A Guest Post at Thinking Out Loud Blog

Hi Folks!

Just wanted to let you know that one of my blogging buddies, Valerie @ Thinking Out Loud Blog has invited me to share a guest post on her blog. So, instead of posting my usual Wednesday vent, I invite you to stop by Valerie’s place for a read.

It’s actually a rerun post which I wrote over a year ago. Therefore, some of my longtime blogging friends may have already read it. But feel free to stop by anyway to check out Valerie’s blog.

She truly is an awesome writer with a clever sense of humor and insightfulness that will keep you coming back; eager to read her next post. She and I met about five months ago and instantly felt simpatico.

She has a warm and open heart, so you’ll instantly feel welcomed.

She’s on vacation this week, but will return sometime next week.

Vent will resume it’s regularly scheduled post on Friday.

Thanks everyone!

Why I Loved Joan Crawford

As most of you already know, I make reference to Joan Crawford in many of my posts. And I do this because her onscreen over-the-top persona is quite often the perfect fill-in for how I wish to express myself emotionally.

I guess you could say she represents the part of me that’s screams DRAMATIC.

I can still remember being a small child and sitting in front of the television on a Saturday afternoon watching an old Joan Crawford movie; being both terrified and enamored by her.

She was like watching the scene of a car accident; not wanting to look at it, but at the same time wanting to look CLOSER.

Many of the films I first saw her in scared the shit out of me because of the way she was cinematically lit. She always looked as though she was on the brink of insanity; getting ready to murder someone with a either a hatchet or an envelope opener.

And yet, as I got older I began to see more of her earlier films which highlighted her great beauty, versatility, and true talent.

Back in the days of early Hollywood, actors and actresses had no separation between reality and their onscreen persona. The lines of definition were blurred to the point of not knowing which was which. This is why I think many of them eventually became caricatures of themselves.

And yet, for me, when it came to Crawford and her own caricature, I could always see her true-self peaking through her performances. She allowed her vulnerability and human weakness to show, which caused me to always believe her no matter how dramatic she acted.

Here are some additional faces of Joan Crawford….


Crystal Allen - The Women

Jenny Stewart - Torch Song


Mildred Pierce - Mildred Pierce

Blanche Hudson - Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?

Joan Crawford.....herself

Ron Crawford.....himself

Going Peanut Butter Stir Crazy

One of my favorite treats is to eat an apple by slicing it into little wedges and then slathering each piece with peanut butter before popping it into my mouth.

Beside the coupled flavors of chocolate and peppermint, nothing tastes more orgasmic to me than apples and peanut butter.

And since I haven't had much sex lately, anything that causes me to have an orgasm outside of masturbation, I find delightful.

I love cheap thrills.

Anyway, moving on….

I recently purchased one of those natural organic peanut butter spreads that I found at Traders Joes which is made from unblanched peanuts (whatever the hell that means).

Low salt. No preservatives. No hydrogenated oils. Low sugar.

Sounds faaaabulously healthy doesn’t it?

Yeah, well...it may be healthy, but what I find utterly contemptible about this peanut butter is that the oil separates from the peanuts, therefore has to be manually stirred EVERY SINGLE TIME you use it.

And let me tell you…I don’t care how LONG I stir it, it still ends up staying separated like Hollywood rivals Bette Davis and Joan Crawford.

I seriously think the company should consider selling one of those high-powered electrical paint shakers with each jar of peanut butter, because that’s what it would take to stir it thoroughly.

And another thing…..

...I found it to be the most runniest, gloppiest, and stickiest peanut butter I’ve ever used.

It has the consistency of honey and the adhesive power of super glue. I had to use a blow torch and a Brillo Pad to wash it off the spoon.

God only knows how long it will stick to inside of my lower intestines.

The other night while I was watching a movie, I decided to enjoy one of my fuji apples with some peanut butter. After slicing the apple and placing the wedges on a plate, I began to scoop out some of the peanut butter with a teaspoon; spreading it on each piece before I ate it.

