There are gnats and fruit flies and actual flies in my cube.
They are always here.
I sit right by the door, so I'm sure that they come in from the outside and reside in the closest cubicle: mine.
There was a mass email sent out to the office.
"We know there is a fly problem. We're trying to take care of it."
But sometimes, I feel like it's me.
And I might not think that way if my hygiene were really up to snuff.
If I showered everyday...
If I washed my hair...
...my teeth...
...my pits...
...my junk...
...I probably wouldn't be as self-conscious about it as I am now.
Because now, right now, sitting here, softly scenting the acidity of my own crotch,
And watching a small fruit fly walk across my desk, away from me, as if it had just crawled off my balls and was high on the filth of my nethers...
Right now, with that fresh in my mind, I'm certain the flies are here because of me.
I'm Pigpen from The Peanuts cartoon.
I'm Jabba the Hut.
I'm the Baron from Dune.
I'm a freeze-frame of a blackhead being popped in the bathroom right before the splatter hits the mirror.
I'm gross.
And nature is rewarding me for my slovenly behaviors.
And I'm making the office a miserable place with my odors and plaque and the such and like.
Don't worry.
Even as I type that, I know it's not true.
But it feels true sometimes.
Shit.
Whatever.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Tickle
Do you ever get that tiny little tickle in your throat that tells you you're about to get sick?
It's a tiny, sliver of a tickle at the back of your throat, some where where your mouth and sinuses intersect with your neck. And you get it and think, "That's ok, I'll just suck on a mint and it'll be ok. Everything will be ok. I'm so totally not getting sick."
I'm so totally not getting sick.
Totally.
It's a tiny, sliver of a tickle at the back of your throat, some where where your mouth and sinuses intersect with your neck. And you get it and think, "That's ok, I'll just suck on a mint and it'll be ok. Everything will be ok. I'm so totally not getting sick."
I'm so totally not getting sick.
Totally.
Emancipation
They killed anyone in a suit.
They ransacked the mansions.
They blew up all sports cars, Hummers, SUVs.
Any obvious sign of financial advantage was like a beacon for their rage.
It had been rubbed in their faces so long they had become blind to it.
Until now.
And they released their justified aggression on all those who had dared tell them they were lesser because they didn't have money.
Many of the rich people were scared.
Despite the promise that anyone could have the wealth and prosperity they enjoyed, they had become targets.
The mobs of angry poor had decided to stop waiting for the day when they could share in The American Dream. When they would get a piece of the pie. They were done waiting. They were going to take their pie.
And the rich people didn't want to give any of it up.
But they had become fat and bloated.
They hadn't actually worked for anything they had.
They had no defenses.
Except their guns.
And many of them had guns.
It helped to maintain the illusion that they were safe.
But a gun runs out of bullets at some point.
And you just can't shoot everyone in the mob.
The mob had started in New York.
They wanted to be peaceful.
They simply wanted to work for a living wage.
They wanted to be able to take care of themselves through work and labor.
They wanted to erase the word "under employed", which created a stigma against somebody who was working to make ends meet but couldn't.
What had we become that it was possible to have a job, or two, or three even, and still not have enough money to survive?
They wanted to be treated with a modicum of respect.
They wanted to be released from the financial slavery of the few rich.
They wanted to be listened to.
"We are working! We are paying taxes! We are working! And we are being denied the benefits you are stealing from us!"
But the rich weren't listening.
Why should they?
The stupid poor people are griping again about how they don't have money.
They don't have health insurance.
They don't have health.
They don't have food.
Boo-hoo. Get a job.
Pull yourselves up by your bootstraps... and all the other cliches they had been raised on by people who had been handed their wealth from people who had their bootstraps pulled up by house slaves.
And the poor people got louder.
And the rich people got thicker windows that were more sound-proof.
Why should the rich people listen to the poor people?
What were they going to do?
Revolt?!
Not a chance!
We've kept them complacent with Full House and professional wrestling and American Idol.
We've given them cheap sofas so they can sit and watch and do nothing.
After all, that's what poor people are good at: doing nothing.
But the poor people were losing everything.
They were losing their homes, their apartments, their TVs, their sofas.
And now, they had nothing.
Which meant, finally, they had nothing to lose.
And they revolted.
When the New York police arrested 80 protesters, that strengthened the mob's resolve.
When the police arrested 800 protesters, that made them angry.
When the police shot and killed 2 protesters, that made them rageful.
It was time to be heard.
They ransacked the mansions.
They blew up all sports cars, Hummers, SUVs.
Any obvious sign of financial advantage was like a beacon for their rage.
It had been rubbed in their faces so long they had become blind to it.
Until now.
And they released their justified aggression on all those who had dared tell them they were lesser because they didn't have money.
Many of the rich people were scared.
Despite the promise that anyone could have the wealth and prosperity they enjoyed, they had become targets.
The mobs of angry poor had decided to stop waiting for the day when they could share in The American Dream. When they would get a piece of the pie. They were done waiting. They were going to take their pie.
And the rich people didn't want to give any of it up.
But they had become fat and bloated.
They hadn't actually worked for anything they had.
They had no defenses.
Except their guns.
And many of them had guns.
It helped to maintain the illusion that they were safe.
But a gun runs out of bullets at some point.
And you just can't shoot everyone in the mob.
The mob had started in New York.
They wanted to be peaceful.
They simply wanted to work for a living wage.
They wanted to be able to take care of themselves through work and labor.
They wanted to erase the word "under employed", which created a stigma against somebody who was working to make ends meet but couldn't.
What had we become that it was possible to have a job, or two, or three even, and still not have enough money to survive?
They wanted to be treated with a modicum of respect.
They wanted to be released from the financial slavery of the few rich.
They wanted to be listened to.
"We are working! We are paying taxes! We are working! And we are being denied the benefits you are stealing from us!"
But the rich weren't listening.
Why should they?
The stupid poor people are griping again about how they don't have money.
They don't have health insurance.
They don't have health.
They don't have food.
Boo-hoo. Get a job.
