So I am thinking that this Summer may be a little thin on posts. I keep telling myself that I want to be better at being consistent with my writing. And so far, at the pace I am going this year will have more posts than last. But what is the point of having more posts if the posts don't have great content? Writing for writing's sake might be the thing that gives me writers block. I don't know what I want to write about and GEB is taking a lot of brain power to understand. I can only wade through a chapter every couple of weeks. Besides it Summer. My coworkers, those who remain on the friend list, want to do more together than we did last Summer. The Water is calling me stronger than it has in a long time. And then there is Matti... lots of reason to not write.
Or are they excuses?
To write or not to write... that is the question. Well, what to write is the real question. Maybe since I am so into the German thing I should focus on that. It is sufficiently geeky. But is it interesting enough to be a recurring theme? I could write about the interesting things around my little part of Michigan. Of course that may not be too interesting to anyone not planning on being here for Cherry or Film festival. And honestly the only parts that interest me are the creepy parts like the Dogman sitings or the murder in the church in Isadore. Both topics have been done to death and I have nothing beyond what is already available to add to the discussion. That is unless I didn't tell you guys about the stupid thing I did back in 2007.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Pac Man Fever. Catch It!
Pac Man celebrated its 3oth anniversary yesterday with a free play at Google, made from the Google logo on the home page. What fun!!!! I finally broke the 4th level with 40 thousand points. WooooooooHoooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And as I played, I thought back to the first days of play. I could almost smell the part of the school where the religious education center was. Good times. Those were the days where everything started to change for me.
Have I mentioned that I went to a parochial school? Yeah, I did tell you I am Jewish. Funny funny world. Anyway, in Middle School we had more programs open to us. We started to have elective classes added to the curriculum so I guess it stands to reason that a bunch of some ones decided that we were old enough to start developing clubs and groups. The religious ed center sponsored groups after school. Sometime during 7th grade the center underwent a change in management. Mr. Hannenberg took over and opened the room to students during lunch periods. It was mostly the geeks who took advantage of the offer.
It had a piano to accompany hymns for the after school activities. Mr. Hannenberg lobbied to add a video game console. Hello Atari! It was your basis set up, with only about 5 games. I think that there had been talk of a pool table. But, as best as I can remember, the only other thing in the room was a Foosball table. I don't know it that is compromise or consented defeat. Anyway, I thought that it would have been a great place to hide. That is until the first day I went to check it out. The room was full of boys. There weren't any girls and I did not think it was the most emotionally safe place to be. Even with Mr. Hannenberg supervising, I still felt that my arch nemesis presented a physical threat. So I tried to blend into the brick walls outside. That didn't work.
Near the end of 8th grade there was an incident in which I found out how much I could not trust girls and was pleasantly surprised to find that I was wrong to classify everyone in my class as a threat. I was pulled out of a dangerous situation, backed against a wall and lectured about putting myself in harm's way. My lecturer then instructed me to join him and his friends in the Religious Ed center. He promised me that if daggers were stared into my back he an his friends would stare them right back. I told him no. He only told me once more that I was going to go and that was the end of it.
The next day I had tried to hide in the library which was in the same part of the building. That turned out to be a bad idea. The posse that had ambushed me the day before was waiting for me outside of the library. So I turned on my heel and went into the religious ed center. My Hannenberg was really nice about me being the only girl in the room. John, my guardian angel and lecturer from the day before, slung an arm around my shoulder, brought me over to the game console and told the guys I was going to be with them at lunch from now on. The guys made room for me. Jeff let me have the controller and my Pacman died in 60 seconds. We all laughed. It was the first time I didn't feel like I had been laughed at but with. Everything was cordial and laid back. Wayne gave me his next turn and the guys spent the rest of that first lunch trying to explain the game and some of the subtleties of hand eye coordination. I have great dexterity when I'm doing the designing. But I have a hard time with video games. I don't know why but playing video games with the guys made the rest of 8th grade so much easier.
That game console was a bridge. I wasn't very good at it. And I didn't improve quickly at all. But it was something, like Matchbox cars in 1st grade, that connected me to classmates. They were all pretty patient with me. After a few weeks the guys would call "Winner!" to get in line to play next. Winner kept the good controller. Which, correct me if I am wrong seems to always be the right hand controller. The left hand one seems to be slow to respond and gives the other player a distinct advantage. Of course that may just have been my perception. But successive consoles have not changed my opinion on the built in handicap theory. At any rate, while the opponents were engaged in two player battle the rest of us would have a conversation in between shouts of encouragement. After a while I started calling "Looser!"
If I wanted any chance at lasting in two player game play then I couldn't play the winner. And everyone wanted to play the winner. So the best players got more game time. Like good friends do, the guys let me get away with that. And I would be able to last a little while longer against the weaker player. It was the only way the other poorer players could play too. It was fun. And relaxing. And we built good friendships over that console. The boy who was so merciless in tormenting me for the better part of 7 years left me alone after a week with them in the religious ed center. So in the end the best part of playing Pacman was being able to be comfortable in my own skin as I unabashedly sucked gizzards.
Pacman was the gateway to other games. Gauntlet at the pizza place before youth group helped pass the couple of hours between school and Bible study; basic Mario while babysitting that lead to new heights of epic sucking; and the range of Nintendo we played on Fridays. But it was also the gateway to other friendships. With the kinds of interests I had as a young child I had a hard time finding the commonality to connect with my classmates. Year after year of being left out because I couldn't feign interest in Barbie dolls and disco boy bands, I was despairing of ever fitting in. But Pacman was fun and those conversations between games revealed other similar interests. And that is all that it took to open up the world to me.
Happy Anniversary PacMan. And thanks for reminding me that for the better part of my life things have not sucked... just my hand eye coordination.
Have I mentioned that I went to a parochial school? Yeah, I did tell you I am Jewish. Funny funny world. Anyway, in Middle School we had more programs open to us. We started to have elective classes added to the curriculum so I guess it stands to reason that a bunch of some ones decided that we were old enough to start developing clubs and groups. The religious ed center sponsored groups after school. Sometime during 7th grade the center underwent a change in management. Mr. Hannenberg took over and opened the room to students during lunch periods. It was mostly the geeks who took advantage of the offer.
It had a piano to accompany hymns for the after school activities. Mr. Hannenberg lobbied to add a video game console. Hello Atari! It was your basis set up, with only about 5 games. I think that there had been talk of a pool table. But, as best as I can remember, the only other thing in the room was a Foosball table. I don't know it that is compromise or consented defeat. Anyway, I thought that it would have been a great place to hide. That is until the first day I went to check it out. The room was full of boys. There weren't any girls and I did not think it was the most emotionally safe place to be. Even with Mr. Hannenberg supervising, I still felt that my arch nemesis presented a physical threat. So I tried to blend into the brick walls outside. That didn't work.
