Well, this is it. The hundredth post I am publishing on this blog. Wow! It's been a wild and great trip already. At the end of February, I wrote post 25 and I was somewhat serious about my four readers from the Ukraine. I decided to try and hit the big time by "calling out" the Bloggess, and telling her she shouldn't be a Nater-Tater.
It is a little amusing to re-read that post, and actually the two posts leading up to it.
Ah, the days before I found Twitter. All that free time I used to have... I remember it now...
Well, She favorited me, and then forgot me. But my top read post, by far, is that 25th post. I've had 951 views as of this typing - 22 new last night alone.
The top five blog posts are:
1. Calling out The Bloggess - Don't pull a Nater-Tater
2. 21. I have / am ADD
3. Amish Swingers (that's a fun one.. )
4. Married Women Like Breasts (I still like that one, too.. although I haven't gotten as much response as I had hoped! More stories and pictures, please!)
5. ADD
Proof, though, that I am beginning to gain in popularity, my post from yesterday, is in the top ten.
I am having a hell of a good time, and I hope you are, too. Seriously lots of thanks to my new tweeps - you're the best.
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If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Say Anything..
(And if your mind just went to John Cusak standing on the street holding up a boom box, you are OLD, like me...)
And, if you're OLD like me, then you have come to realize that life is not all roses and rainbows, and unicorns, and 100% happy, carefree, and stressless. If you're like me, you've experienced some of life's speed bumps, and witnessed your friends going through speed bumps too.
But these moments, in addition to the deep emotional pulls that they can be for us as individuals, can often be awkward for friends. What do you say? What do you do? How do you respond? What do they want?
I read a lot of advice columnists - I like the study of people - and often people write about how their friends disappear during a crisis.
A week or so ago, a tweet was posted by someone about how they will never again say "Big hugs!" to a friend because someone else had just done it to them and they found it so patronizing. To which I joked back because it is often a standard I use.
Because what do you say when someone you know, particularly someone who is at a distance, is going through a hard time?
Recently a co-worker's mother passed. Before she passed, though, she had been in and out of the hospital and in and out of hospice and all the "fun" stuff that often precedes passing. And my co-worker / friend had been in and out of work helping to care for her and being with her. When she returned from work after a particularly long absence I found myself in this awkward position. What do I say to her? I want to ask how her mother's doing, and how she's doing. But I know that being at work is probably a relief for her, at the moment, to think about something else. And probably if one more person brings it up, if I were her, she'd snap.
So, several days after she returned, I had just that conversation with her. I asked her how her mother was doing, and explained why I hadn't wanted to ask before. She thanked me, and fortunately, my timing was such that her mother had actually improved at that point, so it was not as unpleasant a topic for her.
But we often get stymied at situations where people we know - or are getting to know, or even barely know - are going through hard times. What do we say?
My natural inclination in almost any situation is that I am a helper. Carrying a big box, and need the door opened? I'm rushing ahead of you to open it, and if not too awkward, helping pick up the other end of the box. While I know my church would run just fine without me (in other words, I don't kid myself that I am essential), I have become quite the master of ceremonies behind the scenes with everything from preparing church bulletins to scheduling assistants, making announcements, calming squirmy kids without parents in the pews and dressing acolytes. I like to be helpful. As a youngster in school, I was the go to person for the sound system - even being pulled out of class to help with something in one of the younger classes. I volunteered to meet people and make friends. It really is an expression of my shyness, at some level, because I'd rather be doing something than sitting around awkwardly doing nothing.
So it's really really hard to sit on the sidelines and do nothing. But often that is all we can do.
I find myself often chomping at the bit, so to speak, because I want to be able to do more. I want to be able to wave a magic wand, and have the situation resolve itself peacefully. I want the person in pain to find peace. But from a distance, all I can give are words.
And they feel so inadequate on this end, sometimes.
But I gotta tell you. Having been on the other end, they mean more than you think. And the great thing is, that if you truly care about someone, it doesn't matter what the words are that you say, because if you express yourself sincerely, that is what comes out, and that is what they feel.
But do say something. Even if it's "I don't know what to say, but I care about you."
My friend "Robin" has read way more than her share of e-mails in the last six months of my angst over a particular situation. There isn't anything to say. I'm grieving, and grief is, well, grief. It's a process. There are no easy answers, no solutions, no particular advice that I need (and sometimes all I'll write to her is "P.S. I miss her"). And sometimes all she sends back is :(.
And sometimes, that is all I need. Another recent friend wrote me yesterday about a situation about something related in her life, and then followed up with "I don't know if that helps. I'm not good at these kinds of discussions. I never know what to say!" And what she wrote was wonderful - it helps to relate to each other - and even if all that she wrote were these last three sentences, it would have been just fine, too.
We don't want to feel alone. And maybe something you'll say will be idiotic. I've read a lot of advice columnists, and I've read people's reactions and, in my opinion some over-reactions, to what may have been good-meaning people. It is a risk. And maybe you won't get the response you expect or want. (I've read people upset because they never got a "thank you" for flowers sent as condolences... um, it isn't about YOU!) But take the risk. Send someone "big hugs" and risk the snarky reply (it is now a joke between me and this tweep, and at least from ME it isn't seen as 'patronizing'... (I hope?!))
It is easy to withdraw when someone is having a hard time. It is scary to engage and become involved, even if peripherally. And it is really hard, sometimes, to know what to say. But it's okay even just to say that. "I don't know what to say, but it really sucks you're going through this."
I know that I fall on the great platitudes - which from a distance are often just platitudes: "If you need anything..." (although when close by, people often try to anticipate what you might need, and this is why we have a great tradition of bring casseroles to people in need... it's their way of helping). Some that may seem like platitudes, but might mean the world, "I'm here if you need a shoulder to cry on, or if you want to talk." "Big hugs"
SOMETIMES, a joke might help - but you have to tread carefully here. But a laugh or a distraction from the situation can be also welcome.
Advice is a tricky thing. It may be needed and even wanted. But recognize that most times, there isn't anything that can be done, your advice has already been given, they are too overwhelmed to hear anything at the moment, or your advice will come off as patronizing - as if they don't know what to do. I struggle and give way too much advice sometimes, I know, because I feel helpless. But I know from both sides of the conversation, that often advice is not what is being sought. Pay close attention as to whether it is wanted at that moment, if you go that route, and pay attention to whether it's being appreciated. Usually, what we want most is just to be comforted and to not feel alone.
Be careful, too, sharing your own horror stories. If the horror story you are relating is something they might still have in front of them, it is probably not helpful. Sharing that you understand what they are going through can be helpful, but be careful with the detail. You may have accepted something in the situation that they are not yet ready to accept. I have been cruel, lately, to one friend who keeps telling me the most recent shitty thing that her soon-to-be-ex is doing, and trump her with something really crappy my ex did. SOMETIMES it is good to let someone know it could be worse, but you have to be careful not to be dismissive of them feeling crappy at their own situation. I usually use it with a smile on my face meant to amuse her, and with this particular friend, I feel comfortable doing so (we'll see if she tells me after she reads this how much she hates it, but hopefully she won't do it publicly in the comments). Usually we just end up laughing -as best we can - at how crappy people can be.
Last night, another friend of mine wrote me a two word text "It's done." And while I did confirm that she wasn't referring to dinner, I had a good idea what she was talking about. Two words... does she want to talk about it? Or just letting me know and needs to retreat now? Do I ask specific questions and MAKE her talk about it? Or is she numb? If I were there, I would just pull her into my arms and hold her and wait for her to let me know what else she needed. But from 3,000 miles away, I feel helpless. In the end, I gave her three options: If she wanted to talk about it, we could. If she wanted a distraction, I could provide that, too. And if she wanted me to, I'd just sit there quietly next to her (virtually) and hold her hand.
But the bottom line is say anything and let them know that you care, and remember that this is about them and not you.
Any other advice or thoughts from folks who have experienced a hard time and what you want others to do or not to do? What gesture did someone make to you that you found heartwarming, helpful, supportive? Please share your stories with those of us who never know what to say...
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
And, if you're OLD like me, then you have come to realize that life is not all roses and rainbows, and unicorns, and 100% happy, carefree, and stressless. If you're like me, you've experienced some of life's speed bumps, and witnessed your friends going through speed bumps too.
But these moments, in addition to the deep emotional pulls that they can be for us as individuals, can often be awkward for friends. What do you say? What do you do? How do you respond? What do they want?
I read a lot of advice columnists - I like the study of people - and often people write about how their friends disappear during a crisis.
A week or so ago, a tweet was posted by someone about how they will never again say "Big hugs!" to a friend because someone else had just done it to them and they found it so patronizing. To which I joked back because it is often a standard I use.
Because what do you say when someone you know, particularly someone who is at a distance, is going through a hard time?
Recently a co-worker's mother passed. Before she passed, though, she had been in and out of the hospital and in and out of hospice and all the "fun" stuff that often precedes passing. And my co-worker / friend had been in and out of work helping to care for her and being with her. When she returned from work after a particularly long absence I found myself in this awkward position. What do I say to her? I want to ask how her mother's doing, and how she's doing. But I know that being at work is probably a relief for her, at the moment, to think about something else. And probably if one more person brings it up, if I were her, she'd snap.
So, several days after she returned, I had just that conversation with her. I asked her how her mother was doing, and explained why I hadn't wanted to ask before. She thanked me, and fortunately, my timing was such that her mother had actually improved at that point, so it was not as unpleasant a topic for her.
But we often get stymied at situations where people we know - or are getting to know, or even barely know - are going through hard times. What do we say?
My natural inclination in almost any situation is that I am a helper. Carrying a big box, and need the door opened? I'm rushing ahead of you to open it, and if not too awkward, helping pick up the other end of the box. While I know my church would run just fine without me (in other words, I don't kid myself that I am essential), I have become quite the master of ceremonies behind the scenes with everything from preparing church bulletins to scheduling assistants, making announcements, calming squirmy kids without parents in the pews and dressing acolytes. I like to be helpful. As a youngster in school, I was the go to person for the sound system - even being pulled out of class to help with something in one of the younger classes. I volunteered to meet people and make friends. It really is an expression of my shyness, at some level, because I'd rather be doing something than sitting around awkwardly doing nothing.
So it's really really hard to sit on the sidelines and do nothing. But often that is all we can do.
I find myself often chomping at the bit, so to speak, because I want to be able to do more. I want to be able to wave a magic wand, and have the situation resolve itself peacefully. I want the person in pain to find peace. But from a distance, all I can give are words.
And they feel so inadequate on this end, sometimes.
But I gotta tell you. Having been on the other end, they mean more than you think. And the great thing is, that if you truly care about someone, it doesn't matter what the words are that you say, because if you express yourself sincerely, that is what comes out, and that is what they feel.
But do say something. Even if it's "I don't know what to say, but I care about you."
My friend "Robin" has read way more than her share of e-mails in the last six months of my angst over a particular situation. There isn't anything to say. I'm grieving, and grief is, well, grief. It's a process. There are no easy answers, no solutions, no particular advice that I need (and sometimes all I'll write to her is "P.S. I miss her"). And sometimes all she sends back is :(.
And sometimes, that is all I need. Another recent friend wrote me yesterday about a situation about something related in her life, and then followed up with "I don't know if that helps. I'm not good at these kinds of discussions. I never know what to say!" And what she wrote was wonderful - it helps to relate to each other - and even if all that she wrote were these last three sentences, it would have been just fine, too.
We don't want to feel alone. And maybe something you'll say will be idiotic. I've read a lot of advice columnists, and I've read people's reactions and, in my opinion some over-reactions, to what may have been good-meaning people. It is a risk. And maybe you won't get the response you expect or want. (I've read people upset because they never got a "thank you" for flowers sent as condolences... um, it isn't about YOU!) But take the risk. Send someone "big hugs" and risk the snarky reply (it is now a joke between me and this tweep, and at least from ME it isn't seen as 'patronizing'... (I hope?!))
It is easy to withdraw when someone is having a hard time. It is scary to engage and become involved, even if peripherally. And it is really hard, sometimes, to know what to say. But it's okay even just to say that. "I don't know what to say, but it really sucks you're going through this."
I know that I fall on the great platitudes - which from a distance are often just platitudes: "If you need anything..." (although when close by, people often try to anticipate what you might need, and this is why we have a great tradition of bring casseroles to people in need... it's their way of helping). Some that may seem like platitudes, but might mean the world, "I'm here if you need a shoulder to cry on, or if you want to talk." "Big hugs"
SOMETIMES, a joke might help - but you have to tread carefully here. But a laugh or a distraction from the situation can be also welcome.
Advice is a tricky thing. It may be needed and even wanted. But recognize that most times, there isn't anything that can be done, your advice has already been given, they are too overwhelmed to hear anything at the moment, or your advice will come off as patronizing - as if they don't know what to do. I struggle and give way too much advice sometimes, I know, because I feel helpless. But I know from both sides of the conversation, that often advice is not what is being sought. Pay close attention as to whether it is wanted at that moment, if you go that route, and pay attention to whether it's being appreciated. Usually, what we want most is just to be comforted and to not feel alone.
Be careful, too, sharing your own horror stories. If the horror story you are relating is something they might still have in front of them, it is probably not helpful. Sharing that you understand what they are going through can be helpful, but be careful with the detail. You may have accepted something in the situation that they are not yet ready to accept. I have been cruel, lately, to one friend who keeps telling me the most recent shitty thing that her soon-to-be-ex is doing, and trump her with something really crappy my ex did. SOMETIMES it is good to let someone know it could be worse, but you have to be careful not to be dismissive of them feeling crappy at their own situation. I usually use it with a smile on my face meant to amuse her, and with this particular friend, I feel comfortable doing so (we'll see if she tells me after she reads this how much she hates it, but hopefully she won't do it publicly in the comments). Usually we just end up laughing -as best we can - at how crappy people can be.
Last night, another friend of mine wrote me a two word text "It's done." And while I did confirm that she wasn't referring to dinner, I had a good idea what she was talking about. Two words... does she want to talk about it? Or just letting me know and needs to retreat now? Do I ask specific questions and MAKE her talk about it? Or is she numb? If I were there, I would just pull her into my arms and hold her and wait for her to let me know what else she needed. But from 3,000 miles away, I feel helpless. In the end, I gave her three options: If she wanted to talk about it, we could. If she wanted a distraction, I could provide that, too. And if she wanted me to, I'd just sit there quietly next to her (virtually) and hold her hand.
