Which is why I am out of breath from having quickly made the bed after having left it unmade all day out of pettiness.
See, I have no need on my own to make my bed - in case you haven't figured that out yet - but it is important to someone else. It makes her day start orderly.
When I sleep in - after she's left - I have made the bed. I have written in here how it is an act of love. But, I have learned to get out of the bed quickly when she does, hoping, expecting that since the making of the bed is important to her, she will make it before she goes.
Which she has.
Until this morning. She gave me an evil laugh as she walked out the door and said, "Yeah, I'm leaving it like that..."
To which petty me responded, internally, "Well, then, won't you be surprised when you come home and see that so did I?"
Luckily, I didn't say it out loud. And she's not quite yet home.
Remembering that I had stated only last week that making the bed was a way of saying "I love you", and given that she said she started her day feeling bitchy, I decided it wouldn't be particularly nice of me to leave it and have her wonder, even for a millisecond, if I didn't love her...
And here she comes through the door... :)
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
The Other Voices...
When you live with someone, it doesn't take long, sometimes, to realize you now live your life under the microscope. There is someone there to hear you (and, er, smell you) when you toot. Someone who realizes that all you eat is cookies. Someone who discovers that you have no idea how to use ______. That you never ______. That you always ______. Things about yourself that you manage to hide from the world when you live alone.
In really "fun" relationships, the other person will often share their observations... usually with a little derision. And those observations stick with you. If you're really lucky, you'll hear those voices long after you no longer share space with that person. (Yes, that *was* sarcasm....)
Sometimes, even, these things end up being buttons. Things that gnaw at your self esteem, things that are buttons that others might inadvertently trip over, things that create secretive behavior.
And this is the fun awkward point of the blog entry. The point of the post where I know that if I don't admit it here that later I'm sure I'll be asked as to what prompted the post. Well.. uh... there is a bag of cookies sitting beside me. A half empty bag of cookies. And well, to admit, that last week I actually put an empty bag of cookies back into the cupboard to make it seem as if I took an extra day to finish them off.
It is funny, though, how those other voices stay in your head. So that when your significant other comes home and asks, "__________" you suddenly hear a completely different question. Suddenly that question is loaded. And you find yourself already being defensive about a question that hasn't even been asked.
It is important and yet impossible when you start a new relationship to leave the baggage at the door. To give the person that you are with an opportunity to just be themselves. To see them for them, and not for all the other people who might have come before them. To enjoy the moment. To not read more into "________" than a polite enquiry by someone who cares about you.
And as I secretively nosh on a few more cookies before she comes home, I know that the voices I hear chastising me for eating so much sugar aren't hers. They are the voices of others.
In really "fun" relationships, the other person will often share their observations... usually with a little derision. And those observations stick with you. If you're really lucky, you'll hear those voices long after you no longer share space with that person. (Yes, that *was* sarcasm....)
Sometimes, even, these things end up being buttons. Things that gnaw at your self esteem, things that are buttons that others might inadvertently trip over, things that create secretive behavior.
....
And this is the fun awkward point of the blog entry. The point of the post where I know that if I don't admit it here that later I'm sure I'll be asked as to what prompted the post. Well.. uh... there is a bag of cookies sitting beside me. A half empty bag of cookies. And well, to admit, that last week I actually put an empty bag of cookies back into the cupboard to make it seem as if I took an extra day to finish them off.
....
It is funny, though, how those other voices stay in your head. So that when your significant other comes home and asks, "__________" you suddenly hear a completely different question. Suddenly that question is loaded. And you find yourself already being defensive about a question that hasn't even been asked.
It is important and yet impossible when you start a new relationship to leave the baggage at the door. To give the person that you are with an opportunity to just be themselves. To see them for them, and not for all the other people who might have come before them. To enjoy the moment. To not read more into "________" than a polite enquiry by someone who cares about you.
And as I secretively nosh on a few more cookies before she comes home, I know that the voices I hear chastising me for eating so much sugar aren't hers. They are the voices of others.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Life..
So, as we wind up the third month of the year, I have come to realize I have written less posts this YEAR so far than an average month last year.
Kait takes the blame.
But I don't know that I would blame her, although certainly, her presence in my life has filled up some of the holes that I used the blog to fill. (Don't over-analyze that too much, I don't want to...)
Some of it, I will admit, is when I am inspired, I may be spending time with her, and it's not the same as spending time with oneself to pull away and write. Like before I wrote that last sentence, which I had composed in my head, she put her head on my computer and smiled at me and suddenly all I wanted to do was close this window and kiss her. Except she's been sick. Or last night, when I was having this wonderful inspiration, but I didn't want to get out of bed to write it. Not only didn't I want to wake myself, but I didn't want to risk waking her.
But frankly, that's as much an excuse as anything (except these last few days she's been home sick) because frankly I have five days - ALL DAY - when she isn't here. When I would have plenty of time, to say, have a full-time job, let alone write a silly little blog like this.
It's been two weeks, and I feel fairly at home here. Kind of surprising but really kind of nice.
Canada is still a foreign country, but I have lost track of how many hockey games I have watched - either in full or even partial while flipping (kindly) from some place else. I am learning how to translate Celsius to get an idea - 10 degrees is now warm. Still trying not to pay attention to the fact that there are 3.78liters litres to the gallon and at $1.39 per litre, gas is OVER $5/gallon. I have made it to the library. Twice. Getting a refresher in French by reading labels at the grocery.
(Yes, by the way, there IS a Canuck's game on, so Kait is not paying as close attention to me as she might otherwise... Given the consolidated hockey schedule, I probably have EVEN more time to write, and there is even less reason to blame Kait).
But when I think about where I was a year ago... it is such a different place from where I am now. I had no idea my life would change so much in such a short amount of time, but really, I give myself a break and recognize that this change was a long time coming.
I miss some parts of my old life. Some people, mostly. But I am happy here. I am getting into routines (see my last post).
Tomorrow - if she's feeling better and goes to work - I will try to reinsert this whole blog-writing thing back into my routines. Because I still have things to say and share.
Even if life (or Kait) gets in the way.... ;)
Kait takes the blame.
But I don't know that I would blame her, although certainly, her presence in my life has filled up some of the holes that I used the blog to fill. (Don't over-analyze that too much, I don't want to...)
Some of it, I will admit, is when I am inspired, I may be spending time with her, and it's not the same as spending time with oneself to pull away and write. Like before I wrote that last sentence, which I had composed in my head, she put her head on my computer and smiled at me and suddenly all I wanted to do was close this window and kiss her. Except she's been sick. Or last night, when I was having this wonderful inspiration, but I didn't want to get out of bed to write it. Not only didn't I want to wake myself, but I didn't want to risk waking her.
But frankly, that's as much an excuse as anything (except these last few days she's been home sick) because frankly I have five days - ALL DAY - when she isn't here. When I would have plenty of time, to say, have a full-time job, let alone write a silly little blog like this.
It's been two weeks, and I feel fairly at home here. Kind of surprising but really kind of nice.
Canada is still a foreign country, but I have lost track of how many hockey games I have watched - either in full or even partial while flipping (kindly) from some place else. I am learning how to translate Celsius to get an idea - 10 degrees is now warm. Still trying not to pay attention to the fact that there are 3.78
(Yes, by the way, there IS a Canuck's game on, so Kait is not paying as close attention to me as she might otherwise... Given the consolidated hockey schedule, I probably have EVEN more time to write, and there is even less reason to blame Kait).
But when I think about where I was a year ago... it is such a different place from where I am now. I had no idea my life would change so much in such a short amount of time, but really, I give myself a break and recognize that this change was a long time coming.
I miss some parts of my old life. Some people, mostly. But I am happy here. I am getting into routines (see my last post).
Tomorrow - if she's feeling better and goes to work - I will try to reinsert this whole blog-writing thing back into my routines. Because I still have things to say and share.
Even if life (or Kait) gets in the way.... ;)
Friday, March 22, 2013
Domesticated....
Hmm... as my hands dry from the third .. or is it fourth?.. time washing dishes today, I can't help but wonder how I became domesticated so quickly.
Think of me - generally - as having more the habits of a guy (I know, guys, you're probably better than me, so forgive me the insult). For the last three years, I've lived alone. Answered to no-one, had few guests, and so chores were, well, optional. Except laundry. Don't worry, I did laundry. Although I did learn how to make certain items of clothing last longer.... (I also own many, many, many pairs of underwear.. oops TMI)
Make my bed? Why? I was gonna be back in it later that night.. Aw hell, who am I kidding? If I was at home, I'd be back in it within a few minutes, getting out usually just to go to the fridge or the bathroom or something. I was the only one using my toilet, and I had no pets (for the most part), so there was no reason to put the lid down. My bathroom was spacious enough it wasn't as if I had things above the toilet waiting to fall in. As long as I could get back and forth to the fridge and the bathroom and the front door, who really cared if there were clothes, or books or other things on other parts of the floor? If I had plenty of clean dishes (and I had plenty of sets of dishes) what was the rush in washing the dishes?
Well, I wasn't necessarily that bad...
Oh, wait, that's right, my girl reads this, I can't get away with that...
But it's been just under two weeks here, and I have been quite domesticated. If I'm still in bed when she leaves in the morning, I make the bed. (Usually not until about 3 PM or so, but still...). And if she's here, I often help her make it. I've learned to put the lid down on the toilet because the bathroom is, shall we say, cozy. I don't always get it right. I've learned to pull the shower curtain shut before drying my towel, so that it won't get mildewy on the bottom. And, I've learned how to wash dishes after every meal (or right before she comes home, whichever works...), and put the dishes away, even.
I have been domesticated.
It's not necessarily a bad thing. I'm not sure if I ended up living on my own again any time soon (and I'm not hoping for this, understand) I'd probably quickly revert to my slovenly ways. Because I understand very well what the motivation is for doing them now. (Hopefully you haven't eaten any time soon, because I might make you gag....) The motivation is "Love".
Now, it would *PROBABLY* be more loving if I didn't point it out every time she came home, "Hey, babe? Look, I made the bed! You know what this says?" She's started to roll her eyes at this point, and frankly, I can't blame her... "It says, 'I love you!'"
I do these things because it makes HER happy. And that's reason enough. And that, my friends, is how I have become domesticated.