Pull yourselves up by your bootstraps... and all the other cliches they had been raised on by people who had been handed their wealth from people who had their bootstraps pulled up by house slaves.
And the poor people got louder.
And the rich people got thicker windows that were more sound-proof.
Why should the rich people listen to the poor people?
What were they going to do?
Revolt?!
Not a chance!
We've kept them complacent with Full House and professional wrestling and American Idol.
We've given them cheap sofas so they can sit and watch and do nothing.
After all, that's what poor people are good at: doing nothing.
But the poor people were losing everything.
They were losing their homes, their apartments, their TVs, their sofas.
And now, they had nothing.
Which meant, finally, they had nothing to lose.
And they revolted.
When the New York police arrested 80 protesters, that strengthened the mob's resolve.
When the police arrested 800 protesters, that made them angry.
When the police shot and killed 2 protesters, that made them rageful.
It was time to be heard.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Dumb Day
Yesterday was a weird day for me, as it was good and bad.
Do you ever have one of those times when you're not able to say the right thing? You think you're going to say something that helps, but the moment it comes out of your mouth, you wish you could take it back, cuz it doesn't help or make anyone feel good? I did that yesterday with my wife. I told her I didn't think she liked to make decisions, which may or may not be the case. But I could tell that it didn't make her feel good to hear that from me. She didn't pout or tell me that I had hurt her feelings or anything. But I could tell she didn't want to hear that from me. So I tried to make it better, by saying something stupid, like, "It's not a bad thing to not like to make decisions. Sometimes I don't like to make decisions and it's like, 'wow, that decision is really hard for me to make. I just wish somebody would make it for me!' It sucks." Of course, this didn't help, as it was completely stupid. But my wife was smarter than I was. She stayed quiet. And I squirmed.
We then went to get pizza, and she said, "I'm good with whatever you get. I don't like anchovies and I don't like green peppers, but other than that, get whatever you want." I went in with every intention of getting a 3-meat treat. But it wasn't on the menu. I saw the supreme, and I remembered that my wife had gotten the supreme a while ago and really liked that, so I got that one.
Later, when we got home, she proved to me that she was capable of making decisions. She picked the movie without asking if I wanted to see it, she took the last good beer, and she took the pizza from me and ate half of it before offering me the box. I was tickled pink about all of that! I was so glad to hear her telling me which movie we were going to watch, and I loved seeing her take that last good beer, as she hadn't had even one of the good beers out of 12, and we had already determined she was more hungry than I was so she should get the pizza before me. It was nice. But she still had that Something's Irritating air about her. Something was up, and when you're married you automatically think it's because of something you did. It can't be that you're tired or that life is getting to you. No. Your spouse is irritated because of something you did. At least, that's the way my head works. But she wasn't telling me I had done something, so I tried hard to trust that she would tell me if I had done something wrong. And she didn't tell me. And as we watched the movie that she picked, I could tell that it was shaking the irritation from her. It was a good movie, and she was enjoying it. And I was enjoying it. And she was enjoying that we were enjoying it together. And she snuggled me.
Later, as we were about to sleep, she asked if I was aware that the pizza I got had one of the items she had told me not to get. No, I told her, rather sheepishly, I didn't realize that. I told her that she had gotten a supreme in the past, so I thought it was safe. She told me that she had gotten a veggie. And in my head, I got a little pissed. Are you kidding me?! A supreme pizza has green peppers, but a VEGGIE doesn't?! Who does that?! But even as I was saying that in my head, it made perfect sense: the supreme has more stuff on it-- stuff like green peppers-- that's why they call it a "supreme". She had only given me two things to avoid, and I had managed to screw even that simple request up. "Do they do bad things to your tummy?" I asked, hoping that she just didn't like the flavor. "Yeah," she said. I felt even worse. "AND you don't like the taste?" I asked, hoping that at least she might like the taste. "Yeah, I don't like the taste."
I.
Was.
Stupid.
"I was able to pick most of them off," she said.
Stupid.
There was nothing I could do. I couldn't stop talking about the stupid lack of decision making skills, which she proved was incorrect later in the evening. I couldn't get the right pizza. And to make it even worse, she wasn't yelling at me. She wasn't blaming me for being an idiot. I just had to sit in my idiocy and look at her being as kind as possible. If she had yelled at me, it would've let me off the hook somehow. You know, like, ah ha! She's yelling, so I don't really have to listen to her, cuz she should know by now that I'm not trying to hurt her feelings with my words or by getting the wrong pizza. It was an honest mistake, but she's so reactionary to EVERYTHING! What a jerk!!
But she didn't do that. She never does that with me. And honestly, I don't think I normally wear my Idiot Hat as prominently as I did last night. But it sure would've been easy for her to lose it with me. I would've lost it with me. But she didn't. She spent a long time in the bathroom, but she didn't punish me with my own mistake more than I already was.
Nothing I could do last night. I couldn't seem to stop talking. I couldn't pick the right pizza.
But, on the brighter side, my wife stayed with me despite my Epic Failure. Except for when she had to go to the bathroom because of the green peppers, but the rest of the time she stayed with me. And she even kissed me goodnight. A lot.
And she's a super good kisser.
I like days when I'm smarter than I am stupid. I'm gonna try to make today be a day like that.
Do you ever have one of those times when you're not able to say the right thing? You think you're going to say something that helps, but the moment it comes out of your mouth, you wish you could take it back, cuz it doesn't help or make anyone feel good? I did that yesterday with my wife. I told her I didn't think she liked to make decisions, which may or may not be the case. But I could tell that it didn't make her feel good to hear that from me. She didn't pout or tell me that I had hurt her feelings or anything. But I could tell she didn't want to hear that from me. So I tried to make it better, by saying something stupid, like, "It's not a bad thing to not like to make decisions. Sometimes I don't like to make decisions and it's like, 'wow, that decision is really hard for me to make. I just wish somebody would make it for me!' It sucks." Of course, this didn't help, as it was completely stupid. But my wife was smarter than I was. She stayed quiet. And I squirmed.
