The story told in the Jane and Rochester [see Jane Eyre, Austen] posts, I hope, illustrate my opinion on attraction. I am still bothered by No pics guy insisting he won't speak to anyone without pictures. I don't care to use brain cells on the issue. But he keeps viewing my profile. I presume he is looking for those elusive photos of my average not much special self. I had ranted in long hand. It felt good. But I can't rant and transcribe without the emotion behind it. So I told the story about Ethan... names changed to protect the innocent. And I hope it makes my point.
If not I will summarize thus: if you are going to be hung up on looks, I can't be confident that you understand the import of character, loyalty and emotional security. I think that guys who get hung up on looks spend a good deal of time worried about who is looking at her and who she's looking back at. And women who get hung up on looks give us a bad rep because it screams "Finicky". A girl who is always looking for the next hottie to walk by is a girl guys don't want because she's never going to be satisfied. Oh, I know looks are important. I know that a person who doesn't meet expectations is a buzz kill. But, I have experienced something beautiful that everyone should experience once. I know that Ethan has been the best husband that a guy could be. He redeems the role of husband in my jaded eyes. I only hope that where ever he is he is happy for the choice that he made. And I would also hope that every one looking for the perfect person for them remembers what really counts is the heart and the soul.
I see how the wrong choices made in the foundational stages of a relationship make people unhappy and in the worst cases, vindictive. We aren't going to get very far on our path to enlightenment as a species or individually if we don't understand even this basic concept.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
It's more of a Jane and Rochester thing. Part II
And now I must make a confession. While I didn't really feel drawn to Ethan upon first meeting him, by the time we were several weeks into our trivia conversations, I had a full blown crush on him. Ethan is not magazine model beautiful. Due to the pock marks, one would have to be an artist to see the beauty in his face. I am such a person. My full blown crush didn't start until that fateful smile. In that moment when he looked right into me I saw the universe in his eyes. He had meant what he said. There is no artifice in Ethan. And he had meant that he felt left out because I was still more reserved around him than with our other co workers. He said so later. He also said that I wasn't his traditional type. I am built like a farm kid, brawny where a girl shouldn't be and a little thick through the shoulders. And like I said, taller than him. I had seen his girlfriend once and tried to control my crush because I was certain that there was no way that he would ever find me attractive. She was petite in every sense of the word. But then came the day Cassie sent us home at the same time.
For several weeks straight Ethan and I stayed for the full shift, letting the college kids go home early to do homework. Ethan didn't need the hours they needed. He was a genius. One day, quite uncharacteristic of her, Cassie initiated a conversation about relationships. We each answered her questions as patiently as possible. Then she sent Ethan to the walk in cooler for something. "I'm sending you guys home together. You should go get coffee."
Then Ethan was out and I was headed to put away the fresh lettuce. Cassie sent him in for tomatoes and then slammed the door shut behind us. It was torture to be in there for the few seconds it took Ethan to get the door open. What ever Cassie thought would happen didn't. I couldn't have been more disappointed. But he had his girlfriend and I was trying to be a good little girl. We didn't go home early that day. A busload of kids came in. But she had another chance to match make two days later. And we went to coffee.
It was freezing. A front had moved in that made the moist air a little more solid. It was like breathing in pollen but it was frozen micro water particles. Cassie made us go early together. We weren't going to stop for coffee. Ethan had told me he knew Cassie was up to something. He couldn't let it happen without telling me that there was no chance. He was very polite about it.
I could feel the pain it caused him to say so. I didn't want to hear those words. My heart was so cold from his gentle let down that I barely felt the stinging air on my cheeks. Ethan felt the sting and turned us back to the coffee shop we had just passed. Three block from Togo's and we were already in danger of hypothermia... according to Ethan.
It was my first time in a coffee shop. The shop was one of those peace love and global brother hood places, very different from the yuppie place downtown. This was Ethan's refuge. He ordered me something he thought I would like and got his usual. We sat across from each other at a window table. I thought I was going to cry. I had wanted all of our conversations to mean something more substantial. My ego wanted to replace his girlfriend with my inadequate self. I wanted his mouth to say everything that his eyes said just so that I would know I wasn't nuts. How nuts could I have been? I was the only person at work that could get him to smile. Rather, I was the one he looked at every time he did smile. And we had developed a rapport that appeared we could read minds. He watched the sky for several long minutes. I tried not to tear up.
We finished our drinks. Ethan ordered two more. During the second round he squared his shoulders and opened the conversation. "It could work. We both want it to work." I couldn't have heard him correctly. "It's just that I have these commitments. I can't let her down." And he told me about the pock marks and the scars that went with them. He told me about a reaction to medicine after a bike crash and how she had been with him through the days in the hospital and the weeks of rehabilitation therapy. "She's been through a lot with me. That means something." I don't know what I said. I think he took my hand. "That doesn't mean that I don't feel something for you. I just have to sort this out." He told me that my smile made him feel loved and safe in ways that he couldn't anticipate needing after his accident. Ethan also said that sometimes he thought that he and his girlfriend were together at this point out of duty. Sometimes, when he was depressed and his thoughts wouldn't leave him alone, he thought that she was the only one who could have loved his disfigured face. And the equally disfigured soul that felt like Quasimodo.
We closed the coffee shop. It took most of the four and a half hours we were there to recover from how awkward the confession had become. We walked home in the dark. I left him at his street and continued on my way in a daze. Ethan had come as close as he dared to saying that he loved me. Part of me soared at that because I had been harboring those feelings for weeks. I just didn't dream he would reciprocate. The rest of me fell to the earth with a thud, knowing that his honor would never let him leave his girlfriend. She had accepted his proposal two days before I started working at Togos.
Three days later, in the dead of a fierce storm, we were working with Cassie again. She started us on the path to pain again. And finally, frustrated with trying to finesse confessions out of us, she just blurted out he own interpretation of the state of our affair. "You two obviously are goo goo about each other. Do it and get it over with." I had been mopping the eating area. Ethan had been on his way to the cooler with prepped vegetables. We stopped dead in our tracks. We made eye contact across the counter. The air was thick with the truth of our feelings and desires. "Where were you fours years ago?" He asked me, almost choking on the question, desperate to change the past. "Making some huge mistakes of my own." I said, equally desperate and more than a little hurt that I couldn't take him for myself. If it came to his honor or my happiness I knew I would chose his honor. It was the thing I liked best about him. If I made him abandon that for me then I would have changed something intrinsic in him that made our attraction so strong. He looked at me as though he just found the family pet dead beside the road. I felt my face make the same look. I went back to mopping. Ethan walked into the cooler. Cassie never brought it up again.