P.S. I'm sure I still have quite a ways to go... but I am a work in progress at least... ;)
Think of me - generally - as having more the habits of a guy (I know, guys, you're probably better than me, so forgive me the insult). For the last three years, I've lived alone. Answered to no-one, had few guests, and so chores were, well, optional. Except laundry. Don't worry, I did laundry. Although I did learn how to make certain items of clothing last longer.... (I also own many, many, many pairs of underwear.. oops TMI)
Make my bed? Why? I was gonna be back in it later that night.. Aw hell, who am I kidding? If I was at home, I'd be back in it within a few minutes, getting out usually just to go to the fridge or the bathroom or something. I was the only one using my toilet, and I had no pets (for the most part), so there was no reason to put the lid down. My bathroom was spacious enough it wasn't as if I had things above the toilet waiting to fall in. As long as I could get back and forth to the fridge and the bathroom and the front door, who really cared if there were clothes, or books or other things on other parts of the floor? If I had plenty of clean dishes (and I had plenty of sets of dishes) what was the rush in washing the dishes?
Well, I wasn't necessarily that bad...
Oh, wait, that's right, my girl reads this, I can't get away with that...
But it's been just under two weeks here, and I have been quite domesticated. If I'm still in bed when she leaves in the morning, I make the bed. (Usually not until about 3 PM or so, but still...). And if she's here, I often help her make it. I've learned to put the lid down on the toilet because the bathroom is, shall we say, cozy. I don't always get it right. I've learned to pull the shower curtain shut before drying my towel, so that it won't get mildewy on the bottom. And, I've learned how to wash dishes after every meal (or right before she comes home, whichever works...), and put the dishes away, even.
I have been domesticated.
It's not necessarily a bad thing. I'm not sure if I ended up living on my own again any time soon (and I'm not hoping for this, understand) I'd probably quickly revert to my slovenly ways. Because I understand very well what the motivation is for doing them now. (Hopefully you haven't eaten any time soon, because I might make you gag....) The motivation is "Love".
Now, it would *PROBABLY* be more loving if I didn't point it out every time she came home, "Hey, babe? Look, I made the bed! You know what this says?" She's started to roll her eyes at this point, and frankly, I can't blame her... "It says, 'I love you!'"
I do these things because it makes HER happy. And that's reason enough. And that, my friends, is how I have become domesticated.
P.S. I'm sure I still have quite a ways to go... but I am a work in progress at least... ;)
Thursday, March 14, 2013
O Canada...
.. I need a router, away, you wired Internet...
(to be sung to the tune of O Shenandoah...)
Well, folks, here I am in... you guessed it... Canada.
We got Internet today, but despite having had my hands on three OTHER routers in the last three weeks, I can't seem to put my hands on one of them today.
Well.. the wire still works.
And, here's the thing.....
If this is the worst thing that happens to me today? Not such a bad day.... :)
But for those who were wondering / worrying... and who didn't catch a few random tweets passing along the news, I made it the 2,600 miles to my new home.
I'm working on learning the TRUE words and tune to the Canadian National anthem.
Oh, and by the way, hockey IS as big up here as we joke that it is... eh? Eh!
(to be sung to the tune of O Shenandoah...)
Well, folks, here I am in... you guessed it... Canada.
We got Internet today, but despite having had my hands on three OTHER routers in the last three weeks, I can't seem to put my hands on one of them today.
Well.. the wire still works.
And, here's the thing.....
If this is the worst thing that happens to me today? Not such a bad day.... :)
But for those who were wondering / worrying... and who didn't catch a few random tweets passing along the news, I made it the 2,600 miles to my new home.
I'm working on learning the TRUE words and tune to the Canadian National anthem.
Oh, and by the way, hockey IS as big up here as we joke that it is... eh? Eh!
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Risky Business....
... and yes, you do show your age, if what you just thought about was a 16 year old Tom Cruise sliding along in his whitey-tighties...
The whole relationship business is a risky business. I have just spent the last week with my family working on condensing some of my belongings that were in storage to a smaller amount. Getting rid of some of the vestiges of my last long-term committed relationship. And if that weren't enough impetus to send me down memory lane and throw up some red flags regarding the risk of relationships, the ex whom I hadn't heard from in two years decided to rear her ugly head.
My family is concerned about this move to Vancouver - rightly so, in theory - because of the risk it may not work out.
It may not work out.
That's true.
A crappy possibility, but a possibility nonetheless.
And here's the thing. If it doesn't work out, the folks here in this small town have made quite clear to me that I am welcome back. And Robin Sparkles, who also lives on the West Coast, could probably tolerate me as a short-term room-mate if it didn't work out.
If it didn't work out, what I have learned from the last relationship, is that it isn't the end of the world.
Now, for awhile there, that wasn't clear. My ex was a frightening mentally ill woman who made the last few months I was living in the same state with her, let alone home, hell. Actually, she made hell look good...
Needless to say, I haven't really missed her. I'd like to. I'd like to have fond memories of the time we've spent together. I'd like to remember the woman I did fall in love with fondly, and just think it was a shame that it didn't work out.
But it REALLY didn't work out in the end.
I've spent a lot of time the last three and a half - nearly four now - years trying to figure out what I could have done differently. IF I could have done anything differently. IF I should have left earlier than I did. Trying to solve the "problem" so that I could avoid repeating the mistakes.
I've been looking at that a lot more intensely these last six months as I've embarked upon this new relationship.
Because even though it may not work out, I know you'll be surprised to discover that isn't my preference.
It is easy - perhaps even preferable - to blame it all on the ex's mental illness. It's simpler that way, right? But I'm not a person who can make things simple, sometimes. And, I am a person who tries to accept responsibility for my own actions.
So what words of advice after all this reflection would I give my new love about living with me? What can I do to prepare us for a good life? And how can I enter this new life without the insecurities planted by the old one?
I think I've healed. I'd like to think I've healed. I hope I've healed.
But then she comes back, two years after the last contact, the last thrashing of me, and rears her ugly head. Her e-mails start off sounding reasonable, normal, even pleasant. Well-wishing, peaceful, still loves me and forgives me. But it doesn't take long before the anger bursts forth.
That's always fun...
Particularly fun to have dumped on you when you're excited and happy for new changes and new possibilities in your life... and trying to get a lot of stuff done so you can take that next step...
Particularly when you wonder when the next shoe will drop... what is coming next... if it will ever be over. If she will ever just let go.
It makes a girl pause about entering into ANOTHER relationship.
I mean apparently I've ruined the ex's life. Is it fair for me to do that to someone else? Will I do that to someone else?
And how can I make promises of "forever" again knowing that it didn't work out the last time...?
There are no guarantees. There simply aren't. Relationships are a risky business...
But if we're lucky.. more time will be spent sliding across floors in our underwear together, then worrying about replacing the precious crystal egg.
The whole relationship business is a risky business. I have just spent the last week with my family working on condensing some of my belongings that were in storage to a smaller amount. Getting rid of some of the vestiges of my last long-term committed relationship. And if that weren't enough impetus to send me down memory lane and throw up some red flags regarding the risk of relationships, the ex whom I hadn't heard from in two years decided to rear her ugly head.
My family is concerned about this move to Vancouver - rightly so, in theory - because of the risk it may not work out.
It may not work out.
That's true.
A crappy possibility, but a possibility nonetheless.
And here's the thing. If it doesn't work out, the folks here in this small town have made quite clear to me that I am welcome back. And Robin Sparkles, who also lives on the West Coast, could probably tolerate me as a short-term room-mate if it didn't work out.
If it didn't work out, what I have learned from the last relationship, is that it isn't the end of the world.
Now, for awhile there, that wasn't clear. My ex was a frightening mentally ill woman who made the last few months I was living in the same state with her, let alone home, hell. Actually, she made hell look good...
Needless to say, I haven't really missed her. I'd like to. I'd like to have fond memories of the time we've spent together. I'd like to remember the woman I did fall in love with fondly, and just think it was a shame that it didn't work out.
But it REALLY didn't work out in the end.
I've spent a lot of time the last three and a half - nearly four now - years trying to figure out what I could have done differently. IF I could have done anything differently. IF I should have left earlier than I did. Trying to solve the "problem" so that I could avoid repeating the mistakes.
I've been looking at that a lot more intensely these last six months as I've embarked upon this new relationship.
Because even though it may not work out, I know you'll be surprised to discover that isn't my preference.
It is easy - perhaps even preferable - to blame it all on the ex's mental illness. It's simpler that way, right? But I'm not a person who can make things simple, sometimes. And, I am a person who tries to accept responsibility for my own actions.
So what words of advice after all this reflection would I give my new love about living with me? What can I do to prepare us for a good life? And how can I enter this new life without the insecurities planted by the old one?
I think I've healed. I'd like to think I've healed. I hope I've healed.
But then she comes back, two years after the last contact, the last thrashing of me, and rears her ugly head. Her e-mails start off sounding reasonable, normal, even pleasant. Well-wishing, peaceful, still loves me and forgives me. But it doesn't take long before the anger bursts forth.
That's always fun...
Particularly fun to have dumped on you when you're excited and happy for new changes and new possibilities in your life... and trying to get a lot of stuff done so you can take that next step...
Particularly when you wonder when the next shoe will drop... what is coming next... if it will ever be over. If she will ever just let go.
It makes a girl pause about entering into ANOTHER relationship.
I mean apparently I've ruined the ex's life. Is it fair for me to do that to someone else? Will I do that to someone else?
And how can I make promises of "forever" again knowing that it didn't work out the last time...?
There are no guarantees. There simply aren't. Relationships are a risky business...
But if we're lucky.. more time will be spent sliding across floors in our underwear together, then worrying about replacing the precious crystal egg.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Burning Bridges...
Well, this past week, in particular, I have been struggling with the dichotomy of the fear of potentially burning bridges, and a realization I may never come back here, so...?
In particular, I was angsting over this project I had been contracted to do. But I was also angsting a little over the church, too. And yesterday, it all came to a head quite quickly. In an ideal world, of course, everyone would be happy for me, and everyone would want me to be happy, and that would be all that mattered. But we don't live in an ideal world, do we?
Apparently, I do.
Go figure.
In particular, I was angsting over this project I had been contracted to do. But I was also angsting a little over the church, too. And yesterday, it all came to a head quite quickly. In an ideal world, of course, everyone would be happy for me, and everyone would want me to be happy, and that would be all that mattered. But we don't live in an ideal world, do we?
Apparently, I do.
Go figure.
O! M! G!
So, I was on Twitter this morning, and I suddenly had this FEAR that I had missed my blogging anniversary. I knew I had started in mid-February last year, and I thought it was around the 12th.
Well, it was. AROUND the 12th. Fortunately, it was the 15th. [Here is my opening post... ]
So today, then, is the last day of the first year of my blog. The first of perhaps MANY years, I can hope...
But WOW! What an amazing first year! What an incredible, incredible first year!
I don't even know where to begin in my recap...