And the whole time I’m doing this the peanut butter was dripping all over my fingers, down the sides of my mouth, into my beard, cascading down my neck, and landing all over the table.

It literally looked like I had pooped all over myself.

Later, when I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I found two big ol’ blobs that had mysteriously landed on my right thigh and the front of my t-shirt.

For the remainder of the evening all I could smell were PEANUTS.

I felt like Jimmy Carter.

So do you know what?

I’ll definitely be going back to my artificial Skippy spread the next time I purchase peanut butter.

Because this natural shit is just too damn messy.....

Wishing you an awesome weekend everyone!

X

Basic Beauty Necessities

Most of you all already know that I work in the beauty industry, therefore have been exposed to a bumper crop of magical age-defying, age-reversal, and age-refusing products at my fingertips for the past 26 years.

And brothas N' sistas let me tell ya….I’ve tried them ALL.

Some have worked amazingly well and others were merely snake oil from a witch doctor.

Last year I wrote a post about how much of a high maintenance guy I was when it came to my beauty regime.

Let’s just say that I made George Hamilton look like no maintenance.

Things like using a facial scrub, deep pore cleansing mask, a special eye cream, neck cream, a face serum, and eyebrow tweezing with a 50x magnifying mirror and a flashlight, were all part of my nightly maintenance.

Well…I have no idea what has happened to me over the past five or six months, but I’m not as overly concerned or stringent about my routine anymore.

Perhaps it’s because when I saw my naked reflection in the mirror, I realized that from the neck up I looked like an 18 year old, but from the neck down I still looked like a 53 year old.

Plus, by the time I completed my regime each night, four hours had passed and I was exhausted to the point of aging.

My high maintenance routine was beginning to feel as though I was subjecting myself to working four hours laying railroad tracks.

I mean that’s four hours I could be spending on the Internet ruining my eyesight, while staring at computer monitor and BLOGGING for god sake!

Anyway, I’ve cut back on the time I spend looking at myself in the mirror primping and pruning, and have condensed my nightly regime to just the basic beauty necessities.

A face mask and a cigarette....

After all…my real beauty is deep inside.

Take Two….and the History of Vent

Ooops!…I totally forgot that September 13th marked the second year anniversary of this here blog.

It’s hard to believe that two years has flown by in the blink of an eye!

Change.

I’m a firm believer that my life will take me where I need to go and things will change whether I want them to change or not - and for good reason.

In the past year, I’ve had a couple readers ask me why my email address and domain name have the word triloquist in them.

You see, back when I first started this blog I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going with it. I had a previous blog for almost a year, but was feeling the desire to publish a more personal one.

I had originally wanted to have a space where I could just vent my daily frustrations.

Now here’s something that’s REALLY interesting about how things change…

When I first started Vent I created an anonymous name. That’s right, an anonymous name (voice box). And I had also seriously thought about disabling comments. I simply wanted a place to spew and really didn’t care whether anybody commented or not.

I wracked my brain trying to come up with an overall theme and name for my new blog, but couldn't think of a damn thing. Then, one evening while I was flipping though a dictionary/thesaurus; searching for words that were similar to spew, yell, and scream, my hand suddenly stopped on a page with words that started with the letter V. And when looked down, I saw the word Ventriloquist.

Aaah!

I suddenly got an idea…

…why not call my blog Ventriloquist and have the tagline be, “Throwing my voice.”

However, when I tried to use the word ventriloquist as my domain name it had already been taken. So I had to shorten it to triloquist, but still kept my blog name Ventriloquist.

A few weeks after I published this blog, I suddenly decided to change the name to Vent and eventually customized the blog design to reflect how I honestly see my life….a movie, with each moment a series takes.

So what you see now, is nothing like what this blog started out to be. The Ventriloquist blog had a scary-ass image of a ventriloquist dummy on the header that looked like Howdy Doody on CRACK cocaine.

Vent has been an amazing journey. Not only have I met some of the most wonderful and talented people through this blog (and a few I have actually met), but it has also taught me more about myself, than I ever thought possible.

