Saturday, November 28, 2009
Reading (Into) the News
So if Dubai reneges on a $60B debt will the recovering N American markets go to crap again? Perhaps they should have thought twice before building an indoor downhill ski slope in the middle of a fracking desert? The very fact that such affluence appears to breed a contempt for common sense and human decency serves to scramble my temporal lobe. Carleton University is spewing sewage into the Rideau River because of a number of aged/cracked pipes that haven’t all been accounted for. New buildings are being erected but the bare bones nuts and bolts maintenance is being accomplished with gaffe tape and concrete bandages. If the foundation is not strong, when problems arise (inevitable that they will; naïve to believe otherwise), the structure will implode upon itself into nothing. This appears to apply not only to physical structures but to economic, ideological, emotional and spiritual erections as well. After the shit hits the proverbial fan and the knee jerk recriminations, name callings, selfish cries and quixotic head banging’s pass, it is the foundation, or lack thereof, that will remain. Foundation or not, (re)growth is possible. It’s just that with a solid foundation the growth may occur just that little bit faster and be, perhaps, just that little bit stronger because at least there is an actual point of departure and reference.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
There I Was, Tied Between Two Coconut Trees
A variation on Snoopy's 'It was a dark and stormy night.' A friend introduced me to this phrase in a letter he once wrote me and we have used it since as an opening conversation ice breaker. Better than 'hello' it pretty summed up how we were feeling--trapped. Yes, we happened to be trapped in paradise but we were trapped all the same. Perhaps I read too much into things (no perhaps about it really as I know that I do read too much into pretty much everything. I am a victim of a liberal arts education after all) but the idea of feeling pinned down and trapped while in paradise is appealing. The inherent contradiction and instability that is evoked by this image calms and soothes my soul. The recognition of the need to break free from convention, however seemingly peaceful/wonderful, is something to be embraced.
I tend to not trust when all is well and going smoothly. That and I get bored. Although I have been called self-destructive (among other things) this is a bit unfair. I require a certain amount of chaos in my life.
A couple years ago I went to a Cuban spa with my mother. The first couple of days were unique and strangely surreal enough to keep me occupied. As time passed, however, a sense of complacency came over me. I relaxed into the routine of daily cardio, 'treatments' and such. The days went like this:
Wake up and dress for breakfast.
Eat breakfast in dining room and order eggs (that's all they had).
Go back to room and change into bathing suit.
Go to 'doctor' for blood pressure check.
Go to 'gym' for cardio
Go outside and stand while someone took a paintbrush and slopped mud taken from the back field all over your body.
Stand in sun til mud dried.
Stand in cold outdoor shower to remove mud.
Jump in very hot salt water pool for 15 minutes or so.
Go to 'rest room' and lie down on a wooden slab and be served tea.
Go to water treatment room. Water treatment consisted of lying in a hot bathtub of water and having a high pressure hose jet water over your body. After the hose one is to stay in tub for 20 minutes.
Go back to rest room
Have massage. I did this only once. Carlo's hands wandered a bit too much :P No quiero.
Go to sauna.
Go back to room and have lunch consisting of chicken and rice or rice and black beans--Moors and Christians.
Afternoon = rest/quiet/relax time.
Dinner.
Bed.
Alright. After one week of this I went to the 'doctor' and was told that I could not participate that day in any spa treatments. My blood pressure was at an all time high. Go figure. With that much mind numbing relaxation I was ready to do harm. I was, in effect, tied between two coconut trees.
I convinced my mom to walk with me to the next village -- 17 km away. We hitchhiked on the back of a truck carrying workers, had a beer in the village and walked back. When we finally got back I jumped straight into the pool. The next day my blood pressure was normal.
Do your worst to me. Just don't bore me. That just might be my end.
I tend to not trust when all is well and going smoothly. That and I get bored. Although I have been called self-destructive (among other things) this is a bit unfair. I require a certain amount of chaos in my life.