But the bottom line is say anything and let them know that you care, and remember that this is about them and not you.
Any other advice or thoughts from folks who have experienced a hard time and what you want others to do or not to do? What gesture did someone make to you that you found heartwarming, helpful, supportive? Please share your stories with those of us who never know what to say...
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Monday, June 18, 2012
WAITING!!!
Oh my, and one of the BIGGEST reasons I came away from this weekend thanking God that I was still single was all of the time that I spent WAITNG for others! I mean, being single, the only person you are waiting for is you. When you're ready to go, you, um, go?
It's pretty simple.
It's not that I never wait in my life. I do. And I didn't mind the "waiting" when I was ready before the time that we said to go happened. But the text messages at that time, or worse, after, that said "Fifteen more minutes..." when I was already waiting in the lobby. Given that my room was across the hall from them, I finally trained them out of this "Meet in the lobby" crap and told them just to knock on my door when they were ready to go.
But MAN did I have to WAIT a lot this weekend!
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If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
It's pretty simple.
It's not that I never wait in my life. I do. And I didn't mind the "waiting" when I was ready before the time that we said to go happened. But the text messages at that time, or worse, after, that said "Fifteen more minutes..." when I was already waiting in the lobby. Given that my room was across the hall from them, I finally trained them out of this "Meet in the lobby" crap and told them just to knock on my door when they were ready to go.
But MAN did I have to WAIT a lot this weekend!
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If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Bickering
Or more aptly titled, the joy of being single? Perhaps.
I understand in long term relationships - and maybe even in short-term relationships - a certain amount of bickering will occur. Certainly with the long-term ex, we bickered quite a bit, and it worried my ex considerably. In hindsight, perhaps she had a point. But at the time, we began to notice when we spent time around other couples that we weren't the only ones that bickered. That bickering was, perhaps, a price to pay for having someone by your side all the time. That and having someone at your side all the time was the price to pay!
I have recognized in the three years since we parted ways that I have developed certain sensitivities and over-sensitivities from that relationship. When I hear one partner belittling another, it sets the hair on my neck to high alert. When one is being disrespectful of another, I get anxious. I am very sensitive to the signs that while someone may love another, that love may still not be quite healthy. For either party.
Bickering is bound to happen when you take two (or more) independent people and spirits and try to make them into a single unit. This is true with romantic couples, and true in other social gatherings with a purpose. (Go to any board meeting of any local sports group, charity, parents group, etc, and there's bound to be some bickering in there).
I heard a bit of bickering this weekend - and I listened to the tone of voice. One party seemed prepared to bicker no matter what was said by the other party. And I have been in that position - there's one guy who I don't care what he says, it will annoy me, even if it is how nice I look today. But also the response of the other, or if there was poking or prompting of bickering. Who was escalating, and who was diffusing? If any. And over what were they bickering? Was it something that would actually save twenty minutes in traffic, or was it over something that didn't matter if either or both were right? Such as, "I like salt." "Well, I like pepper". (Bad example, but go with me here.. )
I found this weekend that I really didn't miss bickering. That I really don't like bickering. At one point, I was joking - but really quite serious - from the back seat of the car and told them that the kids don't like it when Mommy and Mommy fight. Even though they weren't "fighting", the tension with their bickering made me tense.
And it made me appreciate being single even more....
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
I understand in long term relationships - and maybe even in short-term relationships - a certain amount of bickering will occur. Certainly with the long-term ex, we bickered quite a bit, and it worried my ex considerably. In hindsight, perhaps she had a point. But at the time, we began to notice when we spent time around other couples that we weren't the only ones that bickered. That bickering was, perhaps, a price to pay for having someone by your side all the time. That and having someone at your side all the time was the price to pay!
I have recognized in the three years since we parted ways that I have developed certain sensitivities and over-sensitivities from that relationship. When I hear one partner belittling another, it sets the hair on my neck to high alert. When one is being disrespectful of another, I get anxious. I am very sensitive to the signs that while someone may love another, that love may still not be quite healthy. For either party.
Bickering is bound to happen when you take two (or more) independent people and spirits and try to make them into a single unit. This is true with romantic couples, and true in other social gatherings with a purpose. (Go to any board meeting of any local sports group, charity, parents group, etc, and there's bound to be some bickering in there).
I heard a bit of bickering this weekend - and I listened to the tone of voice. One party seemed prepared to bicker no matter what was said by the other party. And I have been in that position - there's one guy who I don't care what he says, it will annoy me, even if it is how nice I look today. But also the response of the other, or if there was poking or prompting of bickering. Who was escalating, and who was diffusing? If any. And over what were they bickering? Was it something that would actually save twenty minutes in traffic, or was it over something that didn't matter if either or both were right? Such as, "I like salt." "Well, I like pepper". (Bad example, but go with me here.. )
I found this weekend that I really didn't miss bickering. That I really don't like bickering. At one point, I was joking - but really quite serious - from the back seat of the car and told them that the kids don't like it when Mommy and Mommy fight. Even though they weren't "fighting", the tension with their bickering made me tense.
And it made me appreciate being single even more....
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
The Art of Happiness
In the book "by" the Dalai Lama discussing the art of happiness, one of the keys to happiness is quite simple: increase the number of things in your life that bring you pleasure, and decrease the things in your life that don't. (I use "by" because the book is written by this other guy, clearly in his own voice, about his discussions with the Dalai Lama on this topic, so the underlying ideas are his, but ... well, that's more than you need to know)
Yes, I'm simplifying things, and I don't think the Dalai Lama will mind too much because he seems to think that the secrets to life are very simple, so...
This weekend I had a stark reminder of how that works. One of the group of friends I went to visit, I have known since college. Let's just say that time has not been her friend. And I wonder, as I type now, if she was as bitter in college when I first knew her as she is now, and I just didn't notice and it's be amplified by time, or if this is something life has given her in the last 20 or so years.
Because she is not a happy person. And, as the Dalai Lama instructs, I do feel compassion for her. I wish I could find some way to uplift her mood or outlook on life, but I do realize, at the end of the day, that's not my job or responsibility. Or perhaps, sadly, possible.
There was a group of us all together, so we didn't always spend all our time all together. And in reflecting about the weekend, I find that I really enjoyed the time this weekend when she wasn't around, and I really didn't enjoy the time this weekend when she was present. Now, I hate reaching that conclusion. It saddens me tremendously. But, I also respect and acknowledge it.
And I realize that I will limit the responses to invitations from this friend to small bits and not large ones like a full weekend in the future. I will meet them for dinner, where I can escape after a lovely meal catching up. But I will not plan on spending a long evening with them where I feel trapped and unable to escape her negativity.
I'm not sure I can necessarily capture in any greater detail or specificity what it was about her demeanor this weekend that turned me off so much, and I'm not sure for the purpose of this post that I need to. But I did appreciate the CLEAR illustration of the Dalai Lama's principle of reducing or removing things in your life that do not bring you happiness.
Share your stories about toxic people in your life, and think about who you might need to spend less time around in order to be happy and not dragged down to their level of unhappiness.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Yes, I'm simplifying things, and I don't think the Dalai Lama will mind too much because he seems to think that the secrets to life are very simple, so...
This weekend I had a stark reminder of how that works. One of the group of friends I went to visit, I have known since college. Let's just say that time has not been her friend. And I wonder, as I type now, if she was as bitter in college when I first knew her as she is now, and I just didn't notice and it's be amplified by time, or if this is something life has given her in the last 20 or so years.
Because she is not a happy person. And, as the Dalai Lama instructs, I do feel compassion for her. I wish I could find some way to uplift her mood or outlook on life, but I do realize, at the end of the day, that's not my job or responsibility. Or perhaps, sadly, possible.
There was a group of us all together, so we didn't always spend all our time all together. And in reflecting about the weekend, I find that I really enjoyed the time this weekend when she wasn't around, and I really didn't enjoy the time this weekend when she was present. Now, I hate reaching that conclusion. It saddens me tremendously. But, I also respect and acknowledge it.
And I realize that I will limit the responses to invitations from this friend to small bits and not large ones like a full weekend in the future. I will meet them for dinner, where I can escape after a lovely meal catching up. But I will not plan on spending a long evening with them where I feel trapped and unable to escape her negativity.
I'm not sure I can necessarily capture in any greater detail or specificity what it was about her demeanor this weekend that turned me off so much, and I'm not sure for the purpose of this post that I need to. But I did appreciate the CLEAR illustration of the Dalai Lama's principle of reducing or removing things in your life that do not bring you happiness.
Share your stories about toxic people in your life, and think about who you might need to spend less time around in order to be happy and not dragged down to their level of unhappiness.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
The Need for Pride?
WARNING - I am pretty sure, I'm going to be slightly politically incorrect somewhere in here. I haven't written this as I write this warning, but based on what's going on in my head, do not enter if you are overly sensitive. Or if you do, and you get offended, well, don't say you haven't been warned.
I admit that when I lived in the BIG cities where Pride is huge, I didn't necessarily feel the need to go every year. In fact, I didn't go every year.
When I lived in San Francisco, I'd go to the dyke parade the night before, but that was, well, simply hoping to pick up a dyke. There were a lot to choose from, so I hoped maybe one might plop into my lap.
When I lived in the LA area, I went once or twice, and then only specifically to meet with friends who were in town.
The first year I came out, I lived near DC. And Pride happened on Father's day. As interested as I was in going then, I deferred in honor or out of respect for my father, who was a little anxious for my safety. As this was back when caveman knuckles still dragged on the ground, I can appreciate his concern. And either way, it was an inexpensive gift.
Once I figured out I was gay, there wasn't much of a closet for me. In college, I had come out to the entire school my first year by October. (When I do things, I kinda do them big sometimes!)
I am not a "big fan" of Pride. This doesn't mean I'm a detractor, yet. But I guess the reason I don't need Pride is that I live Pride every day.
Pride provides a couple of key things. One, it gives people who might otherwise be in a closet on occasion a chance to be out and proud and feel accepted (except by those haters on the corner telling us that our party will end in flames... but we ignore those people). Two, it gives people a chance not to feel alone - to realize that they aren't the only gay person in the _____ [fill in the blank - world, city, etc.].
Both of those contribute to someone feeling proud about themselves - they don't have to hide, and they feel supported that they aren't alone.
I've never really needed it because I don't know HOW to hide (fool!) and for the most part I haven't felt so alone. I admit, living in small town, it was nice to be amongst my people this year.
So why did I go? To meet old friends who DO go every year. In fact, they were some of the friends I met up with in LA that year I went.
Now understand that I don't begrudge or intend to belittle at all anyone who likes or enjoys or needs or wants Pride. And like any gathering of people, it's a great time to people watch, and people exhibiting "Pride" also tend to "exhibit" a whole lot more (particularly, in San Francisco). - and that can be fun to watch, too.
But as I woke up this morning, I thought about what it would be like if other groupings or "affiliations" got together for "pride" parades.
I mean, if we got together for White Pride, they'd call it a KKK rally. If we got together for Black Pride, well, let's face it, the cops would be called, and those folks over at the White Pride parade would be scared. Irish Pride works only on March 17th, and that's really mostly because they share all that beer. German Pride would scare all the Jews. (Although, if they, too, shared their beer, they might be more acceptable). It would be silly to have a long-hair parade, or a ten-fingers-parade.
And yet, to me, all of these things are inherent qualities of who we might be as individuals. I understand the need to not feel alone, and I understand the need to let others see us when we otherwise feel invisible. But I pray for the day when we won't "need" a Pride parade. When every day will be a pride parade, and everyone will know who we are and not think twice about us.
Until then - Happy Pride season everyone. Go hug your favorite gay person and remind them you love them just the way they are.
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I admit that when I lived in the BIG cities where Pride is huge, I didn't necessarily feel the need to go every year. In fact, I didn't go every year.
When I lived in San Francisco, I'd go to the dyke parade the night before, but that was, well, simply hoping to pick up a dyke. There were a lot to choose from, so I hoped maybe one might plop into my lap.
When I lived in the LA area, I went once or twice, and then only specifically to meet with friends who were in town.
The first year I came out, I lived near DC. And Pride happened on Father's day. As interested as I was in going then, I deferred in honor or out of respect for my father, who was a little anxious for my safety. As this was back when caveman knuckles still dragged on the ground, I can appreciate his concern. And either way, it was an inexpensive gift.
Once I figured out I was gay, there wasn't much of a closet for me. In college, I had come out to the entire school my first year by October. (When I do things, I kinda do them big sometimes!)
I am not a "big fan" of Pride. This doesn't mean I'm a detractor, yet. But I guess the reason I don't need Pride is that I live Pride every day.
Pride provides a couple of key things. One, it gives people who might otherwise be in a closet on occasion a chance to be out and proud and feel accepted (except by those haters on the corner telling us that our party will end in flames... but we ignore those people). Two, it gives people a chance not to feel alone - to realize that they aren't the only gay person in the _____ [fill in the blank - world, city, etc.].
Both of those contribute to someone feeling proud about themselves - they don't have to hide, and they feel supported that they aren't alone.
I've never really needed it because I don't know HOW to hide (fool!) and for the most part I haven't felt so alone. I admit, living in small town, it was nice to be amongst my people this year.
So why did I go? To meet old friends who DO go every year. In fact, they were some of the friends I met up with in LA that year I went.
Now understand that I don't begrudge or intend to belittle at all anyone who likes or enjoys or needs or wants Pride. And like any gathering of people, it's a great time to people watch, and people exhibiting "Pride" also tend to "exhibit" a whole lot more (particularly, in San Francisco). - and that can be fun to watch, too.
But as I woke up this morning, I thought about what it would be like if other groupings or "affiliations" got together for "pride" parades.
I mean, if we got together for White Pride, they'd call it a KKK rally. If we got together for Black Pride, well, let's face it, the cops would be called, and those folks over at the White Pride parade would be scared. Irish Pride works only on March 17th, and that's really mostly because they share all that beer. German Pride would scare all the Jews. (Although, if they, too, shared their beer, they might be more acceptable). It would be silly to have a long-hair parade, or a ten-fingers-parade.