Over the years I’ve gradually revealed more and more of my life to my readers. I still have boundaries about what I will and will not talk about on the Internet, but I’ve share some very personal experiences on this blog, which I never thought I would.

And as far as Vent being a place where I could just SPEW - that has changed also.

You see, my natural tendency is to be a “reactive person.” I have a habit of immediately responding to something without ever stopping to think how my words will affect another person. In having this blog, it’s taught me to PAUSE before saying something either in a post or comment, and to FEEL what my words will be conveying. And not only has it taught me pause here, but also in my day to day life away from this blog. Blogging has taught me how to be a better communicator.

Mostly…having Vent has allowed me to see the humor in my madness. And in doing so, has taught me not to take myself so seriously.

Honestly? I still have no idea where the hell this blog is going or how it will change. My hope is that whatever it is I share, you will either find a bit of humor or something to think about.

I would like to take this time, to thank each and every one of you who make this blog what it is. Because without you, it would merely be my own voice. You are the ones who make this blog come alive by sharing the energy of your voices with me.

My sincere wish is that everyone who stops by will feel individually appreciated and special.

So, in the tradition of Vent, I would like to share a little token of my appreciation.

Your very own celluloid film clip.

Because remember…

Life is like a movie. And each moment is a series of takes. So savor the moments, because that’s where life happens.

Thanks, everyone!

X ya!

IHOP and the Giant Pancake

Ok, first I need to tell you that breakfast is my favorite meal of the day.

The minute my eyes open in the morning…I’m ravenous.

I’m also one those of those crazy people who can enjoy eating a breakfast meal anytime of the day.

I LOVE breakfast!

During my heavy-duty partying years in Florida, there was nothing more wonderful than going to breakfast totally TRASHED at three o’clock in the morning and eating a big, fat breakfast at either a Denny’s or Perkins.

Food tastes so much better when your stoned, doesn’t it?

Anyway…

About two weeks ago I noticed they were beginning construction on an IHOP Restaurant around the corner from where I live. And the minute I saw it, I started jumping up and down; clapping my hands like a little girl who discovered that Santa brought her an Easy-Bake-Oven for Christmas.

OMG…I was SOOOO excited.

Thoughts of going there and ordering scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, orange juice, and coffee on a Sunday morning was more excitement than I could stand.

I talked about it non-stop at work, “Yippee…did you see they’re opening an IHOP around the corner? Yippee…did you see they’re opening an IHOP around the corner?”

“Yes Ron, we heard you the first 450 times…now SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

They just recently had the grand opening and I haven’t had a chance to go yet, but when I do…I’m sure to have an IHOP roman food orgy.

Yesterday morning while I was going to the drug store to pick up a few things, I had to walk pass the restaurant. And much to surprise I saw someone dressed in a costume that resembled a female pancake.

The poor little thing stood there on the street corner waving her tiny hands at everyone walking by. But it was so sad because not a single soul would wave back at her. In fact, I noticed that everyone avoided making eye contact with her (myself included). I mean, here was this GIANT pancake dressed in a pink ruffled skirt, a hat, and gloves; waving her little heart out as she was being totally ignored.

I know this sounds silly, but I felt sorry for her.

So while I was walking back from the drug store, I promised myself that I would giver her a little wave and say Hello.

And as I did, she was overcome with jubilation and starting waving back at me with such gusto, I thought she was going to fall backwards and hit the trash can.

And when I turned around to get another look at her…

…it was the first time in my life I ever saw a pancake SMILE.

You GO, pancake girl!

Have a great weekend everyone!

X

Need Room For Cream?

Today I would like to share something that not only annoys me as much as having one of my testicles pop while crossing my legs, but also puzzles me because I’m starting to wonder if either I don’t speak the English language correctly, or that people who work in coffee bars drink so much caffeine that it causes them to lose their sense of audibility. And I say this because it happens to me ALL THE TIME.

Ok, so here’s the scenario….