A couple years ago I went to a Cuban spa with my mother. The first couple of days were unique and strangely surreal enough to keep me occupied. As time passed, however, a sense of complacency came over me. I relaxed into the routine of daily cardio, 'treatments' and such. The days went like this:
Wake up and dress for breakfast.
Eat breakfast in dining room and order eggs (that's all they had).
Go back to room and change into bathing suit.
Go to 'doctor' for blood pressure check.
Go to 'gym' for cardio
Go outside and stand while someone took a paintbrush and slopped mud taken from the back field all over your body.
Stand in sun til mud dried.
Stand in cold outdoor shower to remove mud.
Jump in very hot salt water pool for 15 minutes or so.
Go to 'rest room' and lie down on a wooden slab and be served tea.
Go to water treatment room. Water treatment consisted of lying in a hot bathtub of water and having a high pressure hose jet water over your body. After the hose one is to stay in tub for 20 minutes.
Go back to rest room
Have massage. I did this only once. Carlo's hands wandered a bit too much :P No quiero.
Go to sauna.
Go back to room and have lunch consisting of chicken and rice or rice and black beans--Moors and Christians.
Afternoon = rest/quiet/relax time.
Dinner.
Bed.
Alright. After one week of this I went to the 'doctor' and was told that I could not participate that day in any spa treatments. My blood pressure was at an all time high. Go figure. With that much mind numbing relaxation I was ready to do harm. I was, in effect, tied between two coconut trees.
I convinced my mom to walk with me to the next village -- 17 km away. We hitchhiked on the back of a truck carrying workers, had a beer in the village and walked back. When we finally got back I jumped straight into the pool. The next day my blood pressure was normal.
Do your worst to me. Just don't bore me. That just might be my end.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Singing REM and I Feel Fine
I talked to my mom on the phone the other day. Always an interesting experience. She will usually tell me about how busy she has been, what her dogs *kids* have been up to and how although so and so or such and such has somehow let her down she has managed to prevail. We all have our coping mechanisms.
This particular conversation led in a different direction. She had been watching a television show on Nostradamus and Edgar Cayce which delved into the upcoming 'end of the world as we know it' posited by the Mayans. Well there is a movie about it. It must be true.
Seems that Cayce would put himself into a hypnotic state and once there would begin to speak. Speak the truth. At first folk would take advantage of him as they asked for lotto numbers and winning horses. Self gain. Cayce didn't like that and so had his wife be the only one to ask the questions. The questions had to be the greater good. Apparently, heads of state and other such important world folk were given the opportunity to ask him questions. His answers were always true. Hmmmm. This process would take a lot out of him but he continued to put himself in this trance up to 7 times per day. Later he died of a stroke but not before relating that the Mayan calendar was right.
The world will shift on its access in 2012 and life as we know it will end. Japan will be gone. The East Coast of Canada will disappear. Rome will fall. Again. My mother continued and mentioned something about Atlantis and a new continent etc. etc. Then she told me that she was sorry if she had worried me. I told her that I wasn't worried. She then went on to say that she was working on a plan to get the whole family together at that time because when the chaos finally erupted she wanted us all to be together because it would be difficult to have contact otherwise. Hmmmm. She was also trying to figure out a way to get my brothers away from the East coast. It was beginning to sound more like she was planning a grand family reunion then preparing for the end of the world. I guess it's difficult to actually plan for the end though eh? Gotta make sure there's enough milk for the coffee.
Ok. 2012 is coming. I agree. Time passes. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Months. Years. Neatly divided. 2012 is over two years away and already the hysteria is beginning. I fear that it will be a very long couple of years as varying camps discuss the end and how to prevent it and/or survive it. I wonder how long it will take before the canned goods are stripped from the shelves, folk start building survival shelters and basic trades classes get overbooked in local colleges.