But one of the reasons for this blog was because I'm real cheap, and this was free therapy. So thanks, guys! ;)
No, but seriously, at the time I started this blog, I was deep in grief over two lost relationships, and I was feeling incredibly lonely in a small town where I was trying to dig roots, in a job that ultimately I felt both overwhelmed and bored with. I had lost my best friend, and was feeling a deep need to find someone to tell all the random thoughts and silly things (and perhaps profound?) that were screaming through my head.
So, I thought the whole world was a suitable audience to share everything with...
But I had no readers except my good friend Robin Sparkles (thank you, Robin!) and apparently I wasn't the type who liked to talk just to hear my own voice. Apparently, I'm so selfish and self-centered I actually want OTHERS to hear me too....
And I had decided to give it a whirl because I enjoyed hearing The Bloggess' voice and thought I can do that! So after twenty-five blog posts, and hoping that meant I was going to stick with this, I called her out. At the time, on her blog, there was an incident that she has asked us to no longer name with an actor whose first memorable role was as the second Joey in One Life To Live, and I encouraged her to share a picture with me as she might have wanted one who shall not be named to send a picture to her of him.
So, to get her attention, I did an evil thing. Something that from high above in my lofty cloud I thought was much too far beneath me. Something I never thought I would do.
That's right. I joined Twitter.
WOW!
And The Bloggess - bless her heart - was my VERY FIRST FOLLOWER!!!
At some point along the way, I found Kit. And I believe I found her through Jenny. And I found her posts - particularly her posts about sex - to be really funny and amusing. I liked her voice too. And I'd like to say she was my second follower.. but I'm not sure... Either way, with #wineparty, she opened up a whole new world to me.
A world of 30-40-something Mommy bloggers. (Primarily)
You guys are great. Considering I am most definitely NOT a Mommy...
And I have a Sci-Fi name that should turn you off. And it took some of you awhile to realize I wasn't a guy hitting on and flirting with women, but, um, a dyke. But you enjoyed it and flirted back.
And one particular chickie - who played a little hard to get at first - flirted back and foolishly fell in love with me. ;)
WOW!
And slowly, but surely, I've built up a following. I have a steady readership of about 20 readers... ;) and I have had over twelve thousand hits. I have a strong Balkan following.
The CANADIANS have been quite impressive fans. They are so polite. They'll apologize when YOU fart. I love the Canadians... And so... today is as good a day as any to make the official announcement that, well, I'm moving to Canada.
'Cuz, as I've already mentioned, there's this particular chickie.. and well.. she's a CANADIAN chick.. go figure... We're not entirely sure she likes me and that she isn't just being polite to me, "Oh sure..." but we're gonna run with it anyway. ;)
(Actually, no, we're QUITE sure she likes me, very much... and if I left that sentence alone, particularly after her sweet Valentine's eve series of love notes, I'd be in trouble... and that's no way to start a life together... )
Goodbye small town. Goodbye single. Goodbye soccer coach. Goodbye America. Goodbye job. Goodbye church...
Woah.. what's going to be left of me when I go?
All the essential parts of me will still be here.
I have enjoyed very much living in a small town, but I didn't particularly choose this place. They have been good to me. Very good to me! I have really enjoyed coaching soccer, but I have no inherent skills or even love for the sport. I enjoyed the girls - they were great! Can't say I enjoyed being single, but I can say that I got out of it what I needed, and I have most definitely let go of my past relationships and am ready for this new one I'm already in (so it's, um, a good thing, eh?) America? Well... you're hard to ignore. And I'll be living in a border town (okay, border megaopolis), so I have a feeling I won't miss you too much. Job? Pfft... well... it has always been a gap-filler. And it and the church, and the soccer have all sort of helped me get a firmer understanding of what I enjoy doing, and in a larger city, I will have a better opportunity to find something that fits those things.
What a year! I mean, really, what a year! One thing which has NOT changed, though, over this past year. And that is being and knowing that I am very, very blessed.
Who knows what themes will emerge with this blog in the next year? Change will probably be one of them. I'm going to try and stuff my life into five duffel bags and stuff them and my bike into my car and start over. I've always always always wanted to have such little stuff in my life that I could stuff it all in a car and go. I have a couple of weeks to pare things down to see if I can do it. If I manage it, that's another WOW! I am looking forward to trying.
Alright - a few other topics are creeping into my head to write about, but it is clear to me that they are separate posts.
But I wanted to say WOW! and THANK YOU! for an INCREDIBLE year. INCREDIBLE!
Who knew when I started this that this is where it would lead? But I am so grateful it has!
I am blessed.
Well, it was. AROUND the 12th. Fortunately, it was the 15th. [Here is my opening post... ]
So today, then, is the last day of the first year of my blog. The first of perhaps MANY years, I can hope...
But WOW! What an amazing first year! What an incredible, incredible first year!
I don't even know where to begin in my recap...
But one of the reasons for this blog was because I'm real cheap, and this was free therapy. So thanks, guys! ;)
No, but seriously, at the time I started this blog, I was deep in grief over two lost relationships, and I was feeling incredibly lonely in a small town where I was trying to dig roots, in a job that ultimately I felt both overwhelmed and bored with. I had lost my best friend, and was feeling a deep need to find someone to tell all the random thoughts and silly things (and perhaps profound?) that were screaming through my head.
So, I thought the whole world was a suitable audience to share everything with...
But I had no readers except my good friend Robin Sparkles (thank you, Robin!) and apparently I wasn't the type who liked to talk just to hear my own voice. Apparently, I'm so selfish and self-centered I actually want OTHERS to hear me too....
And I had decided to give it a whirl because I enjoyed hearing The Bloggess' voice and thought I can do that! So after twenty-five blog posts, and hoping that meant I was going to stick with this, I called her out. At the time, on her blog, there was an incident that she has asked us to no longer name with an actor whose first memorable role was as the second Joey in One Life To Live, and I encouraged her to share a picture with me as she might have wanted one who shall not be named to send a picture to her of him.
So, to get her attention, I did an evil thing. Something that from high above in my lofty cloud I thought was much too far beneath me. Something I never thought I would do.
That's right. I joined Twitter.
WOW!
And The Bloggess - bless her heart - was my VERY FIRST FOLLOWER!!!
At some point along the way, I found Kit. And I believe I found her through Jenny. And I found her posts - particularly her posts about sex - to be really funny and amusing. I liked her voice too. And I'd like to say she was my second follower.. but I'm not sure... Either way, with #wineparty, she opened up a whole new world to me.
A world of 30-40-something Mommy bloggers. (Primarily)
You guys are great. Considering I am most definitely NOT a Mommy...
And I have a Sci-Fi name that should turn you off. And it took some of you awhile to realize I wasn't a guy hitting on and flirting with women, but, um, a dyke. But you enjoyed it and flirted back.
And one particular chickie - who played a little hard to get at first - flirted back and foolishly fell in love with me. ;)
WOW!
And slowly, but surely, I've built up a following. I have a steady readership of about 20 readers... ;) and I have had over twelve thousand hits. I have a strong Balkan following.
The CANADIANS have been quite impressive fans. They are so polite. They'll apologize when YOU fart. I love the Canadians... And so... today is as good a day as any to make the official announcement that, well, I'm moving to Canada.
'Cuz, as I've already mentioned, there's this particular chickie.. and well.. she's a CANADIAN chick.. go figure... We're not entirely sure she likes me and that she isn't just being polite to me, "Oh sure..." but we're gonna run with it anyway. ;)
(Actually, no, we're QUITE sure she likes me, very much... and if I left that sentence alone, particularly after her sweet Valentine's eve series of love notes, I'd be in trouble... and that's no way to start a life together... )
Goodbye small town. Goodbye single. Goodbye soccer coach. Goodbye America. Goodbye job. Goodbye church...
Woah.. what's going to be left of me when I go?
All the essential parts of me will still be here.
I have enjoyed very much living in a small town, but I didn't particularly choose this place. They have been good to me. Very good to me! I have really enjoyed coaching soccer, but I have no inherent skills or even love for the sport. I enjoyed the girls - they were great! Can't say I enjoyed being single, but I can say that I got out of it what I needed, and I have most definitely let go of my past relationships and am ready for this new one I'm already in (so it's, um, a good thing, eh?) America? Well... you're hard to ignore. And I'll be living in a border town (okay, border megaopolis), so I have a feeling I won't miss you too much. Job? Pfft... well... it has always been a gap-filler. And it and the church, and the soccer have all sort of helped me get a firmer understanding of what I enjoy doing, and in a larger city, I will have a better opportunity to find something that fits those things.
What a year! I mean, really, what a year! One thing which has NOT changed, though, over this past year. And that is being and knowing that I am very, very blessed.
Who knows what themes will emerge with this blog in the next year? Change will probably be one of them. I'm going to try and stuff my life into five duffel bags and stuff them and my bike into my car and start over. I've always always always wanted to have such little stuff in my life that I could stuff it all in a car and go. I have a couple of weeks to pare things down to see if I can do it. If I manage it, that's another WOW! I am looking forward to trying.
Alright - a few other topics are creeping into my head to write about, but it is clear to me that they are separate posts.
But I wanted to say WOW! and THANK YOU! for an INCREDIBLE year. INCREDIBLE!
Who knew when I started this that this is where it would lead? But I am so grateful it has!
I am blessed.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Flip a Coin...
Sometimes it would be nice if you could make the hard decisions easier by just flipping a coin.
Heads, I end the blog post here with that one line. Tails, I write more...
Tails.. Damnit.
;)
As many of you know, I've not been happy with the work I've been doing - my contract - for some time now. I thought when one aspect of the project came to an end at the end of September that it would be it, they would thank me for my time, and I'd be moving on. I stockpiled at Sam's club. (That reminds me, I should have spaghetti for dinner tonight...). I prepared for a period of unemployment and was gently surprised when the end didn't come.
I briefly got excited about a full-time opportunity with them, with benefits, but that didn't come either. And so for the last four or five months I've been biding my time trying to figure out what I'm doing, and whether or not it was time to start looking for other opportunities. But at some level, I am committed to them.
Except I wasn't supposed to be. Originally, when we approached this local business run by someone who my partner and I both knew from church, this was supposed to be a gap-filler for me while we looked for the work we supposedly wanted to do. Initially, we hadn't exactly made any promises to be there long-term, and the point was that we wanted this job to provide some flexibility, so that if I got another project in the area where were hoping to build our business, we could put this one on the back burner and bring it back up to full boil when each other project ended. It was intended to supplement our other business development.
