Living in the now with Snapchat

Last week I received a notification that someone had subscribed to my blog. I was in shock. In shock because it’s been ages since I’ve written a blog post.

Clicking on my site, I was saddened to see it still had the autumn leaf wallpaper from last fall. I felt emotional, mental, and physical pain to realize something I had worked so hard to build had been nary but abandoned.

I cringed at the thought that I had joined the ranks of bloggers who work tirelessly to build a relationship with their readers only to stop cultivating it.

Nevertheless, in spite of my apparent indifference, someone had shown an interest in my earlier work and clicked the subscribe button.

Feeling like a wretched ingrate, I pushed myself to put things right. I updated the theme, changed the wallpaper, added some things, deleted others, and in the end, felt happy with the results.

I wish I could tell you I’ve been lazy, or that I developed writer’s block. Unfortunately, this is not the case. The truth is things have been rough at Casa Bella. In the past year, the Significant Other has had three surgeries, a close family member has ended her marriage after 25 years, and I’ve had to conquer yet another bout of pneumonia.

Yes, once again life has gotten in the way. And this time, I have not been practicing the art of “dolce far niente” for the sheer pleasure of doing so, but because I’ve been forced to do so.

During this process, I’ve given new meaning to living one day at a time. The journey has not been an easy one but we seem to be coming out of the woods. Healing has been set in motion and believe it or not, smartphone photography is one of the things that has kept me sane.

Waiting in hospital emergency rooms and in doctors’ offices lead me to the discovery of apps like Snapchat. For those of you who haven’t heard of Snapchat (something I seriously doubt), it’s an app which allows one to take pictures which once viewed, disappear instantly. That is, unless you choose to add them to your “story” or “memories,” (Snapchat’s equivalent of a cloud). Snapchat followers can view your story as many times as they like for up to 24 hours, and then like magic, it’s gone. It’s important to note they can also replay an individual snap once.

My snaps, quite like the changing seasons, have varied this past year. There have been hospital snaps, surgery snaps, and grieving snaps. There have also been funny snaps, silly snaps, and snaps that don’t seem to make much sense. And while my new “hobby” might seem a worthless pursuit, let me assure you that capturing these moments has lead to many a discovery.

The writer in me has recognized that these snaps or moments, when strung together, allow a story to unfold. This alone has allowed me to focus on the positive and stopped me from worrying about what the future holds.

I’m grateful to my new subscriber for reminding me that unlike my snaps, my writing can last for as long as I want it to. And while I’m not ready to give up snapping, I am eager to resume writing blog posts.

I don’t want to end this post without saying I have missed you, dear readers. I pray you’ve missed me too. Stay tuned for upcoming posts and if you’d like to follow my adventures and finally discover what country I live in, follow me on Snapchat! Not only will this give you a window into my day to day, you’ll also get to see what little Roxy is up to!

If you wish to do so, my Snapchat username is: curvybella. You can also add me by using the snapchat code located on the right hand column of this blog.

Thank you for your patience and loyalty. I am deeply grateful.

XOXO,

Does age affect the way we see Valentine’s Day?

Be my valentine!
I heart you!
Be mine!
I love you!

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been bombarded greeted by these declarations long before Christmas was over. Establishments, all the way from bookstores to bakeries, have been more than happy to promote the countdown to the most awaited (or dreaded) holiday of the year.

But before any V-day lovers get their knickers in a bunch, know this will not be a rant on the evils doings of Cupid and his arrows. Nor will it be a history lesson on Saint Valentine and his role in this capitalistic venture upcoming holiday.

Rather, this will be a walk down memory lane (it’s been too long since I did one of those) to explore my attitudes and reactions to the “friendship/love” day.

And so it begins…

Age 6
I remember coming home with a self made, decorated envelope stuffed with “valentines.” Cards illustrated with fat cats and the words “You’re Puurfect, Valentine” made me giggle. The fact that so many people wanted me to be their valentine made me feel special and filled me with joy.

Age 10
Valentine cards, some of them still unopened, filled my backpack. Rushing to my room so I could continue reading “Anne of Green Gables,” I spied Nana, standing regally in the middle of the hallway, a stern look on her face. “Bella, unopened Valentine cards show a lack of respect and appreciation to your classmates. March your behind to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk, and let’s read those cards!” I knew better than to protest.

Age 12
At this age, I had discovered that crafting was not only fun, but also a way to bond with friends. Since we considered ourselves too “big” to hand out valentines, we spent this day making beautiful cards out of glossy paper, lace, and glitter. The recipients? Only our very best friends (known nowadays as “besties,” “bae,” or “BFFs.”)

Age 14
Valentine cards were replaced with “candy grams.” For a mere fifty cents (which wasn’t so mere at the time), you could send friends a lollipop in the shape of a heart, accompanied by a message. Many used this method to send anonymous messages to secret crushes. The amount of candy grams received determined a person’s popularity and sadly, also had the power to undermine the self confidence and self esteem of many. At the end of the day, it was easy to see who was well liked and who was “invisible.”