I also wonder at people's seeming hyped up joyous? elation at the thought of mass destruction. Or even over 'little' destructions. Joyous is the wrong word but there's a feeling of nervous excitement in the air. I've felt it during this current H1N1 pandemic. People are dying. People are getting sick. Yet there is a perverse almost celebratory energy as folk are talking about it, coughing into their elbows and washing their already washed hands. I don't believe that folk are happy that others are suffering but something is odd. Similar to the feeling I had as a child when watching the parade of people who would follow fire trucks and then gathered and tut tutted as walls burned down and bodies were carried away I also wonder if this same feeling could explain the mentality of people who would gather around the gallows in order to witness executions.
I wonder how this whole 2012 thing will pan out. I feel that the lead up will be far more interesting then the 'event' itself.
This particular conversation led in a different direction. She had been watching a television show on Nostradamus and Edgar Cayce which delved into the upcoming 'end of the world as we know it' posited by the Mayans. Well there is a movie about it. It must be true.
Seems that Cayce would put himself into a hypnotic state and once there would begin to speak. Speak the truth. At first folk would take advantage of him as they asked for lotto numbers and winning horses. Self gain. Cayce didn't like that and so had his wife be the only one to ask the questions. The questions had to be the greater good. Apparently, heads of state and other such important world folk were given the opportunity to ask him questions. His answers were always true. Hmmmm. This process would take a lot out of him but he continued to put himself in this trance up to 7 times per day. Later he died of a stroke but not before relating that the Mayan calendar was right.
The world will shift on its access in 2012 and life as we know it will end. Japan will be gone. The East Coast of Canada will disappear. Rome will fall. Again. My mother continued and mentioned something about Atlantis and a new continent etc. etc. Then she told me that she was sorry if she had worried me. I told her that I wasn't worried. She then went on to say that she was working on a plan to get the whole family together at that time because when the chaos finally erupted she wanted us all to be together because it would be difficult to have contact otherwise. Hmmmm. She was also trying to figure out a way to get my brothers away from the East coast. It was beginning to sound more like she was planning a grand family reunion then preparing for the end of the world. I guess it's difficult to actually plan for the end though eh? Gotta make sure there's enough milk for the coffee.
Ok. 2012 is coming. I agree. Time passes. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Months. Years. Neatly divided. 2012 is over two years away and already the hysteria is beginning. I fear that it will be a very long couple of years as varying camps discuss the end and how to prevent it and/or survive it. I wonder how long it will take before the canned goods are stripped from the shelves, folk start building survival shelters and basic trades classes get overbooked in local colleges.
I also wonder at people's seeming hyped up joyous? elation at the thought of mass destruction. Or even over 'little' destructions. Joyous is the wrong word but there's a feeling of nervous excitement in the air. I've felt it during this current H1N1 pandemic. People are dying. People are getting sick. Yet there is a perverse almost celebratory energy as folk are talking about it, coughing into their elbows and washing their already washed hands. I don't believe that folk are happy that others are suffering but something is odd. Similar to the feeling I had as a child when watching the parade of people who would follow fire trucks and then gathered and tut tutted as walls burned down and bodies were carried away I also wonder if this same feeling could explain the mentality of people who would gather around the gallows in order to witness executions.
I wonder how this whole 2012 thing will pan out. I feel that the lead up will be far more interesting then the 'event' itself.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Punishment
It really isn't a punishment. It is not a punishment to have my kids returned early. It is not a punishment to make them dinner. They ask me if they can have a Sunday dinner with you. It's ok with me if you do this but it is not a punishment to have them help me throw together a dinner that we will all take into the living room and have a special Sunday evening watching some bizarre cartoon creatures prance across a screen as we giggle together. It is not a punishment to have more time with them. It is not a punishment to look through their bags when they get home and discover homework incomplete. We spend extra time going through the science questions. I'm learning things too. Tonight we planted some trees. It is not a punishment to be a part of and help with their education. It is not a punishment to pack their lunches. It is not a punishment to do their laundry. It is not a punishment to run their baths. It is not a punishment to stay home with them when they are sick. It is not a punishment to have more time with them. It is not a punishment to have them with me for all but one weekend per month. They ask me why they can't see you more. They wonder why they can't spend more time with you. They answer themselves saying they know that you are very busy. Your job takes up a lot of your time. They are making themselves understand.