But they were happy with the work, and it was providing steady pay, and it was 30 hours a week, so there wasn't a lot of room to fill in around it. And the opportunities weren't there immediately, and by the time they might have been, I seemed to have settled comfortably into this, and we didn't want to rock the boat.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. ;)
But seriously, one of the things we were hoping for and expecting with this assignment was some flexibility. And slowly, but surely, as time has gone on that flexibility has eroded. So much so that shortly, after they finish installing software onto a computer that I can use, it would be hard pressed to make the legal distinctions between me as a contractor and me as an employee. Now it has come all down to the hours I work, and that the hours I work are on-site. Certainly no longer encouraging me to work on the project when I want to, nor making me want to work on the project much at all.
If I were not planning on moving from here, this would be an even more delicate situation than it is. I'm ready to be done with this. I need something different, something that doesn't keep holding the potential end of the contract over my head like the blade of a guillotine, and something that brought me more security and ideally an opportunity, perhaps, for benefits. They have had an opportunity to hire me for awhile, but seem deliberately to have chosen not to. And I don't know, had they made me a job offer, it would necessarily have been better than what I have - it may not have been. But, it would have been nice to have had the chance to decide.
There's that annoying song by Beyonce about "put a ring on it" - and it's only annoying, of course, because it gets stuck in your head and at random times, you'll find yourself singing "uh, uh, oh.. oh,oh, oh oh...." (you'll have to know what I'm singing to know what I'm singing, but I think you know! You're welcome!). And a part of me thinks that he has had plenty of opportunity to make me a more permanent employee and secure my loyalty, and that he hasn't done so should give me some freedom, some freedom without GUILT, to not feel so loyal to him. To move on.
Instead, there's been a bit of an arrogant boyfriend chipping away at your self-esteem kind of pattern going on. And if this were a romantic relationship, not being happy, not getting what you need out of the relationship, well, it might seem like a no-brainer. Particularly if he hadn't put a ring on it! ;)
So why am I agonizing over this? I have a new opportunity in front of me. And while it might not have been the one I thought I was looking for professionally, I am prepared to make a change and a positive one for my future. Why am I allowing this outstanding string to act as a yoke?
As I was telling someone else earlier today by chat, it isn't as if I am relying upon him for a good recommendation....
Oh, wait... it's that whole burning bridges thing. That wherever you can prevent burning a bridge, you should try to avoid doing so. That's generally a good plan, I admit. And I have been fortunate the one time I napalmed a bridge on my way out of a job, it actually got rebuilt, and I was rehired nonetheless. I did feel a bit of regret at having napalmed it, but, overall, things worked out fine in the end.
And where does this bridge I'm afraid to burn leave me anyway?
Is this really a Kobayashi Maru scenario? (and yes, I did have to google to remember the name of the unwinnable scenario from Star Trek - despite the Borg name, I am NOT that geeky (or so I pretend)). In which case, why am I so worried? Or what am I so worried about?
I don't know.
Flip a coin.. Heads I leave tomorrow (okay,well, maybe not THAT quickly).. tails I get stuck here, forever (definitely NOT!). Maybe I need one of those D&D dice so I can have a few more options...
Wait.. who just turned into a geek?
Heads, I end the blog post here with that one line. Tails, I write more...
Tails.. Damnit.
;)
As many of you know, I've not been happy with the work I've been doing - my contract - for some time now. I thought when one aspect of the project came to an end at the end of September that it would be it, they would thank me for my time, and I'd be moving on. I stockpiled at Sam's club. (That reminds me, I should have spaghetti for dinner tonight...). I prepared for a period of unemployment and was gently surprised when the end didn't come.
I briefly got excited about a full-time opportunity with them, with benefits, but that didn't come either. And so for the last four or five months I've been biding my time trying to figure out what I'm doing, and whether or not it was time to start looking for other opportunities. But at some level, I am committed to them.
Except I wasn't supposed to be. Originally, when we approached this local business run by someone who my partner and I both knew from church, this was supposed to be a gap-filler for me while we looked for the work we supposedly wanted to do. Initially, we hadn't exactly made any promises to be there long-term, and the point was that we wanted this job to provide some flexibility, so that if I got another project in the area where were hoping to build our business, we could put this one on the back burner and bring it back up to full boil when each other project ended. It was intended to supplement our other business development.
But they were happy with the work, and it was providing steady pay, and it was 30 hours a week, so there wasn't a lot of room to fill in around it. And the opportunities weren't there immediately, and by the time they might have been, I seemed to have settled comfortably into this, and we didn't want to rock the boat.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. ;)
But seriously, one of the things we were hoping for and expecting with this assignment was some flexibility. And slowly, but surely, as time has gone on that flexibility has eroded. So much so that shortly, after they finish installing software onto a computer that I can use, it would be hard pressed to make the legal distinctions between me as a contractor and me as an employee. Now it has come all down to the hours I work, and that the hours I work are on-site. Certainly no longer encouraging me to work on the project when I want to, nor making me want to work on the project much at all.
If I were not planning on moving from here, this would be an even more delicate situation than it is. I'm ready to be done with this. I need something different, something that doesn't keep holding the potential end of the contract over my head like the blade of a guillotine, and something that brought me more security and ideally an opportunity, perhaps, for benefits. They have had an opportunity to hire me for awhile, but seem deliberately to have chosen not to. And I don't know, had they made me a job offer, it would necessarily have been better than what I have - it may not have been. But, it would have been nice to have had the chance to decide.
There's that annoying song by Beyonce about "put a ring on it" - and it's only annoying, of course, because it gets stuck in your head and at random times, you'll find yourself singing "uh, uh, oh.. oh,oh, oh oh...." (you'll have to know what I'm singing to know what I'm singing, but I think you know! You're welcome!). And a part of me thinks that he has had plenty of opportunity to make me a more permanent employee and secure my loyalty, and that he hasn't done so should give me some freedom, some freedom without GUILT, to not feel so loyal to him. To move on.
Instead, there's been a bit of an arrogant boyfriend chipping away at your self-esteem kind of pattern going on. And if this were a romantic relationship, not being happy, not getting what you need out of the relationship, well, it might seem like a no-brainer. Particularly if he hadn't put a ring on it! ;)
So why am I agonizing over this? I have a new opportunity in front of me. And while it might not have been the one I thought I was looking for professionally, I am prepared to make a change and a positive one for my future. Why am I allowing this outstanding string to act as a yoke?
As I was telling someone else earlier today by chat, it isn't as if I am relying upon him for a good recommendation....
Oh, wait... it's that whole burning bridges thing. That wherever you can prevent burning a bridge, you should try to avoid doing so. That's generally a good plan, I admit. And I have been fortunate the one time I napalmed a bridge on my way out of a job, it actually got rebuilt, and I was rehired nonetheless. I did feel a bit of regret at having napalmed it, but, overall, things worked out fine in the end.
And where does this bridge I'm afraid to burn leave me anyway?
Is this really a Kobayashi Maru scenario? (and yes, I did have to google to remember the name of the unwinnable scenario from Star Trek - despite the Borg name, I am NOT that geeky (or so I pretend)). In which case, why am I so worried? Or what am I so worried about?
I don't know.
Flip a coin.. Heads I leave tomorrow (okay,well, maybe not THAT quickly).. tails I get stuck here, forever (definitely NOT!). Maybe I need one of those D&D dice so I can have a few more options...
Wait.. who just turned into a geek?
Saturday, February 9, 2013
What AM I waiting for?
Waking this morning to find heart-breaking tweets from my love, I can't help but be asking this question. It isn't like it's the first time in the last week that I've asked the question. Ever since my passport arrived last Saturday while she was still here, we've been - or I've been - asking the question.
There are three or four "hooks", I guess, that keep me from taking off immediately, and even then, their ability to hold me here keeps loosening.
The first hook we talked about when we first became romantic was the one that provided us the structure of the laughable idea of a two-year plan. My commitment to my church. But I have quickly grown to realize that these people truly care for me, and what they would want most for me is to be happy. And the new guy we have in as priest is doing a good job getting himself settled in and taking ownership. They don't need me like they might have needed me if he hadn't done this as he should. When we were dealing with supply priests - a priest who was just filling in as a supply for our need - then we were the ones still responsible for running the church. That just doesn't apply any more. Thank goodness!
So while I will feel some guilt and some loss at letting go of this fine community that helped me sail through my healing and recovery process, I know, nonetheless, that when I'm ready to say "goodbye", they'll be okay. That is a hook that I can gently release.
The second hook is actually two fold - just cleaning up and packing to go and leaving nothing behind. I have accumulated some junk - none of which I am attached to to keep other than if I am living here. Furniture, basically. And I've just accumulated a lot of paperwork that is unnecessary to keep - stuff that I couldn't throw out because I *MIGHT* need it. As well as the general paraphernalia for running a household. Like a fridge. Or lawnmower. I need to clean these out of the house, apparently, before I were to move. And to pack up what remains reasonably enough to fit in my car. This is somewhat easy, although, I don't want to call Salvation Army to pick up my bed until the car itself is packed and ready to go... I kinda enjoy having some place to sleep other than the floor...
The second "fold" of this is that I did manage to rescue some stuff from California when I left. And it has all been sitting in a storage unit about 300-400 miles away near where my folks' live. Surprisingly it is not worth continuing to pay $200+ a month to keep. They have been kind to help me do so, as I have been unable to face the overwhelming monstrosity that is the storage unit, but it is time for it to be cleaned out and stuff to be tossed and sold and given away. I have been ignoring it for three and a half years now, it is time to face it and deal with it - before I move on.
The last hook is an awkward one, frankly. I finally return to work this week after having been gone for nearly three weeks, really, even though she was only here for one of them. I had a parishioner who was dying, and I stayed with him and his family for the last two days of his life, and I had a few of my "old ladies" go in and out of the hospital, and I did have a funeral to help prepare for. The two weeks before my love visited were full, to say the least. So, I get a bit of understandable guff from the guy who owns the place and who was kind enough to hire me over whether I'm still working here or not. On more than one occasion. And so I have to pretend like it's business as usual because it isn't as if I have any clue exactly when I will get everything together to go, and money - particularly for making a move - is a good thing. And I'm a writer for him.. I have several outstanding things I've been working on. Some of which - yes - could be written remotely, but he'd prefer to see my face to know I'm working on it and making progress. I can't exactly leave entirely without finishing what he's been paying me to write. And I'm not exactly sure how and when that will happen.
But I want to pack up my car and go now. Call a friend and ask her to deal with the Salvation Army for the furniture - tell her she has until the end of the month since the rent is paid up. Offer the appliances to the landlord. And go. That's what I want to do now.
But there's an annual meeting for church that I'm running... and then there's those pesky projects that need to be finished and the outstanding storage unit to be dealt with...
I have the passport burning the metaphorical hole in my pocket...
Blah!