And yet, to me, all of these things are inherent qualities of who we might be as individuals. I understand the need to not feel alone, and I understand the need to let others see us when we otherwise feel invisible. But I pray for the day when we won't "need" a Pride parade. When every day will be a pride parade, and everyone will know who we are and not think twice about us.
Until then - Happy Pride season everyone. Go hug your favorite gay person and remind them you love them just the way they are.
-----------------------------
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PRIDE!
For those of you who have been wondering where I have been the last couple of days, and why I have been quiet it is because I went to the Big City for Pride weekend. Anything profound SHOULD wait until tomorrow after I've had a good night's sleep in my own bed... but I'm still awake and a bit of an insomniac, so who knows what might come up in the next few hours.
Don't worry, though, I have plenty to share with you. Apparently, I'm at 100 posts - although that includes some random drafts, so I have to keep writing to get there.
Good night, my readers. More fun to come.
Quote of the night from listening to the Bloggess read from the introduction and first chapter of her book. "I take my vagina with me everywhere. Like my American Express Card." Take that Michigan lawmakers!
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Don't worry, though, I have plenty to share with you. Apparently, I'm at 100 posts - although that includes some random drafts, so I have to keep writing to get there.
Good night, my readers. More fun to come.
Quote of the night from listening to the Bloggess read from the introduction and first chapter of her book. "I take my vagina with me everywhere. Like my American Express Card." Take that Michigan lawmakers!
-----------------------------
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Friday, June 15, 2012
Those Amish Swingers..
.. I tell you my blog is getting more attention thanks to those Amish Swingers than I know what to do with. Two recent searches show up in my stats: "Amish Swingers" AND "Hot Amish". Hey, just because they swing doesn't mean they're "hot"... well, except in this weather, without air conditioning and all, maybe they are.
People amuse me so...
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People amuse me so...
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Endearments
There was a time in my life when I gave out endearments quite sparingly. I only used them addressing my significant other, and outside of that, they often felt strange. Even the first time I called my S.O. "Sweetie" may have felt a little foreign to me...
But then I spent a lot of time with someone who uses them quite freely, and before I knew it, for some reason, they have come rolling off my tongue. Maybe it's more acceptable here in the midwest, where everyone is a "hun", or a "sweetie", but I find myself using them without care, without regard. Almost, even, without notice.
It took awhile before I could call anyone else "Sweetie" after calling one person only "Sweetie" for over ten years. For a brief period that seemed like a special nickname reserved only for her. Except, of course, by that time she had been anything but sweet. That name seems to have lost it's taint, and now it comes out along with "dear" and "honey".
In the spoken word, I have had it pointed out, though, that whenever I go to use the word "honey", I apparently use it in quite a patronizing way. "Now, honey..." Ever since someone has told me that, I am amused when I hear myself about to use the word "honey" and I often think twice about what I was about to say and how. "Hun" does not have that patronizing use.
I admit that I tend to stick with the basic generics. But I know there are people who come up with more creative nicknames and endearments. Feel free to share below.
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But then I spent a lot of time with someone who uses them quite freely, and before I knew it, for some reason, they have come rolling off my tongue. Maybe it's more acceptable here in the midwest, where everyone is a "hun", or a "sweetie", but I find myself using them without care, without regard. Almost, even, without notice.
It took awhile before I could call anyone else "Sweetie" after calling one person only "Sweetie" for over ten years. For a brief period that seemed like a special nickname reserved only for her. Except, of course, by that time she had been anything but sweet. That name seems to have lost it's taint, and now it comes out along with "dear" and "honey".
In the spoken word, I have had it pointed out, though, that whenever I go to use the word "honey", I apparently use it in quite a patronizing way. "Now, honey..." Ever since someone has told me that, I am amused when I hear myself about to use the word "honey" and I often think twice about what I was about to say and how. "Hun" does not have that patronizing use.
I admit that I tend to stick with the basic generics. But I know there are people who come up with more creative nicknames and endearments. Feel free to share below.
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Thursday, June 14, 2012
What's on your bed?
If you're single, like me, let's face it. Unless we are sleeping in a twin bed, we don't sleep in the whole bed. And so, sometimes, things accumulate where we don't sleep. Yes. We'd like it to be a hot sexy person in that extra space, but since that person isn't HERE, well, we find substitutes don't we.
Typically I fall asleep with my laptop on my bed. I have gotten comfortable enough to know that I won't roll over and knock it off the bed in the middle of the night, and I know how close to the edge I can have it and be safe. So waking up with that next to me, or my phone, isn't so unusual for me. Sometimes my glasses don't quite make it to the nightstand either - although I *do* worry about breaking those. All things not so unusual.
The other morning, I woke up snuggling next to my wallet. I'm not quite sure what that was about, but it happened once more, too.
This morning, all those friends are there - although the wallet was closer to the foot of the bed than in my face staring back at me saying, "Good morning, Sweetie" like it did the last two times. I have an unopened bag of chips that has been there for two nights. I guess it's there just in case of emergency, and there hasn't been a chip emergency yet. My keys are in bed with me - not a usual companion, but there you go. My glasses case also near the foot of the bed, with my sunglasses resting safely inside. Some loose bills, a thank you card for a graduation gift, and of all the stuff, this is the one I'm most ashamed to admit, a Ziploc baggie with the leftover packaging from a roll of cookie dough. There's also an ice pack that I keep for my laptop which tends to run hot, and those laptop fan thingies never seem to help.
Looking around, I see also, that I missed a ball point pen, too. On other occasions, if I have been playing with, um, toys, they'll be here, too, but last night that wasn't the case.
What was the case, clearly, is that when I came home last night, rather than empty my pockets out on to a table, as I usually do (or several tables), I clearly just emptied it out at the foot of the bed, and never moved it.
While I may not make my bed every morning, I usually do clear it off - although the emergency potato chips seem to be a clear exception.
What strange things do you wake up to in bed with you?
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Typically I fall asleep with my laptop on my bed. I have gotten comfortable enough to know that I won't roll over and knock it off the bed in the middle of the night, and I know how close to the edge I can have it and be safe. So waking up with that next to me, or my phone, isn't so unusual for me. Sometimes my glasses don't quite make it to the nightstand either - although I *do* worry about breaking those. All things not so unusual.
The other morning, I woke up snuggling next to my wallet. I'm not quite sure what that was about, but it happened once more, too.
This morning, all those friends are there - although the wallet was closer to the foot of the bed than in my face staring back at me saying, "Good morning, Sweetie" like it did the last two times. I have an unopened bag of chips that has been there for two nights. I guess it's there just in case of emergency, and there hasn't been a chip emergency yet. My keys are in bed with me - not a usual companion, but there you go. My glasses case also near the foot of the bed, with my sunglasses resting safely inside. Some loose bills, a thank you card for a graduation gift, and of all the stuff, this is the one I'm most ashamed to admit, a Ziploc baggie with the leftover packaging from a roll of cookie dough. There's also an ice pack that I keep for my laptop which tends to run hot, and those laptop fan thingies never seem to help.
Looking around, I see also, that I missed a ball point pen, too. On other occasions, if I have been playing with, um, toys, they'll be here, too, but last night that wasn't the case.
What was the case, clearly, is that when I came home last night, rather than empty my pockets out on to a table, as I usually do (or several tables), I clearly just emptied it out at the foot of the bed, and never moved it.
While I may not make my bed every morning, I usually do clear it off - although the emergency potato chips seem to be a clear exception.
What strange things do you wake up to in bed with you?
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Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Married Women Like Breasts...
It's true. I've had a handful of married women* tell me somewhat recently about how much they like breasts (because more than a handful *would* be a waste). It's this pattern that I've noticed, and I must admit, my basic reaction is this: "Good, because I do, too, and by the way, I have two.." (thinking really, completing that sentence, "I have two you can play with...", but I keep that to myself until I have more information...)
I just find it amusing, and so I had to share. I admit that I have tried to use this information with varying success. I hate to admit - because someone will call me on my line - that I have asked more than one of them what it is they like about breasts, hoping that the conversation might take me, er, us somewhere fun. I mean what are you supposed to say to a woman who tells you she likes breasts? It wasn't like below I *asked* them first. It was information that was just volunteered to me - I figure they told me for a reason, right?
So, if there are any other married women out there who want to share with me how much they like breasts, they can be bold and comment below, or even bolder and send me a private e-mail. Just be aware, I might ask you what it is you like so much about them...
* One of them, I do have to admit, is getting divorced, and ideally won't be a married woman much longer, AND, I did know her (in the Biblical sense, yes) as a lesbian before she realized she might actually be bi and got married, so I admit that including her in my pool of married women who like breasts (Ah, doesn't that sound interesting, a pool of married women who like breasts? I'm ready to jump in... ) may be skewing the stats a little.
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I just find it amusing, and so I had to share. I admit that I have tried to use this information with varying success. I hate to admit - because someone will call me on my line - that I have asked more than one of them what it is they like about breasts, hoping that the conversation might take me, er, us somewhere fun. I mean what are you supposed to say to a woman who tells you she likes breasts? It wasn't like below I *asked* them first. It was information that was just volunteered to me - I figure they told me for a reason, right?
So, if there are any other married women out there who want to share with me how much they like breasts, they can be bold and comment below, or even bolder and send me a private e-mail. Just be aware, I might ask you what it is you like so much about them...
* One of them, I do have to admit, is getting divorced, and ideally won't be a married woman much longer, AND, I did know her (in the Biblical sense, yes) as a lesbian before she realized she might actually be bi and got married, so I admit that including her in my pool of married women who like breasts (Ah, doesn't that sound interesting, a pool of married women who like breasts? I'm ready to jump in... ) may be skewing the stats a little.
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Lost Threads...
It is easy as a blogger to sit and stare at that blank screen looking for inspiration. To write that one witty blog post that will get everyone talking, and retweeting like that age old Breck ad (please tell me I'm not the only one who remembers the "and then they'll tell their friends, and they'll tell their friends... " ad..).
That is the dream of the golden egg at this stage in a bloggers life (later, we'll have hopes to be like Jenny and go on book tour, but that is getting WA-A-AY ahead of ourselves, and frankly expects that we decide not to be anonymous after all, and that's a whole other set of questions.
Anyway, it is easy for us to have writer's block. Or to start several posts and have them get nowhere, as I described in this post about dykes, insanity, relationships, romantic.
Fellow bloggers, please take a moment to tell me below what you do to get out of your slump.
I've been fortunately, lately, riding high on a wave of Twitter (who knew it would happen?) that I have been fairly prolific recently, but I have been listening to a friend the past few evenings struggling with writer's block. And wishing - as I always do no matter what problem a friend may have - that I had the magic pill to fix the problem. Maybe because of all the problems she's going through, that's the one I'm most likely to have a real solution for - and yet, I haven't provided her with one yet. (Here it is!)
As bloggers, when we write, we have the great landscape of what we want to talk about out in front of us. We recognize that we can't tell you everything at once. Leo Tolstoy tried that once in this short little novel War and Peace but I'm not sure how many people he actually managed to tell his whole story to. (I've read the first 150 or so pages, and it is interesting, and I'd be curious to pick it up again, as it was 25 years ago that I first tried to read it. My father when he separated from my mother took that book with him - supposedly in his head it was going to be what he accomplished but the last time I had asked him about it, he never finished it. I'm not sure if he cracked it even).
Bloggers, surprisingly, don't want reading their blogs to be as challenging as Mt. Everest, unless, of course, that brings hundreds of thousands of readers. But the reality is we want you to stay.
So even though we have this vast landscape of ideas of things we want to tell you about, we know we can't dump it all into one blog entry. Otherwise we'd be book writers. But we see it as we write about just a small portion of what we want to tell you about. We know it's there, so we hint at it "Ah, but that's a blog post for another day." "Oh, that's a story of itself" "Continue reading, I'll address that in a later post."
In our heads, it's all mapped out beautifully and ready to go. On our computers? Not so much.
So I suggest to those of you bloggers who are feeling empty of ideas of what to write about, that you go back and re-read your own blog to see what you hinted was to come, but hasn't yet come, and perhaps find a topic there that strikes your fancy, your imagination, and most importantly, your fingers.
Good luck. I can't wait to read more of your stories...
P.S. Bloggers? Don't be afraid to use my blog as a place to tell me about yours. Until I start getting over 100 comments a day to this post (a girl can dream) I promise to go look at every blog that is mentioned in the comments below. Go for it. And keep writing.
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If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
That is the dream of the golden egg at this stage in a bloggers life (later, we'll have hopes to be like Jenny and go on book tour, but that is getting WA-A-AY ahead of ourselves, and frankly expects that we decide not to be anonymous after all, and that's a whole other set of questions.
Anyway, it is easy for us to have writer's block. Or to start several posts and have them get nowhere, as I described in this post about dykes, insanity, relationships, romantic.
Fellow bloggers, please take a moment to tell me below what you do to get out of your slump.
I've been fortunately, lately, riding high on a wave of Twitter (who knew it would happen?) that I have been fairly prolific recently, but I have been listening to a friend the past few evenings struggling with writer's block. And wishing - as I always do no matter what problem a friend may have - that I had the magic pill to fix the problem. Maybe because of all the problems she's going through, that's the one I'm most likely to have a real solution for - and yet, I haven't provided her with one yet. (Here it is!)
As bloggers, when we write, we have the great landscape of what we want to talk about out in front of us. We recognize that we can't tell you everything at once. Leo Tolstoy tried that once in this short little novel War and Peace but I'm not sure how many people he actually managed to tell his whole story to. (I've read the first 150 or so pages, and it is interesting, and I'd be curious to pick it up again, as it was 25 years ago that I first tried to read it. My father when he separated from my mother took that book with him - supposedly in his head it was going to be what he accomplished but the last time I had asked him about it, he never finished it. I'm not sure if he cracked it even).
Bloggers, surprisingly, don't want reading their blogs to be as challenging as Mt. Everest, unless, of course, that brings hundreds of thousands of readers. But the reality is we want you to stay.
So even though we have this vast landscape of ideas of things we want to tell you about, we know we can't dump it all into one blog entry. Otherwise we'd be book writers. But we see it as we write about just a small portion of what we want to tell you about. We know it's there, so we hint at it "Ah, but that's a blog post for another day." "Oh, that's a story of itself" "Continue reading, I'll address that in a later post."
In our heads, it's all mapped out beautifully and ready to go. On our computers? Not so much.