Near the end of 8th grade there was an incident in which I found out how much I could not trust girls and was pleasantly surprised to find that I was wrong to classify everyone in my class as a threat. I was pulled out of a dangerous situation, backed against a wall and lectured about putting myself in harm's way. My lecturer then instructed me to join him and his friends in the Religious Ed center. He promised me that if daggers were stared into my back he an his friends would stare them right back. I told him no. He only told me once more that I was going to go and that was the end of it.
The next day I had tried to hide in the library which was in the same part of the building. That turned out to be a bad idea. The posse that had ambushed me the day before was waiting for me outside of the library. So I turned on my heel and went into the religious ed center. My Hannenberg was really nice about me being the only girl in the room. John, my guardian angel and lecturer from the day before, slung an arm around my shoulder, brought me over to the game console and told the guys I was going to be with them at lunch from now on. The guys made room for me. Jeff let me have the controller and my Pacman died in 60 seconds. We all laughed. It was the first time I didn't feel like I had been laughed at but with. Everything was cordial and laid back. Wayne gave me his next turn and the guys spent the rest of that first lunch trying to explain the game and some of the subtleties of hand eye coordination. I have great dexterity when I'm doing the designing. But I have a hard time with video games. I don't know why but playing video games with the guys made the rest of 8th grade so much easier.
That game console was a bridge. I wasn't very good at it. And I didn't improve quickly at all. But it was something, like Matchbox cars in 1st grade, that connected me to classmates. They were all pretty patient with me. After a few weeks the guys would call "Winner!" to get in line to play next. Winner kept the good controller. Which, correct me if I am wrong seems to always be the right hand controller. The left hand one seems to be slow to respond and gives the other player a distinct advantage. Of course that may just have been my perception. But successive consoles have not changed my opinion on the built in handicap theory. At any rate, while the opponents were engaged in two player battle the rest of us would have a conversation in between shouts of encouragement. After a while I started calling "Looser!"
If I wanted any chance at lasting in two player game play then I couldn't play the winner. And everyone wanted to play the winner. So the best players got more game time. Like good friends do, the guys let me get away with that. And I would be able to last a little while longer against the weaker player. It was the only way the other poorer players could play too. It was fun. And relaxing. And we built good friendships over that console. The boy who was so merciless in tormenting me for the better part of 7 years left me alone after a week with them in the religious ed center. So in the end the best part of playing Pacman was being able to be comfortable in my own skin as I unabashedly sucked gizzards.
Pacman was the gateway to other games. Gauntlet at the pizza place before youth group helped pass the couple of hours between school and Bible study; basic Mario while babysitting that lead to new heights of epic sucking; and the range of Nintendo we played on Fridays. But it was also the gateway to other friendships. With the kinds of interests I had as a young child I had a hard time finding the commonality to connect with my classmates. Year after year of being left out because I couldn't feign interest in Barbie dolls and disco boy bands, I was despairing of ever fitting in. But Pacman was fun and those conversations between games revealed other similar interests. And that is all that it took to open up the world to me.
Happy Anniversary PacMan. And thanks for reminding me that for the better part of my life things have not sucked... just my hand eye coordination.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
in which I am reminded I don't have a penis
There are people where I work who make my job easy, people who make my job difficult and an handful that don't care if I am there or not. One of the people who makes my job difficult is our bean counter.. you know, because that's what they do. No one likes bean counters other than the people who see the profits from them doing an efficient job. I get that. It's a universal thing and as old as at least the New Testament. But the latest thing just makes no sense.
We have a partnership with a corporate entity who said we needed to have someone who's job was to keep the publicly viewed and used areas clean. That is all they do during their shift. Bean counter decided that it was unnecessary. While I don't know that exact words that ran through his head when he was struck from behind with this epiphany, I imagine it went something like this: "Sherry doesn't have enough to do if she has time to be behind the bar making coffee for guests and popping off about things that she has noticed."
I have a history with this guy. Every time I need something ordered for my department he makes the maintenance guy do an inventory to verify the need. It seems as though every time I open up my mouth about something that he decides someone with a penis needs to make sure I know what I am talking about. It happens so regularly that the last time Maintenance went to count linens he finally asked "Why do I have to do this?"
"Because I don't have a penis."
"You're crazy."
"Do you have a better explanation?"
He walked away. I know he didn't believe me. So now we've condensed two jobs into one. We in laundry now have to spend part of the day cleaning public areas. It wouldn't have been a huge problem except that he reduced the number of hours we can work to get all of this done. During the week it is slow enough that this crazy idea is passable. On weekends we have problems. I can't get into the pool area to clean it before it is full of people and it is never not full of people. The other problem is that the sales department books events for 8 am, wants the public areas clean before the even starts and the first person in comes in at 8am. I know what you're thinking. It was the same thing I was thinking, "How much for just the time dilation device?"
So I said to the GM, maybe someone should come in at least an hour before events start. And maybe come in early on weekends. My super suggested the same thing. "We'll give that some thought." Really? How would you like to be the first guest on the scene, hit the bathroom and see that some ignoramus already bombed the hell out of the bathroom when the bar closed? So my super mentioned it in a meeting a week later. No reaction. Nothing. I mentioned it to the GM again. Nothing again. Then the maintenance guy said something about the early events. "Well, you could mention having someone come in early."
"What good would that do?"
"They might listen to you."
"Yeah? What makes you think so?"
"You have a penis."
So nothing happens. And nothing happens. Then this week the Sales manager, in the managers meeting, says to the GM, "You know, we should just go ahead and have someone come in early on the weekends. Especially before these early event." The ideas was seconded by her assist. The GM says to my super, Yeah we soooo should do that. "Do you think Sherry will come in early this weekend?"
Um what? Didn't I say that I would, could and SHOULD no less than 5 weeks ago???? I need hours since I can't live on 27.5 hours. But that was never the point. The point was that our business was starting to look like crap and we were not dealing the customers a good hand. I would have come in an hour early and gone home an hour early if the hours were too big a deal to them. But it looks like that isn't an issue. The issue is that I have neither penis nor status to ensure that my suggestions are heard. Oh wait! I lied. If I make more work for myself to do then I can be heard. Like not meaning to volunteer myself to clean carpets this weekend because I am tired of everyone telling me how we are falling short of our goals. Oh yea! I get to run the carpet cleaner.
Mr. Spock, odds that I can find someone with a penis to do that for me?