There are three or four "hooks", I guess, that keep me from taking off immediately, and even then, their ability to hold me here keeps loosening.
The first hook we talked about when we first became romantic was the one that provided us the structure of the laughable idea of a two-year plan. My commitment to my church. But I have quickly grown to realize that these people truly care for me, and what they would want most for me is to be happy. And the new guy we have in as priest is doing a good job getting himself settled in and taking ownership. They don't need me like they might have needed me if he hadn't done this as he should. When we were dealing with supply priests - a priest who was just filling in as a supply for our need - then we were the ones still responsible for running the church. That just doesn't apply any more. Thank goodness!
So while I will feel some guilt and some loss at letting go of this fine community that helped me sail through my healing and recovery process, I know, nonetheless, that when I'm ready to say "goodbye", they'll be okay. That is a hook that I can gently release.
The second hook is actually two fold - just cleaning up and packing to go and leaving nothing behind. I have accumulated some junk - none of which I am attached to to keep other than if I am living here. Furniture, basically. And I've just accumulated a lot of paperwork that is unnecessary to keep - stuff that I couldn't throw out because I *MIGHT* need it. As well as the general paraphernalia for running a household. Like a fridge. Or lawnmower. I need to clean these out of the house, apparently, before I were to move. And to pack up what remains reasonably enough to fit in my car. This is somewhat easy, although, I don't want to call Salvation Army to pick up my bed until the car itself is packed and ready to go... I kinda enjoy having some place to sleep other than the floor...
The second "fold" of this is that I did manage to rescue some stuff from California when I left. And it has all been sitting in a storage unit about 300-400 miles away near where my folks' live. Surprisingly it is not worth continuing to pay $200+ a month to keep. They have been kind to help me do so, as I have been unable to face the overwhelming monstrosity that is the storage unit, but it is time for it to be cleaned out and stuff to be tossed and sold and given away. I have been ignoring it for three and a half years now, it is time to face it and deal with it - before I move on.
The last hook is an awkward one, frankly. I finally return to work this week after having been gone for nearly three weeks, really, even though she was only here for one of them. I had a parishioner who was dying, and I stayed with him and his family for the last two days of his life, and I had a few of my "old ladies" go in and out of the hospital, and I did have a funeral to help prepare for. The two weeks before my love visited were full, to say the least. So, I get a bit of understandable guff from the guy who owns the place and who was kind enough to hire me over whether I'm still working here or not. On more than one occasion. And so I have to pretend like it's business as usual because it isn't as if I have any clue exactly when I will get everything together to go, and money - particularly for making a move - is a good thing. And I'm a writer for him.. I have several outstanding things I've been working on. Some of which - yes - could be written remotely, but he'd prefer to see my face to know I'm working on it and making progress. I can't exactly leave entirely without finishing what he's been paying me to write. And I'm not exactly sure how and when that will happen.
But I want to pack up my car and go now. Call a friend and ask her to deal with the Salvation Army for the furniture - tell her she has until the end of the month since the rent is paid up. Offer the appliances to the landlord. And go. That's what I want to do now.
But there's an annual meeting for church that I'm running... and then there's those pesky projects that need to be finished and the outstanding storage unit to be dealt with...
I have the passport burning the metaphorical hole in my pocket...
Blah!
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Sleepless 'til Seattle....
I have just returned home from the airport to an empty house. A house that has been filled the past nine days with the presence and being and sounds and scent of the woman I'm incredibly in love with. A woman who is now on a plane to take her to another plane that will take her back to Seattle where she will still have another long drive across the border.
My "journey" for this trip is done... but hers is just beginning.
The original plan had been for me to make the trip and come and see her first. I have more flexibility in my work schedule since they don't pay me when I don't work and I had intended to come out for a long visit to be with her. But the original certificate of my birth given to my parents 40+ years failed to list them on it, and thanks, I imagine to the Donald requiring a long-form birth certificate, so does everyone else now. So to get across the border to see her I needed a long form birth certificate to get a new passport.
This process has been a comedy of errors. Primarily in getting a new birth certificate. But that arrived about three weeks ago - about six weeks after I requested it - and I sent it off for my passport about two and a half weeks ago.
When she was here, we "joked" - although I was kinda serious - that if my passport arrived before she left, that we would just pack up the car and go, and I'd leave this one horse town.
To the State Department's credit, they processed my application in record time - just over two weeks!
It arrived yesterday.
Believe me, we did seriously consider it. Well at least I did. She has a sounder head on my shoulders (have I mentioned yet that she's smarter than me? She is...). And tonight, I do wonder just what it is that is keeping me here...
I will probably be sleepless until she arrives in Seattle... Seeing her here and there... everywhere but really here in my arms.
Hopeless romantic...
My "journey" for this trip is done... but hers is just beginning.
The original plan had been for me to make the trip and come and see her first. I have more flexibility in my work schedule since they don't pay me when I don't work and I had intended to come out for a long visit to be with her. But the original certificate of my birth given to my parents 40+ years failed to list them on it, and thanks, I imagine to the Donald requiring a long-form birth certificate, so does everyone else now. So to get across the border to see her I needed a long form birth certificate to get a new passport.
This process has been a comedy of errors. Primarily in getting a new birth certificate. But that arrived about three weeks ago - about six weeks after I requested it - and I sent it off for my passport about two and a half weeks ago.
When she was here, we "joked" - although I was kinda serious - that if my passport arrived before she left, that we would just pack up the car and go, and I'd leave this one horse town.
To the State Department's credit, they processed my application in record time - just over two weeks!
It arrived yesterday.
Believe me, we did seriously consider it. Well at least I did. She has a sounder head on my shoulders (have I mentioned yet that she's smarter than me? She is...). And tonight, I do wonder just what it is that is keeping me here...
I will probably be sleepless until she arrives in Seattle... Seeing her here and there... everywhere but really here in my arms.
Hopeless romantic...
Monday, January 21, 2013
Love...
In my head, and in my heart, I suppose, I have certain things that I expect to be done or felt between people who love each other. That if A loved B then X wouldn't really matter but Y would. Now, wait, I sound like I am writing an algebra equation.
I have been quite the observer - particularly over the last three or four years - of people's relationships. Trying to figure out what makes them successful, and where there are signs of failure. Trying, I presume, consciously or subconsciously, to figure it out so I have a better shot the next time I jump into the relationship waters. Trying to figure out what behavior is loving and what is not loving.
And I think I have a pretty good idea of some of the important ingredients necessary for a successful and loving relationship. Some things are pretty straightforward. Things like valuing what your partner values. Being respectful even when you disagree. Realizing that being right doesn't always mean you need to win, and that winning often - at least with arguments - isn't really winning. Lots of good trite guidance, but stuff that nonetheless I believe in. And maybe one day I will write a post about these things. (Or maybe I already did?)
After my marriage came to an end, I was told by more than one person that I needed to find someone who would love me like I loved them. Seems reasonable enough, but what does that really mean? I think it means some of the things I discovered in my observance above. That someone who really loves me will find the things I find important simply because I do. And won't worry about the things I find unimportant. Who will love me for me, and not for my things, or for what I can do or bring to the relationship. Who will love me despite my ADD or maybe even love me for who my ADD has made me - flaws and human and all.
If you have been reading this at all, you'll know that I have dipped my toe into the relationship waters, again. Actually, I seem to have dove in head first. Or more accurately heart first. I tend to do that sometimes. I did bring wee bit of baggage. Criticisms from girls past. Things that I know shouldn't matter but often do or have.
And so, in these early stages, we have traipsed along some of these issues and as I have left myself vulnerable to her and exposed my insecurities, she reacts as I would to someone who would do the same to me. Laugh, basically, and call me silly. Silly to worry. Silly to care. Silly to think that she would care. But not silly in an emotionally abusive intentionally hurtful way, but in a way to help me realize that these matters I take so seriously, and worry so much about, are not so serious, and do not deserve worry. She reassures me in the moment. And then, later, as she's had more time to think on my concern, and perhaps in an unconscious (or conscious? who knows? She's very smart - much smarter than me!) effort to make sure I didn't feel dismissed, she usually will write a follow-up e-mail saying, "Look, Borg, I've really been thinking about Y and how you feel, and I want you to know, I really do believe..." and reassure me again. AND THEN, because that may not be enough, she'll bring it up later in a conversation, gently, and reassure me once again. And IF I am too silly to realize I don't need to be silly, still, and I tentatively express a concern or a worry, she hears my underlying insecurity and addresses it again.
WOW! I mean really.. WOW, right?
I'll give you an example. My most recent insecurity has been coming to accept and acknowledge (although really I'm still in denial) that I am a slob. I am still in denial because I will tell you I am better than many. It is all relative, after all. But I am not the standard that *I* would like to be at, and I do feel, often, that my environment is chaotic. I would prefer to be neater, but there are some bonafide and perhaps less bonafide obstacles standing in my way. (Being Human, see earlier post, is one of them.. SHOCKER!). I do pride myself that I don't have anything growing outside the fridge, but I do also have dust bunnies copulating in the kitchen and the bedroom. They entertain me.... (okay, not, but it sounded cute for a moment in my head).
I worry, needlessly, that she'll step into my home for the first time, see the stacks of papers and go screaming in the other direction. And yet, in addition to her reassurances, I know I don't have to worry. She's the kinda gal who gets upset at people who tweet how much better they feel about themselves after watching Hoarders and pleading for them to have compassion for the mentally ill (although I think she phrases it even nicer than that..) So, it's good to know she'll have compassion for me and my mental illness.. No.. wait.. that isn't where I meant to go. Hmm....
She's coming to visit me soon, and I created a 72 point list of things I'd *like* to do before she gets here to get the house in order (Remember #3 in the list of So Who Am I? is that I'm a geek). But God has a sense of humor, and life, unfortunately, has gotten in the way. Actually, more accurately, death - a parishioner in our church passed away Saturday morning, and I sat with him and with his family the last two days of his life, and will now be with the family in preparing for the funeral arrangements, and prepare at the church for the service itself. As much as I would like to get to those 72 items (or at least, even, 25 of them) the reality is I probably won't get to more than another two or three that are really important and the rest will go by the wayside.. Or, in a fit of idiocy, I'll take everything in the rest of the house and shove it all into one room where I will never let her see... Oh. Wait. She reads this blog... that won't work.. she'll be too curious to open the door NOW!
And she's said to me, quite often, "Look, Borg, the only place I want to be when I come is in your arms. I don't care about the rest...." You know something? I actually believe her.
Now that, my friends, is love...