So I suggest to those of you bloggers who are feeling empty of ideas of what to write about, that you go back and re-read your own blog to see what you hinted was to come, but hasn't yet come, and perhaps find a topic there that strikes your fancy, your imagination, and most importantly, your fingers.
Good luck. I can't wait to read more of your stories...
P.S. Bloggers? Don't be afraid to use my blog as a place to tell me about yours. Until I start getting over 100 comments a day to this post (a girl can dream) I promise to go look at every blog that is mentioned in the comments below. Go for it. And keep writing.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Buttons...
There is a "joke" response that I've often given when I've heard someone express frustration over their mother. "Why is it that she can seem to push all my buttons?" To which I give them the classic line (and I'm sure it's not mine originally), "Because she installed them."
I have been trying to write a post for some time now about button pushing people, and figuring out which buttons it is that are even being pushed.
Yesterday, for example, I saw the train coming. The headlight heading my way as the train approached. I had plenty of time to step out of the way, and even made one half-hearted attempt to do so (although when I made it I thought it was full-hearted, but clearly was not). But somehow I found myself caught in the light, stuck in the track and unable to get out of the way of this train that tried to steam-roll over me.
At some level, I remained detached. Unlike other interactions with this person before, I did not lose control of myself, but I did seem to easily lose control of the situation. Unlike before, when the train came from behind and I was completely surprised by this person, I saw it coming. But I still couldn't step out of the way. Why couldn't I let people behave idiotically if they chose to do so? What compels me to point out the error in their logic? Do I really hope to change their mind?
As I've written before, I am a church-going person. I admit that circumstances wouldn't have to be so much different for me NOT to be a church-going person. A lot of why I go is for the sense of community. And I have become very involved, so extracting myself, at this point, would be difficult. But I have found myself dreading Sunday mornings lately because of one parishioner who knows how to ring my bell - and not in the good way. He walks in the door, and already I'm annoyed. He can never answer a direct question. He can never accept a simple answer. And, I concluded last Sunday, the reason he annoys me most is that he has or at least shows little respect for me.
I like to think that I am a reasonably decent person who treats other people, well, reasonably decent. I don't expect people to kow tow in front of me and lick my boots. I don't hold myself in such high (over-inflated) self-esteem. But I don't expect people to walk all over me, either. I expect, surprisingly, to be treated reasonably decent.
Now I understand that I can provoke someone with the best of them. And if someone responds upset to something provocative by me, I can respect that. I can even respect an irrational response. But it makes a difference, in the end to me, whether someone can back up and try and understand their own response, and articulate to me why what I said or did upset them. If they can, at some point, step back and evaluate the situation and try to resolve it rather than escalate it.
I can even half-heartedly accept a half-hearted apology - "Sorry, woke up on the wrong side of the bed" We all over-react, and sometimes don't even understand our own over-reactions. And there will even be times when we won't see it. Over time and experience with you, I can learn to understand and accept that. And even in the beginning, I will give you the benefit of the doubt.
I work hard at giving the compassion the Dalai Lama states is the secret to happiness. But, I admit, in return, I expect or hope an attempt at compassion for me from you. I don't think that is too much to expect.
And apparently, those who can't give it, have found a button in me that they can push.
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If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
I have been trying to write a post for some time now about button pushing people, and figuring out which buttons it is that are even being pushed.
Yesterday, for example, I saw the train coming. The headlight heading my way as the train approached. I had plenty of time to step out of the way, and even made one half-hearted attempt to do so (although when I made it I thought it was full-hearted, but clearly was not). But somehow I found myself caught in the light, stuck in the track and unable to get out of the way of this train that tried to steam-roll over me.
At some level, I remained detached. Unlike other interactions with this person before, I did not lose control of myself, but I did seem to easily lose control of the situation. Unlike before, when the train came from behind and I was completely surprised by this person, I saw it coming. But I still couldn't step out of the way. Why couldn't I let people behave idiotically if they chose to do so? What compels me to point out the error in their logic? Do I really hope to change their mind?
As I've written before, I am a church-going person. I admit that circumstances wouldn't have to be so much different for me NOT to be a church-going person. A lot of why I go is for the sense of community. And I have become very involved, so extracting myself, at this point, would be difficult. But I have found myself dreading Sunday mornings lately because of one parishioner who knows how to ring my bell - and not in the good way. He walks in the door, and already I'm annoyed. He can never answer a direct question. He can never accept a simple answer. And, I concluded last Sunday, the reason he annoys me most is that he has or at least shows little respect for me.
I like to think that I am a reasonably decent person who treats other people, well, reasonably decent. I don't expect people to kow tow in front of me and lick my boots. I don't hold myself in such high (over-inflated) self-esteem. But I don't expect people to walk all over me, either. I expect, surprisingly, to be treated reasonably decent.
Now I understand that I can provoke someone with the best of them. And if someone responds upset to something provocative by me, I can respect that. I can even respect an irrational response. But it makes a difference, in the end to me, whether someone can back up and try and understand their own response, and articulate to me why what I said or did upset them. If they can, at some point, step back and evaluate the situation and try to resolve it rather than escalate it.
I can even half-heartedly accept a half-hearted apology - "Sorry, woke up on the wrong side of the bed" We all over-react, and sometimes don't even understand our own over-reactions. And there will even be times when we won't see it. Over time and experience with you, I can learn to understand and accept that. And even in the beginning, I will give you the benefit of the doubt.
I work hard at giving the compassion the Dalai Lama states is the secret to happiness. But, I admit, in return, I expect or hope an attempt at compassion for me from you. I don't think that is too much to expect.
And apparently, those who can't give it, have found a button in me that they can push.
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Monday, June 11, 2012
Vows
Twice I stood up and told the woman I loved that I would be there for her for better or worse, for richer and pooer, in sickness and in health. We had a union ceremony before we could legally marry and then during that brief window, before Prop 8 passed, we married legally, too.
Even three years after it's been done, I still struggle with reconciling that with leaving her nonetheless.
To be fair. She didn't give me a choice. Anyone who is familiar with even a tenth of the details would tell you that I didn't have a choice to stay. She'd become increasingly unstable, violent, destructive. All-in-all Scary. In addition to the threat of physical harm, the harm she threatened to me and my reputation and tried to incur was also devastating. She was calling everyone close to me and many who weren't that close to me and spreading lies about me. Those who knew me, fortunately, knew the truth about me. But she has borderline personality disorder, so those right on the edge found themselves questioning because her stories were laced with just enough truth to be convincing.
"For better or worse"
Well, there was no question that at that moment it was the worse. It had been, in hindsight, about two or three years of "worse" but I had stayed in there, I had been trying to stick it out. What gave me permission to let go then? What was so different?
"For richer or poorer"
My friends would be quick to tell you that my ex had no problems with me as long as we were richer. But as we steadily progressed towards poorer, she began to disintigrate. But surely in this last economic, um, setback, we are not the only ones to have had to struggle with hard times and hard decisions about how to make it through those. Not EVERYONE separated simply because finances became tight.
"In sickness and in health"
This, though, is the one that trips me up. Because I don't think I broke the first two vows - I was there for those times, and willing to be there for more. But for some reason, I couldn't stick it out through sickness. Because, unfortunately, that is what she is.
Nowhere, though, is there a release from my vows. The answer, I think, lies in this. (To the extent that I have found and accepted an answer). Before I broke my vows, she broke hers. Others have suggested that gives me a release. That you can't hold up a marriage single-handedly. That both parties must remain committed to their vows to make it work, and that if one gives up, the other is released, then, from holding up their end.
I admit that I'm not completely sure I accept that.
In a legal contract, when one party breaches the contract, the other party is not automatically released from their obligation. A number of defenses may be raised, but if the contract is not written so that one's obligations are dependent upon the other fulfiling their obligations, then there is no excuse for the second party to breach the contract. Impossibility, however, is a valid defense for breach of contract. And so others would argue that she made it impossible for me to keep my vows.
It is not easy to walk away. But sometimes it is the only choice. My friends convinced me that losing myself would not help her in anyway, and if I stayed, I would have lost myself. I probably did lose a little of myself before I escaped. Fortunately, I have a pretty rock-strong core.
Even three years after it's been done, I still struggle with reconciling that with leaving her nonetheless.
To be fair. She didn't give me a choice. Anyone who is familiar with even a tenth of the details would tell you that I didn't have a choice to stay. She'd become increasingly unstable, violent, destructive. All-in-all Scary. In addition to the threat of physical harm, the harm she threatened to me and my reputation and tried to incur was also devastating. She was calling everyone close to me and many who weren't that close to me and spreading lies about me. Those who knew me, fortunately, knew the truth about me. But she has borderline personality disorder, so those right on the edge found themselves questioning because her stories were laced with just enough truth to be convincing.
"For better or worse"
Well, there was no question that at that moment it was the worse. It had been, in hindsight, about two or three years of "worse" but I had stayed in there, I had been trying to stick it out. What gave me permission to let go then? What was so different?
"For richer or poorer"
My friends would be quick to tell you that my ex had no problems with me as long as we were richer. But as we steadily progressed towards poorer, she began to disintigrate. But surely in this last economic, um, setback, we are not the only ones to have had to struggle with hard times and hard decisions about how to make it through those. Not EVERYONE separated simply because finances became tight.
"In sickness and in health"
This, though, is the one that trips me up. Because I don't think I broke the first two vows - I was there for those times, and willing to be there for more. But for some reason, I couldn't stick it out through sickness. Because, unfortunately, that is what she is.
Nowhere, though, is there a release from my vows. The answer, I think, lies in this. (To the extent that I have found and accepted an answer). Before I broke my vows, she broke hers. Others have suggested that gives me a release. That you can't hold up a marriage single-handedly. That both parties must remain committed to their vows to make it work, and that if one gives up, the other is released, then, from holding up their end.
I admit that I'm not completely sure I accept that.
In a legal contract, when one party breaches the contract, the other party is not automatically released from their obligation. A number of defenses may be raised, but if the contract is not written so that one's obligations are dependent upon the other fulfiling their obligations, then there is no excuse for the second party to breach the contract. Impossibility, however, is a valid defense for breach of contract. And so others would argue that she made it impossible for me to keep my vows.
It is not easy to walk away. But sometimes it is the only choice. My friends convinced me that losing myself would not help her in anyway, and if I stayed, I would have lost myself. I probably did lose a little of myself before I escaped. Fortunately, I have a pretty rock-strong core.
#FirstWorldProblems
Oh. It's Monday. And I so don't want to go on site. I know that face time is good, particularly when I'm not being particularly productive, but I want to sit at home instead. Maybe work from home, but either way sit at home.
This morning I have come up with the perfect tweet to circulate and be retweeted, but for "getting noticed" sakes, I'd like to have the perfectly witty blog post to circulate with it.
So far, this isn't it.
It is easy to say, "Do what you love" and then you'll never be working. But how do we get paid for that? And how do we figure that out, because lately, what I love most is sleeping, and I'm sure there really aren't places that pay you to do that. At least not knowingly.
Welcome to Monday. Resistance is futile.
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This morning I have come up with the perfect tweet to circulate and be retweeted, but for "getting noticed" sakes, I'd like to have the perfectly witty blog post to circulate with it.
So far, this isn't it.
It is easy to say, "Do what you love" and then you'll never be working. But how do we get paid for that? And how do we figure that out, because lately, what I love most is sleeping, and I'm sure there really aren't places that pay you to do that. At least not knowingly.
Welcome to Monday. Resistance is futile.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Sex Sells..
Let's face it. Sex sells. We (women) like sex. Sex is fun (ideally). We are more interested than we're allowed to express in each other's sex lives. Curious what others' experiences are. Happy for others who are having successful healthy sex lives. (Now that Kit and I are tweeps, I regularly encourage her and her DH having enjoyed her posts so much regarding their healthy romps, and her friendly relationshp with Siri (and it's not her iPhone)).
(I think I remember what that is like...?)
Amish Swingers isn't my most popular post, but it is one of the most quickly viewed in high numbers since I've been doing this blog.
And, as my friend Anonymous told you all, I can be quite the tease...
But we like that. We like teasing, flirting, being sexually suggestive to a line.
One Tweep told me that she draws the line at anyone who sends her a naked picture of themself. That she immediately blocks that person, and I, sickly, hold that in my back pocket knowing if I decide I don't want to be tweeps with her anymore, I'll just send her a naked picture (not necessarily of myself, but.. what does a collective cube look like naked, anyway??).
I jest.
We have our lines. And depending on how well we get to know each other, those lines might move. And some of the reason for the lines is that even though we're all curious and interested, we're not supposed to be. Ever since Adam and Eve put those fig leaves on, there is this curiosity, but we're supposed to hide it.
Fifty Shades of Grey is one way to dip a toe into the water of the conversation. It really isn't any thing more than a B/d S/m Harlequin. I remember my classmates from eighth and ninth grade getting all excited reading about "his thrombing member".. There isn't anything really more risque in that book than Harlequin, except it isn't published by Harlequin.
Because reading Harlequins - and admitting that - is silly. And yet, so many of us do it. My 70+ cousin is an avid subscriber and reads all the series, and then donates them. One of my best friends admits to jumpstarting her sex life and her low libido reading these books.
These books are girl-porn. We do it, too. But we prefer to pretend we're more high-brow. But most people will agree that men are visual, and women tend to get stuck in their heads. Er, I mean, tend to be turned on by our brains.
Even nuns are talking about lesbianism and masturbation. Lord, knows, the Catholic priests know a thing or two about sex despite their vows of celibacy... (oops - she DID NOT just go there??)
I don't know what it takes for us to be open about our interest and our curiosity. Perhaps a forum - semi-anonymous like twitter (or Craig's list?? Eek! No) is a way in which people can explore and express their interest and begin to find that they're not alone in liking sex, in being interested in sex. In flirting..
(Oh, God, I love flirting!! It is so much fun.. as Anonymous warned you, I'm a tease, and she should know...)
Despite this post, though, and my open flirting with several of you, the reality is that I, too, have an interest in hiding my interest. I did seriously consider posting the link I found for Amish Swingers in the last post, but didn't because I didn't want the owner of the website of innocent swings to track back to my link and read about our playful whimsy with a different kind of Amish swinger...
We are like dogs chasing our tails.