No one would look at either of us and drool on their shoes. What is true of each of us is this: you must know us. The more one knows about us the more attractive we become. I never touched Ethan. We tried very hard not to bump into each other during the craziness of a lunch rush. We didn't hold hands, only gazes. I never kissed him. When we had his going away party everyone hugged him except for me. We locked gazes that night and we knew. If we became tangled in that kind of embrace, even as only co workers wishing each other farewell, we would never have left each others arms. And so we parted with only the Live Long and Prosper salutation. My friends at the fellowship thought it was stupid. Everyone else told me later that it made them cry. After we left Ethan went to the basement and sulked the rest of the night. Jon had told me later, after my smile came back, that Ethan refused to talk to anyone for the rest of the night. He'd been carefree for hours but my departure had cast a pall. Jon actually admitted to some tears. He'd hugged me when my own started again.
I cried myself to sleep for eight months. Every time I closed my eyes I could see the smile that warmed his features only for me and my smile. His face is still one of the most beautiful I have ever seen in my life. And it is because of the love I felt for the person he was, his honor, his integrity and his compassionate instruction. It's been 11 years since I've seen him and I still he think he is beautiful. I would love to have an Ethan again. I don't think its the kind of love that comes once in someones' life. And I don't think than familiarity always breeds contempt. But I do believe that the people we find the most beautiful are the people that know us and our souls as well as we do and pledge, first in friendship, to protect and defend. That is where a lasting bond may begin. To start with the physical is to court disaster as inevitable change
For several weeks straight Ethan and I stayed for the full shift, letting the college kids go home early to do homework. Ethan didn't need the hours they needed. He was a genius. One day, quite uncharacteristic of her, Cassie initiated a conversation about relationships. We each answered her questions as patiently as possible. Then she sent Ethan to the walk in cooler for something. "I'm sending you guys home together. You should go get coffee."
Then Ethan was out and I was headed to put away the fresh lettuce. Cassie sent him in for tomatoes and then slammed the door shut behind us. It was torture to be in there for the few seconds it took Ethan to get the door open. What ever Cassie thought would happen didn't. I couldn't have been more disappointed. But he had his girlfriend and I was trying to be a good little girl. We didn't go home early that day. A busload of kids came in. But she had another chance to match make two days later. And we went to coffee.
It was freezing. A front had moved in that made the moist air a little more solid. It was like breathing in pollen but it was frozen micro water particles. Cassie made us go early together. We weren't going to stop for coffee. Ethan had told me he knew Cassie was up to something. He couldn't let it happen without telling me that there was no chance. He was very polite about it.
I could feel the pain it caused him to say so. I didn't want to hear those words. My heart was so cold from his gentle let down that I barely felt the stinging air on my cheeks. Ethan felt the sting and turned us back to the coffee shop we had just passed. Three block from Togo's and we were already in danger of hypothermia... according to Ethan.
It was my first time in a coffee shop. The shop was one of those peace love and global brother hood places, very different from the yuppie place downtown. This was Ethan's refuge. He ordered me something he thought I would like and got his usual. We sat across from each other at a window table. I thought I was going to cry. I had wanted all of our conversations to mean something more substantial. My ego wanted to replace his girlfriend with my inadequate self. I wanted his mouth to say everything that his eyes said just so that I would know I wasn't nuts. How nuts could I have been? I was the only person at work that could get him to smile. Rather, I was the one he looked at every time he did smile. And we had developed a rapport that appeared we could read minds. He watched the sky for several long minutes. I tried not to tear up.
We finished our drinks. Ethan ordered two more. During the second round he squared his shoulders and opened the conversation. "It could work. We both want it to work." I couldn't have heard him correctly. "It's just that I have these commitments. I can't let her down." And he told me about the pock marks and the scars that went with them. He told me about a reaction to medicine after a bike crash and how she had been with him through the days in the hospital and the weeks of rehabilitation therapy. "She's been through a lot with me. That means something." I don't know what I said. I think he took my hand. "That doesn't mean that I don't feel something for you. I just have to sort this out." He told me that my smile made him feel loved and safe in ways that he couldn't anticipate needing after his accident. Ethan also said that sometimes he thought that he and his girlfriend were together at this point out of duty. Sometimes, when he was depressed and his thoughts wouldn't leave him alone, he thought that she was the only one who could have loved his disfigured face. And the equally disfigured soul that felt like Quasimodo.
We closed the coffee shop. It took most of the four and a half hours we were there to recover from how awkward the confession had become. We walked home in the dark. I left him at his street and continued on my way in a daze. Ethan had come as close as he dared to saying that he loved me. Part of me soared at that because I had been harboring those feelings for weeks. I just didn't dream he would reciprocate. The rest of me fell to the earth with a thud, knowing that his honor would never let him leave his girlfriend. She had accepted his proposal two days before I started working at Togos.
Three days later, in the dead of a fierce storm, we were working with Cassie again. She started us on the path to pain again. And finally, frustrated with trying to finesse confessions out of us, she just blurted out he own interpretation of the state of our affair. "You two obviously are goo goo about each other. Do it and get it over with." I had been mopping the eating area. Ethan had been on his way to the cooler with prepped vegetables. We stopped dead in our tracks. We made eye contact across the counter. The air was thick with the truth of our feelings and desires. "Where were you fours years ago?" He asked me, almost choking on the question, desperate to change the past. "Making some huge mistakes of my own." I said, equally desperate and more than a little hurt that I couldn't take him for myself. If it came to his honor or my happiness I knew I would chose his honor. It was the thing I liked best about him. If I made him abandon that for me then I would have changed something intrinsic in him that made our attraction so strong. He looked at me as though he just found the family pet dead beside the road. I felt my face make the same look. I went back to mopping. Ethan walked into the cooler. Cassie never brought it up again.
No one would look at either of us and drool on their shoes. What is true of each of us is this: you must know us. The more one knows about us the more attractive we become. I never touched Ethan. We tried very hard not to bump into each other during the craziness of a lunch rush. We didn't hold hands, only gazes. I never kissed him. When we had his going away party everyone hugged him except for me. We locked gazes that night and we knew. If we became tangled in that kind of embrace, even as only co workers wishing each other farewell, we would never have left each others arms. And so we parted with only the Live Long and Prosper salutation. My friends at the fellowship thought it was stupid. Everyone else told me later that it made them cry. After we left Ethan went to the basement and sulked the rest of the night. Jon had told me later, after my smile came back, that Ethan refused to talk to anyone for the rest of the night. He'd been carefree for hours but my departure had cast a pall. Jon actually admitted to some tears. He'd hugged me when my own started again.
I cried myself to sleep for eight months. Every time I closed my eyes I could see the smile that warmed his features only for me and my smile. His face is still one of the most beautiful I have ever seen in my life. And it is because of the love I felt for the person he was, his honor, his integrity and his compassionate instruction. It's been 11 years since I've seen him and I still he think he is beautiful. I would love to have an Ethan again. I don't think its the kind of love that comes once in someones' life. And I don't think than familiarity always breeds contempt. But I do believe that the people we find the most beautiful are the people that know us and our souls as well as we do and pledge, first in friendship, to protect and defend. That is where a lasting bond may begin. To start with the physical is to court disaster as inevitable change
It's more like a Jane and Rochester thing.