I have been quite the observer - particularly over the last three or four years - of people's relationships. Trying to figure out what makes them successful, and where there are signs of failure. Trying, I presume, consciously or subconsciously, to figure it out so I have a better shot the next time I jump into the relationship waters. Trying to figure out what behavior is loving and what is not loving.
And I think I have a pretty good idea of some of the important ingredients necessary for a successful and loving relationship. Some things are pretty straightforward. Things like valuing what your partner values. Being respectful even when you disagree. Realizing that being right doesn't always mean you need to win, and that winning often - at least with arguments - isn't really winning. Lots of good trite guidance, but stuff that nonetheless I believe in. And maybe one day I will write a post about these things. (Or maybe I already did?)
After my marriage came to an end, I was told by more than one person that I needed to find someone who would love me like I loved them. Seems reasonable enough, but what does that really mean? I think it means some of the things I discovered in my observance above. That someone who really loves me will find the things I find important simply because I do. And won't worry about the things I find unimportant. Who will love me for me, and not for my things, or for what I can do or bring to the relationship. Who will love me despite my ADD or maybe even love me for who my ADD has made me - flaws and human and all.
If you have been reading this at all, you'll know that I have dipped my toe into the relationship waters, again. Actually, I seem to have dove in head first. Or more accurately heart first. I tend to do that sometimes. I did bring wee bit of baggage. Criticisms from girls past. Things that I know shouldn't matter but often do or have.
And so, in these early stages, we have traipsed along some of these issues and as I have left myself vulnerable to her and exposed my insecurities, she reacts as I would to someone who would do the same to me. Laugh, basically, and call me silly. Silly to worry. Silly to care. Silly to think that she would care. But not silly in an emotionally abusive intentionally hurtful way, but in a way to help me realize that these matters I take so seriously, and worry so much about, are not so serious, and do not deserve worry. She reassures me in the moment. And then, later, as she's had more time to think on my concern, and perhaps in an unconscious (or conscious? who knows? She's very smart - much smarter than me!) effort to make sure I didn't feel dismissed, she usually will write a follow-up e-mail saying, "Look, Borg, I've really been thinking about Y and how you feel, and I want you to know, I really do believe..." and reassure me again. AND THEN, because that may not be enough, she'll bring it up later in a conversation, gently, and reassure me once again. And IF I am too silly to realize I don't need to be silly, still, and I tentatively express a concern or a worry, she hears my underlying insecurity and addresses it again.
WOW! I mean really.. WOW, right?
I'll give you an example. My most recent insecurity has been coming to accept and acknowledge (although really I'm still in denial) that I am a slob. I am still in denial because I will tell you I am better than many. It is all relative, after all. But I am not the standard that *I* would like to be at, and I do feel, often, that my environment is chaotic. I would prefer to be neater, but there are some bonafide and perhaps less bonafide obstacles standing in my way. (Being Human, see earlier post, is one of them.. SHOCKER!). I do pride myself that I don't have anything growing outside the fridge, but I do also have dust bunnies copulating in the kitchen and the bedroom. They entertain me.... (okay, not, but it sounded cute for a moment in my head).
I worry, needlessly, that she'll step into my home for the first time, see the stacks of papers and go screaming in the other direction. And yet, in addition to her reassurances, I know I don't have to worry. She's the kinda gal who gets upset at people who tweet how much better they feel about themselves after watching Hoarders and pleading for them to have compassion for the mentally ill (although I think she phrases it even nicer than that..) So, it's good to know she'll have compassion for me and my mental illness.. No.. wait.. that isn't where I meant to go. Hmm....
She's coming to visit me soon, and I created a 72 point list of things I'd *like* to do before she gets here to get the house in order (Remember #3 in the list of So Who Am I? is that I'm a geek). But God has a sense of humor, and life, unfortunately, has gotten in the way. Actually, more accurately, death - a parishioner in our church passed away Saturday morning, and I sat with him and with his family the last two days of his life, and will now be with the family in preparing for the funeral arrangements, and prepare at the church for the service itself. As much as I would like to get to those 72 items (or at least, even, 25 of them) the reality is I probably won't get to more than another two or three that are really important and the rest will go by the wayside.. Or, in a fit of idiocy, I'll take everything in the rest of the house and shove it all into one room where I will never let her see... Oh. Wait. She reads this blog... that won't work.. she'll be too curious to open the door NOW!
And she's said to me, quite often, "Look, Borg, the only place I want to be when I come is in your arms. I don't care about the rest...." You know something? I actually believe her.
Now that, my friends, is love...
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Being Human...
And no, this isn't a post about a werewolf, a vampire and a ghost... (has anyone else seen those commercials?)
This a shower post being written a good six hours after the shower, so we'll see how much of the brilliance I managed to retain. And yes, Ken, I did write myself a brief e-mail..
The other night I was whining to my girlfriend about shall we call my failings or my limitations and my frustration with my ADD and my frustration with blaming it all on my ADD and not really being able to understand or differentiate what belongs to that issue and what doesn't. And on, and on...
(God bless her for listening)
And when I was done, she said to me simply, "Babe... those things about yourself that you blame on ADD, the rest of us for ourselves blame on being human..." I.e., welcome to the human race, you're normal.
And it is funny, because I am more than able to acknowledge I am human in other circumstances - mostly that I'll make mistakes and I will misunderstand, and I forget a lot of stuff. But for some reason, in other areas, I hold myself to a higher standard.
It reminded me, too, of another e-mail exchange with another friend a little over three years ago, where I was expressing some of my fears - particularly surrounding my temper. I was kind of scared to be admitting my concerns and my issues, and feeling really vulnerable, and really afraid that expressing it to another person would make them suddenly realize what a horrible person I really am. And I probably had been holding my breath from the moment I sent it until the moment I got her response.
And it was a really simple response: 'OMG! Borg, you're human!" (Yeah, well, we both know she didn't use the word "Borg", but Rose by any other name.. blah, blah, blah...)
I remember how relieved I felt when she said that. Recognizing that I wasn't alone, and that feeling the way I did, did not mean I was a horrible person. I was just a person.
I clearly know I am human. It is one of those tags on the side. And frequently, when I see others beating themselves up, I am quick to remind them of that universal fact. And yet, sometimes, I find it harder to accept for myself. I'm sure some Freudians, or Jungians or some other psychobabble following could come up with some reason why I hold myself to a higher standard. I'm sure it is because my mother didn't breast feed me, or maybe because she DID breast feed me. Because my father was cold and distant. Or my father was too involved.
But I am amused because I think the very ironic reason that I hold myself to a higher standard than perhaps I might hold others and therefore find it hard, sometimes, to simply accept that I am human is because.... well... Go figure! I'm human.
This a shower post being written a good six hours after the shower, so we'll see how much of the brilliance I managed to retain. And yes, Ken, I did write myself a brief e-mail..
The other night I was whining to my girlfriend about shall we call my failings or my limitations and my frustration with my ADD and my frustration with blaming it all on my ADD and not really being able to understand or differentiate what belongs to that issue and what doesn't. And on, and on...
(God bless her for listening)
And when I was done, she said to me simply, "Babe... those things about yourself that you blame on ADD, the rest of us for ourselves blame on being human..." I.e., welcome to the human race, you're normal.
And it is funny, because I am more than able to acknowledge I am human in other circumstances - mostly that I'll make mistakes and I will misunderstand, and I forget a lot of stuff. But for some reason, in other areas, I hold myself to a higher standard.
It reminded me, too, of another e-mail exchange with another friend a little over three years ago, where I was expressing some of my fears - particularly surrounding my temper. I was kind of scared to be admitting my concerns and my issues, and feeling really vulnerable, and really afraid that expressing it to another person would make them suddenly realize what a horrible person I really am. And I probably had been holding my breath from the moment I sent it until the moment I got her response.
And it was a really simple response: 'OMG! Borg, you're human!" (Yeah, well, we both know she didn't use the word "Borg", but Rose by any other name.. blah, blah, blah...)
I remember how relieved I felt when she said that. Recognizing that I wasn't alone, and that feeling the way I did, did not mean I was a horrible person. I was just a person.
I clearly know I am human. It is one of those tags on the side. And frequently, when I see others beating themselves up, I am quick to remind them of that universal fact. And yet, sometimes, I find it harder to accept for myself. I'm sure some Freudians, or Jungians or some other psychobabble following could come up with some reason why I hold myself to a higher standard. I'm sure it is because my mother didn't breast feed me, or maybe because she DID breast feed me. Because my father was cold and distant. Or my father was too involved.
But I am amused because I think the very ironic reason that I hold myself to a higher standard than perhaps I might hold others and therefore find it hard, sometimes, to simply accept that I am human is because.... well... Go figure! I'm human.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Jodie and the Coming Out
I did not watch the Golden Globes last night. I do not have a television. I did, however, before the night was through, see the video of Jodie coming out.
And today, I have the pleasure of reading the hype and the backlash. Woo hoo!
For most of us, it was no surprise. Like, "Okay, tell us something we didn't know..."
For her, it was clear, it was something she'd been struggling with and debating with and even then, kind of did it in a round about way. Even debating, apparently, with her publicist.
I sent a link of the video and to a news story to a friend, and she texted me last night asking what Jodie was coming out as.... I said merely a woman who loves another woman. Many are angry, apparently, that she didn't give herself a label.
My friend then wondered why it even came up? I mean at first she was confused if she was winning an award - which I clarified - and even still, why it came up.
I explained that she wanted to thank the people important to her, and that this included her ex-partner and co-parent.
My friend replied "Oh."
But it is part of an ongoing conversation I have been having lately about why come out and I guess, even, when or if or how you should come out. I addressed it in the recent post about Dear Abby coming out... except Abby wasn't really the one coming out. And it has been an ongoing offline conversation I have also been having.
That conversation or discussion, frankly, is two-fold. One is about "ordinary" people coming out and "celebrities" coming out.
I came out originally about 25 years ago, now. Click on that coming out label over there and you'll see several posts I've written on the subject, including a little about my own coming out. (Note that unless you are a celebrity or live in a very small area where everyone just knows you're the resident dyke and you never move, you are always still coming out or choosing not to.)
Is coming out political or personal? The problem is there are an ardent number of rabid folks who think it's political. Who think it's necessary and required. Who have done it themselves, possibly suffered for it, and (A) are angry at those who seemingly avoid such consequences by hiding, and/or (B) believe sincerely that the more people come out -- especially celebs -- the easier it will be for the next generation.
And really 25 years IS a generation, and I can say it is overall easier for this generation than it was for mine. Often the response you'll get is "so?" Much, in some ways, the response was to Jodie last night. And that is great.
I do believe in doing things that make it easier for others to do things, but I do not feel that anyone else has an obligation to put themselves out there and take a risk simply to make it easier for someone else to do so.