We have a partnership with a corporate entity who said we needed to have someone who's job was to keep the publicly viewed and used areas clean. That is all they do during their shift. Bean counter decided that it was unnecessary. While I don't know that exact words that ran through his head when he was struck from behind with this epiphany, I imagine it went something like this: "Sherry doesn't have enough to do if she has time to be behind the bar making coffee for guests and popping off about things that she has noticed."
I have a history with this guy. Every time I need something ordered for my department he makes the maintenance guy do an inventory to verify the need. It seems as though every time I open up my mouth about something that he decides someone with a penis needs to make sure I know what I am talking about. It happens so regularly that the last time Maintenance went to count linens he finally asked "Why do I have to do this?"
"Because I don't have a penis."
"You're crazy."
"Do you have a better explanation?"
He walked away. I know he didn't believe me. So now we've condensed two jobs into one. We in laundry now have to spend part of the day cleaning public areas. It wouldn't have been a huge problem except that he reduced the number of hours we can work to get all of this done. During the week it is slow enough that this crazy idea is passable. On weekends we have problems. I can't get into the pool area to clean it before it is full of people and it is never not full of people. The other problem is that the sales department books events for 8 am, wants the public areas clean before the even starts and the first person in comes in at 8am. I know what you're thinking. It was the same thing I was thinking, "How much for just the time dilation device?"
So I said to the GM, maybe someone should come in at least an hour before events start. And maybe come in early on weekends. My super suggested the same thing. "We'll give that some thought." Really? How would you like to be the first guest on the scene, hit the bathroom and see that some ignoramus already bombed the hell out of the bathroom when the bar closed? So my super mentioned it in a meeting a week later. No reaction. Nothing. I mentioned it to the GM again. Nothing again. Then the maintenance guy said something about the early events. "Well, you could mention having someone come in early."
"What good would that do?"
"They might listen to you."
"Yeah? What makes you think so?"
"You have a penis."
So nothing happens. And nothing happens. Then this week the Sales manager, in the managers meeting, says to the GM, "You know, we should just go ahead and have someone come in early on the weekends. Especially before these early event." The ideas was seconded by her assist. The GM says to my super, Yeah we soooo should do that. "Do you think Sherry will come in early this weekend?"
Um what? Didn't I say that I would, could and SHOULD no less than 5 weeks ago???? I need hours since I can't live on 27.5 hours. But that was never the point. The point was that our business was starting to look like crap and we were not dealing the customers a good hand. I would have come in an hour early and gone home an hour early if the hours were too big a deal to them. But it looks like that isn't an issue. The issue is that I have neither penis nor status to ensure that my suggestions are heard. Oh wait! I lied. If I make more work for myself to do then I can be heard. Like not meaning to volunteer myself to clean carpets this weekend because I am tired of everyone telling me how we are falling short of our goals. Oh yea! I get to run the carpet cleaner.
Mr. Spock, odds that I can find someone with a penis to do that for me?
Most of my days are taken up with learning some new music. I've mentioned Matthias Reim in a past post. The more I listen to the work, the more I like. The only other artist who has been susccessful in capturing my sustainable and appreciative attention is Sting. They are similar thematically and each has the fortitude to say what goes on in the heart and the mind. Neither of them make any apology for the directness of their thoughts. Both of them have a range of styles. I haven't heard anything jazzy from Reim and Sting hasn't done anything "poppy" in years. Both of them have voices that resonate calmness within, which as I said before is great for getting the creative things out.
While I am learning this music, my german is improving a little bit and my pronunciation is really shaping up. But I am also finding it easier to be honest with myself. Huh? It doesn't hurt either of them to be honest. That kind of honesty gives a person the freedom to live fully. When we hide some of the things that we think will diminish us in others eyes then we don't do anything about it. It makes us think crazy things, hurtful things and then we go under ground with those things. We don't do ourselves or anyone else any favors by hiding.
And it takes a lot for me to say that right now. I didn't hide things from my friends and I sounded nuts and yeah it did get held against me for a while. But if I hadn't talked about it then I would have had no objective opinion of the situation... only my personal crazy. And it turns out I'm not crazy just uneducated on the topic at hand. I want to hide. I want to run away and not face the mess that is in front of me. But that means leaving my real friends just to avoid false friends. Sure, I could call it a tactical retreat. But it isn't. Its just plain cowardice. Stay or go then?
To stay is to endure torture that I don't think that I can handle for a sustained period. To go is to runaway. But at least I wouldn't be lying to myself and saying that it is for any reason other than the fact the it hurts too much to look at someone who lies to me everyday. For some reason... knowing that I am running away and why I am running away makes it easier to accept. I simply have no tools for dealing with someone who lies for the purpose of hurting others. Lying to ones self under the auspices of either False Hope or False Bravado is a subject for another post. This is different. I know there is no defense. I can not control what others believe. And I can not prevent lies from being told. I can not control the colateral damage. And I haven't the skill to catch the lies as they are being told. It is a chess match of sorts. Much as I enjoy the game construction and design, I am not good at it. Never have been because I have never seen life as a war to be won the way that so many others have. This is beyond my meager skills. So I am chosing to run away. Pay is better. The skills I do have can be used better and I may be able one day to advance in this new field. I feel no guilt about running away. I know I am doing it and why.
Without these strong artistic examples, I don't know that I could be honest about it. I need examples in my life because even at 40 I run into situations that task the confidneces that I do have. Without men of courage, men who aren't afraid to tell you what crazy assed things are running through their brains/hearts/blood vessles then I am lost. There really is nothing like honesty. It makes for a clear conscience. It makes for strong relationships of any kind. And it makes for an easier life in the long run because you aren't constantly building shunts to get around the ways you've blocked yourself in and gummed up the works.
That said, I go back to my regularly scheduled date with some awesome German music and think about how I can apply that to a situation that has gone on for too long without resolution. And I wonder if I will find a resolution or if I will just find some beautifully described fiction vignettes like I did in high school and pretend that everything is ok when it is not.
While I am learning this music, my german is improving a little bit and my pronunciation is really shaping up. But I am also finding it easier to be honest with myself. Huh? It doesn't hurt either of them to be honest. That kind of honesty gives a person the freedom to live fully. When we hide some of the things that we think will diminish us in others eyes then we don't do anything about it. It makes us think crazy things, hurtful things and then we go under ground with those things. We don't do ourselves or anyone else any favors by hiding.
And it takes a lot for me to say that right now. I didn't hide things from my friends and I sounded nuts and yeah it did get held against me for a while. But if I hadn't talked about it then I would have had no objective opinion of the situation... only my personal crazy. And it turns out I'm not crazy just uneducated on the topic at hand. I want to hide. I want to run away and not face the mess that is in front of me. But that means leaving my real friends just to avoid false friends. Sure, I could call it a tactical retreat. But it isn't. Its just plain cowardice. Stay or go then?
