Day 267 – Swift and Shallow, Dark Night

Swift and Shallow, Dark Night

Day 267

The Lady’s Reward by Dorothy Parker

Lady, lady, never start
Conversation toward your heart;
Keep your pretty words serene;
Never murmur what you mean.
Show yourself, by word and look,
Swift and shallow as a brook.
Be as cool and quick to go
As a drop of April snow;
Be as delicate and gay
As a cherry flower in May.
Lady, lady, never speak
Of the tears that burn your cheek-
She will never win him, whose
Words had shown she feared to lose.
Be you wise and never sad,
You will get your lovely lad.
Never serious be, nor true,
And your wish will come to you-
And if that makes you happy, kid,
You’ll be the first it ever did.

Last night I posted some of my frustration about my photographic services and those who think that my time is pretty much worthless to me (and obviously to them).  I have always been very generous with sharing my gifts, probably too much so, and as a result the hours that people want me to give them are taken for granted. A few months ago, I got angry about it.  It took one wedding too many with a bride who wanted everything for nothing, who wanted more time than I should have given and is still harassing me about her wedding photos.  What she did not realize is that once you make me angry, I put on the brakes and I come to a dead stop.  And as wrong as it probably is, she will not be getting the photos from me other than the complete set of web ready photos I emailed her in 6 different emails.

But I can thank that bride for opening my eyes to what I was doing to myself.  I was devaluing the work I do, my time and my talent.  So, while I am frustrated by those who want my price to be *free*, I am satisfied that I am doing the right thing.  And that makes me happy, kid.

Swift and Shallow, Dark Night

 

 

Day 255 – Making Up.

Making Up.

Day 255

Song Of One Of The Girls by Dorothy Parker

Here in my heart I am Helen;
I’m Aspasia and Hero, at least.
I’m Judith, and Jael, and Madame de Stael;
I’m Salome, moon of the East.

Here in my soul I am Sappho;
Lady Hamilton am I, as well.
In me Recamier vies with Kitty O’Shea,
With Dido, and Eve, and poor Nell.

I’m of the glamorous ladies
At whose beckoning history shook.
But you are a man, and see only my pan,
So I stay at home with a book.

I have two little girls in my family room tonight.  By little girls, I mean 12 year olds with delusions of 16-year-old grandeur.  They have been strutting around the house since 4:30 this afternoon with Apple products in hand and ear, talking too loud and tossing their hair.  They have given each other make overs with real make-up (the blue eye shadow is DIVINE) and manicures.  They have oohed and ahhed over Justin Beiber, Alex Pettyfer and Sam Claflin and now they are kicked back on the sofa in the family room and watching HGTV (!!!).  They feel that they will be able to stay awake all night.  I feel that I will not.  I have no delusions of 16-year-old grandeur.  My delusions run more along the lines of a night that doesn’t include snoring that wakes the spousal unit up, restless legs or a 3 am hot flash.