Well. At least, I'm not the one being punished.
Well. At least, I'm not the one being punished.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Looking Past
Another Halloween did and done. Boy was a mad scientist zombie. Girl was a black cat. Rain stopped around 4pm and the sun came out. Dinner consisted of spinach and cheese ravioli with Alfredo sauce tinted green with food colouring and some extra drops of red fc for blood. Trick or Treating went well. As we walked around from house to house my mind wandered into my mind's archives dredging up ghosts of Halloween's past.
I remembered being too young to trick or treat but not too young to remember my brother's costumes and that my mom would put their candy in the pot we used to boil potatoes. The pot was put on the high shelf in my parents' closet.
I remembered going out with my 3 brothers and mom one year and looking down to discover that there was a hole in my bag and I had lost all of my candy. The next day walking to school I say candy strewn around the road and in yards and I felt that I felt strangely proud of the mark I had left.
I remembered that our costumes were always last minute, homemade and, each year they were the 'best costumes ever!'
I remembered going to a Halloween sleep over at a girl's house that I didn't want to go to and my mom didn't want me to go to (she thought I would be too cold) but I went anyway because I knew I would probably be the only person to go. I was. Her mom had made many treats but she wasn't popular. We had fun. I remember thinking that the rest of the people in our class were jerks.
I remembered not being allowed to go to a Halloween party one year because I hadn't believed my parents when they had told me to be home by 7pm the night before. I had never before had a curfew. This was as close to being grounded as I ever got. Looking back, it was worth it.
I remembered my mother making peanut brittle to give out to the kids and having to put her name and phone number on the bags so that parents would feel safe to let their own kids eat a homemade treat. I remember that Jimmy loved the peanut brittle and my mom would always give him more than one bag.
I remembered putting on green eyeshadow as I prepped to dress up like Peter Pan. I explained to my older brother that even though Peter Pan was a boy it was good to accentuate the eyes. I remember feeling that not only did he believe me but he was actually listening to me. I suddenly felt quite grown up.
I remembered being asked to sing for candy at one house. I sang a French song I had just learned. I still remember part of the melody.
I remembered trick or treating in the rain, the snow and the wind. I loved all the weather cuz Halloween was always a night of magic. My favourite time was that period before dark where one's eyes would play tricks and the light would enhance and make unreal our everyday surroundings.
I remembered dumping candy onto the living room floor, sorting it and then proceeding to trade with my brothers to get the best deals. Chocolate was worth most. Those toffee 'kisses' that looked like dried up dog turds were worth least.
I remembered the different houses we would go to and the order/path we would take. Always the same. Each year the same house would be skipped and we would whisper in incredulity as we passed it: 'they don't celebrate Halloween.'
I remembered going to bed with my candy bucket on the floor beside me. My mom had stopped keeping the candy away from us when my little brother and I began trick or treating. We were all responsible with our own.
I remembered the unspoken competition between us as we all tried to see who could keep their candy the longest. It was not unheard of to still have some Halloween candy kicking around over Christmas.
I remembered being old enough to be the one to give out the candy. I would sit in our porch, read a book and wait.
I remembered giving out candy as a 'grown up' from my own various apartments pre children.
I remembered my children's very first Halloween.
I remembered that the path we took this year was the same as the one we took last year, the year before and the year before that. My kids' memories will be of this neighbourhood. My memories are enriched by theirs and the cycle of my life is entwined with theirs. Separate yet united.
