Photographers, artists, poets: show us CHERISH.
My Santa says hello from my living room and
is certain that he is the most important person in my life at the moment.
He might think that, but first of all I have to tear myself away from the mirror and leave I, me and myself. I cherish myself because I am me, am original, and have no copies; there is no-one else that is me. Having reached a grey-haired golden oldie age and still more or less alive and kicking, I can celebrate myself as being the most important person in my life.
This seems conceited, overdone, and self-important? I suppose it does, but in my right mind I would never expose any person I know personally in a blog to tell the world how wonderful that person is and my reasons for cherishing a person, other than myself, are mine. It may be, most probably, that person does not want to be the centre piece of one of my prize suspected winning blogs. That person may not want to be canonized, put on a pedestal and be worshipped. Not everyone wants to be the subject of a public blog.
I feel so sorry for the people in Facebook that are the centrepiece on a timeline, their character being praised as being perfect perhaps by their wife or children and all the friends and friends of friends clapping virtually with their remarks. Lucky you having such a wonderful husband/wife/father/brother/sister, with 200 likes or more in support. Probably they are bored and have nothing better to do.
So I will continue in support of myself. I can only argue with myself for printing words in support of me. I will not be compromising anyone, embarrassing anyone, just myself. You want details – no problem. I am not a bad cook, we are all still alive at home. I eat too much sweet stuff, but don’t we all? I like to have a golden oldie midday sleep after lunch, but so do many others. My felines are never hungry or thirsty and want for nothing. I like to read a good book in the evening and prefer it to watching the TV, although I do make an exception for East Enders, a BBC soap based on my roots in London. I like orchids and now have quite a collection. I never throw them away, if the leaf is still green and the roots still look healthy, then it is still alive so keep it, you never know it might grow again. My collection has expanded but I still have room on the floor beneath the glass table.
What else can I say about me? I am an Autumn person, the Winter is too cold, the Summer too hot and Spring too wet. I do not like Leonardo DiCaprio, prefer Johnny Depp, but above all like Brad Pitt: like listening to Italian singers mostly, especially Paolo Conte and Lucio Dalla. My favourite song of all time is still City of New Orleans sung by Arlo Guthrie, but have already featured that in another blog somewhere.
Enough details? I will now have another look in the mirror, an occupational hazard when being the most important person in your life.
He might think that, but first of all I have to tear myself away from the mirror and leave I, me and myself. I cherish myself because I am me, am original, and have no copies; there is no-one else that is me. Having reached a grey-haired golden oldie age and still more or less alive and kicking, I can celebrate myself as being the most important person in my life.
This seems conceited, overdone, and self-important? I suppose it does, but in my right mind I would never expose any person I know personally in a blog to tell the world how wonderful that person is and my reasons for cherishing a person, other than myself, are mine. It may be, most probably, that person does not want to be the centre piece of one of my prize suspected winning blogs. That person may not want to be canonized, put on a pedestal and be worshipped. Not everyone wants to be the subject of a public blog.
I feel so sorry for the people in Facebook that are the centrepiece on a timeline, their character being praised as being perfect perhaps by their wife or children and all the friends and friends of friends clapping virtually with their remarks. Lucky you having such a wonderful husband/wife/father/brother/sister, with 200 likes or more in support. Probably they are bored and have nothing better to do.
So I will continue in support of myself. I can only argue with myself for printing words in support of me. I will not be compromising anyone, embarrassing anyone, just myself. You want details – no problem. I am not a bad cook, we are all still alive at home. I eat too much sweet stuff, but don’t we all? I like to have a golden oldie midday sleep after lunch, but so do many others. My felines are never hungry or thirsty and want for nothing. I like to read a good book in the evening and prefer it to watching the TV, although I do make an exception for East Enders, a BBC soap based on my roots in London. I like orchids and now have quite a collection. I never throw them away, if the leaf is still green and the roots still look healthy, then it is still alive so keep it, you never know it might grow again. My collection has expanded but I still have room on the floor beneath the glass table.
What else can I say about me? I am an Autumn person, the Winter is too cold, the Summer too hot and Spring too wet. I do not like Leonardo DiCaprio, prefer Johnny Depp, but above all like Brad Pitt: like listening to Italian singers mostly, especially Paolo Conte and Lucio Dalla. My favourite song of all time is still City of New Orleans sung by Arlo Guthrie, but have already featured that in another blog somewhere.
Enough details? I will now have another look in the mirror, an occupational hazard when being the most important person in your life.
Ok, I just do not want to be the misery
guts of the Daily Prompt, so I make the most of it, although to be quite honest
I enjoyed this one, probably because it was about I, me and myself.