To stay is to endure torture that I don't think that I can handle for a sustained period. To go is to runaway. But at least I wouldn't be lying to myself and saying that it is for any reason other than the fact the it hurts too much to look at someone who lies to me everyday. For some reason... knowing that I am running away and why I am running away makes it easier to accept. I simply have no tools for dealing with someone who lies for the purpose of hurting others. Lying to ones self under the auspices of either False Hope or False Bravado is a subject for another post. This is different. I know there is no defense. I can not control what others believe. And I can not prevent lies from being told. I can not control the colateral damage. And I haven't the skill to catch the lies as they are being told. It is a chess match of sorts. Much as I enjoy the game construction and design, I am not good at it. Never have been because I have never seen life as a war to be won the way that so many others have. This is beyond my meager skills. So I am chosing to run away. Pay is better. The skills I do have can be used better and I may be able one day to advance in this new field. I feel no guilt about running away. I know I am doing it and why.
Without these strong artistic examples, I don't know that I could be honest about it. I need examples in my life because even at 40 I run into situations that task the confidneces that I do have. Without men of courage, men who aren't afraid to tell you what crazy assed things are running through their brains/hearts/blood vessles then I am lost. There really is nothing like honesty. It makes for a clear conscience. It makes for strong relationships of any kind. And it makes for an easier life in the long run because you aren't constantly building shunts to get around the ways you've blocked yourself in and gummed up the works.
That said, I go back to my regularly scheduled date with some awesome German music and think about how I can apply that to a situation that has gone on for too long without resolution. And I wonder if I will find a resolution or if I will just find some beautifully described fiction vignettes like I did in high school and pretend that everything is ok when it is not.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
torturing the mathematically challenged geek
Comedy=Tragedy+Time
As I said at Wil's blog... just how much time is that?
And where is the line of demarcation between then and now that allows the funny to happen?
Grrr...
As I said at Wil's blog... just how much time is that?
And where is the line of demarcation between then and now that allows the funny to happen?
Grrr...
No fear
The last post was long. But it needed to be said. And huge thanks to Matthias Reim. Music unlocks a lot of the things that stay bottled up inside of me. He isn't afraid to say what he is thinking. Honesty is so important. It only takes one brave person to show the way. Having said that, and not having a history of bravery, I should say this. I am scared to death of the repercussions.
I think that it is an honor to be the muse for a creative work. Poets, authors, painters and musicians throughout the ages have written about the things that happen to them. In so doing they have been the encouragement to meet life's and love's challenges head on. Okay, in a handful of cases you get a guy who says chuck it all for death. But leave that to the Goths. For the majority of the human population there is strength in the poem and songs that we love. We can't be afraid of ourselves. Fear is the foothold for others to begin to control us.
No really, think about it. When you are afraid of something don't you look outside of yourself for security? Once you do that then you begin to turn over the responsibility for your happiness, safety an livelihood, even your mind to someone whom you perceive to be smarter or stronger than you. Hearts want what hearts want. There should be no shame in that. And if you find yourself thwarted by another who does not share your heart's hopes and desires there is no shame in that either. Like I said in the epilogue yesterday... that is what I am sorry is for.
Why are we so afraid all the time? So someone may not think that you are what they are looking for. So what. So someone thinks you have stupid idea for accomplishing a goal at work. So what? And if your family thinks that you have a stupid idea for gainful employment? So what? Are egos so precious that we would hold ourselves back to preserve their smallness? We do it all the time. We let our fears be bigger than our abilities and then we have nothing. Are you really so insignificant that you should allow other people and their lack of imagination determine your life?
Friends, I don't mean to accuse with out admitting that I do the same thing. I am as frustrated with myself and my timidity as I am with the state if the American union. I can't change the state of the union. But I can change the state of my own condition. What happened to the gusto born of inspiring authors in high school? Where is the determination inspired by Walden, Thoreau, Wharton and the self determining transcendentalists? Where is the passion that I shared with Sting and the New Wavers to change the world and make it better? What ever happened to the anger that made me get out and do something that made things better for me and the people in my life? Fear took over when I wasn't looking.
Somewhere on this blog I've shared a quote about fear. It's this misty intangible thing that should be easier to kill than a scaly, fire-breathing dragon and is just as real as one. Yet it has more authority over my life than I do. Why? Why should it be that way?
Part of why I write here is to encourage others who stop by. But I have to be honest. I'm also trying to kick myself in the pants... get out of this foggy place that I am and make some changes that will lead me to a better place. I could just as easily approach my friend with the sad eyes and say let's talk. So why don't I? I am afraid. I am afraid that I'd just be poking a sleeping bear with a sharp stick. But what's he gonna do? Yell at me? He already did that and I lived. Hit me? That isn't in his character. Never talk to me again? Well... he tried that and he can't help himself. So why don't I open a hailing frequency? What is there to be afraid of? I don't know. I don't want to hurt his feeling either. And I don't want to push him into something he isn't ready to do. I'm afraid that there is an arbitrary and completely indeterminate number of times I can mess up and I'm afraid that number is two. I am afraid that I will reach a point in which sorry doesn't fix things. If that is the case then my opinion of him would change for the worse and I am rather attached to the picture I have.
And just how egotistical is that?!!!Friends our egos are the problem with everything. We let them have control of our lives and they act out of self interest with no regard to performing the tasks they were created for. My solution is to surround myself with examples of people who speak their heart, mind, truth and have the humility to say they are sorry when they need to. I will surround myself with those who would encourage others to follow their dreams and leave fear behind. The top of that list is full of artists: Sting, Michelle Ward, Wil Wheaton and now Matthias Reim.
Go and do what you were meant to do. Don't let others stop you. Don't stop yourself.
I think that it is an honor to be the muse for a creative work. Poets, authors, painters and musicians throughout the ages have written about the things that happen to them. In so doing they have been the encouragement to meet life's and love's challenges head on. Okay, in a handful of cases you get a guy who says chuck it all for death. But leave that to the Goths. For the majority of the human population there is strength in the poem and songs that we love. We can't be afraid of ourselves. Fear is the foothold for others to begin to control us.
No really, think about it. When you are afraid of something don't you look outside of yourself for security? Once you do that then you begin to turn over the responsibility for your happiness, safety an livelihood, even your mind to someone whom you perceive to be smarter or stronger than you. Hearts want what hearts want. There should be no shame in that. And if you find yourself thwarted by another who does not share your heart's hopes and desires there is no shame in that either. Like I said in the epilogue yesterday... that is what I am sorry is for.