Which, if you've ever walked through the Castro with a gay male friend, that's exactly what gay men might do with each other - they seem open and willing to express their interest in each other. I become quite amused when I walk down Castro with a boy friend, and he spies someone more interesting, they both turn and watch each other go, and then keep moving on. Like two dogs walking along, sniffing each other's butts, and then moving on.
Men are better about being honest about their sexual interest. Women need to take ownership of theirs.
Kit would usually assign sex homework. I'm not as good a Dominatrix, er, I mean commanding... But I'd be curious about your thoughts on the subject.
-----------------------------
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(I think I remember what that is like...?)
Amish Swingers isn't my most popular post, but it is one of the most quickly viewed in high numbers since I've been doing this blog.
And, as my friend Anonymous told you all, I can be quite the tease...
But we like that. We like teasing, flirting, being sexually suggestive to a line.
One Tweep told me that she draws the line at anyone who sends her a naked picture of themself. That she immediately blocks that person, and I, sickly, hold that in my back pocket knowing if I decide I don't want to be tweeps with her anymore, I'll just send her a naked picture (not necessarily of myself, but.. what does a collective cube look like naked, anyway??).
I jest.
We have our lines. And depending on how well we get to know each other, those lines might move. And some of the reason for the lines is that even though we're all curious and interested, we're not supposed to be. Ever since Adam and Eve put those fig leaves on, there is this curiosity, but we're supposed to hide it.
Fifty Shades of Grey is one way to dip a toe into the water of the conversation. It really isn't any thing more than a B/d S/m Harlequin. I remember my classmates from eighth and ninth grade getting all excited reading about "his thrombing member".. There isn't anything really more risque in that book than Harlequin, except it isn't published by Harlequin.
Because reading Harlequins - and admitting that - is silly. And yet, so many of us do it. My 70+ cousin is an avid subscriber and reads all the series, and then donates them. One of my best friends admits to jumpstarting her sex life and her low libido reading these books.
These books are girl-porn. We do it, too. But we prefer to pretend we're more high-brow. But most people will agree that men are visual, and women tend to get stuck in their heads. Er, I mean, tend to be turned on by our brains.
Even nuns are talking about lesbianism and masturbation. Lord, knows, the Catholic priests know a thing or two about sex despite their vows of celibacy... (oops - she DID NOT just go there??)
I don't know what it takes for us to be open about our interest and our curiosity. Perhaps a forum - semi-anonymous like twitter (or Craig's list?? Eek! No) is a way in which people can explore and express their interest and begin to find that they're not alone in liking sex, in being interested in sex. In flirting..
(Oh, God, I love flirting!! It is so much fun.. as Anonymous warned you, I'm a tease, and she should know...)
Despite this post, though, and my open flirting with several of you, the reality is that I, too, have an interest in hiding my interest. I did seriously consider posting the link I found for Amish Swingers in the last post, but didn't because I didn't want the owner of the website of innocent swings to track back to my link and read about our playful whimsy with a different kind of Amish swinger...
We are like dogs chasing our tails.
Which, if you've ever walked through the Castro with a gay male friend, that's exactly what gay men might do with each other - they seem open and willing to express their interest in each other. I become quite amused when I walk down Castro with a boy friend, and he spies someone more interesting, they both turn and watch each other go, and then keep moving on. Like two dogs walking along, sniffing each other's butts, and then moving on.
Men are better about being honest about their sexual interest. Women need to take ownership of theirs.
Kit would usually assign sex homework. I'm not as good a Dominatrix, er, I mean commanding... But I'd be curious about your thoughts on the subject.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Amish Swingers
I had a request to write a post about Amish Swingers from one of my new Tweeps.
Well, this required some research as I don't know much about them. But I did find one site, that promised: "Our exclusive Amish Swingers bring pure country joy swaying from your porch or tree. Full-size patterns and easy painting guides make this the perfect, pleasing project - even for beginners! "
Taken in the wrong context, well.. it's been awhile since I've swung from the trees, or on the porch, but there was a time when I was more adventurous in public... ;)
It's the perfect pleasing project - even for beginners... ;)
-----------------------------
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Well, this required some research as I don't know much about them. But I did find one site, that promised: "Our exclusive Amish Swingers bring pure country joy swaying from your porch or tree. Full-size patterns and easy painting guides make this the perfect, pleasing project - even for beginners! "
Taken in the wrong context, well.. it's been awhile since I've swung from the trees, or on the porch, but there was a time when I was more adventurous in public... ;)
It's the perfect pleasing project - even for beginners... ;)
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Being Single
So... there are definitely drawbacks to being single. But sometimes, there are perks. Like napping between 6:30 pm to 9:00 pm, and now being awake after midnight, and watching whatever television show I want.
No-one to answer to. No-one to share with. Eat whenever I want. Can eat whatever I want - not have to save it for someone else.
I'm sure there are other benefits, but these are the benes I'm exercising tonight..
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No-one to answer to. No-one to share with. Eat whenever I want. Can eat whatever I want - not have to save it for someone else.
I'm sure there are other benefits, but these are the benes I'm exercising tonight..
-----------------------------
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Friday, June 8, 2012
Wine Party and Amish Swingers
Oh, Twitter, you seductive beast you. How can I resist you when you provide me with Amish Swingers? Another #wineparty, and oh, the fodder I could write with But frankly, I'll just leave you with Amish Swingers. Want to know more? Join the #wineparty on Friday nights at 9 PM Eastern (or whenever you show up) on Twitter...
Welcome to my new followers...
WWASD?? That is always the question
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Welcome to my new followers...
WWASD?? That is always the question
-----------------------------
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Thursday, June 7, 2012
Motivation...
I'm a contractor. I don't have to be at the work site at any particular time or spend any particular number of hours there. I am writing for them, so I can do it from anywhere. Although I do need to be on site to ask questions, and observe the things that I am writing about.
So on days like today when I really don't want to go, it's hard to get motivated.
And really? This entry has already taken a much more serious note than I intended when I hit "new post". Really, all I wanted to write was: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH, I don't wanna go in..."
I don't.
So on days like today when I really don't want to go, it's hard to get motivated.
And really? This entry has already taken a much more serious note than I intended when I hit "new post". Really, all I wanted to write was: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH, I don't wanna go in..."
I don't.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
We are family - Borg Family
For those who are unfamiliar with the Borg from Star Trek, this article from Wikipedia is actually quite helpful to bring you up to speed. I *do* not suggest you need to read the WHOLE article, but the first few paragraphs should give you an overview.
While the naming of this blog was a product of auto-correct, on more than one occasion, the naming of the blog after this “pseudo-race” from Star Trek seems very fitting, nonetheless.
Although I am an active weekly church-goer and participant, I find much value in Eastern philosophies. Early on,I was amused to make the connection between Taoism and the Borg, when I first read in an elementary book on Taoism (it may even have been the Tao of Pooh)that resistance is futile.
The Borg operates as a collective. All the smaller units are really just part of a whole and they all have the same data and responses, generally to any situation. They think alike. They are alike.
In the last two weeks, I have made more friends in the Twitter-verse (particularly from #wineparty) that I now follow. It is clear, of course, that it has attracted like-minded people. But the similarities amongst us are remarkable. There have been a number of tweets that I have flagged with the thought of using them as “story-starters”or post generators. Where one of you has expressed something that I strongly agree with, or have expressed at some point (likely recently) myself. Made an observation that I have made. Felt the same emotions, reactions, responses as I have felt. And even some of you have responded to my tweets or my blog with amazement at how much you feel like you could have written that.
A friend of mine was venting to me last night by e-mail about the evil ex of her current flame. And she ended it with a stern warning of her mood: “please don't give me the compassionspeech”. I admit – and she may not want to know this – I laughed a little at that. Because in many ways we are more alike than we are different. And I often preach (see, Dad was right) to stop and put yourself in someone else’s shoes to try and understand why they are reacting or responding the way that they are acting. If we can step back from ourselves and always being right, we may realize that if we were in the same situation we might be acting the same way – or at least want to.
When we stop and realize that I am just like you and you are just like me – with all of our wonderful qualities and all of our flaws (yes, you DO have flaws, sorry, honey, you are NOT perfect) – then it is easier to give someone else the break that we feel we deserve.
If we stopped and thought of ourselves as a collective – as one being of sorts – so that hurting someone else was really the same as hurting ourselves, perhaps we might think twice about some of our behavior towards others. If we realize that the ultimate impact in mistreating others was being mistreated ourselves, then perhaps we might treat each other a little gentler.
One poor tweep today in reaction to another friend on Facebook reposting a Dalai Lama quote blasted her (or him?) about how she didn’t want to read some stupid repost PARTICULARLY when she knew that you didn’t even believe it yourself. I teased her back, “but I do!” and she felt sheepish and clarified that it wasn’t about me (which I knew). But I do believe in all that compassion stuff that the Dalai Lama talks about. It is hard to practice, but I think if we stop and realize that we are all extensions of one another, and treat each other with the same respect as we want, the world – or at least the one that you live in – will begin to look better.
Resistance, after all, is futile. You will become one with the Borg. You will be assimilated. We are one.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
While the naming of this blog was a product of auto-correct, on more than one occasion, the naming of the blog after this “pseudo-race” from Star Trek seems very fitting, nonetheless.
Although I am an active weekly church-goer and participant, I find much value in Eastern philosophies. Early on,I was amused to make the connection between Taoism and the Borg, when I first read in an elementary book on Taoism (it may even have been the Tao of Pooh)that resistance is futile.
The Borg operates as a collective. All the smaller units are really just part of a whole and they all have the same data and responses, generally to any situation. They think alike. They are alike.
In the last two weeks, I have made more friends in the Twitter-verse (particularly from #wineparty) that I now follow. It is clear, of course, that it has attracted like-minded people. But the similarities amongst us are remarkable. There have been a number of tweets that I have flagged with the thought of using them as “story-starters”or post generators. Where one of you has expressed something that I strongly agree with, or have expressed at some point (likely recently) myself. Made an observation that I have made. Felt the same emotions, reactions, responses as I have felt. And even some of you have responded to my tweets or my blog with amazement at how much you feel like you could have written that.
A friend of mine was venting to me last night by e-mail about the evil ex of her current flame. And she ended it with a stern warning of her mood: “please don't give me the compassionspeech”. I admit – and she may not want to know this – I laughed a little at that. Because in many ways we are more alike than we are different. And I often preach (see, Dad was right) to stop and put yourself in someone else’s shoes to try and understand why they are reacting or responding the way that they are acting. If we can step back from ourselves and always being right, we may realize that if we were in the same situation we might be acting the same way – or at least want to.
When we stop and realize that I am just like you and you are just like me – with all of our wonderful qualities and all of our flaws (yes, you DO have flaws, sorry, honey, you are NOT perfect) – then it is easier to give someone else the break that we feel we deserve.
If we stopped and thought of ourselves as a collective – as one being of sorts – so that hurting someone else was really the same as hurting ourselves, perhaps we might think twice about some of our behavior towards others. If we realize that the ultimate impact in mistreating others was being mistreated ourselves, then perhaps we might treat each other a little gentler.
One poor tweep today in reaction to another friend on Facebook reposting a Dalai Lama quote blasted her (or him?) about how she didn’t want to read some stupid repost PARTICULARLY when she knew that you didn’t even believe it yourself. I teased her back, “but I do!” and she felt sheepish and clarified that it wasn’t about me (which I knew). But I do believe in all that compassion stuff that the Dalai Lama talks about. It is hard to practice, but I think if we stop and realize that we are all extensions of one another, and treat each other with the same respect as we want, the world – or at least the one that you live in – will begin to look better.
Resistance, after all, is futile. You will become one with the Borg. You will be assimilated. We are one.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
ADD
I've noticed a recent surge in my post about having ADD, and therefore think / wonder if there is an interest there.
It is tough and frustrating sometimes to think / write / talk about my ADD because I don't want to define myself by it, and I don't *want* it to limit me. When I first found out I read (parts of) books about ADD and also about diagnoses as adults. I say "parts of" because the reality is that I have never been able to read a complete non-fiction book, unless it was written in a story-like format.
They talk about the denial. The struggle because there are simple things that we think we should be able to do and yet can't seem to do. The frustrations that we feel. And, at some level, the relief we feel at knowing that there's a reason for this. As I wrote in my earlier post, there were plenty of teachers who realized that I was living up to my full potential. But none of them seemed to have the answer as to how I could do it. I'm not sure I have it now.
There are many ways in which people can live with and manage ADD. Pharmaceutical is certainly a popular method, and it has it's place. But there are behavioral therapies, lifestyle choices, and other means of managing ADD. In conjunction with meds or without meds.
Some of the behavioral therapies, however, are hard to implement without some one else there to help you. They are effective, or can be effective, with kids who have parents and teachers to help administer them, and work with them. As an adult, and in this case at the moment a single adult, it is harder to implement effectively behavioral modification.
Structure, frankly, is the most effective manner of addressing ADD. Developing habits and routines helps keep an ADD person on course. I do consciously try to form habits, and I could name five or six that I have developed in the past year. But it is easier to do with someone else.
Medication works but also has its limitations. Essentially in order to "calm down" a hyper-active person with ADD you actually give them stimulants, and it has the reverse reaction than it would for someone without ADD. It stimulates some part of the brain that allows you to focus. Ritalin is the most prescribed drug, and is usually where a doctor will start when he or she begins prescribing medicine. Ritalin, by itself, is one of the stupidest drugs for someone with ADD because it has an effectiveness of about four hours, and you need to take the next pill before the first one wears off. But you have ADD, so you forget to take the second pill until it's too late. As a kid, nurses used to be able to administer drugs to kids - and kids could go at lunch time to the nurse for their medicine. These days, however, a nurse can barely put on a band-aid without having to get a waiver signed by the parents, and my understanding, in all seriousness, is that they aren't even able to administer basic pain medicines like aspirin anymore. Parents are called if anything needs to be administered and the kids have to be picked up.
This was never an issue for me, because I was diagnosed as an adult. But at least a routine for a kid, where after third or fourth period, they go to the nurse every day, Ritalin could work. Except, of course, for the problem above.
The good news is the next drug they may try you on is Concerta. Time-release Ritalin that you only have to take once a day. NOW you're beginning to get it. That works. So, you try a dose and stick with it for a period of time, and then try to determine whether it's effective. This is a very subjective determination, and it gets ultimately, to be a lot like going to an optometrist and looking through the various lenses for glasses - "is this better? or this one?" when they both look the same to you. Having a partner - as I did at the time - available to help evaluate your response to the drug is helpful. And so you experiment with dosages.