I spent part of my sheltered life in Marquette, a beautiful port town in the U.P. on Lake Superior's shore. Marquette is a college town and easily divisible by unofficial districts. One such district is the Village that runs up 3rd street to the college. None of the locals call it the village, but there are signs and the college kids took them literally. The Village is home to a selection of quaint shops and a funeral home, a couple of bars and some small eateries. It is in one of these eateries that our story takes place.
Togo's was founded by two NMU graduates and was bought by the current owners family when Tom and Gordon decided to go to California where there are hundreds of franchises. Togo's is famous for its subs. Other than a handful of sides and a salad option, that's all they do. I worked there making sandwhiches for two years before I had to move back to Traverse City. Togo's employed a lot of college students, four regular full time adults and the owner's son. The owner, Kathy, was delightful. She was a bit highstrung somedays, but that goes with owning a business. The manager, Cassie, was reserved and highly focused which made people think that she was ornery. For the most part the college students were divided into two camps. There were the regular heathen kids. And then there were the three of us who went to the Christian fellowship.
For the most part, there was little animosity. The only time the religous line was barbed was when one of the fellowship girls offered Bible based advice. As part of that faction, I probably should have taken the same position. But I happen to know that quoting Bible verses to people who don't read the Bible is fruitless. The same advice can be given without the verbal footnotes and it sounds more like a concerned friend talking than some busybody preaching. I had already heard of this divide before I went to work there. So I was quite nervous when I started.
It was a night shift and I was afraid that I would get stuck doing deliveries in a town I still didn't know. The shift comprised most of the partiers who were also band mates and a physics major. I was intimidated to be working with mostly guys. The physic major's countenence emitted a superior confidence and disdain. He was 6 inches shorter than me and I felt like a toddler in his presence. He let Jeff know that he wouldn't work with me, right in front of my face. Of course I felt challenged. And of course I made it my personal mission to make him have to deal with me. Jeff must have agreed that the pm's position was ridiculous. Within the hour I was permanently attached to the pm when Cabe started deliveries and Jon went home because we were too slow to keep people. "It's nothing against you personally. But I've had enough of your kind. If I wanted to be preached at I'd go to church."
And that's the way things went for the next three nights. On the second night the pm, Ethan, made deliveries. Jeff decided to have a talk with me. "I don't like this." Nice preamble. "I can't stand working with those girls because everything has to be a constest to see how loud they can squeal. I won't be evangelized either. But you have to quit walking around he like we are going to devour you. I've never seen anyone more nervous." And then I relaxed. We were joking around by the time that Ethan came back. He was livid. I don't recall what had set him off. But he was less happy to find that while he was out we settled the great "Who gets to Go Home" debate. Ethan was stuck with me the rest of the night since he refused to deliver more food to ungrateful people. And on the 3rd night, Jeff Imp of the Perverse decided that Ethan and I were to be sown at the hip. We were delivering together.
During the whole trip, Ethan kept giving me unsolicited saftey advice. Don't leave the money bag in the car. Don't carry it visibly. Don't look down at your feet etc... and if anyone approaches you throw the bag at them and run. If they catch you... ad nauseum. When he found out I couldn't drive a stick the night was over. Jeff let us stay inside. And we talked through the quiet evening. And from that point we didn't stop.
I said before that Ethan was 6 inches shorter than me. His crystal blue eyes hid behind thick nerdy glasses. Black hair hung artlessly from the center part. It was a very businesslike hair cut. His face was pocked with deep pores. He rarely smiled. My first impression of him was of an Igor. He did his job. He had his friends. And you knew if you weren't on that list. He didn't really like anybody. So I thought. He walked with ramrod straight posture and at a brisk clip. So when he started to talk to me when we worked night shifts, I was particularly honored. And when he told me why he was talking to me instead of continuing to ignore me, I was stunned.
I don't know exactly what I said or what I was responding to. But I made my statement with some vehemence and a good deal of sincerity. And it rather put him in his place. And that impressed him a little. But what impressed Ethan the most was that it was a quote from Star Trek, complete with the episode number and title and a short contextual backdrop (for Jeff who was not a Trekkie). Ethan hadn't expected that from a good little Christian girl because most churches in the area were on an anti humanism kick and considered Star Trek to be the novement's training program. I had won him over. During the next few weeks we became more partnered than the average coworker in any business.
We worked most of the day shifts when school was in session because he had a light shedule and I was not attending. My main duty was food prep. I sliced meats, cheeses and the veggies. But mostly I was stuck slicing the steak because all the cow blood didn't gross me out. The slicer station was the hub of conversation. Breaks were eaten at the pposite side of the table from the slicer. I got to talk to everyone. And when Ethan was on break, we talked Trek. Pretty soon we were playing trivia, trying to stump each other with nitpicking Trek details. And we succeeded admirably. I knew nothing about the mechanics of the ships or wht laws of physics allowed the imagination to dream up these things. He had no concept of how the characters were intertwined. It became obvious that Ethan wuld have to teach me some science basics. At least it was obvious to him. And then Cassie started letting us break together. So we sat together, completely unaware of anything but our discussion. After a few months it finally happened. Ehan smiled.
It was so unexpected that when it happened all I could do was stare. This coarse and sharp edges countenence cracked wide open with a broad, gleaming smile while his eyes danced. My reaction drew attention to us, Ethan told me later. His whole face radiated the kind of warmth that I had hoped was under the surface. "You should mile more, it's absolutely beautiful." He didn't even blush, he didn't blink. He just looked right through me and said something about smiles being contagious and not wanting a cure. I didn't get it. "You smile so much," he said, "I felt left out."
During this time, Kathy made Ethan a shift manager. Everyone was betting that he wouldn't last very long. They were his friends. And they thought that he would fail! They were counting on it. I did everything in my power to make sure that didn't happen. And we drew closer.
Togo's was founded by two NMU graduates and was bought by the current owners family when Tom and Gordon decided to go to California where there are hundreds of franchises. Togo's is famous for its subs. Other than a handful of sides and a salad option, that's all they do. I worked there making sandwhiches for two years before I had to move back to Traverse City. Togo's employed a lot of college students, four regular full time adults and the owner's son. The owner, Kathy, was delightful. She was a bit highstrung somedays, but that goes with owning a business. The manager, Cassie, was reserved and highly focused which made people think that she was ornery. For the most part the college students were divided into two camps. There were the regular heathen kids. And then there were the three of us who went to the Christian fellowship.
For the most part, there was little animosity. The only time the religous line was barbed was when one of the fellowship girls offered Bible based advice. As part of that faction, I probably should have taken the same position. But I happen to know that quoting Bible verses to people who don't read the Bible is fruitless. The same advice can be given without the verbal footnotes and it sounds more like a concerned friend talking than some busybody preaching. I had already heard of this divide before I went to work there. So I was quite nervous when I started.