Why are we so afraid all the time? So someone may not think that you are what they are looking for. So what. So someone thinks you have stupid idea for accomplishing a goal at work. So what? And if your family thinks that you have a stupid idea for gainful employment? So what? Are egos so precious that we would hold ourselves back to preserve their smallness? We do it all the time. We let our fears be bigger than our abilities and then we have nothing. Are you really so insignificant that you should allow other people and their lack of imagination determine your life?
Friends, I don't mean to accuse with out admitting that I do the same thing. I am as frustrated with myself and my timidity as I am with the state if the American union. I can't change the state of the union. But I can change the state of my own condition. What happened to the gusto born of inspiring authors in high school? Where is the determination inspired by Walden, Thoreau, Wharton and the self determining transcendentalists? Where is the passion that I shared with Sting and the New Wavers to change the world and make it better? What ever happened to the anger that made me get out and do something that made things better for me and the people in my life? Fear took over when I wasn't looking.
Somewhere on this blog I've shared a quote about fear. It's this misty intangible thing that should be easier to kill than a scaly, fire-breathing dragon and is just as real as one. Yet it has more authority over my life than I do. Why? Why should it be that way?
Part of why I write here is to encourage others who stop by. But I have to be honest. I'm also trying to kick myself in the pants... get out of this foggy place that I am and make some changes that will lead me to a better place. I could just as easily approach my friend with the sad eyes and say let's talk. So why don't I? I am afraid. I am afraid that I'd just be poking a sleeping bear with a sharp stick. But what's he gonna do? Yell at me? He already did that and I lived. Hit me? That isn't in his character. Never talk to me again? Well... he tried that and he can't help himself. So why don't I open a hailing frequency? What is there to be afraid of? I don't know. I don't want to hurt his feeling either. And I don't want to push him into something he isn't ready to do. I'm afraid that there is an arbitrary and completely indeterminate number of times I can mess up and I'm afraid that number is two. I am afraid that I will reach a point in which sorry doesn't fix things. If that is the case then my opinion of him would change for the worse and I am rather attached to the picture I have.
And just how egotistical is that?!!!Friends our egos are the problem with everything. We let them have control of our lives and they act out of self interest with no regard to performing the tasks they were created for. My solution is to surround myself with examples of people who speak their heart, mind, truth and have the humility to say they are sorry when they need to. I will surround myself with those who would encourage others to follow their dreams and leave fear behind. The top of that list is full of artists: Sting, Michelle Ward, Wil Wheaton and now Matthias Reim.
Go and do what you were meant to do. Don't let others stop you. Don't stop yourself.
Monday, May 17, 2010
and now a poem, portal to apology
first draft May 17, revision 5 on May 18
Banter becomes flirtation.
Flirtation is a surprise.
Surprises mask forboding, warnings unheeded.
You skipped through the hall on old man's legs
While smiling at me through a young boy's eyes.
Your kindness eased my pain
Favors sought in return refused and refused again.
Your attention made me bold.
My boldness scared me, I've only ever gotten so far.
We were farther than I had been before...
You to the mountains
Me just a half step from the front door.
You're the handsome stallion, confident and strong
I'm the skittish mare, timid and struggling to belong.
My uncertainty did us in.
Why seperate me from the herd?
When did this dance begin?
I sought only answers, dazzled by possibilties that didn't exist before.
Who knows what you were lead to think.
We sensed in each other something kindred.
Was kindred not enough?
Or the hope to precious to take a risk at all?
We stood too close together, content just to play.
Your body curled around mine and I did not resist the subtle claim.
You take my hand in passing, linger near the door
You whisper in my ear, fingers in my hair.
I kissed you twice, once each cheek
Sensing something that wasn't here before.
How can I be certain? Meaning must be clear.
Skittish mare grows nervous but tries boldness over fear.
Too late she scents trouble; the stallion withdraws.
I volunteer no information, witholding confirmation.
You seek no answers while questions simmer as something begins to boil.
Assumptions made trump logic, breed discontent
We change in each others eyes, anger grows over the days.
Handcrafted apology, no clear understanding of the whys detonates anger.
Your anger sustained over days.
I replayed every scene seeking explanation.
Mistake made is mine no doubt.
But what? When? How?
Why did I try? Couldn't leave well enough alone.
Fear and anxiety replace my joy when we meet.
I can not look you in the eye, fighting the urge to bolt.
Stand firm. Stand strong. Stand still do not retreat.
Despair shrinks my courage. Freedom is gone.
Transported to a high tower
In a fortress I don't remember building
Yet I see my hand on every stone; we makers leave our marks.
I can not find the door let alone the lock's key.
The solitude I once sought now imposed.
I can not think my self out.
I can not wish my self away.
Every raw nerve is exposed.
Soaring tower buried in cloud banks dark and angry.
A storm howls at the door.
Even angry you reach out sensing something wrong.
But I can not hear you.
I do not see you.
You reach for me again.
If you want to be salvation, save us... then save only yourself.
I will not be rescued; my reasons are my own.
Miserable, I long to talk to you again as in old days
Our youth was too short.
I'd go to you but I am stone in stone.
Once we sought each others gaze
When we pass each other you seek air while I seek ground
With silence time passes in the flesh and bone world.
Emotion and spirit in the Spirit world silence bound.
Still in seclusion seeking comfort in cold stone
Where comfort can not be found.
You long to take back the angry words words that came out wrong.
You want forgiveness
Normal days with nothing to signify
If only Past would pass without sound.
I want forgiveness.
Normal days, in the time before Expectation
But how can it be when Memory won't be unwound?
We pretend that nothing matters
Brave words behind thin armor.
Weapons amassing behind iron curtain.
Normal is normal no more.
In an unguarded moment you reach for my open flank
Then frozen you stay your hands.
I pretend not to notice, expression blank.
You pretend I suceed.
You said I took your meaning all wrong.
Worst fears confirmed
I really know nothing at all, of this I am certain.
Once we each stole gazes at every chance.
Now we stare and wonder how safe to dare a glance.
Opponents on an open war field
Or Politicians behind closed doors?
A relationship that might have blossomed
Might or might not have been more.
Would the wrong word ignite oblivion
Or leave us silent, each on one side of a closed door?
Storm leaves as quick as it came.
We talk, joke, laugh, cooperate the same as before
Same but still different. Uneasy.
There can be no more misunderstandings.
Your overt intentions reinforced covertly.
We long for normal relations
Your good morning met with my smile.
Laughter and conversation when you stop by my table a while.
Scowling daggers sheathed til we meet a common foe
You observe the rest of the herd and
Your flirtations I will forgoe.
We still sense in each a kindredness
Cease fire becomes a truce
Will truce turn to treaty?
In that space and time of Peace
I hope we come to understand.
