I’m not a big fan of cold weather or anything to do with wintertime, although, I do like to see snow about once a year.

So far, I haven’t been lucky enough to see any snow. Correction, we had a few snow flurries earlier this morning.

Once we get my requested amount of snow, I’ll be ready for winter to be over and will wishing for warmer weather.

 

Wishing for warm weather got me to thinking about the river. It’s one my favorite places to go for solitude. It’s where I like to go when my mind is so full of shit that I can’t think straight or when my emotions are running amok.

 

There’s a bridge that crosses the river where I go. I have to park on the side of the road and get out and either walk out onto the bridge to see the river or go down one of many narrow paths that lead directly to the river.

The bridge is probably not the safest place to be since the cars that cross over try to see how fast they can go sometimes. Although, I have many times sat on the concrete sides of the bridge watching the river instead of opting to venture down onto the banks.

To get to the river itself, I must walk down a worn, narrow path that is just wide enough for a person to walk through. With the trees, bushes and weeds grown up and hanging over the path, it is necessary to turn sideways at certain points so I don’t get smacked with limbs. The path then takes a turn to the left and within about 3 feet it opens into a small circular spot of dirt, that is only big enough for about 3 or 4 people, then it makes its way around an old tree that hangs precariously out over the water. The trunk of the tree is covered in sumac and some other wild vines that snake their way up over the branches to dangle freely. Beside the tree, to the left, are some of the bigger roots of the tree. They edge along the ground and have made a seat for myself many times. To the right of the tree, the bank has been eroded more so here so there is not much growth of plants. The bank here rises 6 feet or more above the water.

 

(This is the same river I go to but a different place in the county.  Where I go looks very similar to this)

Once I reach this destination, the world of the river surrounds me. The bridge that crosses the river is to the left of this spot and visible. With the water cascading over rocks that are just under the bridge, the bugs making their voices heard and the trees and bushes rustling their leaves in the wind, the noise from the bridge is almost nonexistent.

It takes me to a different place. It takes my worries and washes them downstream to another bend in the river. Waiting for me to come collect them when I am ready.

I often notice the differences on the river with each visit. There seems to always be some type of change. Whether it’s the banks that have a slightly different shape, or maybe the water is muddier than usual, the water level might be lower or higher, there might even be a fallen tree floating downstream that could no longer keep it’s grip on the bank.

 

(Same with this picture.  Same river, different area)

These are only some of the changes. I don’t notice all changes, I can’t. Some I can’t see. They may take place far beneath the water where no one can bear witness. But they are still there.

The changes I see in the river remind me of changes that have taken place or changes that I want or need to make within myself. It brings things into perspective for me sometimes. Then sometimes I just want to go watch it do it’s thing and not take anything away from it or leave anything there. I just want to enjoy it.

 

WATER--It is associated with the qualities of emotion and intuition.

 (Maybe this is why I'm so drawn to the water???)

Who knew your underwear could be so revealing--about your personality, that is!

Handbag.com, TheSite.org, and the Arizona State University Web Devil have it all figured out.

Remember, your underwear doesn't dictate who you are, but instead expresses your personality!

WOMEN

High-cut briefs: Ladies who wear "granny panties" tend to be perfectionists, except when it comes to style. They care most about comfort and function. They are practical people who don't dress to impress. (Guess what? Almost all women have a pair or two.)

Boy shorts or thong: Women who don these are confident go-getters who enjoy a challenge. They like to show off their curves, are outgoing, and open to new things. They also enjoy not having a panty line when they wear pants. They like the thong because it makes them feel sexy even when they wear jeans, while boy shorts are cute and feminine--without baring it all.

The need to match: Some women must have a matching bra and panty set. These confident women are quite fashion-conscious and enjoy pampering themselves. Some might even call them spoiled or high-maintenance.

 

MEN

Boxers: Wearing boxers is all about comfort, but men who prefer boxers are generally laidback, not too flashy, and light-hearted. Boxers are the No. 1 choice in underwear for men.

Briefs: Nicknamed tightie-whities even if they are red or blue or some other color, briefs are worn by men who are inhibited and like the restricted feel of this kind of underwear. Hey guys, it's not uncommon for women to think of you as their little brother when they find out you wear briefs.

Boxer-briefs: Can you say the best of both worlds? Men who opt for boxer-briefs are very good at committing in relationships. Hey, they already know how to compromise since they've done it with their underwear!

Thong: Men who wear thongs are tremendously outgoing and some are exhibitionists. Check a male thong-wearer's high school yearbook, and you'll no doubt find "Class Clown" under his name.

No underwear: Either someone forgot to do the laundry or he is very down-to-earth and embraces a natural way of life.

 

I will go on the record as saying, " I do NOT own ANY granny panties!"  That is one style I absolutely cannot abide.  Can you say claustrophobia of the ass?

