Serendipity


I love words. My favorite words are whimsical (also whimsy), Umbrage, Contracou, and Serendipity. I like the sounds of these words, I like the meanings and I like being the kind of ridiculous smart ass that would say them in normal conversation. Yes, I do and no I don’t care if you don’t understand it. Take the meaning form context and quit being stupid. Have I mentioned yet that I am a little bit of a bitch, not a huge one but a little bit? I don’t suffer fools gladly, I just can’t.  There are too few hours in a day.

Anyway, serendipity is high up there because it’s such a gorgeous word. It sounds ridiculous, almost childish. It has so many syllables. If I was a different kind of person I am sure I would have a child named Serendipity. And the meaning; A happy accident, or pleasant surprise. Those things in our lives that count as serendipity are so pleasing that it becomes almost to be viewed as miracle. Small or large. I once stuck my hand into a pocket of a coat at the thrift store; I rarely do that , and walked out with the coat and 18.00. The coat was 2.00.

In my life I have been blessed with no just feeling but accepting serendipity as a part of my life. I walk out of my home and expect that sometime soon the gods will smile on me , with free coffee or a scavenging opportunity for something I really want or need ( I once for a gold necklace in my scavenging that I sold for 100 bucks) or just a moment of viewing my lucky bird flying past. The male cardinal, by the way.

I said all that to say this; I think the best thing about my life is that I have always been able to find that belief in wonder, in magic, in serendipity. That the rough and sometimes quite unlovely things that have occurred in my life have never robbed me of those things. I am nearly forty and I still squeal at the top of my lungs when I am excited. That I never attained the dreaded bitterness that makes us decide that everything sweet, kind and wonderful is for kids. I don’t know why I didn’t. I just didn’t. And that’s fine.

By the way, zemblanity is the opposite of serendipity. Promise me you will stay away from this guy, when you can.

 

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Words get in the way…


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Words…some of my favorite things. Words make stories, make friends, make wars. Words change things everyday.
Today I was confronted with words…one person used two words very nonchalantly , and both upset me greatly. The first word was depressed. She called me depressed. I took offense to that for myself and those who are truly depressed alike. I was stressed…my last week has been stress upon stress.  I was sad.my children are now all away from me. I was tired, having slept very little due to being in a totally new environment but depressed…alas no. Depression is a lingering thing. It often has no cause.  It lasts longer than it should.  Ie…you broke up 6 months ago after dating the weeks and can’t get over him, crying and carrying on…depressed.
I don’t like that word being flung around. It weakens the word.
The other is obese. I hate that word. Because often it takes only the number into consideration. I was a one hundred eighty pound size 6 at 5 7…I was considered overweight bordering on obese.. I was a size 6. Today I am about 20 lbs beyond that , and working to get back there but I wish they would take body composition into account. My fat percentage is not in the category of obese. I’m only a size 12. Throwing around the word obese can’t be good for ones self image.
Now on the other side of that someone called me a nigger today. Someone thought that the word nigger would A.Shock me or B. hurt me.  How wrong they were. Now you look at me and if obese hurt your fragile ego why not the dreaded n word? Because I identify with obese. I have been what I would consider obese. I’ve had a stomach our distancing my breasts. Then, yes, obese. Now, no, overweight, overfat but not obese.
Nigger , well that is just a stupid person mean word. I call a person by a name like that, be it chink, spic, you name it we gotta derogatory word for it ethnically, you’ve lost the argument and you know it.  Your hitting below the belt and hoping the refs back is turned. You’re witless, I can only pity the witless. In this case I laughed at him, I also told him he was ordinary.  Which he was. And ordinary is just that. Nothing special at all. 
He also called me a Bitch,btw, but I can take Bitch. Some of my best friends are Bitches.