We then went to get pizza, and she said, "I'm good with whatever you get. I don't like anchovies and I don't like green peppers, but other than that, get whatever you want." I went in with every intention of getting a 3-meat treat. But it wasn't on the menu. I saw the supreme, and I remembered that my wife had gotten the supreme a while ago and really liked that, so I got that one.
Later, when we got home, she proved to me that she was capable of making decisions. She picked the movie without asking if I wanted to see it, she took the last good beer, and she took the pizza from me and ate half of it before offering me the box. I was tickled pink about all of that! I was so glad to hear her telling me which movie we were going to watch, and I loved seeing her take that last good beer, as she hadn't had even one of the good beers out of 12, and we had already determined she was more hungry than I was so she should get the pizza before me. It was nice. But she still had that Something's Irritating air about her. Something was up, and when you're married you automatically think it's because of something you did. It can't be that you're tired or that life is getting to you. No. Your spouse is irritated because of something you did. At least, that's the way my head works. But she wasn't telling me I had done something, so I tried hard to trust that she would tell me if I had done something wrong. And she didn't tell me. And as we watched the movie that she picked, I could tell that it was shaking the irritation from her. It was a good movie, and she was enjoying it. And I was enjoying it. And she was enjoying that we were enjoying it together. And she snuggled me.
Later, as we were about to sleep, she asked if I was aware that the pizza I got had one of the items she had told me not to get. No, I told her, rather sheepishly, I didn't realize that. I told her that she had gotten a supreme in the past, so I thought it was safe. She told me that she had gotten a veggie. And in my head, I got a little pissed. Are you kidding me?! A supreme pizza has green peppers, but a VEGGIE doesn't?! Who does that?! But even as I was saying that in my head, it made perfect sense: the supreme has more stuff on it-- stuff like green peppers-- that's why they call it a "supreme". She had only given me two things to avoid, and I had managed to screw even that simple request up. "Do they do bad things to your tummy?" I asked, hoping that she just didn't like the flavor. "Yeah," she said. I felt even worse. "AND you don't like the taste?" I asked, hoping that at least she might like the taste. "Yeah, I don't like the taste."
I.
Was.
Stupid.
"I was able to pick most of them off," she said.
Stupid.
There was nothing I could do. I couldn't stop talking about the stupid lack of decision making skills, which she proved was incorrect later in the evening. I couldn't get the right pizza. And to make it even worse, she wasn't yelling at me. She wasn't blaming me for being an idiot. I just had to sit in my idiocy and look at her being as kind as possible. If she had yelled at me, it would've let me off the hook somehow. You know, like, ah ha! She's yelling, so I don't really have to listen to her, cuz she should know by now that I'm not trying to hurt her feelings with my words or by getting the wrong pizza. It was an honest mistake, but she's so reactionary to EVERYTHING! What a jerk!!
But she didn't do that. She never does that with me. And honestly, I don't think I normally wear my Idiot Hat as prominently as I did last night. But it sure would've been easy for her to lose it with me. I would've lost it with me. But she didn't. She spent a long time in the bathroom, but she didn't punish me with my own mistake more than I already was.
Nothing I could do last night. I couldn't seem to stop talking. I couldn't pick the right pizza.
But, on the brighter side, my wife stayed with me despite my Epic Failure. Except for when she had to go to the bathroom because of the green peppers, but the rest of the time she stayed with me. And she even kissed me goodnight. A lot.
And she's a super good kisser.
I like days when I'm smarter than I am stupid. I'm gonna try to make today be a day like that.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
So, What I Hear You Saying...
said calmly, and without passion
So, what I hear you saying is that you feel I communicate complete information to you in a timely manner, you are unable to provide any examples of how I have created a hostile environment for you to communicate with me about anything, you are aware that you have not given me information regarding the boys in a timely or adequate manner, the allegations sent to my lawyer by your lawyer and included in our legal file are completely untrue, and you have not taken steps to retract these statements legally, inform your lawyer or my lawyer that these statements are untrue, or apologize for making these statements. And you want me to trust you.
the end
So, what I hear you saying is that you feel I communicate complete information to you in a timely manner, you are unable to provide any examples of how I have created a hostile environment for you to communicate with me about anything, you are aware that you have not given me information regarding the boys in a timely or adequate manner, the allegations sent to my lawyer by your lawyer and included in our legal file are completely untrue, and you have not taken steps to retract these statements legally, inform your lawyer or my lawyer that these statements are untrue, or apologize for making these statements. And you want me to trust you.
the end
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Calm and Couch
Feeling better today.
Had some good couch time last night. Good talking. Good friend.
I was glad to relax with my wife. Seems like we don't actually get to relax much of the time when we're together. We did last night.
It made me good to feel like I could show her the pictures of my old friend and not have her get too sensitive about if I had dated this friend in the past. Or maybe she did, but she got over it quickly. Whatever it was, it was nice to actually be able to talk about the friend of mine rather than having it make her feel sensitive, which would turn us to talking about that rather than the friend and the idea of using her for a movie idea. And my wife was honest about her, I felt, when she didn't want to laugh about her bio, but she really was. And when she said that she looked good, but didn't look 18. And those comments didn't sound like she was being caddy or mean, they sounded honest. Like she was able to tell me what she was really thinking. And then we stopped talking about my old friend and went on to talk about other things. And we actually got to be together. I still get nervous that my wife is going to get uptight about other girls, weather or not I find them attractive, weather or not I've dated them. Other girls are a threat to my wife and to the usual peace of my marriage. It felt nice to feel like my wife knew she was tops, like she was the chosen one, and no one else could be a threat. It felt nice to be able to talk about this other person without having it turn too badly into something that it isn't. It makes me more comfortable, and I think it makes my wife more comfortable. She certainly acted more comfortable. That was nice. Really nice. And calming.
It allowed me to open up more, even if that meant doing nothing at all. I could let my metaphorical fist relax a little. There's more calm in relaxing.