It was a night shift and I was afraid that I would get stuck doing deliveries in a town I still didn't know. The shift comprised most of the partiers who were also band mates and a physics major. I was intimidated to be working with mostly guys. The physic major's countenence emitted a superior confidence and disdain. He was 6 inches shorter than me and I felt like a toddler in his presence. He let Jeff know that he wouldn't work with me, right in front of my face. Of course I felt challenged. And of course I made it my personal mission to make him have to deal with me. Jeff must have agreed that the pm's position was ridiculous. Within the hour I was permanently attached to the pm when Cabe started deliveries and Jon went home because we were too slow to keep people. "It's nothing against you personally. But I've had enough of your kind. If I wanted to be preached at I'd go to church."
And that's the way things went for the next three nights. On the second night the pm, Ethan, made deliveries. Jeff decided to have a talk with me. "I don't like this." Nice preamble. "I can't stand working with those girls because everything has to be a constest to see how loud they can squeal. I won't be evangelized either. But you have to quit walking around he like we are going to devour you. I've never seen anyone more nervous." And then I relaxed. We were joking around by the time that Ethan came back. He was livid. I don't recall what had set him off. But he was less happy to find that while he was out we settled the great "Who gets to Go Home" debate. Ethan was stuck with me the rest of the night since he refused to deliver more food to ungrateful people. And on the 3rd night, Jeff Imp of the Perverse decided that Ethan and I were to be sown at the hip. We were delivering together.
During the whole trip, Ethan kept giving me unsolicited saftey advice. Don't leave the money bag in the car. Don't carry it visibly. Don't look down at your feet etc... and if anyone approaches you throw the bag at them and run. If they catch you... ad nauseum. When he found out I couldn't drive a stick the night was over. Jeff let us stay inside. And we talked through the quiet evening. And from that point we didn't stop.
I said before that Ethan was 6 inches shorter than me. His crystal blue eyes hid behind thick nerdy glasses. Black hair hung artlessly from the center part. It was a very businesslike hair cut. His face was pocked with deep pores. He rarely smiled. My first impression of him was of an Igor. He did his job. He had his friends. And you knew if you weren't on that list. He didn't really like anybody. So I thought. He walked with ramrod straight posture and at a brisk clip. So when he started to talk to me when we worked night shifts, I was particularly honored. And when he told me why he was talking to me instead of continuing to ignore me, I was stunned.
I don't know exactly what I said or what I was responding to. But I made my statement with some vehemence and a good deal of sincerity. And it rather put him in his place. And that impressed him a little. But what impressed Ethan the most was that it was a quote from Star Trek, complete with the episode number and title and a short contextual backdrop (for Jeff who was not a Trekkie). Ethan hadn't expected that from a good little Christian girl because most churches in the area were on an anti humanism kick and considered Star Trek to be the novement's training program. I had won him over. During the next few weeks we became more partnered than the average coworker in any business.
We worked most of the day shifts when school was in session because he had a light shedule and I was not attending. My main duty was food prep. I sliced meats, cheeses and the veggies. But mostly I was stuck slicing the steak because all the cow blood didn't gross me out. The slicer station was the hub of conversation. Breaks were eaten at the pposite side of the table from the slicer. I got to talk to everyone. And when Ethan was on break, we talked Trek. Pretty soon we were playing trivia, trying to stump each other with nitpicking Trek details. And we succeeded admirably. I knew nothing about the mechanics of the ships or wht laws of physics allowed the imagination to dream up these things. He had no concept of how the characters were intertwined. It became obvious that Ethan wuld have to teach me some science basics. At least it was obvious to him. And then Cassie started letting us break together. So we sat together, completely unaware of anything but our discussion. After a few months it finally happened. Ehan smiled.
It was so unexpected that when it happened all I could do was stare. This coarse and sharp edges countenence cracked wide open with a broad, gleaming smile while his eyes danced. My reaction drew attention to us, Ethan told me later. His whole face radiated the kind of warmth that I had hoped was under the surface. "You should mile more, it's absolutely beautiful." He didn't even blush, he didn't blink. He just looked right through me and said something about smiles being contagious and not wanting a cure. I didn't get it. "You smile so much," he said, "I felt left out."
During this time, Kathy made Ethan a shift manager. Everyone was betting that he wouldn't last very long. They were his friends. And they thought that he would fail! They were counting on it. I did everything in my power to make sure that didn't happen. And we drew closer.
Friday, August 15, 2008
to blog or not to blog? That is today's question.
It isn't that I have a headache, forgot to bring glasses (which I won't wear anyway) or that the sun is so beautiful that I want to be outdoors. Today I just don't feel like bloggong. I don't feel witty and there isn't a burning question for me to answer. Well... no that is the problem. There is a burning question I have to answer.
How wrong do you have to be about something before you know you're wrong?
I've said before that we have a 20 year reunion coming up. I wasn't going to go (see the story I already told). But this week I have gotten e-mails and friend requests up the wazoo, figuratively. It makes me think that maybe we grew up that summer between 8th grade and highschool and I just never got the memo.
Hmmm.....
How wrong do you have to be about something before you know you're wrong?
I've said before that we have a 20 year reunion coming up. I wasn't going to go (see the story I already told). But this week I have gotten e-mails and friend requests up the wazoo, figuratively. It makes me think that maybe we grew up that summer between 8th grade and highschool and I just never got the memo.
Hmmm.....
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Now entering the realm of personal computing
No, really... seriously. This is the inagural post from my very own computer. It is the first I've ever owned. It's a laptop... Acer. Just to prove my geek creds: the computer shares its name with the scientific name for the family of trees that the maple belongs to. acer saccarum is the sugar maple. Thank you TC, I'll be here all week.
I've installed most of the trial software myself. I hope I haven't made a big boo boo somewhere along the line. A friend of mine tells me that typing on a laptop keyboard is something that takes a while to get used to. I have to agree. But on the up side of relearning familiar neural pathways... it probably won't take me long to relearn the single handed typing that I got good at in college, faster than hunt and peck but not so fast as homekey which allows tons of mistakes when your fingers get tied around each other. Ahhhhh... proficiency.
The thing that I will like the best is being able to go to my favorite spots and blog. I really like longhand... the satisfaction of balling up a wad of paper full of uncooperative sentances and chucking it into the trash... ker-thunk!. Scoooooooore!!!!!!!!! Which maybe the only score during a bad writing jag. Hey it happens... I'm sure even Twain got a little grumpy with his fountain pen. Especially when it splurbbled on his paper.
I've installed most of the trial software myself. I hope I haven't made a big boo boo somewhere along the line. A friend of mine tells me that typing on a laptop keyboard is something that takes a while to get used to. I have to agree. But on the up side of relearning familiar neural pathways... it probably won't take me long to relearn the single handed typing that I got good at in college, faster than hunt and peck but not so fast as homekey which allows tons of mistakes when your fingers get tied around each other. Ahhhhh... proficiency.