The past that others write upon our hearts
The fears that reside in the mind
Are all illusions easily exposed
When hope and fear balance, one in each hand.
Mishandled and mismanaged misunderstood each by the other.
Too late to say we're sorry?
Too late we see the mistakes we have made.
We talked among our peers
We sought assurance outside ourselves
Neither of us trusted Hope to Chance.
Too scared to repeat mistakes repeated inspite of niggling fears.
This tentative truce is not easy.
Wounds not fully healed.
And even to ourselves truths will not be revealed.
epilogue: for the public May 17th
Do poems have epilogues if they are less epic than Gilgamesh? This one does. This untitled little ditty is an abridged history of a recent pain. The ending can not be written because of the last line. How safe the ground? I see hope of things being normal. I see us forgetting ourselves and failing to heed the ground rules that have been laid down to insure that the truce holds. It's happened once or twice now. And I am doing my best to do what I was asked and not take anything more seriously than presented. But the ground is far from being solid. And I am still skittish. As a matter of fact, more than I have ever been.
There is conflicting evidence in my memory banks. And unfortunately with an eidetic memory, the problem isn't evidential but all in the interpretation. It should come as no surprise that I don't get the interpreting right. When it comes to my own reading I seldom get the tarot thing nailed. Again... awesome read for others, me not so much. I do not want to upset the apple cart. Things have been pretty awesome on a basic level. Communication is possible if only superficially. But the barrages from our arsenals has ceased. There had been a lot of collateral damage. I thought the smart thing was to keep my head down and do my work and, as the poem said, pretend not to see anything but the ground. D tells me that plan was not as successful as I thought. We hurt our friends unintentionally. Most likely I did more hurting than he did. But hey... I didn't listen to angry German music during my public seclusion. I listened to Sting's depressing Winter album. It is beautiful and I love that album almost more than the first one I ever heard. But it isn't for the faint of heart.
May 18th
This poem underwent a lot of revision last night. It gained several stanzas and lost some original lines. The last line most notably. But the epilogue still holds true. With all my heart I wish that it could be different. If nothing else to draw a line between us and the saboteurs and maybe at least talk about what happened. I hear things that he says:"I'm always wrong because I'm the man." The very least I'd like a chance to say I'm sorry for what I know I did that was stupid and maybe have a safe enough place to hear about what I don't know that I did. I'm skittish, timid and never sure that I belong anywhere. And I seek assurance from my girlfriends because the general consensus is that guys, on any level of relationship, don't like to have to be the ones to help bolster our confidence. And you aren't supposed to define yourself by a guy's opinion. So here I am... not as smart as I think I am and taking things too literally.
Banter becomes flirtation.
Flirtation is a surprise.
Surprises mask forboding, warnings unheeded.
You skipped through the hall on old man's legs
While smiling at me through a young boy's eyes.
Your kindness eased my pain
Favors sought in return refused and refused again.
Your attention made me bold.
My boldness scared me, I've only ever gotten so far.
We were farther than I had been before...
You to the mountains
Me just a half step from the front door.
You're the handsome stallion, confident and strong
I'm the skittish mare, timid and struggling to belong.
My uncertainty did us in.
Why seperate me from the herd?
When did this dance begin?
I sought only answers, dazzled by possibilties that didn't exist before.
Who knows what you were lead to think.
We sensed in each other something kindred.
Was kindred not enough?
Or the hope to precious to take a risk at all?
We stood too close together, content just to play.
Your body curled around mine and I did not resist the subtle claim.
You take my hand in passing, linger near the door
You whisper in my ear, fingers in my hair.
I kissed you twice, once each cheek
Sensing something that wasn't here before.
How can I be certain? Meaning must be clear.
Skittish mare grows nervous but tries boldness over fear.
Too late she scents trouble; the stallion withdraws.
I volunteer no information, witholding confirmation.
You seek no answers while questions simmer as something begins to boil.
Assumptions made trump logic, breed discontent
We change in each others eyes, anger grows over the days.
Handcrafted apology, no clear understanding of the whys detonates anger.
Your anger sustained over days.
I replayed every scene seeking explanation.
Mistake made is mine no doubt.
But what? When? How?
Why did I try? Couldn't leave well enough alone.
Fear and anxiety replace my joy when we meet.
I can not look you in the eye, fighting the urge to bolt.
Stand firm. Stand strong. Stand still do not retreat.
Despair shrinks my courage. Freedom is gone.
Transported to a high tower
In a fortress I don't remember building
Yet I see my hand on every stone; we makers leave our marks.
I can not find the door let alone the lock's key.
The solitude I once sought now imposed.
I can not think my self out.
I can not wish my self away.
Every raw nerve is exposed.
Soaring tower buried in cloud banks dark and angry.
A storm howls at the door.
Even angry you reach out sensing something wrong.
But I can not hear you.
I do not see you.
You reach for me again.
If you want to be salvation, save us... then save only yourself.
I will not be rescued; my reasons are my own.
Miserable, I long to talk to you again as in old days
Our youth was too short.
I'd go to you but I am stone in stone.
Once we sought each others gaze
When we pass each other you seek air while I seek ground
With silence time passes in the flesh and bone world.
Emotion and spirit in the Spirit world silence bound.
Still in seclusion seeking comfort in cold stone
Where comfort can not be found.
You long to take back the angry words words that came out wrong.
You want forgiveness
Normal days with nothing to signify
If only Past would pass without sound.
I want forgiveness.
Normal days, in the time before Expectation
But how can it be when Memory won't be unwound?
We pretend that nothing matters
Brave words behind thin armor.
Weapons amassing behind iron curtain.
Normal is normal no more.
In an unguarded moment you reach for my open flank
Then frozen you stay your hands.
I pretend not to notice, expression blank.
You pretend I suceed.
You said I took your meaning all wrong.
Worst fears confirmed
I really know nothing at all, of this I am certain.
Once we each stole gazes at every chance.
Now we stare and wonder how safe to dare a glance.
Opponents on an open war field
Or Politicians behind closed doors?
A relationship that might have blossomed
Might or might not have been more.
Would the wrong word ignite oblivion
Or leave us silent, each on one side of a closed door?
Storm leaves as quick as it came.
We talk, joke, laugh, cooperate the same as before
Same but still different. Uneasy.
There can be no more misunderstandings.
Your overt intentions reinforced covertly.
We long for normal relations
Your good morning met with my smile.
Laughter and conversation when you stop by my table a while.
Scowling daggers sheathed til we meet a common foe
You observe the rest of the herd and
Your flirtations I will forgoe.
We still sense in each a kindredness
Cease fire becomes a truce
Will truce turn to treaty?
In that space and time of Peace
I hope we come to understand.