Age 17
Boys had “upped” their game and arrived at school bearing gifts of flowers and heart shaped chocolate boxes. This was also the time when I received a poem from a young man named Eddie, in which he professed his undying love. I wish I could tell you what it said, but I barely skimmed the contents before shoving it into my pocket. Unfortunately, I forgot all about it and it was destroyed when Nana threw my pants in the wash. When Eddie learned of his poem’s demise (yes, I was stupid enough to tell him), he looked at me with contempt and said, “Bella, may your callous disregard for someone else’s feelings result in you never being loved. Really loved. Like I loved you but no longer do.” (Spoken like a true poet.) Eddie, if you’re reading this, please know your hex worked and to this day, I still believe love is an illusion.

Age 20
This Valentine’s Day brought love (and horror) into my life in the form of a phone call. Hearing the words, “I love you. Will you marry me?” induced a panic attack that lasted for days. (Did I mention it was my first proposal and came from an ex boyfriend I hadn’t seen in two years?)

Age 24
Second marriage proposal. This time my reaction was more positive. Although in hindsight, I would have been better served reacting the same way I had to proposal #1.

Early 30’s
Valentine’s Day was no longer a one on one affair. As a single mother, I went from recipient to delegated card buyer, to crafts expert, to writer of cards. I was also a shoulder to cry on when the Daughter didn’t receive a valentine from “the one” and the Son got too many “stupid girly cards” and none that featured Pokemon.

Age 35
Third marriage proposal. This one came from Christopher, one of my pre kindergarten students who, dressed in a long sleeved white shirt and black shorts, dropped down to one knee, and asked for my hand in marriage. To this day, the beautiful little plastic ring he offered me is one of my most valuable possessions.

Late 30’s
Valentine’s Day celebrations are just a hazy memory. I’m only reminded of this holiday’s existence by phone calls from loved ones (young and idealistic family members), eager to scream, “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Oh, and by the low hanging “Be Mine” sign at the supermarket that hit me on the head and almost gave me a concussion.

Early 40’s
Valentine’s Day? Really? Are they still celebrating that?
Note to self: Include a reminder on Google calendar for February 15. Must beat to the punch other overworked, disillusioned, and exhausted women over the age of 40 for 50% off Valentine’s Day chocolates. (Remember to wear comfortable shoes since physical altercations are very much a possibility).

Oh, chocolate.
You have the power to remind me why I’m still grateful for this holiday. Thank you for that!

Do you still celebrate Valentine’s Day?

Note: Names have been changed to protect the innocent

Thank you for being a friend!

There are many reasons why bloggers choose to blog.

Some do it because it’s a great way to practice writing skills.

Others do it because blogging can be a great creative outlet.

And some aspiring writers do it because it’s important for them to have both a blog and a regular readership.

Nevertheless, there are also some who do it because blogging is a great way to build friendships.

I am one of those people.

When I first started blogging, my readership consisted of the Daughter, who read every now and then and rarely commented, my sister, who read rarely but commented every time she read, and the Significant Other and the Son, who never read but were forced to listen to my posts as soon as I wrote them.

This quickly changed as more people began to read my blog.

As my readership grew, my family members seemed to disappear into the woodwork, never to be seen again.

You’d think this would make me sad, but it doesn’t.

I’ve come to realize that you can’t force people to do what you want them to do.

Actually, you could, but the results would not be pretty.

But I digress.

My point is that even while family members pulled a disappearing act, it didn’t matter.

Why?

Because I discovered that in other bloggers, not only did I have readers, but also friends.

Sadly, I have yet to meet any of the lovely people who take the time to read my posts, or leave a thoughtful comment.

Nevertheless, when I read a comment left by one of my readers, I feel like a dear friend has left me his or her thoughts.

With this in mind, I have something I want to say to you all.

I marvel at the encouragement and support your words inspire.

I get emotional whenever I read the lovely words you leave on the pages of this blog.

I sigh at the wisdom and intelligence exhibited by your remarks.

I giggle, chuckle, and laugh out loud as I read your funny comments.

Yes, we may not have met, but every one of you feels like an old friend.

Time after time, I have wondered what it would be like to host a party where you’re all invited; to sit down for a cup of tea or coffee; to laugh over a glass of vino.

I wonder what makes you laugh, smile, and cry.

I sigh as I realize that we are separated by many miles; every one of us living in a different city, a different country, a different continent.

I pondered this tonight as I lay out the items needed for tomorrow’s dinner.

And it occurred to me that today was the perfect time to express my feelings.

This post came together in a matter of minutes.

Because that’s what happens when you speak from the heart.

Tonight, I wish to express my gratitude.

I am grateful for your readership.
I am grateful that you take the time to comment.
But more than anything, I am grateful for your friendship.

Thank you!

To all those who celebrate Thanksgiving, Roxy and I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving!

And to everyone else, Happy Thursday!

XOXO,