The trouble is even when you find a dosage that works, you eventually get used to it, and its effectiveness begins to taper. So, then they try you on a different drug, and you, once again, go through the steps to try and find the right dosage, etc. It can, I imagine, be an endless cycle.
Which is why I do think it is important to address ADD with more than just medicine.
In my last post about ADD, I talked about the Sisyphean task of pushing the boulder up the hill. And the insanity of doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Some people find paths in their life where their ADD might be an asset, or at least where their ADD is less of an impairment. One friend of mine is a doctor, and rather than be in a routine boring family practice, the activity of the ER is much more manageable for her. While being a doctor is a crazy idea for me, I can see as someone who constantly needs deadlines to get anything done that the fast paced rush of the ER could provide that level of "stress" necessary to get things done.
I wish I had THE answer. I am still struggling with finding THE answer. It is a daily battle, and it is hard. And it makes being in relationships difficult, because it is hard for someone to understand why you just can't seem to do something. Or you can't do it without x, y or z to stimulate you or make you do it. It is important to educate your partners about what it is you need. Not to make excuses, but to find a productive way to work together, and to make the relationship feel like a partnership, and not where one always feels like they have to push you to do anything. It is doable. But it is hard, too.
No lovely answers or concluding pearls on this one. It just is what it is... Feel free to add your own concluding pearls or advice.
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If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
It is tough and frustrating sometimes to think / write / talk about my ADD because I don't want to define myself by it, and I don't *want* it to limit me. When I first found out I read (parts of) books about ADD and also about diagnoses as adults. I say "parts of" because the reality is that I have never been able to read a complete non-fiction book, unless it was written in a story-like format.
They talk about the denial. The struggle because there are simple things that we think we should be able to do and yet can't seem to do. The frustrations that we feel. And, at some level, the relief we feel at knowing that there's a reason for this. As I wrote in my earlier post, there were plenty of teachers who realized that I was living up to my full potential. But none of them seemed to have the answer as to how I could do it. I'm not sure I have it now.
There are many ways in which people can live with and manage ADD. Pharmaceutical is certainly a popular method, and it has it's place. But there are behavioral therapies, lifestyle choices, and other means of managing ADD. In conjunction with meds or without meds.
Some of the behavioral therapies, however, are hard to implement without some one else there to help you. They are effective, or can be effective, with kids who have parents and teachers to help administer them, and work with them. As an adult, and in this case at the moment a single adult, it is harder to implement effectively behavioral modification.
Structure, frankly, is the most effective manner of addressing ADD. Developing habits and routines helps keep an ADD person on course. I do consciously try to form habits, and I could name five or six that I have developed in the past year. But it is easier to do with someone else.
Medication works but also has its limitations. Essentially in order to "calm down" a hyper-active person with ADD you actually give them stimulants, and it has the reverse reaction than it would for someone without ADD. It stimulates some part of the brain that allows you to focus. Ritalin is the most prescribed drug, and is usually where a doctor will start when he or she begins prescribing medicine. Ritalin, by itself, is one of the stupidest drugs for someone with ADD because it has an effectiveness of about four hours, and you need to take the next pill before the first one wears off. But you have ADD, so you forget to take the second pill until it's too late. As a kid, nurses used to be able to administer drugs to kids - and kids could go at lunch time to the nurse for their medicine. These days, however, a nurse can barely put on a band-aid without having to get a waiver signed by the parents, and my understanding, in all seriousness, is that they aren't even able to administer basic pain medicines like aspirin anymore. Parents are called if anything needs to be administered and the kids have to be picked up.
This was never an issue for me, because I was diagnosed as an adult. But at least a routine for a kid, where after third or fourth period, they go to the nurse every day, Ritalin could work. Except, of course, for the problem above.
The good news is the next drug they may try you on is Concerta. Time-release Ritalin that you only have to take once a day. NOW you're beginning to get it. That works. So, you try a dose and stick with it for a period of time, and then try to determine whether it's effective. This is a very subjective determination, and it gets ultimately, to be a lot like going to an optometrist and looking through the various lenses for glasses - "is this better? or this one?" when they both look the same to you. Having a partner - as I did at the time - available to help evaluate your response to the drug is helpful. And so you experiment with dosages.
The trouble is even when you find a dosage that works, you eventually get used to it, and its effectiveness begins to taper. So, then they try you on a different drug, and you, once again, go through the steps to try and find the right dosage, etc. It can, I imagine, be an endless cycle.
Which is why I do think it is important to address ADD with more than just medicine.
In my last post about ADD, I talked about the Sisyphean task of pushing the boulder up the hill. And the insanity of doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Some people find paths in their life where their ADD might be an asset, or at least where their ADD is less of an impairment. One friend of mine is a doctor, and rather than be in a routine boring family practice, the activity of the ER is much more manageable for her. While being a doctor is a crazy idea for me, I can see as someone who constantly needs deadlines to get anything done that the fast paced rush of the ER could provide that level of "stress" necessary to get things done.
I wish I had THE answer. I am still struggling with finding THE answer. It is a daily battle, and it is hard. And it makes being in relationships difficult, because it is hard for someone to understand why you just can't seem to do something. Or you can't do it without x, y or z to stimulate you or make you do it. It is important to educate your partners about what it is you need. Not to make excuses, but to find a productive way to work together, and to make the relationship feel like a partnership, and not where one always feels like they have to push you to do anything. It is doable. But it is hard, too.
No lovely answers or concluding pearls on this one. It just is what it is... Feel free to add your own concluding pearls or advice.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Cyber Stalking
Raise your hands. Who does it? C'mon, we all do it. That's what makes the internet so fascinating - seeing what we can see about others. Being voyeurs into others lives - or what they or their friends share with us.
How many of us use filters on Facebook? (Are there even filters on Twitter??)
How many of us have no idea what is out there in the ether about us?
Just spent a half hour tracking an old friend, and her husband, and catching up on her life. In the old days, didn't we used to pick up the phone? I'll confess, we rarely wrote letters, but perhaps drop an e-mail? Let them tell us what they want to share with us? And yet, if you sent me an e-mail and asked me how my life was going, as some friends still do, I would say that there's not much to report. And yet, clearly, I do have a lot to say and share. This is why social networking - capturing our lives as we go - can be so helpful in finding out what is really going on.
I have a friend who has an elaborate set of filters on Facebook. She's really thought through the friend lists, etc. I'd tell you how many friends she has to filter through, but she wisely has those protected, too. If the iPhone app would let you select multiple lists when posting from the mobile app, I might be a bit more invested. I might be a bit more careful with what I post to whom.
I've recently found myself on the outside end of a filter with a friend, and it sucks. I know that she's posting, but I can't see it now. Every once in awhile I am with a mutual friend, and when she is looking at Facebook, I can see the posts. I can see that she is in the inner circle.
My first Facebook account was created for business. I was trying to find someone for a client. This was well before I ended my marriage, and while it was supposed to be a professional account, it quickly became personal as I discovered all of these old friends I hadn't seen in forever. Some, yes, we might question whether they ever were friends, and some have become friends. Then I separated from my spouse (that's the sanitized version) and created a separate Facebook account for those who truly were close friends so that they could know that I was okay, and so I didn't have to keep updating people all of the time.
It is an odd thing when you're going through a significant event in your life with everyone asking about it. It feels nice to have the support but it is hard to let go of the - in this case bad - when you're always forced to rehash it. But maybe that's a post for another day.
So, initially the new Facebook account was a filter in and of itself. I only shared it with select people.
It has been hard as I have moved on and grown to let go of that mentality.
Facebook and Twitter are different. Twitter is a popularity contest - you want as many people to follow you as you can find. Some have viewed Facebook as a popularity contest, too, racking up "friends" as if they were points in some game. I've never found myself interested in doing that, and yet, sometimes, with the newly developed friendship with old acquaintances, I wonder what I might be missing out on.
Ah, this is a rambling entry (I will have a few of these). But catching up on my friend's life. Missing her and wishing she were sharing it directly with me has got me rambling.
How many of you stalk? How many of you truly connect via social networking? I am getting to know a few of you through Twitter.. 140 characters at at time and a few more when you comment here.
Tell me your social networking stories. Tell me your cyber-stalking stories.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
How many of us use filters on Facebook? (Are there even filters on Twitter??)
How many of us have no idea what is out there in the ether about us?
Just spent a half hour tracking an old friend, and her husband, and catching up on her life. In the old days, didn't we used to pick up the phone? I'll confess, we rarely wrote letters, but perhaps drop an e-mail? Let them tell us what they want to share with us? And yet, if you sent me an e-mail and asked me how my life was going, as some friends still do, I would say that there's not much to report. And yet, clearly, I do have a lot to say and share. This is why social networking - capturing our lives as we go - can be so helpful in finding out what is really going on.
I have a friend who has an elaborate set of filters on Facebook. She's really thought through the friend lists, etc. I'd tell you how many friends she has to filter through, but she wisely has those protected, too. If the iPhone app would let you select multiple lists when posting from the mobile app, I might be a bit more invested. I might be a bit more careful with what I post to whom.
I've recently found myself on the outside end of a filter with a friend, and it sucks. I know that she's posting, but I can't see it now. Every once in awhile I am with a mutual friend, and when she is looking at Facebook, I can see the posts. I can see that she is in the inner circle.
My first Facebook account was created for business. I was trying to find someone for a client. This was well before I ended my marriage, and while it was supposed to be a professional account, it quickly became personal as I discovered all of these old friends I hadn't seen in forever. Some, yes, we might question whether they ever were friends, and some have become friends. Then I separated from my spouse (that's the sanitized version) and created a separate Facebook account for those who truly were close friends so that they could know that I was okay, and so I didn't have to keep updating people all of the time.
It is an odd thing when you're going through a significant event in your life with everyone asking about it. It feels nice to have the support but it is hard to let go of the - in this case bad - when you're always forced to rehash it. But maybe that's a post for another day.
So, initially the new Facebook account was a filter in and of itself. I only shared it with select people.
It has been hard as I have moved on and grown to let go of that mentality.
Facebook and Twitter are different. Twitter is a popularity contest - you want as many people to follow you as you can find. Some have viewed Facebook as a popularity contest, too, racking up "friends" as if they were points in some game. I've never found myself interested in doing that, and yet, sometimes, with the newly developed friendship with old acquaintances, I wonder what I might be missing out on.
Ah, this is a rambling entry (I will have a few of these). But catching up on my friend's life. Missing her and wishing she were sharing it directly with me has got me rambling.
How many of you stalk? How many of you truly connect via social networking? I am getting to know a few of you through Twitter.. 140 characters at at time and a few more when you comment here.
Tell me your social networking stories. Tell me your cyber-stalking stories.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Life Lessons
I've been re-watching a television show called Being Erica for a second time and trying to catch and write down the pithy lessons from each show. If you haven't seen it, it's a Canadian-based show that apparently aired on Soap.net (or airs, I haven't seen the most recent season) and can be found on Hulu.com, which is where I watch it. It's just a wee bit science fiction in that it combines therapy with time travel. Erica begins the show recognizing that where she is at in her life is due to a series of - in her words - bad decisions and bad choices. So, she meets Dr. Tom, and has a chance to write down this list of bad choices throughout her life, and is given an opportunity via his therapy to literally go back and do it differently.
Ironically, often things don't actually change even though she's tried to do it differently. There's quite a bit of fatalistic irony in that which I draw. But that is my opinion of the show.
But in addition to trying to draw life lessons ("The path that you are on and the choices you make define who you are") from the show, it has made me think about my life and lessons I've learned and how.
We search for the trite and simple answers to life. On the internet, in books, on television, in magazines, in church. Everywhere we go, we are often looking for The Answer.
I have already made quite clear in this blog that I am a big fan and follower of the Dalai Lama. I also go to church every Sunday. I try to seek spiritual guidance where I can.
But I recognize that the stuff that sticks, the stuff that resonates most for me are lessons I have already learned through life experience. The rest of the stuff sounds good - and probably is good - but it is hard to really learn and absorb through words alone.
It is true that I don't need to touch a hot stove to accept someone else's warning that it's hot. But I am much more likely to remember it after I've burned myself. Stoves are tough examples, because it seems like common sense, stove = hot. But think of an example that is not so obvious, that the reality is that you won't really get it until you get it.
Now, not all of life lessons have to be learned the hard way. In my opinion. But I find until we are approaching the situation, we often are not ready to hear or learn the lessons.
How often on the sitcom have you seen two characters talking, and character A is bemoaning his or her problem, and Character B gives him or her sound advice that doesn't quite seem to stick? Enter Character C with all of his or her charisma, and have him or her repeat the same things, and suddenly a light bulb goes off. It seems silly and obvious when done on a sit com, but the reality is that it happens to us all the time. We need to be ready and open to hear guidance or information about a situation before we're able to hear it and comprehend it.
But the good news is that we can get our life lessons anywhere. Off a bumper sticker, off a tweet, off a sit com, off a rom com, out of a book, from an advice columnist, from a comic strip, from a shampoo bottle (hey, sometimes lather, rinse, repeat is the answer to the question!).
We just need to be open to the message. It helps me to take time, sometimes, to think about what is being said and figure out a specific situation to which it applies. Create an analogy in my life. Although sometimes when reading it, something just clicks. Automatic synapse connection. Keep yourself open to the lessons life presents to you. And don't forget to revisit them. They may mean something completely new the next time around.
Please share with me some unlikely places you found life lessons and what you learned.
Resistance is futile.
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Saturday, June 2, 2012
History in the Making...
So, when each of us tells the story of our lives, there is no question that for the most part, we will portray ourselves as the hero. Or perhaps, the victim. But either way, as one who can do no wrong. But I'm willing to bet that if others were telling a story about us, we might not come off so glowing.
In particular, I think of my ex-wife (or is she? see Am I or Aren't I?) I know that the story told of me is not a good one. I am not the good guy in her story. For the most part, I can live with that, although it saddens me, too.
There's a song currently out by Alan Jackson that I heard on the radio the other day and it really it home. It's called So You Don't Have to Love Me Anymore. Here are the opening lyrics.