The past that others write upon our hearts
The fears that reside in the mind
Are all illusions easily exposed
When hope and fear balance, one in each hand.
Mishandled and mismanaged misunderstood each by the other.
Too late to say we're sorry?
Too late we see the mistakes we have made.
We talked among our peers
We sought assurance outside ourselves
Neither of us trusted Hope to Chance.
Too scared to repeat mistakes repeated inspite of niggling fears.
This tentative truce is not easy.
Wounds not fully healed.
And even to ourselves truths will not be revealed.
epilogue: for the public May 17th
Do poems have epilogues if they are less epic than Gilgamesh? This one does. This untitled little ditty is an abridged history of a recent pain. The ending can not be written because of the last line. How safe the ground? I see hope of things being normal. I see us forgetting ourselves and failing to heed the ground rules that have been laid down to insure that the truce holds. It's happened once or twice now. And I am doing my best to do what I was asked and not take anything more seriously than presented. But the ground is far from being solid. And I am still skittish. As a matter of fact, more than I have ever been.
There is conflicting evidence in my memory banks. And unfortunately with an eidetic memory, the problem isn't evidential but all in the interpretation. It should come as no surprise that I don't get the interpreting right. When it comes to my own reading I seldom get the tarot thing nailed. Again... awesome read for others, me not so much. I do not want to upset the apple cart. Things have been pretty awesome on a basic level. Communication is possible if only superficially. But the barrages from our arsenals has ceased. There had been a lot of collateral damage. I thought the smart thing was to keep my head down and do my work and, as the poem said, pretend not to see anything but the ground. D tells me that plan was not as successful as I thought. We hurt our friends unintentionally. Most likely I did more hurting than he did. But hey... I didn't listen to angry German music during my public seclusion. I listened to Sting's depressing Winter album. It is beautiful and I love that album almost more than the first one I ever heard. But it isn't for the faint of heart.
May 18th
This poem underwent a lot of revision last night. It gained several stanzas and lost some original lines. The last line most notably. But the epilogue still holds true. With all my heart I wish that it could be different. If nothing else to draw a line between us and the saboteurs and maybe at least talk about what happened. I hear things that he says:"I'm always wrong because I'm the man." The very least I'd like a chance to say I'm sorry for what I know I did that was stupid and maybe have a safe enough place to hear about what I don't know that I did. I'm skittish, timid and never sure that I belong anywhere. And I seek assurance from my girlfriends because the general consensus is that guys, on any level of relationship, don't like to have to be the ones to help bolster our confidence. And you aren't supposed to define yourself by a guy's opinion. So here I am... not as smart as I think I am and taking things too literally.
for the subject May 17th:
I know someone is going to tell you this is here. And I know someone is going to try to make a big deal out of this and twist it around to suit their nefarious purposes. But understand this: poetry, mine especially, is not meant to accuse. It is meant to heal the heart of wounds it inflicts upon itself, others, and has inflicted upon it. This is how I see the events of our recent past. It was a series of miss steps. We didn't talk about any of this to each other to start things. And we've only a tacit understanding between us now. It is a fragile peace because we have not talked to each other to stabilize relations. But it is a peace that we both need. It is a peace that I will accept with glad heart. I put this here to help me find the boldness that I lacked before. If you find this on your own, or you are directed here I hope you find this to be helpful for continuing peaceful negotiations. I hope you will find this as an invitation without deadlines for acceptance. But most of all I hope you will see this and realize that the strength of my voice is in my written word. My voice utterly fails me when I must speak of things deeper than puns and quips.
In person I will do everything I can to avoid deep feelings when I do not know where the boundaries are. In person I feel like I am being cornered, blocked into a course of action or a train of thought. In person I feel like I am being accused without hope of building a defense. In my blog I define the limits. In my blog I have the time to build a case. In this blog there is a research able partial history at my defense. In my blog I can write to you, my audience knowing there is little chance of you actually reading this, and thus look like a fool. I accept appearing foolish here in the community I am building. But I avoid foolishness in person... well as best as I can.
I am now taking a deep breath, using these few nanoseconds to evaluate the wisdom in my next step and.... hitting publish post.
May 18th: I wrote a few more lines last night. And while I was writing I realized that I did not really tell you where any of this comes from. You may recognize some of the events. There are a couple of places that I am crediting you with deliberate subtlety but you honestly might not even have noticed. Shoot, you might not even be aware that you did some of the things that I noticed... that notorious short term memory loss of yours and all. [wink wink nudge nudge] You should know that I have caught you staring at me again. It is a cliche to say that the look in your eye is unmistakable. OH! and obviously wrong since I misinterpreted it, apparently, wrong last time. So let me say this:
You look like you want to say something that is weighing on your heart, mind, body and soul. You look like a man who is facing a judge and expecting a death sentence. Maybe you think it is better to leave things alone because we have this truce. But keep in mind the old diplomatic axiom that an absence of violence is not peace. We aren't staring daggers through each others backs. But we are still both weighing our words before we speak. Maybe you think that it's too late for sorry. Maybe you think that you don't deserve forgiveness. Or maybe you're afraid that if you smooth things over too much I will entertain a false hope. Maybe you are more concerned for my feelings than your own. Maybe you're afraid that I want a Rhett and Scarlett movie embrace. Rhett and Scarlett nearly killed each other but I understand why that would concern you. Or maybe you think you don't deserve to have unbroken relationships. I don't know. All I do know is that you look like the words you are keeping to your self are choking you.
I am not like other women. I don't blame you for any of this turmoil because as best as I can piece together it didn't start with you. Besides, mistakes happen. You aren't God (sorry to break it to you :p), a machine or the Pope. You aren't infallible... that is what sorry is for. You aren't always wrong because you are a guy. And I don't say that just to get you to talk to me. You should know that much by now. Other people with motives beyond my ability to appreciate interfered because of their own self esteem, desires what ever. In this one instance kindredness did not serve us at all because we made the same exact mistake: we sought confirmation from outside sources. One of us knew better. I still am making stupid mistakes trusting girlfriends with my hopes, knowing that gets me into trouble. But I really thought this was different. I thought that our "friends" had our backs. Turns out that's where they put the bulls eye. And that is all this was. I don't know what the long term benefit is to making the attempt to resolve he situation and find real peace except that that pained look in your eyes, the one that looks like regret and self loathing, will go away. And maybe if one woman is allowed to show you forgiveness and patience, compassion and grace, you will be able to do yourself a favor at some point in the future and be a "better picker". I am sorry that I didn't turn out to be a good enough choice. But Fortune favors the bold and timid mares are often overlooked. I don't like thinking that limits me to grazing in a paddock somewhere for the rest of my life and watching the other mares paired off. It feels too much like being the last one picked for teams in gym class. But I understand.