The thing that I will like the best is being able to go to my favorite spots and blog. I really like longhand... the satisfaction of balling up a wad of paper full of uncooperative sentances and chucking it into the trash... ker-thunk!. Scoooooooore!!!!!!!!! Which maybe the only score during a bad writing jag. Hey it happens... I'm sure even Twain got a little grumpy with his fountain pen. Especially when it splurbbled on his paper.
Rumors persist
The buzz around work is that we are goingto be enrolled in a health improvemnet/weight reduction program. I am particularly excited about it since all this housekeeping has reduced me two pant sizes. I am the size I was at graduation. I'm on the high side of the old average and the low side of the new averawge. Oooh ambivalence rears it's confused head in the real world too. And with the community atmosphere I will get to be where I've wanted to be.
I don't think super skinny is attractive. I never want to be super skinny. I've always been limber and I could still do the North Bar hike without being winded or dropping the cooler. And I can still leg press the 230 pounds that got me evil glares from our vasity football captain. I could be healthier. And I don't need the weight any more.
Yes, I did just say need. I needed it to cushion the attacks from bullies both foreign and domestic. I needed it to prove that I wasn't going to be like mom no matter what. And I needed it to keep me from being dragged up a slide and thrown down. It also kept me from being bodyslammed. Pretty soon it became a good indicator of who to trust/detecting superficial people/discouraging unwanted attention. Like they say the best defense is a good offense.
I've always been the smallest in my social circles, well except for Karen and Verta. And I know that onceI start and there is a community to share the health I will melt. I have most of my maternal grandparents genetics. Grampa went from 340 to 155 in just over a year. I don't weigh anything close tothat. And when I am happy I can do anything.
I am happy. I miss the things we used to together... volleyball, hiking, swimming like otters in Lake Michigan and bike riding. Imiss horseback riding too. But overall I am happy. And that makes the biggest difference.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Autonomy
I will have to seize the moment. Office Max has a notebook for 400.00. even if I have to buy the software in 2 months it will be a betterdeal than coming up withthe whole 800.00 all at once. The OFfice Max deal is still 200.00 cheaper than the whole shabang at the local store. I would love to buy local and prove thatthe little guy is worth keeping around. But I don't have the luxury of shopping there.
The faster I get to copy writing the happier I'll be. It is the gate to a world I have seen in my visions. Besides... I can't be afraid of these stupidthings forever. i can go anywhere to do what needsto be done with a laptop in my... um... lap.
why does that not sound like I intended?
The faster I get to copy writing the happier I'll be. It is the gate to a world I have seen in my visions. Besides... I can't be afraid of these stupidthings forever. i can go anywhere to do what needsto be done with a laptop in my... um... lap.
why does that not sound like I intended?
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
okay... i guess I can't stop thinking about it and will have to clear my head so I can focus at work
I realized last night why my brother thinks he needs me. And I also realized how I am feeding that need. And I think it plays into that fear I have a people who glom onto me with sticky needy couldn't find their way out of an open paper bag fingers.
I am my brother's other wife.
okay, get out of the gutter. THAT isn't what I meant.
I was dad's other wife when I was a kid. My mom suffered something stronger than post partum depression after my brother was born. Dad and I raised him. I taught him to walk and his alphabet, just like I taught my sister. I kept him from eating soap. I helped dad do all the big sisiter things that big sisters do. And then mom started to not want to leave the house. For six years I went to every family reunion, wedding anniversary and funeral (out numbered everything else) as a family representative because mom wouldn't go and dad didn't want to be embarrassed by going alone. We gave the excuse that one of my sibs was sick. And I sat at the grown up tables.
I think that messed me up for school because I couldn't relate to kids my own age. I expected a bit more. Enter repression and the fun I am having at work now. Topics for later. But the point is... everyone has always expected me to be the one to drop my life when there is an issue. I don't mind doing it... stepping in. But I do mind having to do it to the exclusion of all else... including my goals and fulfilling my dreams. Of which my own stamp business is one. But I have even had to lie about that to keep him from tamopering with this inheritence like he did the last.
With his wife going camping with her mom this week, he is looking to have another body around the hous. He can't be alone. I don't know how I never saw it before. Maybe sleep deprivation has it's upside. Not!!! he doesn't want me to trust my heart and meet someone because then he won't have a stand in. I know he'll want me to make goulash even though he is perfectly capable. He doesn't want me to have my own business because then I will have a legitimate no to his requests for help or attention that he can not override.
And I fed it. I so desperately have wanted him to like me since we were little that I have complied. Everytime. Without fail. Of course this week when I hang out I will get somethign in return. I'm not doing anything until he has photos posted on my profile. He will never like me and want to be my friend because he is a geek hater. I will never be anything more than a geek. And yet that is all one should aspire to be... there is only geek. i digress...
My point is, I have always been the psuedo mom. More so than in the typical family since mom checked out of our lives mentally and emotionally. I will never be close to my siblings like the Walton kids were close because they still think of me as a mom. Thus making my "failures" that much more frustrating for them. I am a bigger disappointment than I should be. And they have no clue.
They have no chance of having a clue. Neither of them are self reflective enough to get to this point with me. Experience has taught me that I can't teach them this. I have to make a break for it. Problem is... I am caught in a gravitational field with a busted nacelle. Damn! Where is LaForge?
I am my brother's other wife.
okay, get out of the gutter. THAT isn't what I meant.
I was dad's other wife when I was a kid. My mom suffered something stronger than post partum depression after my brother was born. Dad and I raised him. I taught him to walk and his alphabet, just like I taught my sister. I kept him from eating soap. I helped dad do all the big sisiter things that big sisters do. And then mom started to not want to leave the house. For six years I went to every family reunion, wedding anniversary and funeral (out numbered everything else) as a family representative because mom wouldn't go and dad didn't want to be embarrassed by going alone. We gave the excuse that one of my sibs was sick. And I sat at the grown up tables.
I think that messed me up for school because I couldn't relate to kids my own age. I expected a bit more. Enter repression and the fun I am having at work now. Topics for later. But the point is... everyone has always expected me to be the one to drop my life when there is an issue. I don't mind doing it... stepping in. But I do mind having to do it to the exclusion of all else... including my goals and fulfilling my dreams. Of which my own stamp business is one. But I have even had to lie about that to keep him from tamopering with this inheritence like he did the last.
With his wife going camping with her mom this week, he is looking to have another body around the hous. He can't be alone. I don't know how I never saw it before. Maybe sleep deprivation has it's upside. Not!!! he doesn't want me to trust my heart and meet someone because then he won't have a stand in. I know he'll want me to make goulash even though he is perfectly capable. He doesn't want me to have my own business because then I will have a legitimate no to his requests for help or attention that he can not override.
And I fed it. I so desperately have wanted him to like me since we were little that I have complied. Everytime. Without fail. Of course this week when I hang out I will get somethign in return. I'm not doing anything until he has photos posted on my profile. He will never like me and want to be my friend because he is a geek hater. I will never be anything more than a geek. And yet that is all one should aspire to be... there is only geek. i digress...
