Sometimes all it takes is admitting something to yourself…

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If no one invites you to dance…

and you would like to dance…

perhaps it’s time you just admitted to yourself that you want to dance and…

either invite someone else (who is probably waiting to be asked just as you were) to dance or just dance and dance alone if needs must.

What’s wrong with dancing alone!?!

Frankly, it’s easier to dance alone (don’t have to worry about stepping on someone’s toes or being in sync with them) and sometimes it’s more fun (you can flail your arms… no one to hit… unless you wanted to hit someone passive-aggressively).

No one ever asks me what my favourite quotes are…

mind you, they probably have and I’ve forgotten that they have.

So, why haven’t they asked me again?

They probably have and…

my memory is sometimes as sharp as something you wish wasn’t that sharp, but at other times it’s a giant spongy thing which lets most things squishily get away except soap… getting soap out of a sponge once it’s in the sponge… frig.

Since no one (that I can recall) has asked me what my favourite quote is, I’m just going to share it…

at the moment it’s the one in the image at the beginning of this post.

It applies to so much in so many ways and it’s about swimming (or the opposite of it)… I love swimming even though I never do it these days, it once used to be something I did all Summer (to the point where people were always telling me that I would drown… maybe it wasn’t a warning so much as a wish based on their levels of annoyance at my Aquaman status).

Isn’t it a tiny image?

Did you need to press the ‘zoom’ feature on your device to read it?

Usually I enlarge small images before I post them, but this time I didn’t because…

I am now wearing my newly bought today reading glasses which (are basically just magnifying lenses) I finally had to admit that I needed…

I finally had to admit to myself that those ‘laughter lines’ at the corners of my eyes were not wrinkles caused by smiling or laughing too much (I probably do that which is why I thought that was the cause) but ones caused by squinting.

I did always want to be Clint Eastwood, but…

what I meant by that wish was that I wanted to coolly kill annoying bandidos with one shot and get away with it…

not be squinty…

at least not be squinty because I couldn’t see…

his squint was part of his – I’m so cool I don’t need to see – and the Sun was always shining in his eyes because it loved messing with him like, and he was always suspicious about what lay before him, especially of the people he was looking at and the stories they were telling him.

I can see more clearly now, and remove splinters from fingers which is my new job these days…

but with a quick deft hand movement I can go back to blurry vision and look at the world through the kind of lens which softens the harshness of it.

I’m no longer as independent as I liked to see myself as being…

but sometimes that clarifies things rather than muddies them…

some boundaries need to be blurred…

others need to be seen with definition.

.

.

Sometimes you need to see that…

you need to admit things to yourself before you can move forward without tripping over…

your own issues…

and that those issues belong to you not others…

the issues of others can be tripped over too,

which is why Clint squinted at the stories people told him…

but…

our issues trip us up far more often,

particularly when dancing…

Or something like that (just took my glasses off because they were giving me a headache).