I think about last night and how I get nervous when I think I'm going to upset my wife in any way, and how that makes me uptight. I wonder how many other things like that there are in my life that I'm just not aware of. I've even put words to my discomfort about this one area of my life, and I've even talked with my wife about it, but sometimes those things don't hit home with me right away. Sometimes they wait months, maybe years even, before I actually can see them and I think, "wow, I mentioned this years ago, and I'm just now seeing it, or I'm just now able to get over it." Maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was my wife's reaction. She made one comment, and then moved on. Maybe it was more her than me. Maybe it wasn't. I'm not really sure. But I'm trying to work it out now, in the calm of the next day after something good, so that I can repeat it in the future.
I'm thankful for my last night wife and couch time.
I'm thankful for our talking and giggling and laughing and being together.
I'm thankful for our time and our presence.
I'm thankful for our meal.
I'm thankful for my wife's words that reminded me to be thankful more often.
To actively force myself to remember what's good.
Yes, the broken-shopping-cart-wheel brain may steer you to the ditch
But you can steer it back to the kittens.
And kittens are funner than ditches.
And they're easier to put in your broken shopping cart, too.
Had some good couch time last night. Good talking. Good friend.
I was glad to relax with my wife. Seems like we don't actually get to relax much of the time when we're together. We did last night.
It made me good to feel like I could show her the pictures of my old friend and not have her get too sensitive about if I had dated this friend in the past. Or maybe she did, but she got over it quickly. Whatever it was, it was nice to actually be able to talk about the friend of mine rather than having it make her feel sensitive, which would turn us to talking about that rather than the friend and the idea of using her for a movie idea. And my wife was honest about her, I felt, when she didn't want to laugh about her bio, but she really was. And when she said that she looked good, but didn't look 18. And those comments didn't sound like she was being caddy or mean, they sounded honest. Like she was able to tell me what she was really thinking. And then we stopped talking about my old friend and went on to talk about other things. And we actually got to be together. I still get nervous that my wife is going to get uptight about other girls, weather or not I find them attractive, weather or not I've dated them. Other girls are a threat to my wife and to the usual peace of my marriage. It felt nice to feel like my wife knew she was tops, like she was the chosen one, and no one else could be a threat. It felt nice to be able to talk about this other person without having it turn too badly into something that it isn't. It makes me more comfortable, and I think it makes my wife more comfortable. She certainly acted more comfortable. That was nice. Really nice. And calming.
It allowed me to open up more, even if that meant doing nothing at all. I could let my metaphorical fist relax a little. There's more calm in relaxing.
I think about last night and how I get nervous when I think I'm going to upset my wife in any way, and how that makes me uptight. I wonder how many other things like that there are in my life that I'm just not aware of. I've even put words to my discomfort about this one area of my life, and I've even talked with my wife about it, but sometimes those things don't hit home with me right away. Sometimes they wait months, maybe years even, before I actually can see them and I think, "wow, I mentioned this years ago, and I'm just now seeing it, or I'm just now able to get over it." Maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was my wife's reaction. She made one comment, and then moved on. Maybe it was more her than me. Maybe it wasn't. I'm not really sure. But I'm trying to work it out now, in the calm of the next day after something good, so that I can repeat it in the future.
I'm thankful for my last night wife and couch time.
I'm thankful for our talking and giggling and laughing and being together.
I'm thankful for our time and our presence.
I'm thankful for our meal.
I'm thankful for my wife's words that reminded me to be thankful more often.
To actively force myself to remember what's good.
Yes, the broken-shopping-cart-wheel brain may steer you to the ditch
But you can steer it back to the kittens.
And kittens are funner than ditches.
And they're easier to put in your broken shopping cart, too.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Rolling Through Past Somebodys
I go looking through the internet for people I haven't thought about in years.
Some thought jumps into my head at work that makes me think of somebody or something, and I'm off looking for any sign of them. What do they look like now? What are they doing? Are they successful? Are they happy? Can they get me a job?
I often find myself stringing people together-- one person reminds me of another person reminds me of another person. And before long, it feels like I've reconstructed a part of my memory that I had willfully broken at some point because I didn't want to deal with it for whatever reason... even if the only reason I broke it a while ago was because it was taking up space and I needed room for new thoughts and newer memories.
I often find myself rooting for the people who aren't successful and silently bitching about the people who are. They shouldn't be successful! What's wrong with this world where that person gets a TV show and I work for the government?! Yeah, I know... my thoughts have nothing to do with their success, but rather, my perceived lack of success. And simply because somebody is successful doesn't limit my opportunities. I'M the one who hasn't done anything. THEY'RE the one who has done something! I know all this... and yet, my broken-wheel-shopping-cart brain takes me back to they suck and life isn't fair.
I found myself looking at a girl I knew on the boat today. She's married but doesn't use her husband's last name and doesn't talk about him. That gets under my skin. Not sure why. Found another friend of mine from a way-long time ago. She doesn't talk about her husband or use his name. I wondered if she was still married. Her blog talked about "tragedies" and "hard times", and I found myself thinking she's divorced, just like everyone else.
Sometimes I find myself counting the years of other people's marriages. I don't want to get divorced. I feel like I've found my person. She deals with my crazy well, it seems, and I like her and she seems to like me and lets me kiss her a lot. I like all of that. But I know that divorce is a thing that happens, and although I don't feel that it's even a remote possibility, it's still a thing. People divorce every day.
I feel like I'm looking for a connection of some kind. But that doesn't even make sense to me. What connection am I trying to find? I used to go on stage and connect with lots of people at a times, sometimes hundreds at a time. That was good. Am I trying to do that now? And part of it makes me feel like I'm not doing a good enough job being married. If I'm trying to find a connection with hundreds of strangers, then I'm obviously not trying hard enough to be a good husband. Isn't my wife all I need to connect with? Is it about a connection at all? What the fuck's wrong with me?!
I've sent a couple of anonymous emails to these past friends to see if they respond. I sent another email to another friend a while ago, but that one was just silly. I haven't really been the type of person to stay in touch very well. Maybe I'll start staying in touch better. Maybe I won't. I don't fucking know! Quit pressuring me, jeez!
Some thought jumps into my head at work that makes me think of somebody or something, and I'm off looking for any sign of them. What do they look like now? What are they doing? Are they successful? Are they happy? Can they get me a job?