My point is, I have always been the psuedo mom. More so than in the typical family since mom checked out of our lives mentally and emotionally. I will never be close to my siblings like the Walton kids were close because they still think of me as a mom. Thus making my "failures" that much more frustrating for them. I am a bigger disappointment than I should be. And they have no clue.
They have no chance of having a clue. Neither of them are self reflective enough to get to this point with me. Experience has taught me that I can't teach them this. I have to make a break for it. Problem is... I am caught in a gravitational field with a busted nacelle. Damn! Where is LaForge?
Ambivalence sucks
just a little something Iwas thinking this morning when the alarm went off four hours after I fell asleep. Sometimes being an Aquarius isn't the awesome swim I paint it as. It almost makes me feel schitzo.
Well... not schitzo so much as like a gemini that can't decide which side of someone's shoulder to sit on. Okay which side of my sister's shoulder to sit on.
Yes I am tired. Yes today will be long. No... I've no crystal blue revelations to impart. I don't have the time before work to get into it.
Well... not schitzo so much as like a gemini that can't decide which side of someone's shoulder to sit on. Okay which side of my sister's shoulder to sit on.
Yes I am tired. Yes today will be long. No... I've no crystal blue revelations to impart. I don't have the time before work to get into it.
Monday, August 11, 2008
just to confuse the issues
I also have very good rant about affection and love at first site that I will be sharing. But my time today is too short to post it now.
Love is in the air. But it's Autumn People!
I would have thought Spring would be the season for everyone to be seeking out new partners after the disappointments of that Mid-Winter jealousy fest known as Valentines Day. After the depressing long dark days of winter it is natural that people would start looking forward to brighten their lives. I never think of Autumn as that season. autumn is crisp and bejewelled in a riot of colors that herald the coming holiday seasons. It is the last chance for freedom before we seclude ourselves indoors for more of what drove us nuts last year. So why is everyone so amorous?
For being horribly new to the online scene, I find I am succumbing to the lure of potential lifelong happiness, sharing winter drudgery with someone. It is, of course to soon to know how this will all pan out. And of course one doesn't rush headlong into something with blindfolds. Shoot, I get into trouble running with my eyes open. Remind me to tell you all how I sliced my ear off while setting the Thanksgiving table at the tender age of 7 going on "I can do this myself you big meanie." And then there was BJ. Chris set me up with his buddy because we all love star gate. I enjoyed talking to BJ very much since we had so much in common. But when we met there were not reciprocating sparks. That would not have been bad because he said that he would love to have a girl for a sci-fi buddy because they were hard to find in his smaller town than I live in. He never called again. so much for the words matching the action. Chris fortunately laughed it all off and kept talking to both of us. But I was left going WTF!
And now I have ACG to talk to. He's great fun. He's great mental gymnastics. and he is... best of all... kindred. Other people are not. BJ wasn't, but when you have an isolating job like newspaper delivery you don't turn down opportunities. So where am i with this?
Not sleeping. I was too amped last night to sleep. And in something of a quandary. I want us both to be careful. we are too much alike in regard to our trusting natures. And those types hurt each other without ever meaning to so easily that my gut reaction is to preserve this thing, what ever it is under glass. I don't want to lose what is here. I want there to be more than meets the eye. And I this to be as easy to accomplish as I have the faith that it can be.
I am about to go into heavy meditation mode. Verta hates it when i go into my head like that. But I have to really investigate what this means to me beyond the obvious infatuation with some one's mind and humor. I've been racing through my days to get to a computer which is sooooooooooooo not like me. And maybe I don't need to go into my head. Maybe I need to go into my heart.
Okay, duh, I need to go there. But I need to spend sometime there. I didn't think that the first person I talked to would turn out to be this awesome. No, the Brit doesn't count cause that wasn't really talking. And obviously no pics guy didn't talk to me. This is really talking. And with the added security for both of us that we are who we say we are... we have archived blogs to prove it! I just wasn't prepared for such a quick response. I know, my psychic friends would tell me to always be prepared for an answer even if that answer is "Hah! You're kidding right?" pastors galore have said the same thing. But as usual not prepared. And now I am in almost panic mode.
I don't know why. The only things to fear are the monsters under the bed/in the closet/behind the door. Since ACG can't be any of those I must be plain old being dumb. Or... it could be the fan-girl thing. We always are dumb around people we like/almost worship/are fans of. Maybe it's just the sweaty handshake mumbling disease. One of the things I am afraid of in meeting ACG is that I will have nothing dazzlingly witty and brilliantly funny to say in person like I say in my blog/e-mail/imagination. I am afraid that in person I will be a total dweeb.
ACG will say the same thing to me. "Be yourself." That's easy for some one to say who doesn't feel constantly compelled to be "on". But then... I assume that is a condition exclusive to myself. I only have to read comments to the last Wheaton post to know that's not true.
Mega huge OY!
For being horribly new to the online scene, I find I am succumbing to the lure of potential lifelong happiness, sharing winter drudgery with someone. It is, of course to soon to know how this will all pan out. And of course one doesn't rush headlong into something with blindfolds. Shoot, I get into trouble running with my eyes open. Remind me to tell you all how I sliced my ear off while setting the Thanksgiving table at the tender age of 7 going on "I can do this myself you big meanie." And then there was BJ. Chris set me up with his buddy because we all love star gate. I enjoyed talking to BJ very much since we had so much in common. But when we met there were not reciprocating sparks. That would not have been bad because he said that he would love to have a girl for a sci-fi buddy because they were hard to find in his smaller town than I live in. He never called again. so much for the words matching the action. Chris fortunately laughed it all off and kept talking to both of us. But I was left going WTF!
And now I have ACG to talk to. He's great fun. He's great mental gymnastics. and he is... best of all... kindred. Other people are not. BJ wasn't, but when you have an isolating job like newspaper delivery you don't turn down opportunities. So where am i with this?
Not sleeping. I was too amped last night to sleep. And in something of a quandary. I want us both to be careful. we are too much alike in regard to our trusting natures. And those types hurt each other without ever meaning to so easily that my gut reaction is to preserve this thing, what ever it is under glass. I don't want to lose what is here. I want there to be more than meets the eye. And I this to be as easy to accomplish as I have the faith that it can be.
I am about to go into heavy meditation mode. Verta hates it when i go into my head like that. But I have to really investigate what this means to me beyond the obvious infatuation with some one's mind and humor. I've been racing through my days to get to a computer which is sooooooooooooo not like me. And maybe I don't need to go into my head. Maybe I need to go into my heart.
Okay, duh, I need to go there. But I need to spend sometime there. I didn't think that the first person I talked to would turn out to be this awesome. No, the Brit doesn't count cause that wasn't really talking. And obviously no pics guy didn't talk to me. This is really talking. And with the added security for both of us that we are who we say we are... we have archived blogs to prove it! I just wasn't prepared for such a quick response. I know, my psychic friends would tell me to always be prepared for an answer even if that answer is "Hah! You're kidding right?" pastors galore have said the same thing. But as usual not prepared. And now I am in almost panic mode.
