Madonna Or A Bubble Bath Bubble
I'm sitting here cutting out teeny weeny felt tree trunks for a project and thinking about Madonna, as she's just been inducted in to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. I like Madonna. Not because she burns crosses in her videos or has a penchant for simulating masturbation on stage, or even because she has a much better body than me at nearly fifty years old when I'm only thirty two. I like her because she is still here.
Lets be honest, we all have days when we feel like Madonna - or a Madonna type figure - powerful, brave, ballsy, carefree and then we have others when we feel like a bubble made by the bubble bath we use. Fragile, ready to be popped and never seen again with the most fragile of touches.
We can look around us and it can appear as if everything is perfect - so why do we want to cry?
The room shown in this post is our guest room.
This room has the advantage of almost never being untidy, simply because its used less than the other rooms. I come in to this room and lay on the bed when I'm feeling small. I stare up at the ceiling or look out on to the garden that LBH and I are finally making sense of. I ask myself whether I have too much and perhaps that is why I am feeling like this? I ask myself if its me, what have I done wrong to have these invasive feelings? Perhaps I get up too early and work until too late and get so tired I sleep standing up? If thats the case then why do I feel as if I am never getting enough done? Perhaps I'm not cut out for this? Blogging, exposing, teaching, publicly crafting, publicising, dreaming, creating, hoping, wanting, writing, searching. Perhaps things need to be quieter, gentler, simpler, less 'big'? There is no time to fit it all in. I can't drink any more coffee and I can't set my alarm any earlier. I just feel small and my bottom lip keeps trembling.
I saw my doctor the other day with regards to my pesky hip, it keeps having spasms, spasms of pain. I like my doctor, she's......hmmmmm, what is she?......level, my doctor is level. I was feeling very discouraged that day because I knew that she was going to suggest physio and my first thought was "I don't have time!!!" We chatted and got on to a conversation about somebody in the press recently. I commented on how if we all were to realise that in fact each one of us were the same we'd be ever such a lot happier. She looked at me and said that she thought that was a truism if ever there was one.
So in effect if I believe what I said then I would be able to take great comfort in knowing that we all have bubble bath bubble days. You may lie on the couch or stare out of the car window. You may lay in the bath or sit at your sewing machine. I lay in our guest room, not for very long mind you, just long enough to .....well, to think.
And then I get up and get on, sometimes feeling a little better and sometimes not at all. I guess that's what I like about Madonna, she gets up and gets on, not always partaking in something I would do personally (although I do love her in a pink leotard) but she gets up and she gets on. Whereas the bubble bath bubble, well thats gone and its not coming back.
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