I often find myself stringing people together-- one person reminds me of another person reminds me of another person. And before long, it feels like I've reconstructed a part of my memory that I had willfully broken at some point because I didn't want to deal with it for whatever reason... even if the only reason I broke it a while ago was because it was taking up space and I needed room for new thoughts and newer memories.
I often find myself rooting for the people who aren't successful and silently bitching about the people who are. They shouldn't be successful! What's wrong with this world where that person gets a TV show and I work for the government?! Yeah, I know... my thoughts have nothing to do with their success, but rather, my perceived lack of success. And simply because somebody is successful doesn't limit my opportunities. I'M the one who hasn't done anything. THEY'RE the one who has done something! I know all this... and yet, my broken-wheel-shopping-cart brain takes me back to they suck and life isn't fair.
I found myself looking at a girl I knew on the boat today. She's married but doesn't use her husband's last name and doesn't talk about him. That gets under my skin. Not sure why. Found another friend of mine from a way-long time ago. She doesn't talk about her husband or use his name. I wondered if she was still married. Her blog talked about "tragedies" and "hard times", and I found myself thinking she's divorced, just like everyone else.
Sometimes I find myself counting the years of other people's marriages. I don't want to get divorced. I feel like I've found my person. She deals with my crazy well, it seems, and I like her and she seems to like me and lets me kiss her a lot. I like all of that. But I know that divorce is a thing that happens, and although I don't feel that it's even a remote possibility, it's still a thing. People divorce every day.
I feel like I'm looking for a connection of some kind. But that doesn't even make sense to me. What connection am I trying to find? I used to go on stage and connect with lots of people at a times, sometimes hundreds at a time. That was good. Am I trying to do that now? And part of it makes me feel like I'm not doing a good enough job being married. If I'm trying to find a connection with hundreds of strangers, then I'm obviously not trying hard enough to be a good husband. Isn't my wife all I need to connect with? Is it about a connection at all? What the fuck's wrong with me?!
I've sent a couple of anonymous emails to these past friends to see if they respond. I sent another email to another friend a while ago, but that one was just silly. I haven't really been the type of person to stay in touch very well. Maybe I'll start staying in touch better. Maybe I won't. I don't fucking know! Quit pressuring me, jeez!
Monday, September 12, 2011
Delish!
Something smells like yummy bar-b-que right now.
It is lunch time at the ol' office, so maybe that's what it is.
Maybe it's my pants. I haven't showered in a few days, and I just took a brisk walk during the morning break. So it might be bar-b-crotch.
Brisket is the distinct smell that's wafting into my nostrils right now. Slowly roasted beef in a tangy, spicy sauce and heated to perfection. Served with a side of beans and cold coleslaw. It's all there in the air.
Either that, or sweaty nuts and ass. Ever have a bead of sweat run into your ass crack and dislodge some poo that you smudged into your ass crack when you last wiped, but you didn't know you had smudged it there until the bead of sweat ran down into your ass crack and dislodged the aforementioned poo, making you aware of it? And my nuts is sweaty. I got Nutbutt Butter. Nutbutt Butter and Poo Sweat. Sounds like a 70s funk band. But it's not. It's the smell that's around me currently.
That or bar-b-que.
Whatever it is, it smells delicious!
Speaking of which... have you ever noticed that Cheez-its smell like post-gym sweat socks? They do!
It is lunch time at the ol' office, so maybe that's what it is.
Maybe it's my pants. I haven't showered in a few days, and I just took a brisk walk during the morning break. So it might be bar-b-crotch.
Brisket is the distinct smell that's wafting into my nostrils right now. Slowly roasted beef in a tangy, spicy sauce and heated to perfection. Served with a side of beans and cold coleslaw. It's all there in the air.
Either that, or sweaty nuts and ass. Ever have a bead of sweat run into your ass crack and dislodge some poo that you smudged into your ass crack when you last wiped, but you didn't know you had smudged it there until the bead of sweat ran down into your ass crack and dislodged the aforementioned poo, making you aware of it? And my nuts is sweaty. I got Nutbutt Butter. Nutbutt Butter and Poo Sweat. Sounds like a 70s funk band. But it's not. It's the smell that's around me currently.
That or bar-b-que.
Whatever it is, it smells delicious!
Speaking of which... have you ever noticed that Cheez-its smell like post-gym sweat socks? They do!
The Stage Manager
The stage manager runs the show.
She makes calls to the actors, telling them how much time they have until the show begins.
"30 minutes to places," she'll say. And the actors who hear her say, "Thank you, 30."
It's a good system. The person in charge of saying when the show starts tells the people who are making the show how much time they have. And to signal that they have heard her, they respond so she knows they know. Good, efficient communication. I've been away from it too, too long.
This is the environment I worked in most of my life.
It is not like this anywhere else I've been.
Communication is completely fucked up everywhere else I've been.
And shit gets royally fucked because people have no concept about what is needed for effective communication and lay blame upon everyone else but themselves for the presence of Monumentally Fucked Communication.
But actors are the dumb ones.
She makes calls to the actors, telling them how much time they have until the show begins.
"30 minutes to places," she'll say. And the actors who hear her say, "Thank you, 30."
It's a good system. The person in charge of saying when the show starts tells the people who are making the show how much time they have. And to signal that they have heard her, they respond so she knows they know. Good, efficient communication. I've been away from it too, too long.
This is the environment I worked in most of my life.
It is not like this anywhere else I've been.
Communication is completely fucked up everywhere else I've been.
And shit gets royally fucked because people have no concept about what is needed for effective communication and lay blame upon everyone else but themselves for the presence of Monumentally Fucked Communication.
But actors are the dumb ones.
Health Care Republicans
Hey, if Republicans really wanted to "reform" health care, why haven't they done it yet?
Is it because they want you to believe they're trying to reform health care, rather than dismantle it?
Is it because they want you to believe they're trying to reform health care, rather than dismantle it?