I’m standing in line at a coffee bar and I ask for a grande cup of coffee. And then I’m always asked the same question…

“Need room for cream?”

My response is, “Just a little please.”

And EVERY SINGLE TIME I take the lid off the coffee cup, it looks like this…




Now does this look like a little to you? I guess they assumed I was going to udder an entire cow’s worth.

And after a few times of this happening, I thought maybe I would try rewording my response; being more CLEAR.

My new response became, “I only use a splash of half and half, so I don’t need you to leave a lot of room in the cup, just a smidge.”

And yet, when I looked in the cup….


WFT??

So then I began ordering my coffee by not even waiting to be asked if I needed room; simply saying, “I would like a grande coffee, NO room.”

And viola!….



Now mind you, each time this happened to me I walked back to the barista and asked them to fill my cup because I purchased a GRANDE, not a PETITE grande.

And do you know what they said to me? “Oh…I thought you said MORE room.”

So after time and time again of this miscommunication, I decided that the only thing left for me to do was to tell a boldface lie.

Now when the barista asks me if I need any room, I say, “No thank you, I drink my coffee completely black, so you can fill it right to rim - almost to the point of overflowing.”

And then I take the FULL grande cup over to the condiments station and do what coffee bars HATE you to do.

I pour out the perfect amount of coffee I need for my cream INTO THE TRASH CAN.

I know, I know….I’m a little devil.

But you see, I tried listening to the angel….and it didn’t work.

IL Bacio

To me, there is nothing more sensuous than kissing.

In fact, I find kissing much more erotic than the actual “Let’s-rip-our-clothes-off-and-get-to-it.”

Kissing is like reading a really great preface before you actually get to the book.

I’ve met people throughout my life who said they don’t ever kiss, they only have sex.

To each his own, but I honestly don’t think I could ever be in a relationship with someone without intimate lip-to-lip contact.

Now mind you, I think sex is great, but I enjoy a little appetizer before getting to the Beef Strokenoff.

There is definitely an art to kissing; one that cannot be taught, but rather something that through “doing” is discovered.

To perfectly honest with you my own first attempts at kissing were any thing but sensuous. In fact, I would probably go so far as to say they were more like turning on a Hoover Wet Vac and sucking. I think it was a combination of my adolescent hormones in a rage and the awkwardness of not really knowing what to do. By the time we were finished our lips were black and blue and our front teeth fractured, but sated.

When I was 19 years old, my first male partner told me I kissed like a horse. And not ever having kissed a horse I had no idea what he was talking about, but I guess he meant that I was sloppy. And I was, because I hadn’t had that much experience. So I spent the next few years of my life apprehensive to kiss, in fear that someone would quickly offer me a handful of HAY.

However, as I got older my sensuality evolved, therefore I became more relaxed and confident.

By today’s standards I was a late bloomer when I first starting kissing.

I was around 17.

My first experience was with a woman, which I enjoyed.

I would like to interject here by saying that even as a gay man, I find both men and women attractive. I have always been able to see and appreciate the beauty in both sexes - I simply prefer intimacy with a man.

Later in life I was once told by a woman who I passionately kissed in play, that I kissed more like a woman. And she, having been in relationships with both men and women, said she knew what she was talking about. So, I guess I have to take her word for it.

I'm a man who kisses with the lips of a woman.

Who knew?

Well...I don't get horse complaints anymore, so it must work.

Anyway, the point of this post is to say….

For me, intimacy always starts with some of these….

Blog Interview: When Pigs Fly

When I first clicked over to Jen’s blog, I couldn’t get an immediate feel for where I had landed - and that fascinated me. I couldn’t pinpoint an overall theme. However, what I COULD immediately feel was that the author had an incredible gift with language and that no matter what she wrote…I was interested in hearing it. Jen's blog offers a wonderful potpourri of personal opinions, life-observations, and reflections; wrapped in a brilliant blanket of satire. And whether she’s sharing a hysterical story about buying a new bra, a bread recipe, or getting older - you’ll find yourself going back again and again. Why? Because Jen has a unique voice.