I’ll be the bad guy,
At the end of the day with my ex, this was my only choice. She already felt beaten, even though I didn't beat her. She felt used, she felt ruined, she felt like crap. I felt the same way, too, but I knew I was just the slightest big stronger than her. There was no need to make it worse for her. Nothing was to be gained for either of us. So I walked away. I didn't feel I had a choice. Looking back I still don't see that I had any other choice. And I know how that could have been and probably was painted.
I was the bad guy, the bitch, the one who ran out on her. It's not how I like to tell the story. But it is one version of it. And there isn't much I can do about it now.
This has been something on my mind since I first heard the song earlier in the week. It's something that is frequently on my mind regardless of musical reminders.
But perspective is an important thing to remember when telling our story, or thinking that our story is complete. It's not. I appreciate the support to Hot and Cold, and it's a story that is clearly still unfolding. But if someone were to ask her - like an aside from Modern Family - about what she thought happened during one of these cold moments, it might paint a different picture. Perhaps I was too intense (again!) or too needy or God only knows what kind of behavior that made her a bit wary and needing to keep some distance. I don't know. If I did, clearly this would be easier to understand. But I recognize that when I tell the story, I am the hero, or I am the victim, but either way, I am blameless. And it is much easier to see ourselves as blameless than to realize that we might not be perfect.
I am quick to remind everyone that I am human and I make mistakes. I know this. I believe this. I am not too arrogant to believe in my own perfection. But that doesn't mean I can always see what I may be like in the eyes of others. And the things I do that I think are kind and sweet, and when I describe them to you sound good, might not actually play out how I think they do. I understand that conceptually. What to do with that knowledge...? Well, that's for another day.
I don't want to be the bad guy. But sometimes, I know I am. And that there are some people who tell the story of me in which that is the unfortunate role I play. History may still be in the making, but it's also made by those who tell the story, too.
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In particular, I think of my ex-wife (or is she? see Am I or Aren't I?) I know that the story told of me is not a good one. I am not the good guy in her story. For the most part, I can live with that, although it saddens me, too.
There's a song currently out by Alan Jackson that I heard on the radio the other day and it really it home. It's called So You Don't Have to Love Me Anymore. Here are the opening lyrics.
I’ll take the black eye,
When I walk out,
You can slam the door,
I’ll be the S.O.B,
If that’s what you need from me,
So you don’t have to love me anymore.
When you and our friends talk,
Make it all my fault,
Tell ‘em I’m rotten to the core,
I’ll let it all slide,
Get ‘em all on your side,
So you don’t have to love me anymore.
At the end of the day with my ex, this was my only choice. She already felt beaten, even though I didn't beat her. She felt used, she felt ruined, she felt like crap. I felt the same way, too, but I knew I was just the slightest big stronger than her. There was no need to make it worse for her. Nothing was to be gained for either of us. So I walked away. I didn't feel I had a choice. Looking back I still don't see that I had any other choice. And I know how that could have been and probably was painted.
I was the bad guy, the bitch, the one who ran out on her. It's not how I like to tell the story. But it is one version of it. And there isn't much I can do about it now.
This has been something on my mind since I first heard the song earlier in the week. It's something that is frequently on my mind regardless of musical reminders.
But perspective is an important thing to remember when telling our story, or thinking that our story is complete. It's not. I appreciate the support to Hot and Cold, and it's a story that is clearly still unfolding. But if someone were to ask her - like an aside from Modern Family - about what she thought happened during one of these cold moments, it might paint a different picture. Perhaps I was too intense (again!) or too needy or God only knows what kind of behavior that made her a bit wary and needing to keep some distance. I don't know. If I did, clearly this would be easier to understand. But I recognize that when I tell the story, I am the hero, or I am the victim, but either way, I am blameless. And it is much easier to see ourselves as blameless than to realize that we might not be perfect.
I am quick to remind everyone that I am human and I make mistakes. I know this. I believe this. I am not too arrogant to believe in my own perfection. But that doesn't mean I can always see what I may be like in the eyes of others. And the things I do that I think are kind and sweet, and when I describe them to you sound good, might not actually play out how I think they do. I understand that conceptually. What to do with that knowledge...? Well, that's for another day.
I don't want to be the bad guy. But sometimes, I know I am. And that there are some people who tell the story of me in which that is the unfortunate role I play. History may still be in the making, but it's also made by those who tell the story, too.
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Dating rules.. for friends...
I watch too much TV. We've established that. So I was watching some sitcom - and I think it's How I Met Your Mother - and the main character - and I believe it was Ted, so we'll go with that - makes a "fatal" mistake with a new person he's dating.
Of course, it's Barney who points this out. And whether or not, in real life, we should take any advice about life from Barney is, well, questionable. Because he's a TV character. And a TV character with questionable morals. But that's beside the point.
Anyway, Ted makes arrangements to do something well in advance, or is asked to do something well in advanced (like go to a wedding, or some trip or something). And Barney's rule of thumb is that you don't make plans with a girl farther ahead in time than the amount of time you've known her.
If you've been going out a month, you don't make plans for two months in advance. If you've only been dating for three months, you don't make plans for six months out, etc., etc. At first that seems silly. Until you put it into practice. Or don't as the case may be.
Last night (early this morning) I wrote about a somewhat recent friendship in Hot and Cold. When we first started hanging out, we got along like gang-busters. I felt like I had found my new local best friend in her. I was excited and carefree and forgot this rule of thumb. After all, it applies to people dating. This is just a friend. And so, only about a month into really hitting off this friendship, I asked her if she wanted to be my assistant coach for a soccer team I begin coaching at the end of July. She was excited and interested. Sure. Seems all good and great.
Until we hit the cold cycle. And then I wonder if she'll even be around for coaching the kids, and if I should be scouting for back-ups. And, I admit, it prevents me from walking away completely. Because we have this outstanding commitment and I don't want to be pissy towards her and have her be pissy towards me while we're trying to coach. I don't THINK that will happen, but then, I didn't predict the cold phases, either. So-o-o... sticky situation (she types while licking the chocolate off her fingers from her leftovers from celebrating National Donut day yesterday.. sorry, got distracted..)
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Of course, it's Barney who points this out. And whether or not, in real life, we should take any advice about life from Barney is, well, questionable. Because he's a TV character. And a TV character with questionable morals. But that's beside the point.
Anyway, Ted makes arrangements to do something well in advance, or is asked to do something well in advanced (like go to a wedding, or some trip or something). And Barney's rule of thumb is that you don't make plans with a girl farther ahead in time than the amount of time you've known her.
If you've been going out a month, you don't make plans for two months in advance. If you've only been dating for three months, you don't make plans for six months out, etc., etc. At first that seems silly. Until you put it into practice. Or don't as the case may be.
Last night (early this morning) I wrote about a somewhat recent friendship in Hot and Cold. When we first started hanging out, we got along like gang-busters. I felt like I had found my new local best friend in her. I was excited and carefree and forgot this rule of thumb. After all, it applies to people dating. This is just a friend. And so, only about a month into really hitting off this friendship, I asked her if she wanted to be my assistant coach for a soccer team I begin coaching at the end of July. She was excited and interested. Sure. Seems all good and great.
Until we hit the cold cycle. And then I wonder if she'll even be around for coaching the kids, and if I should be scouting for back-ups. And, I admit, it prevents me from walking away completely. Because we have this outstanding commitment and I don't want to be pissy towards her and have her be pissy towards me while we're trying to coach. I don't THINK that will happen, but then, I didn't predict the cold phases, either. So-o-o... sticky situation (she types while licking the chocolate off her fingers from her leftovers from celebrating National Donut day yesterday.. sorry, got distracted..)
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Hot and Cold
So I have this friend. And she seems to run hot and cold. (Actually, I have several friends I could describe that way, but we'll ignore the pattern for now...)
When she's cold, it is easy to walk away, count myself lucky not to have become more involved in her and her life, and just write off my losses. But when she's "hot" - or even "warm" - I find it hard to walk away.
Now I'm sensitive enough, compassionate enough (I'd like to think) to recognize that these cold moments may have nothing to do with me. That there may be other issues and things in her life going on that have nothing to do with me, that affect, nonetheless, the way she treats me.
And I think, in my cycle of rationalization, that this is why when she warms up, I'm willing to let my memory of the "cold" melt away.
But I know, too, in all that self-helpy-crap kinda stuff, that people treat you the way you let them treat you. (Oh, shit, we're going back to the pattern, after all.. damn!). And so I struggle to figure out what is the appropriate way to respond to these varying cycles.
In theory, again in my cycle of rationalization, when she's displayed a cold front, I walk away. I do not stick around to continue to feel like crap. And, in theory again because life is full of theories, I'd like to think she warms up because she misses my company, and wants it back. And clearly the acting cold thing isn't working.
But is she learning about the consequences of her behavior? Is she even aware of her behavior? Again, that whole other things in her life causing it might make her unaware of how she's treating others, well, at least me.
And it feels petty to say, "I felt like crap when you paid more attention to x than me.." I mean, really? How old am I? I recognize dealing with situations head on is the mature thing to do, but this feels like a petty thing to do.
So, she warmed up this week a little, and invited me to join her for something this weekend. I can only imagine the wagging tail giving away my eagerness to be included, and making my attempts to be cool, and unaffected moot. But the reality is I'm not sure I want to spend time with her this weekend. I'm still a little upset and hurt from before. And I have no guarantee that if I spend this time with her, she'll be different...
So here I am at 1:30 AM up and agonizing over whether I want to join her this weekend or not. I blew her off last weekend because I *wasn't* ready to deal with her again.
The Dalai Lama would say be compassionate. But what really does that mean in this situation? Be forgiving of her more thoughtless moments? That's kinda how I feel, in theory. In reality, I'm still pissed. I recognize that. Because I'm still hurt. And I feel unacknowledged. But isn't that all self-centered and egotistical of me? I mean really, I'm upset because she didn't give me the attention that I wanted and made me feel like my presence at that moment in time was unnecessary, and perhaps a slight annoyance. Maybe I was a slight annoyance. Idk.
But it isn't too much to want to feel special. Is it?
P.S. This is NOT the friend who is working from Twitter-verse! I'm not so cruel or narcissistic as to think that a person should not be occupied by a new job. This is much different, and she knows that this is not her...
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When she's cold, it is easy to walk away, count myself lucky not to have become more involved in her and her life, and just write off my losses. But when she's "hot" - or even "warm" - I find it hard to walk away.
Now I'm sensitive enough, compassionate enough (I'd like to think) to recognize that these cold moments may have nothing to do with me. That there may be other issues and things in her life going on that have nothing to do with me, that affect, nonetheless, the way she treats me.
And I think, in my cycle of rationalization, that this is why when she warms up, I'm willing to let my memory of the "cold" melt away.
But I know, too, in all that self-helpy-crap kinda stuff, that people treat you the way you let them treat you. (Oh, shit, we're going back to the pattern, after all.. damn!). And so I struggle to figure out what is the appropriate way to respond to these varying cycles.
In theory, again in my cycle of rationalization, when she's displayed a cold front, I walk away. I do not stick around to continue to feel like crap. And, in theory again because life is full of theories, I'd like to think she warms up because she misses my company, and wants it back. And clearly the acting cold thing isn't working.
But is she learning about the consequences of her behavior? Is she even aware of her behavior? Again, that whole other things in her life causing it might make her unaware of how she's treating others, well, at least me.
And it feels petty to say, "I felt like crap when you paid more attention to x than me.." I mean, really? How old am I? I recognize dealing with situations head on is the mature thing to do, but this feels like a petty thing to do.
So, she warmed up this week a little, and invited me to join her for something this weekend. I can only imagine the wagging tail giving away my eagerness to be included, and making my attempts to be cool, and unaffected moot. But the reality is I'm not sure I want to spend time with her this weekend. I'm still a little upset and hurt from before. And I have no guarantee that if I spend this time with her, she'll be different...
So here I am at 1:30 AM up and agonizing over whether I want to join her this weekend or not. I blew her off last weekend because I *wasn't* ready to deal with her again.
The Dalai Lama would say be compassionate. But what really does that mean in this situation? Be forgiving of her more thoughtless moments? That's kinda how I feel, in theory. In reality, I'm still pissed. I recognize that. Because I'm still hurt. And I feel unacknowledged. But isn't that all self-centered and egotistical of me? I mean really, I'm upset because she didn't give me the attention that I wanted and made me feel like my presence at that moment in time was unnecessary, and perhaps a slight annoyance. Maybe I was a slight annoyance. Idk.
But it isn't too much to want to feel special. Is it?
P.S. This is NOT the friend who is working from Twitter-verse! I'm not so cruel or narcissistic as to think that a person should not be occupied by a new job. This is much different, and she knows that this is not her...
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Friday, June 1, 2012
Twitter-verse
My current best friend (because, honestly, I have about 10 people during my life-time who have held this title, and it's kind of a lifetime achievement award, so my best friend from 1st grade still is referred to as my best friend, but she isn't who I am referring to here and now!) has had the nerve to go and get herself a full time job (bitch!). She lives a bit of a distance from me, so we're electronic best friends at this point (although we have known each other in real life, so it's not AS creepy as it might seem..). Her more flexible schedule made her a more, um, reliable, um, responsive sounding board.
But now that she's got this full time job AND (again, the nerve!) a social life! (bitch!) I find myself feeling a little neglected and lonely.
One of the reasons I stated early on for creating this blog was to be a receptacle for all the crazy things that go through my head that I have to share with someone. Because often sharing with just ONE someone becomes a bit too overwhelming.
I admit, I'm a little scared to look in my sent folder at the twenty e-mails I sent to her yesterday (still unresponded to mostly, because, um, she was working!) because I know at least ONE of them expounded upon the fact that I discovered yesterday that I prefer hair wax to hair gel.
Really important stuff. I am sure once she reads that, she'll get back to me right away, right? No, more likely, she'll probably wonder why I am wasting her limited time with such nonsense.
Particulalry when there's Twitter.
I admit it. Twitter is growing on me. I do now check it more than once a day when at first, of course, I could go days or weeks without checking it. After all, the only reason I got on Twitter was to get Jenny The Bloggess' attention. And I did. She's my very first follower. Now I have 28 followers, and have done 302 tweets.
I know over half of the followers came in the past week, and primarily from #wineparty Kit of Blogging Dangerously's weekly Twitter party.