Gay teen suicide is real. Consequences for coming out HAVE been and remain real. I've written about some of that already. I am ecstatic that we are at a place now where we can go "So?" And I am appreciative of those pioneers who came out earlier. Not just Ellen - although she's done an incredible job - but those who came out before her when it was even harder. Yes, it was harder than it was for Ellen. God bless them.
And I sit on the fence about outing people who are publicly homophobic. It is one thing not to help, it is another to harm others like yourself.
Personally, I believe that coming out is a personal decision. And who you choose to come out to and when you choose to or not to come out is your personal decision. I do not, as clear from the last paragraph, condone using homophobia as a misdirect - but many folks who do that are currently, sadly, hating themselves and so... I do feel a tiny bit sad for them.
But my friend's question from above is quite a pertinent one: "Coming out as..." because that is part of the short-sightedness in those who feel the need to compel people to come out. They feel the need to stick them in some kind of box. Some kind of label. And who are they - the outsiders - to decide what label is appropriate for someone else?
That hasn't stopped many people today from filling in the blank that Jodie did not fill in. And I think that's a shame that people feel such a need. She's just Jodie who had a fabulous woman in her life that she wanted to thank for her support and her co-parenting. Why isn't she allowed some measure of privacy? Why is who she loves anyone's business other than the person whom she loves and her own?
To bitch today and say that Jodie wasn't a proper role-model dismisses everything else that she did and everything else, frankly, that we, as consumers, have done to her. She has been in the limelight since she was 3 years old.
There are two excerpts from the transcript of her speech that I feel are important to share:
"because I already did my coming out about a thousand years ago back in the Stone Age, in those very quaint days when a fragile young girl would open up to trusted friends and family and co-workers and then gradually, proudly to everyone who knew her, to everyone she actually met. But now I’m told, apparently that every celebrity is expected to honor the details of their private life with a press conference, a fragrance and a prime-time reality show."
She came out to everyone she actually met, everyone who knew her. She didn't hide in the closet. She just didn't feel the need to have a press conference. I mean do other people have press conferences to announce they are straight? She led an honest and open life. God bless her!
And the other excerpt clarifying what has been her life:
"But seriously, if you had been a public figure from the time that you were a toddler, if you’d had to fight for a life that felt real and honest and normal against all odds, then maybe you too might value privacy above all else. Privacy. Some day, in the future, people will look back and remember how beautiful it once was. I have given everything up there from the time that I was 3 years old. That’s reality-show enough, don’t you think?"
Yes, she received benefit from being a celebrity - payment for her movies, etc., but at a cost that at THREE years OLD - or even at thirteen years old - she was not capable of rationally choosing for herself. It is one thing for someone who seeks attention and who has chosen a public life during adult hood to expect them, perhaps, to share certain details. It is another for someone who was made a star at three years old and acted throughout her childhood constantly in the public eye and to not allow her to create something that IS hers?
This isn't that well organized. I appreciate that. But I think, at the end of the day, what we need to give Jodie Foster is just what she politely and kindly asked for:
"I guess I have a sudden urge to say something that I’ve never really been able to air in public. So, a declaration that I’m a little nervous about but maybe not quite as nervous as my publicist right now, huh Jennifer? But I’m just going to put it out there, right? Loud and proud, right? So I’m going to need your support on this."
Rather than trash her, let's give her the support she asked for. And not spend time as Monday morning quarterbacks questioning her choice to live her life as she chose and now chooses. Instead, let's focus on our own lives. :)
And today, I have the pleasure of reading the hype and the backlash. Woo hoo!
For most of us, it was no surprise. Like, "Okay, tell us something we didn't know..."
For her, it was clear, it was something she'd been struggling with and debating with and even then, kind of did it in a round about way. Even debating, apparently, with her publicist.
I sent a link of the video and to a news story to a friend, and she texted me last night asking what Jodie was coming out as.... I said merely a woman who loves another woman. Many are angry, apparently, that she didn't give herself a label.
My friend then wondered why it even came up? I mean at first she was confused if she was winning an award - which I clarified - and even still, why it came up.
I explained that she wanted to thank the people important to her, and that this included her ex-partner and co-parent.
My friend replied "Oh."
But it is part of an ongoing conversation I have been having lately about why come out and I guess, even, when or if or how you should come out. I addressed it in the recent post about Dear Abby coming out... except Abby wasn't really the one coming out. And it has been an ongoing offline conversation I have also been having.
That conversation or discussion, frankly, is two-fold. One is about "ordinary" people coming out and "celebrities" coming out.
I came out originally about 25 years ago, now. Click on that coming out label over there and you'll see several posts I've written on the subject, including a little about my own coming out. (Note that unless you are a celebrity or live in a very small area where everyone just knows you're the resident dyke and you never move, you are always still coming out or choosing not to.)
Is coming out political or personal? The problem is there are an ardent number of rabid folks who think it's political. Who think it's necessary and required. Who have done it themselves, possibly suffered for it, and (A) are angry at those who seemingly avoid such consequences by hiding, and/or (B) believe sincerely that the more people come out -- especially celebs -- the easier it will be for the next generation.
And really 25 years IS a generation, and I can say it is overall easier for this generation than it was for mine. Often the response you'll get is "so?" Much, in some ways, the response was to Jodie last night. And that is great.
I do believe in doing things that make it easier for others to do things, but I do not feel that anyone else has an obligation to put themselves out there and take a risk simply to make it easier for someone else to do so.
Gay teen suicide is real. Consequences for coming out HAVE been and remain real. I've written about some of that already. I am ecstatic that we are at a place now where we can go "So?" And I am appreciative of those pioneers who came out earlier. Not just Ellen - although she's done an incredible job - but those who came out before her when it was even harder. Yes, it was harder than it was for Ellen. God bless them.
And I sit on the fence about outing people who are publicly homophobic. It is one thing not to help, it is another to harm others like yourself.
Personally, I believe that coming out is a personal decision. And who you choose to come out to and when you choose to or not to come out is your personal decision. I do not, as clear from the last paragraph, condone using homophobia as a misdirect - but many folks who do that are currently, sadly, hating themselves and so... I do feel a tiny bit sad for them.
But my friend's question from above is quite a pertinent one: "Coming out as..." because that is part of the short-sightedness in those who feel the need to compel people to come out. They feel the need to stick them in some kind of box. Some kind of label. And who are they - the outsiders - to decide what label is appropriate for someone else?
That hasn't stopped many people today from filling in the blank that Jodie did not fill in. And I think that's a shame that people feel such a need. She's just Jodie who had a fabulous woman in her life that she wanted to thank for her support and her co-parenting. Why isn't she allowed some measure of privacy? Why is who she loves anyone's business other than the person whom she loves and her own?
To bitch today and say that Jodie wasn't a proper role-model dismisses everything else that she did and everything else, frankly, that we, as consumers, have done to her. She has been in the limelight since she was 3 years old.
There are two excerpts from the transcript of her speech that I feel are important to share:
"because I already did my coming out about a thousand years ago back in the Stone Age, in those very quaint days when a fragile young girl would open up to trusted friends and family and co-workers and then gradually, proudly to everyone who knew her, to everyone she actually met. But now I’m told, apparently that every celebrity is expected to honor the details of their private life with a press conference, a fragrance and a prime-time reality show."
She came out to everyone she actually met, everyone who knew her. She didn't hide in the closet. She just didn't feel the need to have a press conference. I mean do other people have press conferences to announce they are straight? She led an honest and open life. God bless her!
And the other excerpt clarifying what has been her life:
"But seriously, if you had been a public figure from the time that you were a toddler, if you’d had to fight for a life that felt real and honest and normal against all odds, then maybe you too might value privacy above all else. Privacy. Some day, in the future, people will look back and remember how beautiful it once was. I have given everything up there from the time that I was 3 years old. That’s reality-show enough, don’t you think?"
Yes, she received benefit from being a celebrity - payment for her movies, etc., but at a cost that at THREE years OLD - or even at thirteen years old - she was not capable of rationally choosing for herself. It is one thing for someone who seeks attention and who has chosen a public life during adult hood to expect them, perhaps, to share certain details. It is another for someone who was made a star at three years old and acted throughout her childhood constantly in the public eye and to not allow her to create something that IS hers?
This isn't that well organized. I appreciate that. But I think, at the end of the day, what we need to give Jodie Foster is just what she politely and kindly asked for:
"I guess I have a sudden urge to say something that I’ve never really been able to air in public. So, a declaration that I’m a little nervous about but maybe not quite as nervous as my publicist right now, huh Jennifer? But I’m just going to put it out there, right? Loud and proud, right? So I’m going to need your support on this."
Rather than trash her, let's give her the support she asked for. And not spend time as Monday morning quarterbacks questioning her choice to live her life as she chose and now chooses. Instead, let's focus on our own lives. :)
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Sometimes you gotta be the ass...
And not just in Mexican Donkey Wedding dances - or whatever they are... (great, now I can JUST imagine the NEW searches that will now find me...)
Having fun with church politics and breaking in a new priest. He's great. And fortunately, because he's new and he has a collar, and all that, people will listen to him. Me? I get to be the ass. Which I can live with as long as we get things done. People don't realize we're playing "Good cop, bad cop".. and it's a good thing they don't read this blog..
But sometimes it's what is needed in order to get things done.. And that's, frankly, all I want to see - stuff getting done.
Having fun with church politics and breaking in a new priest. He's great. And fortunately, because he's new and he has a collar, and all that, people will listen to him. Me? I get to be the ass. Which I can live with as long as we get things done. People don't realize we're playing "Good cop, bad cop".. and it's a good thing they don't read this blog..
But sometimes it's what is needed in order to get things done.. And that's, frankly, all I want to see - stuff getting done.
Friday, January 11, 2013
My Girl!
In last night's post, I referenced a parody of Before He Cheats called Before He Speaks, that was a warning from pastor's wives to their husbands about using them for sermon fodder. Central to the core of that is this implicit statement, "Look, dude, I have to live in this community, too. I really don't want everyone coming up to me and talking about the pot roast I burnt the other night, or knowing our intimate private little habits." I don't want to worry or wonder with each conversation I have with you whether it is just between us, or if it is going to be shared with a large group of people on Sunday morning. It is a fair and reasonable request.
It doesn't take a reader of The Bloggess very long to feel tremendous compassion for Victor, and to think that he must have incredible patience. I imagine she takes SOME artistic license when she describes their conversations, but either way, even though she doesn't necessarily try to portray him as a saint, you can see from her writing that he is.
And I do imagine there are conversations between them, probably simply ending with Victor saying, "You're going to put this on your blog, aren't you?" and Jenny replying "You bet sweet Juanita's ass I am".