So, let’s find out more about the gifted lady behind the blog, When Pigs Fly…

Welcome, Jen….

I love the title of your blog - why the name?

I collect pigs. Don’t ask me why or exactly when it started, just one of those odd interests that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. And like many collections, as soon as people notice that you have a lot of something, they think that must be the perfect gift to give you. I picked up my first pig with wings while living in London. It sits in my kitchen and was staring at me when I was trying to come up with a name for my blog. “When pigs fly” evokes the satirical, something I try to bring to my site.

Why do you blog?

I started blogging as a way to vent some of my creative frustrations. I enjoy writing and sharing my thoughts with others. Blogging seemed to be a good fit. I suppose I have visions of getting published in some form someday. Creating a blog felt like a good way to at least get the ball rolling.

How long have you been blogging?

I have been blogging since February of this year. I started a week after I turned forty. That might just say it all.

What is your opinion of the blogosphere?

The blogosphere is like a giant bag of Halloween candy. You never know what you are going to get until closer inspection and you have to wade through a whole load of crap before you find a good piece. I have sifted through my fair share of candy corn and pumpkin shaped marshmallow peeps before finding the Snickers bars. There are a few great sites worth reading on a regular basis. They are just few and far between.

Do you post spontaneously or do you plan your posts for the week?

So far, I have been posting more or less by the seat of my pants. Sometimes I have an idea that has been fermenting in my brain, waiting until I find the right angle for it. Those I may start drafts of and keep until I find a direction for them. Others, I come across while drinking my coffee and reading or watching the news in the morning. I would like to start becoming more organized about it so that I post a bit more frequently. We’ll see how it goes.

Have you ever experienced a negative response in a comment?

I commented on my blog about a post from Dooce.com in which Heather Armstrong described her mucous plug in detail. For those of us who have not had children, and even those of us who have, I felt as though this was more information than any of us needed to know about. I was not questioning her right to discuss it only commenting on this new found need many people have for exposing their lives in excruciating detail. I was wondering out loud how much is too much. My post got picked up by Open Salon. The intensity of the nastiness sent my way in the form of comments was breathtaking. I ended up taking my post down on my site and Open Salon and writing a rebuttal. Hell hath no fury like a mommy blogger scorned. One would have thought I was going after Jesus, or worse, Oprah. I am now more careful about what I write about.

Any goals or visions for your blog?

I have decided to try and make my blog more interactive. I will be re-commenting and will start having posts that pose a question at the end. I would love to reach a wider audience someday. But, for now I am just grateful to those who read my writing and stop by my site.

Do you find blogging addictive?

I go through phases. When the ideas are flowing, I am at the computer quite a bit. But, like anything else, my interest wanes for a while. Life gets in the way. Dust bunnies need to be vacuumed, laundry must be done. Blogging takes a back seat.

What is one thing you find gratifying about blogging?

I enjoy expressing myself and seeing how others respond to my silliness.

Your love of horses….where did it come from? And have you ever been thrown?

I have been in love with horses since I can remember. I do believe there is a genetic component for all of us so enamored with the equine species. Most of us are a bit crazy. I have fallen off more times than I can remember. I have had two bad falls in which I was bucked off. One was on a horse I no longer own, the other on a trainer’s horse. They were both very scary incidents but luckily I was not badly injured. I am much more careful these days about what I will get on and what I will do with a horse.

Did you ever think you would get married?

I don’t know if I ever gave it much thought. My husband and I met in college and got married a few years after leaving. We have been together ever since.

Do you believe in reincarnation? Why or why not?

Absolutely. I believe every person and animal comes into our lives for a reason. We are all on a journey and that journey extends beyond one life. I was told that my one horse and I were together in a past life. I like to believe we were. From the moment I first saw her, I knew she belonged to me. It was as if we were two puzzle pieces and as soon as I sat on her back we fit together. I tend not to share my more Birkenstock wearing, crystal hugging, granola eating tendencies in public. But, you did ask.