Facebook users think of themselves as being more high-brow than twitter. I know. I felt that way, myself. And I'm not sure whether we are or are not, and of course there are PLENTY of cross-overs between FB and Twitter, so it's not like there are two distinct camps. But there is this notion on FB that if you do start to brain fart dump in it (hair wax versus hair gel) that you'll soon get people hiding your news from their newsfeeds. Or at least gloss over them, as I do.
Twitter requires cleverness. Or recognizing cleverness and retweeting it. The goal of Twitter is not to be "friends" with everyone you meet or tweet or whatever. You don't have to worry about someone's standards on Twitter that they'll begin to gloss over you. They're not looking for baby news, or how your life is going, or what your children did, or how your career is skyrocketing. They're not looking for lengthy in depth political discussions (although many of us on FB aren't either, but sometimes find ourselves caught in the quicksand morass of them). Twitter is simple.
I'm falling fot Twitter. And maybe, instead of innundating my hard working (bitch) best friend's e-mail box with many messages of no value I should just bombard Twitter with the update of the important sutff like hair wax versus gel. Because I know you're interested.
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But now that she's got this full time job AND (again, the nerve!) a social life! (bitch!) I find myself feeling a little neglected and lonely.
One of the reasons I stated early on for creating this blog was to be a receptacle for all the crazy things that go through my head that I have to share with someone. Because often sharing with just ONE someone becomes a bit too overwhelming.
I admit, I'm a little scared to look in my sent folder at the twenty e-mails I sent to her yesterday (still unresponded to mostly, because, um, she was working!) because I know at least ONE of them expounded upon the fact that I discovered yesterday that I prefer hair wax to hair gel.
Really important stuff. I am sure once she reads that, she'll get back to me right away, right? No, more likely, she'll probably wonder why I am wasting her limited time with such nonsense.
Particulalry when there's Twitter.
I admit it. Twitter is growing on me. I do now check it more than once a day when at first, of course, I could go days or weeks without checking it. After all, the only reason I got on Twitter was to get Jenny The Bloggess' attention. And I did. She's my very first follower. Now I have 28 followers, and have done 302 tweets.
I know over half of the followers came in the past week, and primarily from #wineparty Kit of Blogging Dangerously's weekly Twitter party.
Facebook users think of themselves as being more high-brow than twitter. I know. I felt that way, myself. And I'm not sure whether we are or are not, and of course there are PLENTY of cross-overs between FB and Twitter, so it's not like there are two distinct camps. But there is this notion on FB that if you do start to brain fart dump in it (hair wax versus hair gel) that you'll soon get people hiding your news from their newsfeeds. Or at least gloss over them, as I do.
Twitter requires cleverness. Or recognizing cleverness and retweeting it. The goal of Twitter is not to be "friends" with everyone you meet or tweet or whatever. You don't have to worry about someone's standards on Twitter that they'll begin to gloss over you. They're not looking for baby news, or how your life is going, or what your children did, or how your career is skyrocketing. They're not looking for lengthy in depth political discussions (although many of us on FB aren't either, but sometimes find ourselves caught in the quicksand morass of them). Twitter is simple.
I'm falling fot Twitter. And maybe, instead of innundating my hard working (bitch) best friend's e-mail box with many messages of no value I should just bombard Twitter with the update of the important sutff like hair wax versus gel. Because I know you're interested.
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Wednesday, May 30, 2012
SS DD
Same Shit. Different Day.
When I was a teenager, like so many teenagers (I think it's a job requirement), I was a bit, um, dramatic. I was a drama queen. Everything was about me, or had to do with me. That butterfly flapped its wings in China to make some point to me.
And then I grew up, met my wife, bought the house (no white picket fence, but it was there symbolically), had a stable career (at the time, in hindsight.. well...), and was settled and happy, for the most part. Life, of course, had its difficulties. It was life, after all. But for the most part, I was content with my life and fairly drama free.
In hindsight, it could have been because I was living with a woman who, instead, drew and created all the drama. Because she was the drama queen, I had to be the stable one who was not dramatic. I'm not sure.
I had always liked to think, instead, it was about me getting to a place of maturity where I knew it didn't have to be all about me. Where I was comfortable enough that I didn't have to whine and complain my way through life.
Then the life I had built fell apart. Huge crash - earthquake, tsunami um.. wait, I'm detecting a pattern here. Let's just say there was a "dramatic" end. And I have worked hard to make sure that this particular event in my life does not define my life. But I know, on occasions, it most certainly does. Whether I want it to or not.
It is hard to step back outside of your life and see if you are being a drama queen. When you're in the midst of the drama, it feels perfectly normal and understandable that the world IS out to mess particularly with you. It is easy to see the drama in others, but not so much in you.
I wonder, sometimes, whether we create the drama (and by we, I mean "me" - aren't you paying attention? It's all about me!) specifically to be interesting. Let's face it. Your friend tells you everything is wonderful in her life, and you're bored. You don't want the lovely details of their cool vacation rubbed in your face. You don't want to know that she just got a raise, and her partner does more than 50% of the chores. There is something inherently interesting - to a point- about drama.
The reality is that about 80-95% of our lives (made up statistic) are boring. We get up. We shower, get dressed, ideally eat breakfast, pack our bags, go to work, drop off kids, (probably not in that order), clean house and do chores, go to soccer practice or baseball practice, exercise ideally, watch way too much television, eat lunch and dinner in there somewhere, and then crash to sleep at night. And then we get up and we do it all over again. And many of us seem to do this every day without incident.
Many of us seem to do it without complaining about our spouses, our jobs, our kids, our houses, our cars, the traffic, our co-workers, the weather, the price of gas (oh, who am I kidding? We *all* complain about the cost of gas!), the laundry, the dog, the plumbing. We get up every day and lead responsible lives. And then get up again the next day and do the same thing.
I don't want to live an overly dramatic life. But I can't seem - at the moment, at least - to lead the same boring life day after day, either. How do you find contentment on the treadmill of life? How do we find satisfaction when it's the same shit, just a different day?
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When I was a teenager, like so many teenagers (I think it's a job requirement), I was a bit, um, dramatic. I was a drama queen. Everything was about me, or had to do with me. That butterfly flapped its wings in China to make some point to me.
And then I grew up, met my wife, bought the house (no white picket fence, but it was there symbolically), had a stable career (at the time, in hindsight.. well...), and was settled and happy, for the most part. Life, of course, had its difficulties. It was life, after all. But for the most part, I was content with my life and fairly drama free.
In hindsight, it could have been because I was living with a woman who, instead, drew and created all the drama. Because she was the drama queen, I had to be the stable one who was not dramatic. I'm not sure.
I had always liked to think, instead, it was about me getting to a place of maturity where I knew it didn't have to be all about me. Where I was comfortable enough that I didn't have to whine and complain my way through life.
Then the life I had built fell apart. Huge crash - earthquake, tsunami um.. wait, I'm detecting a pattern here. Let's just say there was a "dramatic" end. And I have worked hard to make sure that this particular event in my life does not define my life. But I know, on occasions, it most certainly does. Whether I want it to or not.
It is hard to step back outside of your life and see if you are being a drama queen. When you're in the midst of the drama, it feels perfectly normal and understandable that the world IS out to mess particularly with you. It is easy to see the drama in others, but not so much in you.
I wonder, sometimes, whether we create the drama (and by we, I mean "me" - aren't you paying attention? It's all about me!) specifically to be interesting. Let's face it. Your friend tells you everything is wonderful in her life, and you're bored. You don't want the lovely details of their cool vacation rubbed in your face. You don't want to know that she just got a raise, and her partner does more than 50% of the chores. There is something inherently interesting - to a point- about drama.
The reality is that about 80-95% of our lives (made up statistic) are boring. We get up. We shower, get dressed, ideally eat breakfast, pack our bags, go to work, drop off kids, (probably not in that order), clean house and do chores, go to soccer practice or baseball practice, exercise ideally, watch way too much television, eat lunch and dinner in there somewhere, and then crash to sleep at night. And then we get up and we do it all over again. And many of us seem to do this every day without incident.
Many of us seem to do it without complaining about our spouses, our jobs, our kids, our houses, our cars, the traffic, our co-workers, the weather, the price of gas (oh, who am I kidding? We *all* complain about the cost of gas!), the laundry, the dog, the plumbing. We get up every day and lead responsible lives. And then get up again the next day and do the same thing.
I don't want to live an overly dramatic life. But I can't seem - at the moment, at least - to lead the same boring life day after day, either. How do you find contentment on the treadmill of life? How do we find satisfaction when it's the same shit, just a different day?
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Sunday, May 27, 2012
Crazy
I have had more than one person ask me lately if I thought they were crazy.
And I can't help but wonder if that isn't a universal question we all ask at some point?
Someone wise (who I can't remember) once said that if you're asking if you are crazy it means you're not. Crazy people, apparently, are just crazy. They don't ask such silly questions.
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And I can't help but wonder if that isn't a universal question we all ask at some point?
Someone wise (who I can't remember) once said that if you're asking if you are crazy it means you're not. Crazy people, apparently, are just crazy. They don't ask such silly questions.
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Friday, May 25, 2012
Wine Party - Twitter
Thanks to my new twitter friends from Wine Party (#wineparty) for a very positive experience to outweigh last week's crazy one. Perhaps Twitter isn't so bad after all!!
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dyke, insanity, relationships, romantic
These are the tags for the "Unfinished Masterpieces" entry and I can't help but look at those four words together and laugh.
Dykes DO have insane romantic relationships. (Of course, so does everybody else, but, I can only speak from direct experience about relationships with dykes).
We also have romantic relationships with insane people. (Of course, so does everybody else, ... )
Perhaps even pursuing romantic relationships is a sign of insanity to begin with.
But it is no coincidence that we describe ourselves, when in love, as being "crazy" about someone.
And clearly those who have been hurt by others think that it's crazy to think that romantic relationships are worthwhile.
Whatever the case, while I'd like to think of "insanity" as the Sesame Street thing which does not belong, the reality is that it does.
So be it.
Resistance is futile.
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Dykes DO have insane romantic relationships. (Of course, so does everybody else, but, I can only speak from direct experience about relationships with dykes).
We also have romantic relationships with insane people. (Of course, so does everybody else, ... )
Perhaps even pursuing romantic relationships is a sign of insanity to begin with.
But it is no coincidence that we describe ourselves, when in love, as being "crazy" about someone.
And clearly those who have been hurt by others think that it's crazy to think that romantic relationships are worthwhile.
Whatever the case, while I'd like to think of "insanity" as the Sesame Street thing which does not belong, the reality is that it does.
So be it.
Resistance is futile.
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Same song, different drummer...
In my twitter experience last weekend, at one point, the person told me: "All women lie and this story you relayed to me I've been told almost word for word before."
I had a lot of responses to that statement. I admit one was feeling shocked and dumbfounded about being called a liar. But the other, frankly, was sadness. That so many other people had a similar story.
I had tried to explain to her that I was protective of my location because my ex-wife is an ex-cop. And towards the end, frankly, she became more and more volatile, and she did still own a gun. While I had strong doubts that she would travel many states to find me, or bring her gun with her, I also had never expected her to do many of the things she had done in the last few months. And in the end, murder-suicide was definitely on the table as a possibility.
My memory is kind to me - it makes me forget all of these horrible things I experienced. It softens my memories. But something will happen, or a conversation will take a particular turn, and then my memory does come back. I prefer to keep the past in the past and move forward.
I didn't give her all of these details. Mostly I just said, ex is an ex-cop with a gun, and I don't want her to know where I am. There weren't that many words that I gave her to distinguish me from whoever also told her the same story.
My response, I'll admit, reflected some of the snippiness I was feeling as a result of being called a liar, and accused of playing mind games. But there was a genuine sadness involved as well: "Well, aren't you blessed that you've never been in such a situation, and so many of us have?"
This morning I was tripping down memory lane and re-reading some of my earlier entries. Trying to see if I was developing a consistent style, a consistent theme. I've now written 70+ entries - how much have I told you and how much still do I have to share that I wanted to tell you? Quite a lot is the answer to both parts of that question.
And if I had practiced patience and waited to respond, perhaps I could have shared with my "friend" one of my earlier posts: Assimilation, where I discuss how my story is the same as everyone else's. So she shouldn't be so surprised when mine sounds word for word of someone else she knows. That's kinda been one of my points all along. I just forgot it at that moment..
We are all one - there are no new stories. Basically, it's just the same song, with a different drummer. Resistance is futile.
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I had a lot of responses to that statement. I admit one was feeling shocked and dumbfounded about being called a liar. But the other, frankly, was sadness. That so many other people had a similar story.
I had tried to explain to her that I was protective of my location because my ex-wife is an ex-cop. And towards the end, frankly, she became more and more volatile, and she did still own a gun. While I had strong doubts that she would travel many states to find me, or bring her gun with her, I also had never expected her to do many of the things she had done in the last few months. And in the end, murder-suicide was definitely on the table as a possibility.
My memory is kind to me - it makes me forget all of these horrible things I experienced. It softens my memories. But something will happen, or a conversation will take a particular turn, and then my memory does come back. I prefer to keep the past in the past and move forward.
I didn't give her all of these details. Mostly I just said, ex is an ex-cop with a gun, and I don't want her to know where I am. There weren't that many words that I gave her to distinguish me from whoever also told her the same story.
My response, I'll admit, reflected some of the snippiness I was feeling as a result of being called a liar, and accused of playing mind games. But there was a genuine sadness involved as well: "Well, aren't you blessed that you've never been in such a situation, and so many of us have?"
This morning I was tripping down memory lane and re-reading some of my earlier entries. Trying to see if I was developing a consistent style, a consistent theme. I've now written 70+ entries - how much have I told you and how much still do I have to share that I wanted to tell you? Quite a lot is the answer to both parts of that question.
And if I had practiced patience and waited to respond, perhaps I could have shared with my "friend" one of my earlier posts: Assimilation, where I discuss how my story is the same as everyone else's. So she shouldn't be so surprised when mine sounds word for word of someone else she knows. That's kinda been one of my points all along. I just forgot it at that moment..
We are all one - there are no new stories. Basically, it's just the same song, with a different drummer. Resistance is futile.
-----------------------------
If you like this, stick around and read other entries. Hit a few on the right that are favorites, or go to the home page of the blog, and read from beginning to end. Take a moment to send me some feedback. Thanks for coming. Please come back soon.
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