But even though you've never met the man, you can't help but fall in love a little with him given that he seems to be a truly incredible man.
Now if I wrote you about my girl, I know you would feel the same. She is incredible, sweet, wonderful. She always knows just the right things to say. She gets me. She truly does. It amazes me. She amazes me.
I'd love to write you all about my girl. I'd love to tell you about these moments of silliness I have from time to time, and how wonderfully she responds. I'd love to tell you about how despite the fact that it should, my ADD doesn't daunt her. How kindly she responds, how well she holds up against my friends, how strong and courageous she is. How sweet and loving and warm and affectionate she is. I'd love to share various vignettes that now fill my memory of moments we have shared.
But she is a private person. She protects her digital footprint. She's cautious about what might be posted about her online. And while she does love social media, she nonetheless maintains very clear distinct boundaries about what she shares. Boundaries that we have already blurred together, admittedly. But it is one thing for her to make a clear choice, a deliberated choice, I will post x in y place; and a completely different thing for me to make such a choice for her - particularly without consulting her.
So I found myself lost, sometimes, when it comes to writing new posts, because the things I want to share most, I want to keep between ourselves. I can safely speak generically about how much I love her laugh, but to tell you about what she says that makes me laugh would be too much. And how much do you really want to hear me gloss on and on about how beautiful she is, and how she makes my breath catch? There's only so much of that...
I can say this, though. When someone truly loves you, all she wants is your happiness. Don't settle for anyone who wants less than that. My girl makes me very happy!!
It doesn't take a reader of The Bloggess very long to feel tremendous compassion for Victor, and to think that he must have incredible patience. I imagine she takes SOME artistic license when she describes their conversations, but either way, even though she doesn't necessarily try to portray him as a saint, you can see from her writing that he is.
And I do imagine there are conversations between them, probably simply ending with Victor saying, "You're going to put this on your blog, aren't you?" and Jenny replying "You bet sweet Juanita's ass I am".
But even though you've never met the man, you can't help but fall in love a little with him given that he seems to be a truly incredible man.
Now if I wrote you about my girl, I know you would feel the same. She is incredible, sweet, wonderful. She always knows just the right things to say. She gets me. She truly does. It amazes me. She amazes me.
I'd love to write you all about my girl. I'd love to tell you about these moments of silliness I have from time to time, and how wonderfully she responds. I'd love to tell you about how despite the fact that it should, my ADD doesn't daunt her. How kindly she responds, how well she holds up against my friends, how strong and courageous she is. How sweet and loving and warm and affectionate she is. I'd love to share various vignettes that now fill my memory of moments we have shared.
But she is a private person. She protects her digital footprint. She's cautious about what might be posted about her online. And while she does love social media, she nonetheless maintains very clear distinct boundaries about what she shares. Boundaries that we have already blurred together, admittedly. But it is one thing for her to make a clear choice, a deliberated choice, I will post x in y place; and a completely different thing for me to make such a choice for her - particularly without consulting her.
So I found myself lost, sometimes, when it comes to writing new posts, because the things I want to share most, I want to keep between ourselves. I can safely speak generically about how much I love her laugh, but to tell you about what she says that makes me laugh would be too much. And how much do you really want to hear me gloss on and on about how beautiful she is, and how she makes my breath catch? There's only so much of that...
I can say this, though. When someone truly loves you, all she wants is your happiness. Don't settle for anyone who wants less than that. My girl makes me very happy!!
Thursday, January 10, 2013
My Biggest Fan
My
She will now learn that if she doesn't provide me with ideas, then I will write about her. ;)
Actually, I know better than that. One of my good friends is the wife of a priest, and long ago she shared with me one of her favorite videos - a parody off of Carrie Underwood's Before He Cheats, called Before He Speaks. It's a lesson learning video about what will happen to the priest who mentions his wife or uses his wife in his sermons. It's quite amusing.
So, I know better than to do that. But it seems lately that if you take away my girl as a topic of conversation, I am left with little else to talk about.
And that doesn't quite seem right. Certainly I had plenty of
Okay. Hmm... Maybe I was a wonder and a sensation only in my head? Maybe you all were just kind and took pity on me? No, that can't be it.
But I was just reading The Bloggess' Let's Pretend This Never Happened over dinner this evening, and in the chapter I was reading, she's writing about her generalized anxiety disorder, and how it makes her tell the story during dinner parties of how she swallowed a needle, or think she swallowed a needle, and how her conversational skills degenerate from there. And I would never want to belittle her experience, but suddenly, I wonder, if I've lost the art of conversation, or the art of the blog post?
Nah.
This morning, I was reading Dear Abby (again? Can you believe it? It's like she writes a column every day or something.. She'd make a great blogger! *wink!*) and actually I was quite struck by the advice written in by readers about how to have long term successful relationships in response to a letter published in October.
The text of today's column is pasted below.. And I admit, while embarking upon a new relationship, it seemed like there was some sound advice in there for me to remember. And since I talk about relationships here so frequently, I thought I'd share some of the parts that struck me most:
Love isn't just a feeling, but a choice and a commitment. I'm committed to my husband not because I'm "supposed" to be, but because I choose to be.
I do firmly believe that I never want someone to be with me because they feel obligated to do so. That's not a reason to be together. I want them to choose to be with me, not feel stuck, even if I tease my girlfriend that she's now "stuck" with me. It is a choice we make each day. And so far, it's seemed like a fairly easy choice. And fortunately, whenever I do tease her, she always responds with the right answer: "I'm not stuck with you. I can dump your ass any day." (so not true, she is MUCH nicer than that, but doesn't that make her SOUND bad-ass?)
We're told that marriage is 50-50. That's not true. It's 100-100. I'm responsible for my 100 percent, and my spouse is responsible for his.
I think it is easy for people within a relationship to begin to keep a score-card. But I think what each person brings to a relationship is often not easily quantifiable, not easily measurable. I think - or how I choose to read this - is that we are each responsible for bringing 100% of ourselves to the relationship. Simply having someone to share life with doesn't mean that we have less responsibility for our lives, it just means that our load is lighter because we are carrying it together.
Loving feelings come from loving behavior, not the other way around.
I have a mixed response to this one. Mostly because I am in the early hormonal throes of my relationship. I feel that my behavior is an expression of my loving feelings. And I certainly hope that this is the way I feel for the life of our relationship - for our lives shared together.
But I have been in relationships gone sour, and I think this sentence applies to those who are having a hard time. That while you might not be feeling loving towards your spouse, if you treat him or her in a loving manner, you'll regenerate the loving feelings that belong underneath it. If you treat me in a loving manner, it is hard for me to remain angry or hurt. You repair what damage might have been done, and in the process, remind yourself and your spouse of what it was like when those loving feelings were closer to the surface. And I think that is illustrated in the last comment, here:
A wise therapist advised me to compliment my husband at least once a day. ("If you act happy, pretty soon it won't be an act.")
For me, I am actually happy. It's not an act.
But the lesson from today's column is that it is important for ANYONE in the beginning hummm of a new relationship to remember that sometimes relationships will require work, and they do require commitment. It is easy to believe the hormonal rush that leads you to believe your love can do nothing wrong will never end. And, hopefully, it won't. But even if it does, it is important to remember and to build upon the true love and caring feelings you have for your romantic partner, because those will take you through some of the more "complicated" / difficult times you may face together.
Remember to value your partner every day. Make a conscious choice to be in your relationship. And let your partner know he or she is special. Every day. It's the only way to build a solid foundation that can withstand whatever life may throw at you. And always hold hands to get through that together.
DEAR ABBY: This is in response to "Had It in Hartford" (Oct. 6), who
has been unhappily married to her husband for 20 years. She said she
married him for all the wrong reasons and "has never loved him the way
a woman should love a man."
After I had been married for seven years, I went to my pastor concerned
that the grass on the other side was looking greener than mine. As we
spoke, I began to realize the extent of the investment I had put into
my marriage and that I didn't want to start over again on a new one.
My mom always told me, "Marriage is not easy. You will always have to
work on it. There will be times when you won't feel that you like him
or love him." I have been married for 36 years now. Do I notice
handsome men, or appreciate a man who treats me kindly? Of course. I'm
not blind or dead.
Love isn't just a feeling, but a choice and a commitment. I'm committed
to my husband not because I'm "supposed" to be, but because I choose to
be. It seems to me that "Had It" never made that choice or worked
toward it, but expected it to just happen eventually.
She has a foundation of trust and friendship that helps a marriage
through the rough times. Many marriages that end in divorce rely on
sexual attraction and passion to carry them instead of friendship.
We're told that marriage is 50-50. That's not true. It's 100-100. I'm
responsible for my 100 percent, and my spouse is responsible for his.
"Had It" should take another look at what she's about to lose and tally
up the costs to her family. Is she really trapped? Or has she just been
unwilling to choose to love? -- BARBARA IN MOUNT VERNON, WASH.
DEAR BARBARA: Thank you for writing. I advised "Had It" to think long
and hard before leaving her husband, but that if she truly cannot love
him the way he deserves, she should move on. My readers' comments:
DEAR ABBY: "Had It" doesn't feel love toward her husband because she
spends her time and energy ruminating about a "mistake" she thinks she
made 20 years ago. She says he is doing everything right and they get
along fine. If she tried something positive, like reminding herself
about the qualities she likes about him, and doing things she knows
make him happy instead of fantasizing about other men, she might find
the love she craves in her marriage.
Loving feelings come from loving behavior, not the other way around.
The sooner she realizes this, the sooner she'll see that what she
really wants is right there at home with her family. And it has been
there all along. -- DR. PEGGY B.
DEAR ABBY: I have this message for "Had It": I felt like you and acted
on my feelings. Don't do it! Wait until your kids are older. As much as
you want a more intimate relationship, you cannot begin to imagine the
impact straying will have on your kids.
I deeply regret what I did and I wish someone would have told me what
I'm telling you. Pull yourself together. Think about your children,
extended family and friends. You are connected to others through your
husband, and once you pull your marriage apart, everything else falls
away, too. -- REGRETTING IT IN NEW YORK
DEAR ABBY: "Had It" is probably suffering from a case of the seven-year
itch. For some reason, people cycle in seven-year increments. Some of
them change jobs or homes, others have affairs or change spouses. She
should work through it with a counselor.
There is a lot to be said for being married to your best friend. A wise
therapist advised me to compliment my husband at least once a day. ("If
you act happy, pretty soon it won't be an act.") This was after my
first bout with the "itch" and it has been working ever since, 29
years! -- LOVING AND LAUGHING WITH MY BEST FRIEND
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