Skating and Actors and My Secret Music
When I was a sophomore in high school, a good friend told me that she thought I was going to make it big with my music. I was a little surprised by this, as I was an actor. Most people saw me as an actor. Not many people saw me as a musician. I didn't think that I had played her any of my songs, but she told me about a few she had heard, hanging out in the back of the theatre, listening to me play to what I had thought was an empty room. It was surprising, but nice. I still think about that sometimes as I'm working my 6-4 job for the government.
I don't like so much of the fakeness of the theatre/actor world. I don't like it when people try to tear you down so they can feel superior to you, or so you don't get a contract or the TV show you were supposed to get or whatever. I don't like it when people try to take what is yours. I don't like it when people get mean and try attacking you. I don't like it when people get mean and attack me. I don't like that.
I like how skateboarders are pulling for each other to successfully land their tricks. I like it how the general mentality is if one person does something awesome, they all have taken a step forward. Somehow, skateboarders succeed as a group, and this promotes a communal promotion of others that is rarely seen anywhere else. At least, rarely seen by me. I like it that they don't tear each other down much at all. They all push each other to be better than they just were, and in the process, they realize that it's super fun to do just that, and when it's not fun, take a break.
Somehow, these thoughts are connected in my head. I'm not sure how they are connected... but they are. You figure it out, you Monday-morning-psychologist, you. I'm too close to it.
I don't like so much of the fakeness of the theatre/actor world. I don't like it when people try to tear you down so they can feel superior to you, or so you don't get a contract or the TV show you were supposed to get or whatever. I don't like it when people try to take what is yours. I don't like it when people get mean and try attacking you. I don't like it when people get mean and attack me. I don't like that.
I like how skateboarders are pulling for each other to successfully land their tricks. I like it how the general mentality is if one person does something awesome, they all have taken a step forward. Somehow, skateboarders succeed as a group, and this promotes a communal promotion of others that is rarely seen anywhere else. At least, rarely seen by me. I like it that they don't tear each other down much at all. They all push each other to be better than they just were, and in the process, they realize that it's super fun to do just that, and when it's not fun, take a break.
Somehow, these thoughts are connected in my head. I'm not sure how they are connected... but they are. You figure it out, you Monday-morning-psychologist, you. I'm too close to it.
I'm Afraid
These are the things that I'm afraid of
I'm afraid of
I'm afraid
These are the things that I'm afraid of
I'm afraid of
These
I'm afraid of getting in trouble with mom and dad
being bad
being sad
being glad
looking dumb
feeling numb
which football team do I cheer for without worrying about somebody keying my car?
I'm afraid of dying
I'm afraid of hell
I'm afraid that heaven isn't going to be so swell, too
I mean, if it's just all your family and loved ones sitting on clouds with harps-- I mean, there's a really good reason why harp music hasn't hit any of the top forty charts in, like, eight hundred years.
I'm afraid of harp music!
I'm afraid of getting my girlfriend pregnant
I'm afraid of STDs
I'm afraid she's cheating on me
I'm afraid of gangs and guns and grotesque violence I see on the news
I'm afraid of the news
I'm afraid of the news
I'm afraid of the news!!
I'm afraid of drowning, that's why I don't swim
I'm afraid of crashing, that's why I don't drive
I'm afraid of heartbreak, that's why I don't kiss
I'm afraid of failure, that's why I don't wish
I'm not good enough
I'm not smart enough
I don't look like Brad Pitt
I'm afraid of my wife, she's going to leave me
She's going to blame me
She's going to take half of what I own
I'm afraid the bank will take the other half
I'm afraid of diseases
I'm afraid of the measles
I'm afraid of getting fired
I'm afraid I won't get hired anywhere else
That's why I stand perfectly still and hope it all goes away
These are just some of the things I'm afraid of
I'm afraid of
I'm afraid of
I'm afraid of ending my sentences with prepositions
That's why these are just some of the things of which I am afeared.
I'm afraid of
I'm afraid
These are the things that I'm afraid of
I'm afraid of
These
I'm afraid of getting in trouble with mom and dad
being bad
being sad
being glad
looking dumb
feeling numb
which football team do I cheer for without worrying about somebody keying my car?
I'm afraid of dying
I'm afraid of hell
I'm afraid that heaven isn't going to be so swell, too
I mean, if it's just all your family and loved ones sitting on clouds with harps-- I mean, there's a really good reason why harp music hasn't hit any of the top forty charts in, like, eight hundred years.
I'm afraid of harp music!
I'm afraid of getting my girlfriend pregnant
I'm afraid of STDs
I'm afraid she's cheating on me
I'm afraid of gangs and guns and grotesque violence I see on the news
I'm afraid of the news
I'm afraid of the news
I'm afraid of the news!!
I'm afraid of drowning, that's why I don't swim
I'm afraid of crashing, that's why I don't drive
I'm afraid of heartbreak, that's why I don't kiss
I'm afraid of failure, that's why I don't wish
I'm not good enough
I'm not smart enough
I don't look like Brad Pitt
I'm afraid of my wife, she's going to leave me
She's going to blame me
She's going to take half of what I own
I'm afraid the bank will take the other half
I'm afraid of diseases
I'm afraid of the measles
I'm afraid of getting fired
I'm afraid I won't get hired anywhere else
That's why I stand perfectly still and hope it all goes away
These are just some of the things I'm afraid of
I'm afraid of
I'm afraid of
I'm afraid of ending my sentences with prepositions
That's why these are just some of the things of which I am afeared.
Friday, September 9, 2011
The Power Of Feeling Heard
My wife went to therapy with her ex-husband today. He's a shit.
She's been feeling like she goes to therapy, the therapist doesn't listen to her, her ex-husband doesn't listen to her and actively talks over her, interrupting her. She certainly doesn't feel like her mother listens to her. She doesn't feel like her second attorney listened to her, or the guardian ad litem. The attorney who presided over her divorce is defending her ex-husband and has aided in turning her life and the boys' lives upside down, so he really didn't listen to her. Or maybe he did, and then took deliberate action against her because of some as-yet-unknown reason. Then she talks with her attorney now, and the attorney tells her that she's trying to change her ex-- which reveals that her attorney doesn't get her. Maybe the attorney is listening, but saying that my wife is upset because she's trying to change her ex is completely incorrect and demonstrates a lack of understanding regarding the issue. Which makes my wife feel unheard again. Then my mother tells me the same thing as the attorney, and both of us feel unheard.
