love me so too?
Image Credit: www.brit.co/getting-ready-wedding-shots