Note: Jen will be responding to all comments on this post, so please feel free to chat with her. Thank you.

I Truly Needed a Gas Mask

I felt the desire to document this experience on the Internet, because I may want to someday go back into my blog archives and reread it if I should ever begin to think that my life lacks luster.

One day last week while I was taking a 20 minute work break, I needed to use the restroom at a Starbucks after consuming a GRANDE cup of java.

There was quite a long waiting line outside of the men’s room; looking as if every man in Philadelphia needed to take a leak at the same time. But I had to go BAD, so I waited.

When it came my turn to use the restroom, the gentleman who had been ahead of me came rushing out of the john with his head nervously looking at the floor while drying his hands with a paper towel.

His actions felt a bit odd, but I didn’t give it any further thought.

Until…

…I walked into the restroom and closed the door.

And then it HIT me.

Directly in my olfactory’s.

Apparently, he had done a #2 and it’s fragrant after-glow was left lingering in the air like an invisible fog of DEATH.

I literally thought it was going to singe my nose hair.

It smelled as if I was standing in the middle of an elephant tent at a Barnum and Bailey Circus.

So I held my breath and peed as fast as I could because I needed to get the hell out of there before I perished.

And as I’m standing there washing my hands, something very enlightening dawned on me…

“The next person who comes into the restroom is going to think that I’M responsible for leaving this odor.”

So I took a handful of paper towels and started FANNING the air; trying to disburse the retched odor, but that only seemed to EXPAND it.

“Oh dear god, where’s a pack of matches when you need one?”

No, I was doomed…

…I had no other choice than to walk out of the restroom with my head looking nervously at the floor while drying my hands with a paper towel.

And for the future, I seriously think that STINKY gentleman needs to buy a CARTON of this….

I'm Finally Going Into Labor....

When Labor Day arrives I’m the happiest person on the planet.

And do you know why?

BECAUSE IT MARKS THE END OF THE SUMMER!!!

Can I just tell you how ecstatic I became at work on Friday, when it actually dawned on me that TODAY was Labor Day?

I started bouncing around like a kangaroo on a pogo stick.

Oh….the joys of no more sweating, no more long, hot, humid summer days, no more smelly armpits, and no more having to look at severely callused feet in flip-flops. I swear to god, some people have feet that look like two armadillos.

However, something that I am not looking forward to is that the hotel across the street from my apartment building will be draining the water from their rooftop swimming pool, which means I will no longer be able to use my high-powered binoculars to check out the hot BODS lying around poolside in only a Gianni Versace bathing suit.

Oh well…till next summer!

I can already feel a subtle change in the weather and am so looking forward to the next six months, living in the beautiful northeast....

Fall

The University of Penn - one of the most gorgeous historical college campuses I’ve ever walked on. You can actually FEEL the past.

Winter

The beautiful Rittenhouse Square Park after a heavy snowfall.

One of the many quaint side-streets in Philadelphia.



I would like to wish you and your families a safe and happy Labor Day.

And if you should happened hear a loud scream coming from Philadelphia today, it's just me…

…going into labor.

When Things Go Wrong Onstage!*?!

One of the main reasons why actors enjoy performing onstage is because it’s LIVE.

Performing onstage is like jumping out of a plane and then praying to god almighty that your parachute opens, so you land safely.

It can be one of the most invigorating and euphoric, yet vulnerable and scary feelings in the world because no matter how well you plan your jump…there IS the possibility that your parachute will either not open or perhaps get tangled when you pull the ripcord; causing something to go wrong onstage.

And when that happens…

….you just wanna SHIT your pants.

Throughout my career as an actor, I’ve had many things go wrong.

Today, I thought I’d share two of the times when Ron took a BOWEL MOVEMENT onstage.

Let’s see…..