Then, today, the therapist allows my wife to say what she wanted to say. The therapist helps my wife in communicating those thoughts and feelings to my wife's combative ex. The therapist, in doing this, not only successfully listened to my wife, and not only demonstrated to my wife that she not only heard my wife but UNDERSTOOD the points my wife was concerned with, but she assisted in attempting to communicate those thoughts to my wife's ex.
Nothing has changed. The ex hasn't acted any differently. The boys aren't any safer than they were before. Literally, nothing has changed. Except that somebody who has some power in this whole mess actually heard my wife. That's it. And that has made an enormous difference.
My 15 year-old and I got into a 2 hour-long conversation last night about the economy and history and global domination and The Art Of War and cheerleaders and his father. And there were several things that came up that made the parent in me want to ask more questions, like, "does your father do this to your brother," and "has this happened for a long time," but those questions were not important right then. RIGHT THEN it was most important for my boy to feel heard. He doesn't feel heard most of his life, and it was far more important for him to feel heard, to feel understood, to feel that sense of connection you get when the person or people across from you respond in a manner that lets you know they hear you. You are gotten.
It seems to amaze me every time it happens, but the power of feeling heard is almost unmatched. I don't think feeling heard makes you feel loved, but I also don't think you can feel loved and not feel heard.
It would be a world-altering event if, for one minute every day, we tried to make the person across from us FEEL HEARD. And your needs would be taken care of, too, because the person across from you would be trying to make you feel heard. I wonder what would happen if we could make that minute happen once every year, even.
She's been feeling like she goes to therapy, the therapist doesn't listen to her, her ex-husband doesn't listen to her and actively talks over her, interrupting her. She certainly doesn't feel like her mother listens to her. She doesn't feel like her second attorney listened to her, or the guardian ad litem. The attorney who presided over her divorce is defending her ex-husband and has aided in turning her life and the boys' lives upside down, so he really didn't listen to her. Or maybe he did, and then took deliberate action against her because of some as-yet-unknown reason. Then she talks with her attorney now, and the attorney tells her that she's trying to change her ex-- which reveals that her attorney doesn't get her. Maybe the attorney is listening, but saying that my wife is upset because she's trying to change her ex is completely incorrect and demonstrates a lack of understanding regarding the issue. Which makes my wife feel unheard again. Then my mother tells me the same thing as the attorney, and both of us feel unheard.
Then, today, the therapist allows my wife to say what she wanted to say. The therapist helps my wife in communicating those thoughts and feelings to my wife's combative ex. The therapist, in doing this, not only successfully listened to my wife, and not only demonstrated to my wife that she not only heard my wife but UNDERSTOOD the points my wife was concerned with, but she assisted in attempting to communicate those thoughts to my wife's ex.
Nothing has changed. The ex hasn't acted any differently. The boys aren't any safer than they were before. Literally, nothing has changed. Except that somebody who has some power in this whole mess actually heard my wife. That's it. And that has made an enormous difference.
My 15 year-old and I got into a 2 hour-long conversation last night about the economy and history and global domination and The Art Of War and cheerleaders and his father. And there were several things that came up that made the parent in me want to ask more questions, like, "does your father do this to your brother," and "has this happened for a long time," but those questions were not important right then. RIGHT THEN it was most important for my boy to feel heard. He doesn't feel heard most of his life, and it was far more important for him to feel heard, to feel understood, to feel that sense of connection you get when the person or people across from you respond in a manner that lets you know they hear you. You are gotten.
It seems to amaze me every time it happens, but the power of feeling heard is almost unmatched. I don't think feeling heard makes you feel loved, but I also don't think you can feel loved and not feel heard.
It would be a world-altering event if, for one minute every day, we tried to make the person across from us FEEL HEARD. And your needs would be taken care of, too, because the person across from you would be trying to make you feel heard. I wonder what would happen if we could make that minute happen once every year, even.
Positive Thoughts Are Getting Harder To Sustain
There's this cat at my work who takes out my trash every morning. He's a really nice guy.
Today when he stopped by, we did our usual dance of "hello"s and "how are you"s and "it's Friday, so it's all good"s. And I decided to ask if he had to come in tomorrow. He said that he didn't have to, but he was going to. But he was happy that he only had to come in for a couple of hours.
His weekend is good for him because he only has to work two hours. And I get antsy if my two days gets interrupted by anything.
As he left my office and I was reflecting on our simple exchange, I thought about how crazy I've been going recently, working all the overtime that I have been, trying to save just a little so we can survive until we find another way to make ends meet. And my first thought was, "I sure am lucky that I don't have to work on Saturdays." And then I thought, "it's fucking sad as shit that I'm happy that I'm only having to work 50 hours a week-- 60 if you include commute time-- and not MORE than that! What kind of fucked-up situation have we found ourselves in where we have to work 50 hours at a government job to get by?! The American Dream is dead, if it ever existed, and hard work is what poor people do so that they don't die from starvation. Rather, they die from being overworked! This is bullshit!"
And it's getting harder and harder for me to see positives in all this deterioration. My silver lining is starting to get blocked out by all the reality around me.
Today when he stopped by, we did our usual dance of "hello"s and "how are you"s and "it's Friday, so it's all good"s. And I decided to ask if he had to come in tomorrow. He said that he didn't have to, but he was going to. But he was happy that he only had to come in for a couple of hours.
His weekend is good for him because he only has to work two hours. And I get antsy if my two days gets interrupted by anything.