I'm more of of a boy short / thong / bare woman.  and I don't feel the NEED to match my panties and bra but do so at times.  I am more likely to match when I am braless and pantiless.

 

 

I'm sitting here half ass watching a movie about time travel while blogging and this got me to thinking

If time travel were possible, is there a certain time period you would want to visit and why?

The memory isn't always a properly working thing for me.  There are things that I remember from way back and things that I can't remember from a week ago.  I don't quite understand how this happens but it does.

The point in case here is an email I recieved early this morning regarding being a little girl in the 70's.  It had about 40 or so pictures of different items and people from the time period.  Although, some I question if it was really from the 70's but that could be just my memory playing tricks on me.

As I was looking at these different pictures, I had to laugh.  I remember most of them although there were a couple I didn't relate to.  It's weird to me how I've never even THOUGHT about some of these things since I was a kid.  As soon as the pictures popped up in front of me, the memories came flooding back.  With each picture, I could relate it to a time in my life.  A certain thing I did or was doing or even to a certain friend at the time.  It was almost like a trip back in time.

After getting my few giggles from these memories, I started to wonder where the memories were before today.  Why didn't I remember these things?  Where were they hiding?  Why did it take a picture for these memories to make themselves known to me once again?  If I wouldn't have seen the pictures, would I never have known the memory?

There have been other memories that appear out of nowhere. Odds and ends of things that I had forgotten about until they pop into my head.  When this happens, I usually think to myself, "Where the hell did that come from?"  "Where was that hiding?".  Sometimes the memory is so unrelated to anything that I can put a finger on that it is a little spooky to me.  Not that the memories are spooky, just the timing of them I suppose.

I've read and heard about repressed memories.  This is generally associated with abuse or some form of trauma that has happened in a person's life.  Something the mind wants to either forget or protect the person from so that particular memory shuts down.  I'm not an expert by any means and I've never really dealt with any traumatic repressed memories personally but to my way of thinking a lot of memories are repressed.

If you can't remember a memory and all of a sudden it appears, isn't that considered a repressed memory?  How long does a memory have to be 'forgotten' before it's considered a 'repressed' memory?  Is there a time line on these things?  Does it really matter?  What about that thing I did last week that I can't remember now?  Is that considered a repressed memory or is it just plain forgotten?  What about the memories that came flooding back to me earlier?  They have been lying dormant for 20-30 years.  Is that not a repressed memory?  Was my mind trying to protect me from or help me forget that I once had Holly Hobbie sheets and blankets?  Or that I once had a crush on Leif what's-his-name? 

 

Hmmm....maybe the mind really does know what it's doing.

 

I am in no way making light of or downplaying the whole repressed memory/trauma thing but it's what's on my mind and dammitt, it makes me wonder.  

Why does the mind choose to 'forget' or 'repress' certain memories that may or may not be of any consequence but leave others up front and personal all the time?

Why can I remember that when I was around 3 or 4 years old, I would eat the 'butt' end of the hot peppers my daddy would leave around?  Why can I remember a nightmare I had when I was in the third grade to this day?  Why didn't my mind 'repress' that awful experience?  Is there a lesson to be learned because I remember it?  Why can I remember the very last time I saw my daddy before he died but can't for the life of me recall the words spoken between us?  What's up with that shit? 

How much control do we really have over our own memories?  Do we really make a conscious effort to pick and choose what memories to keep and which ones to shove under the rug?  Or maybe they are predetermined by a force greater than we are.

Does the memory vault need to accessed every so often and checked for cobwebs and unwanted creatures lurking in the shadows?  What happens if we don't do that regular maintenance in the old attic?  If we take our brooms, dustpans and mops up there to do a little weekly cleaning, will it really help or will we just have a spiffier place for all those memories to hang out in?  Will we really ever know if cleaning out the attic helps?  If we 'forget' to 'repress' a memory then how do we really know?  We don't.  We have to wait until a certain memory chooses to present it's ugly or not so ugly head before we can even realize that the attic may need a little cleaning.

I know there are no real answers to all of this BS.  I'm just trying to make sure other parts of the brain are functioning at least halfway normal since the memory is shot all to hell.  You'll have to pardon all the dust flying about from the attic cleaning over this way.

Since the memories were forced upon my cobweb infested memory bank, I thought I'd share a few with you

 

I know I didn't have the Muppets lunch box but I remember the metal box that housed my lunch for so many years, the sound of the metal popping when you opened the lid because the top was dented and twisted from too many beatings as it was carted from home to bus to school and back again.

 

I really do believe my mind knew exactly what it was doing when it let me 'forget' that this was the object of my 9 year old heart's desire

 

I couldn't tell you how many hours I've spent singing into the small microphone that accompanied this recorder. Another memory best left in the attic

 

I always wanted a pair of these but somehow never managed to own any. Borrowed a friends, many, many times

 

I will never, ever understand why the hell I liked this and wanted it all over my room

 

Hmm....some things are better off left alone