There was the time when in the middle of singing a song, I totally blank out and forgot the words. And it’s one thing to forget your words when you’re performing in a non-musical because you have the liberty to pause and THINK for a few seconds. However, when you’re performing in a musical, the music just keeps going. Therefore, you have the choice to either STOP singing, which creates a VOID of awkward silence, or you can do what I did, which was to quickly starting singing the first words that came into my head..…

“Itchy-bitchy, doobie-doobie, da-da, ma, la la!”….. and then I got back on track.

(I swear to god)

It was like I had suddenly experienced Tourette’s syndrome for five bars of music.

The actor who I was singing with just stood there looking at me like he had just witnessed a poltergeist.

And after the song was over and the stage lights went to black, the two of us RAN offstage into the wings and BURST into laughter.

And the first thing that came out his mouth was, “What the HELL happened to you, Ron? I thought I was going to lose it out there.”

Still laughing I said, “I had a brain FART, that‘s what the HELL happened!”

And of course, the entire cast heard my fart in their dressing rooms over the stage monitors.

Oooo…..and there was also the time while I was performing in the musical Cabaret and had totally forgotten that I had another stage entrance within the same scene and was already starting to change into another costume for the following scene. But by the time I remembered, it was too late. So, rather than miss my entrance…I ran onstage wearing two DIFFERENT costumes.

And when everyone onstage saw my bipolar attire, their faces registered only one expression…

… "WTF?”

Well….such is the zany life of a stage actor.

When everything goes well….it’s GRAND.

However, when something goes wrong….it’s kinda shitty.

Have a faaaabulous weekend everyone!

X

Self-Improvement and the Circle

Today I would like to share something about my journey to self-improvement.

And by self-improvement I’m not referring to a lifestyle improvement, such as, getting a better job, losing weight, or any other tactile improvement. I am solely referring to the journey I took to improving my inner-self.

I have personally learned that there is a big difference between investigating ways to improve my relationship with myself, and wanting to improve myself with the intention that there is something wrong with me.

It was back in 80’s when I began my intensive search for ways to improve.

I took every class I could get my hands on that had anything to do with making me a more improved Ron. I took yoga and meditation. I read countless books on how to change myself, and how to become a more better me. I listened to subliminal audio tapes affirming: “I had the power within me to improve myself .”

And I can’t say that these things didn‘t work, because they did.

I had gradually become all the things I wanted myself to be. And everything I didn’t like about myself disappeared.

And then I began to notice that a great deal of what I improved about myself, began to slowly creep back into my inner-life. I seemed to have made a complete circle back to what I didn’t like about myself.

So, I looked for new ways to improve. I found classes on how to get rid of anger, how to void myself of judgment, how to be more forgiving, and how to be more patient.

And again…all of these things worked by bringing me back to the beginning.

However, this time I began to get frustrated because I seemed incapable of sustaining what I thought needed improvement. I became so frustrated that I finally got to the point of not even caring anymore if whether or not I was improved.

And that’s exactly the point I needed to get to.

Because eventually something finally dawned on me….

What if….there wasn’t anything to improve?

What if….I was exactly the way I was supposed to be?

What if….the real meaning of self-improvement was self-acceptance. And through self-acceptance, I find improvement?

You see, I could never get past the belief that there was something wrong with me. Therefore, I could never really improve my relationship with self. And all the tools I used to improve myself did what they were suppose to do.

Bring me back to myself.

The truth is…I am basically the same person now, that I was in 80’s.

I still have a temper. I’m still unforgiving, judgmental, and impatient.

However, I now accept these things as being a part of myself, because I realize that sometimes I choose my anger, to make a point. Sometimes I choose to be unforgiving because some things are unforgivable to me. Sometimes I choose to be judgmental because it allows me discernment. And sometimes I choose to be impatient, to get the ball rolling.

I still mediate and do yoga. But it’s no longer with the intention to move away from myself.

It’s to move closer.

I no longer read systematic self-improvement books. I now prefer to read books about people who share the tremendous struggles and challenges they’ve had to deal with in their lives, and what they did to accept themselves as they went through it.

The best self-improvement I’ve discovered for my own life is this…

Embrace all of me.

Because in doing so…I self-improve.