As he left my office and I was reflecting on our simple exchange, I thought about how crazy I've been going recently, working all the overtime that I have been, trying to save just a little so we can survive until we find another way to make ends meet. And my first thought was, "I sure am lucky that I don't have to work on Saturdays." And then I thought, "it's fucking sad as shit that I'm happy that I'm only having to work 50 hours a week-- 60 if you include commute time-- and not MORE than that! What kind of fucked-up situation have we found ourselves in where we have to work 50 hours at a government job to get by?! The American Dream is dead, if it ever existed, and hard work is what poor people do so that they don't die from starvation. Rather, they die from being overworked! This is bullshit!"
And it's getting harder and harder for me to see positives in all this deterioration. My silver lining is starting to get blocked out by all the reality around me.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
More Shafting...
So the lead singer for the band Nickelback, Chad Kroeger, had a common-law spouse for 6 years. They had no children.
They broke up.
He's a rock star and claims to make $9.7 million a year.
She's a hair dresser and claims to make $12k a year.
He was paying her alimony of $10k a month.
So, according to their initial agreement, she was getting paid per month almost what she makes in a single year.
But she's taking him back to court for more money, because her "lifestyle" can't be sustained on $10k a month. The judge has found that their joint lifestyle was significantly more than $10k per month when they were together, and has ordered Kroeger to pay $25k a month until the trial.
This took place in Canada.
Meanwhile...
My wife didn't get any alimony from her ACTUAL husband of almost 12 years, doesn't get to claim even one child as a tax deduction, and is currently being calculated as making more money than she actually does to figure out how much money she will owe her ex-husband for unreimbursed medical expenses.
Something about these two stories seems fantastically unfair.
Oh, wait, I forgot about My Thought!
"The United States Legal System Doesn't Give A Shit."
Ah, yes. Relief.
Thank you, True Thought.
They broke up.
He's a rock star and claims to make $9.7 million a year.
She's a hair dresser and claims to make $12k a year.
He was paying her alimony of $10k a month.
So, according to their initial agreement, she was getting paid per month almost what she makes in a single year.
But she's taking him back to court for more money, because her "lifestyle" can't be sustained on $10k a month. The judge has found that their joint lifestyle was significantly more than $10k per month when they were together, and has ordered Kroeger to pay $25k a month until the trial.
This took place in Canada.
Meanwhile...
My wife didn't get any alimony from her ACTUAL husband of almost 12 years, doesn't get to claim even one child as a tax deduction, and is currently being calculated as making more money than she actually does to figure out how much money she will owe her ex-husband for unreimbursed medical expenses.
Something about these two stories seems fantastically unfair.
Oh, wait, I forgot about My Thought!
"The United States Legal System Doesn't Give A Shit."
Ah, yes. Relief.
Thank you, True Thought.
Real Thought
I know that I'm not trying to change him.
I KNOW that he will not change.
And it makes me upset when people say that I am trying to change him.
Because I know that I'm not.
So what is my thought that's causing the upset?
I think the truest thought is that it doesn't matter to the legal system that he's broken the rules.
It doesn't matter that he got into a legal arrangement which he immediately disregarded and our system has done nothing.
It doesn't matter that he's breaking the law, and the law says that's okay.
THAT'S where my distress comes from.
So now my thought should be, "Sure does suck that our legal system is broken and doesn't have the balls to stand up for itself. I can't do anything about it. Shit happens."
Ah, yes! NOW I feel better!
I KNOW that he will not change.
And it makes me upset when people say that I am trying to change him.
Because I know that I'm not.
So what is my thought that's causing the upset?
I think the truest thought is that it doesn't matter to the legal system that he's broken the rules.
It doesn't matter that he got into a legal arrangement which he immediately disregarded and our system has done nothing.
It doesn't matter that he's breaking the law, and the law says that's okay.
THAT'S where my distress comes from.
So now my thought should be, "Sure does suck that our legal system is broken and doesn't have the balls to stand up for itself. I can't do anything about it. Shit happens."
Ah, yes! NOW I feel better!
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
My Thought
He beats on the kids
But it's my thought
He beats on her
But it's my thought
He beats on me
But it's my thought
It's my thought
It's my thought
He agrees to the rules
But it's my thought
He breaks the rules
But it's my thought
He blames us
But it's my thought
It's my thought
It's my thought
It's my thought that is the problem
If I could just think right
I'd be fine
My thinking isn't true
I'm looking at it wrong
And the reason for this pain
Is my thought
The kids start crying
And that's my thought
My wife starts crying
And that's my thought
I can't find shelter
And it's my thought
It's my thought
It's my thought
I try to find some help
But it's my thought
They say that he's broken the rules
And it's my thought
And there's nothing that can be done
Oh well
It's my thought
It's my thought
It's my thought that is the problem
He deceives and beats and lies
And if I could only,
I say if I could only
See how I'm thinking wrong
It will all be fine
If I can redefine
My thought
The ref makes the call
The rules have been broken
But the team keeps cheating
Follow the rules and get beaten
And it's your fault
It's your thought
It's my thought that's the problem
I'm creating all the pain
Why can't I see
The issue is me
The bully beats me up
And the reason why it hurts
Is because of my thought
It's my thought
But it's my thought
He beats on her
But it's my thought
He beats on me
But it's my thought
It's my thought
It's my thought
He agrees to the rules
But it's my thought
He breaks the rules
But it's my thought
He blames us
But it's my thought
It's my thought
It's my thought
It's my thought that is the problem
If I could just think right
I'd be fine
My thinking isn't true
I'm looking at it wrong
And the reason for this pain
Is my thought
The kids start crying
And that's my thought
My wife starts crying
And that's my thought
I can't find shelter
And it's my thought
It's my thought
It's my thought
I try to find some help
But it's my thought
They say that he's broken the rules
And it's my thought
And there's nothing that can be done
Oh well
It's my thought
It's my thought
It's my thought that is the problem
He deceives and beats and lies
And if I could only,
I say if I could only
See how I'm thinking wrong
It will all be fine
If I can redefine
My thought
The ref makes the call
The rules have been broken
But the team keeps cheating
Follow the rules and get beaten
And it's your fault
It's your thought
It's my thought that's the problem
I'm creating all the pain
Why can't I see
The issue is me
The bully beats me up
And the reason why it hurts
Is because of my thought
It's my thought
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