16 going on 17
Apparently I need someone older and wiser telling me what to do. I walked into work one day last week, still car-less, and got a lecture. I spent too much money to get my car fixed. "You need to ask around here before you do stuff like that." It would seem that the new maintenance guy also does car repairs. It would also seem I've learned nothing about popping off with rude comments.
Fortunately my ride showed up before I could make a commentary about the real benefits of asking my coworkers for anything. But I am ashamed to say I was ready to pick a fight. Firstly I have asked. I asked older and wiser to help with something and he blew it off. I have asked my girlfriends what to do about the guy I like and was sabotaged. I asked about rooming with people and we know how well that turned out. I asked my closest friend to spot me and have been run into the ground for it. None of this is older and wiser's fault. Well... except the thing he didn't do. I mention it only because he introduced me to a growth op that ties into an older conversation about my independent streak.
All I can really say is that there is nothing wrong with independence. I know that we all need a helping hand once in a while. But you can't just ask without thought to whom you ask and for what. At every turn I find that my initial reticence to open up is not the horrible thing that I thought it was. I've only managed to confirm the things that dad and grandpa taught me.
Be wary of people who would rush to help when you did not ask them. And when you ask and receive be aware that the cost of the repayment is going to be more than the help. I haven't found an even trade yet. From an early age I learned that you have to be careful. I've tried to avoid needing help. That's why I know most of the practical things that I know. I do have an independent streak. For a while I thought that was bad.
When I was in Christian fellowships they tried to teach me, in various ways, that my kind of independence was a slap in God's face. After all, how can he work miracles in my life when I don't ask for them or I have so much control over my life that there is little room for opportunity? When anyone starts in with the dating advice then my independence is an issue because guys need to feel needed. Yet I'm told that you can't act needy. Talk about confusing. First, if I don't need help on a daily basis then God can give His time and Spirit to someone who is in dire straits. Secondly, wouldn't it be nice to be WANTED and not needed?
I see a lot of women who need someone and take what is offered from God and Man alike but don't really want either one of them. That is not fair. And it just leaves a guy feeling used up and dried out. Why would I want to be like that? Why would God or a guy want someone who uses them and doesn't care? I'm not helpless. And I don't know everything. I am self sufficient enough to not be a pain in the ass. I don't have to have absolutely every little thing done for me. So why is that bad?
Maybe my independence doesn't leave openings or opportunities for conversation. Maybe there really is an ego issue that exists that I don't respect. I'd hate to think that. That would be an empathic disaster. Maybe there is a perception directed toward me that I am unaware of. Again an empathic disaster. To run rough shod over these kinds of things is to ignore the basics of what makes us who we are. It may well be that I have run over some one's feelings with unintentional insensitivity.
When it comes to asking guys for help I come by my independence honestly. My girl friends used to break things on purpose to get a guy they liked to pay attention to them. Then when they got his attention they ignored him. It was a game for them. They used the boy's need to be helpful or recognised for their skills against them. And any boy who didn't fall for that trick was treated with derision and contempt. So many of my guy friends would complain about it that I decided that I wouldn't be one of those girls who asked because they could. I would only ask if I had to. There are lots of other ways to get a guy to pay attention to you that don't seem so superficial. But I think that someone forgot to tell the guys that.
Fortunately my ride showed up before I could make a commentary about the real benefits of asking my coworkers for anything. But I am ashamed to say I was ready to pick a fight. Firstly I have asked. I asked older and wiser to help with something and he blew it off. I have asked my girlfriends what to do about the guy I like and was sabotaged. I asked about rooming with people and we know how well that turned out. I asked my closest friend to spot me and have been run into the ground for it. None of this is older and wiser's fault. Well... except the thing he didn't do. I mention it only because he introduced me to a growth op that ties into an older conversation about my independent streak.
All I can really say is that there is nothing wrong with independence. I know that we all need a helping hand once in a while. But you can't just ask without thought to whom you ask and for what. At every turn I find that my initial reticence to open up is not the horrible thing that I thought it was. I've only managed to confirm the things that dad and grandpa taught me.
Be wary of people who would rush to help when you did not ask them. And when you ask and receive be aware that the cost of the repayment is going to be more than the help. I haven't found an even trade yet. From an early age I learned that you have to be careful. I've tried to avoid needing help. That's why I know most of the practical things that I know. I do have an independent streak. For a while I thought that was bad.
When I was in Christian fellowships they tried to teach me, in various ways, that my kind of independence was a slap in God's face. After all, how can he work miracles in my life when I don't ask for them or I have so much control over my life that there is little room for opportunity? When anyone starts in with the dating advice then my independence is an issue because guys need to feel needed. Yet I'm told that you can't act needy. Talk about confusing. First, if I don't need help on a daily basis then God can give His time and Spirit to someone who is in dire straits. Secondly, wouldn't it be nice to be WANTED and not needed?
I see a lot of women who need someone and take what is offered from God and Man alike but don't really want either one of them. That is not fair. And it just leaves a guy feeling used up and dried out. Why would I want to be like that? Why would God or a guy want someone who uses them and doesn't care? I'm not helpless. And I don't know everything. I am self sufficient enough to not be a pain in the ass. I don't have to have absolutely every little thing done for me. So why is that bad?
Maybe my independence doesn't leave openings or opportunities for conversation. Maybe there really is an ego issue that exists that I don't respect. I'd hate to think that. That would be an empathic disaster. Maybe there is a perception directed toward me that I am unaware of. Again an empathic disaster. To run rough shod over these kinds of things is to ignore the basics of what makes us who we are. It may well be that I have run over some one's feelings with unintentional insensitivity.
When it comes to asking guys for help I come by my independence honestly. My girl friends used to break things on purpose to get a guy they liked to pay attention to them. Then when they got his attention they ignored him. It was a game for them. They used the boy's need to be helpful or recognised for their skills against them. And any boy who didn't fall for that trick was treated with derision and contempt. So many of my guy friends would complain about it that I decided that I wouldn't be one of those girls who asked because they could. I would only ask if I had to. There are lots of other ways to get a guy to pay attention to you that don't seem so superficial. But I think that someone forgot to tell the guys that.
hello
Well friends, we have another follower. Say hello to Mohammed al kurdi, joining us on the 15th. I'm looking forward to meeting more folks here and exploring their blogs. It just won't be today. Today the car is going back into the shop. I know... because the timing belt wasn't expensive enough. What can you do? It's just the way it is. Some things will never change.
I so don't want that song in my head interfering with the Reim that is winding its way into the neural net.
I so don't want that song in my head interfering with the Reim that is winding its way into the neural net.
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