I don't know why. The only things to fear are the monsters under the bed/in the closet/behind the door. Since ACG can't be any of those I must be plain old being dumb. Or... it could be the fan-girl thing. We always are dumb around people we like/almost worship/are fans of. Maybe it's just the sweaty handshake mumbling disease. One of the things I am afraid of in meeting ACG is that I will have nothing dazzlingly witty and brilliantly funny to say in person like I say in my blog/e-mail/imagination. I am afraid that in person I will be a total dweeb.
ACG will say the same thing to me. "Be yourself." That's easy for some one to say who doesn't feel constantly compelled to be "on". But then... I assume that is a condition exclusive to myself. I only have to read comments to the last Wheaton post to know that's not true.
Mega huge OY!
Heroes II: RDA
MacGyver isn't the only character that Richard Dean Anderson brings his personality to. Jack O'neill and mac are very different on almost evry point dealing with the surface. Jack is an airman, a general in the Air Force... so he uses guns. Jack isn't likely to think too hard to get the team out of a mess, that's Sam's job. (Sam's the girl). What common traits Jack and Mac share are loyalty and the persistent need to do right by people. Honor above all else. jack took in an enemy with the prescience to change sides when it was apparent that the enemy leader was not as he appeared. Jack doesn't leave his people behind. And if someone smudges the name of the SGC (Star Gate Command) Jack is going to clean it up. Usually with the smudger's face. But hey, it's war. Jack is a Pit Bull while Mac is like a Newfie.
The point in all of this is that Jack/Mac are parts of the man that portrays them. There are things in RDA's filmography that I will never accept because I just didn't feel the stalker thing from him. I didn't feel that he got into the part that required him to be half drunk through most of his days. It didn't ring true. And most of those projects, to me, were the network trying to keep RDA on the air because he was a huge draw. He is too nice. I agree with him that he couldn't be the Jack O'neill that Kurt Russel was. Kurt Russel's O'Neill wouldn't have looked twice at Teal'c. Russel's O'Neill served the air force. RDA's O'Neill serves humanity.
That is the mark of a real hero. In his private life RDA is an avid supporter of humanity. In character and out, he is a hero.
The point in all of this is that Jack/Mac are parts of the man that portrays them. There are things in RDA's filmography that I will never accept because I just didn't feel the stalker thing from him. I didn't feel that he got into the part that required him to be half drunk through most of his days. It didn't ring true. And most of those projects, to me, were the network trying to keep RDA on the air because he was a huge draw. He is too nice. I agree with him that he couldn't be the Jack O'neill that Kurt Russel was. Kurt Russel's O'Neill wouldn't have looked twice at Teal'c. Russel's O'Neill served the air force. RDA's O'Neill serves humanity.
That is the mark of a real hero. In his private life RDA is an avid supporter of humanity. In character and out, he is a hero.
Heroes
Chava Bahle and Jeremy Williams host a monthly religious program on IPR. By religious I mean that they discuss issues common to the Jewish and Christian faith with little or no proselytizing. (I know evangelizing would have been easier on tongue as well as my brain trying to spell it right.) Chava (f.k.a. Staci Fine) and Jeremy were discussing movies since we just had the film Fest. It got me to thinking about the themes in the movies and TV shows that I watch. It can be no surprise that I love Richard Dean Anderson's work as I quote and reference him often enough. But I had to think about why.
The major themes in the favorites of the pastors that were interviewed for the show had themes of salvation and reflected the salvation story. I don't know if retelling the Christ story was the intent of writers/producers/directors or if it was read into the movies by default. But I did think about who my heroes are and why.
By definition a hero's life is sacrifice as well as strength. Superman sacrifices the travails and joys of a normal life so that he can keep saving the world. MacGyver sacrifices his personal care most of the time. When Jack Dalton is involved he ends up sacrificing some sanity but that's another story. Mac will do anything for anybody if his help will make a positive difference in someones life. He never cuts anyone down. In the episode Ugly Duckling, he tries to help a young computer hacker/wiz stay out of the state department lockup and stop a test clandestine weapons test. During the course of the show he finds out what she thinks of herself. It wasn't pretty- hence the show title. And it wasn't true. Mac had to do a lot of convincing. And when the show originally aired I saw myself in her shoes. He does everything he can to get her to see that the image she had was false. He reminded her that she was smart enough to figure out a program error in the weapon, even if she showed poor judgement in hacking into the file. He also wouldn't let her talk down to herself.
In the end, Mac won a friend for life. And that episode did change the way that I see myself. Everyone who works with him says that he is the best person in Hollywood because he brings so much of who he is to the character. Defender of the poor, weak, planet... mind over brute force, compassion over control. The best part about MacGyver is that you always know where you stand with him... side by side.
The major themes in the favorites of the pastors that were interviewed for the show had themes of salvation and reflected the salvation story. I don't know if retelling the Christ story was the intent of writers/producers/directors or if it was read into the movies by default. But I did think about who my heroes are and why.
By definition a hero's life is sacrifice as well as strength. Superman sacrifices the travails and joys of a normal life so that he can keep saving the world. MacGyver sacrifices his personal care most of the time. When Jack Dalton is involved he ends up sacrificing some sanity but that's another story. Mac will do anything for anybody if his help will make a positive difference in someones life. He never cuts anyone down. In the episode Ugly Duckling, he tries to help a young computer hacker/wiz stay out of the state department lockup and stop a test clandestine weapons test. During the course of the show he finds out what she thinks of herself. It wasn't pretty- hence the show title. And it wasn't true. Mac had to do a lot of convincing. And when the show originally aired I saw myself in her shoes. He does everything he can to get her to see that the image she had was false. He reminded her that she was smart enough to figure out a program error in the weapon, even if she showed poor judgement in hacking into the file. He also wouldn't let her talk down to herself.
In the end, Mac won a friend for life. And that episode did change the way that I see myself. Everyone who works with him says that he is the best person in Hollywood because he brings so much of who he is to the character. Defender of the poor, weak, planet... mind over brute force, compassion over control. The best part about MacGyver is that you always know where you stand with him... side by side.
How old am I?
Too old for playing games with my mind and body. Too old to keep playing silly reindeer games with my head. What does that mean? Just that I keep letting myself into emotional attachments that I am uncertain that I can afford to maintain.
Ten years ago three people walked out of my life because I kept a secret that each had swarn me to. When they busted each other I got the shaft. Now, with a 20 year reunion looming ahead of us, one of them is being friendly again. Will I ever learn? I'll let you know. This blog won't post until August 11th. I'll have plenty of time to figure out what horrific prank will be played on my emotions then.
Ten years ago three people walked out of my life because I kept a secret that each had swarn me to. When they busted each other I got the shaft. Now, with a 20 year reunion looming ahead of us, one of them is being friendly again. Will I ever learn? I'll let you know. This blog won't post until August 11th. I'll have plenty of time to figure out what horrific prank will be played on my emotions then.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Lucidity
I have a confession. I do write some blogs longhand before transcribing to the blog. Maybe you all can tell which are which. I don't know. Sometimes I can't tell, but that may just be me. Typos may be a clue. I don't have the drafting gizmo that Wheaton has that lets him really compose and not just blog. No offense intended but isn't it true that sometime we get on this thing and ramble like we are thinking out loud? ooooh more english teachers turned.
Today has been one of those perfect (for me) August days that are crisp, cloudy with some sunshine and full of the promise of Autumn splendor. I am a color junkie. I always have been, from the time when gramma would give me that new box of crayons to working in a stamp store and being the first to open a new book of colorbox pigment palettes. Autumn is a feast of color. It is fire and light and I think that the Holy Spirit dances around us most noticably in the fall. All the warm hues make the blue of the Big lake so deeper a blue.........
Sorry. I got lost for a minute. or five.
i am having trouble wanting to write the long hand version of a blog I intended. I have a million other topics in my head and now that i wrote long hand i don't seem to feel the same fire for the thoughts despite the fact that I got a great Sting reference in. Commenter ahead of me beat me to it. I don't want to copy my fans.
Plus I only have 15 minutes before the public computer logs me off.
Rats.
Today has been one of those perfect (for me) August days that are crisp, cloudy with some sunshine and full of the promise of Autumn splendor. I am a color junkie. I always have been, from the time when gramma would give me that new box of crayons to working in a stamp store and being the first to open a new book of colorbox pigment palettes. Autumn is a feast of color. It is fire and light and I think that the Holy Spirit dances around us most noticably in the fall. All the warm hues make the blue of the Big lake so deeper a blue.........
Sorry. I got lost for a minute. or five.
i am having trouble wanting to write the long hand version of a blog I intended. I have a million other topics in my head and now that i wrote long hand i don't seem to feel the same fire for the thoughts despite the fact that I got a great Sting reference in. Commenter ahead of me beat me to it. I don't want to copy my fans.
Plus I only have 15 minutes before the public computer logs me off.
Rats.
Becareful where you click
I love to hate technology. Click on the wrong thing and you can really mess osmething up. Although it isn't as bad a losing all your work when the save fails because Bill Gates farted.
All better now.
All better now.
The upside of poverty.
I've been talking to a guy at work. He is very frustrated by the economy and the state of MI's utter disregard for its people. I share his frustration. he hates being poor. All of us poor people working our butts off do. But he has this so ingrained in him that it is in his marrow now. We were talking about this and I realized that it is an issue that ACG and I have briefly touched. So I will expound.
If you have no things then you have no thing for someone to take. I am currently a target in my family. I chose to work smart and not hard because I see the value in balance. My sister and I ahve been Martha and Mary. One sits at the Master's feet while he talks and the other is in the kitchen doing dishes before dinner dries on the plates. Dishes will keep (oooh, who am I?). Because I feel dishes are less important than my present and my eternal soul i am lazy. My brother has somekind of complex. Napoleon, Hitler, Nero... I don't know. I think I could safely label him a Ferengi and make it stick. But, I have too many things for his liking. he has a house with nothing much in it and I have things that make a house a home for guests to visit. it offends him. And he has tried, on more than one occassion, to get me to relinquish my possessions. He is also offended that I chose not to own a home. All of my life he has taken from my sister and me. I woudl be punished for telling on him and he would not have to repay the theft. And so we are adults in the same situation.
And my relationships outside of the family work the dame way. Matt was offended that I was about to break into a business selling my artwork and sabotaged me. Mike didn't like that I put my daycare kids first and he sabotaged my business. val didn't understand how I as a mosue could have one the cutest (subjective opinion) guy in our class like me and not her vivacious self and so the Lie of Which we do not speak. And thus my philosophy... if you have nothing then no one can take anything from you.
Yes, in practice it is the minefield that No Pets No Kids No Man No Mess is. But the one thing that poverty allows you is the free space in your grey matter to concieve of something different and better for yourself. My DVD player is on its last legs. Knowing it has to make it through the winter I am not using itthis summer. Karen and I have things we weant to do while the weather is nice. Verta invited us all back to the lake and, like Liz said, we can live a dream everyone pays through the nose to have on the Eastern Seaboard. This is beautiful area. I can't appreciate it if I am distracted by a bunch of things. We can't rally have meaningful comversations if we are wrapped up in our gadgets and gizmos and working ungodly hours to have a house that impresses and not invites. The best moments in my life are not the ones illuminated by the TV's glow. They are illuminated by my friends' wit and conviviality.
The upside of poverty is being forced into living consciously. No distractions. No meandering. I still have dreams and goals and I get more creative all the time as to how I will accomplish them. When I relearn this lesson the comfort of fiscal security will come.
If you have no things then you have no thing for someone to take. I am currently a target in my family. I chose to work smart and not hard because I see the value in balance. My sister and I ahve been Martha and Mary. One sits at the Master's feet while he talks and the other is in the kitchen doing dishes before dinner dries on the plates. Dishes will keep (oooh, who am I?). Because I feel dishes are less important than my present and my eternal soul i am lazy. My brother has somekind of complex. Napoleon, Hitler, Nero... I don't know. I think I could safely label him a Ferengi and make it stick. But, I have too many things for his liking. he has a house with nothing much in it and I have things that make a house a home for guests to visit. it offends him. And he has tried, on more than one occassion, to get me to relinquish my possessions. He is also offended that I chose not to own a home. All of my life he has taken from my sister and me. I woudl be punished for telling on him and he would not have to repay the theft. And so we are adults in the same situation.
And my relationships outside of the family work the dame way. Matt was offended that I was about to break into a business selling my artwork and sabotaged me. Mike didn't like that I put my daycare kids first and he sabotaged my business. val didn't understand how I as a mosue could have one the cutest (subjective opinion) guy in our class like me and not her vivacious self and so the Lie of Which we do not speak. And thus my philosophy... if you have nothing then no one can take anything from you.
Yes, in practice it is the minefield that No Pets No Kids No Man No Mess is. But the one thing that poverty allows you is the free space in your grey matter to concieve of something different and better for yourself. My DVD player is on its last legs. Knowing it has to make it through the winter I am not using itthis summer. Karen and I have things we weant to do while the weather is nice. Verta invited us all back to the lake and, like Liz said, we can live a dream everyone pays through the nose to have on the Eastern Seaboard. This is beautiful area. I can't appreciate it if I am distracted by a bunch of things. We can't rally have meaningful comversations if we are wrapped up in our gadgets and gizmos and working ungodly hours to have a house that impresses and not invites. The best moments in my life are not the ones illuminated by the TV's glow. They are illuminated by my friends' wit and conviviality.
The upside of poverty is being forced into living consciously. No distractions. No meandering. I still have dreams and goals and I get more creative all the time as to how I will accomplish them. When I relearn this lesson the comfort of fiscal security will come.
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