I remembered being too young to trick or treat but not too young to remember my brother's costumes and that my mom would put their candy in the pot we used to boil potatoes. The pot was put on the high shelf in my parents' closet.
I remembered going out with my 3 brothers and mom one year and looking down to discover that there was a hole in my bag and I had lost all of my candy. The next day walking to school I say candy strewn around the road and in yards and I felt that I felt strangely proud of the mark I had left.
I remembered that our costumes were always last minute, homemade and, each year they were the 'best costumes ever!'
I remembered going to a Halloween sleep over at a girl's house that I didn't want to go to and my mom didn't want me to go to (she thought I would be too cold) but I went anyway because I knew I would probably be the only person to go. I was. Her mom had made many treats but she wasn't popular. We had fun. I remember thinking that the rest of the people in our class were jerks.
I remembered not being allowed to go to a Halloween party one year because I hadn't believed my parents when they had told me to be home by 7pm the night before. I had never before had a curfew. This was as close to being grounded as I ever got. Looking back, it was worth it.
I remembered my mother making peanut brittle to give out to the kids and having to put her name and phone number on the bags so that parents would feel safe to let their own kids eat a homemade treat. I remember that Jimmy loved the peanut brittle and my mom would always give him more than one bag.
I remembered putting on green eyeshadow as I prepped to dress up like Peter Pan. I explained to my older brother that even though Peter Pan was a boy it was good to accentuate the eyes. I remember feeling that not only did he believe me but he was actually listening to me. I suddenly felt quite grown up.
I remembered being asked to sing for candy at one house. I sang a French song I had just learned. I still remember part of the melody.
I remembered trick or treating in the rain, the snow and the wind. I loved all the weather cuz Halloween was always a night of magic. My favourite time was that period before dark where one's eyes would play tricks and the light would enhance and make unreal our everyday surroundings.
I remembered dumping candy onto the living room floor, sorting it and then proceeding to trade with my brothers to get the best deals. Chocolate was worth most. Those toffee 'kisses' that looked like dried up dog turds were worth least.
I remembered the different houses we would go to and the order/path we would take. Always the same. Each year the same house would be skipped and we would whisper in incredulity as we passed it: 'they don't celebrate Halloween.'
I remembered going to bed with my candy bucket on the floor beside me. My mom had stopped keeping the candy away from us when my little brother and I began trick or treating. We were all responsible with our own.
I remembered the unspoken competition between us as we all tried to see who could keep their candy the longest. It was not unheard of to still have some Halloween candy kicking around over Christmas.
I remembered being old enough to be the one to give out the candy. I would sit in our porch, read a book and wait.
I remembered giving out candy as a 'grown up' from my own various apartments pre children.
I remembered my children's very first Halloween.
I remembered that the path we took this year was the same as the one we took last year, the year before and the year before that. My kids' memories will be of this neighbourhood. My memories are enriched by theirs and the cycle of my life is entwined with theirs. Separate yet united.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Had a Thought but it Left so I Wrote this to Write Something
Pumpkin is carved. Seeds are roasting in the oven. Costumes are ready. The boy is getting over the flu. Hopefully he'll be ok to trick or treat tomorrow night. I'm just happy that he's feeling better. Happy is not quite the right word to describe the feeling. Overwhelmingly relieved? It has been a tough go. Not sure what type of flu nor do I really care. All that matters is that he's on the mend. Hopefully the girl will not get this one. This week I've been home and at work and at home and at work. Trying to care for my wee one but not letting other stuff slide. Selfish? Perhaps. The work keeps my worry for him at bay. Holding him puts the work worries into perspective. I'm not good at staying home. I'm not good at staying still. I'm most content when I'm juggling.
My voice is stronger. My singing voice. I've been singing more. Different styles. I'm being nudged to do something more. We'll see. I would want to do it right. Thoughtfully yet impulsively. Work and play. It has be the right time and place. I've been asked to record some stuff on my own and pass it along. The first step is sometimes the hardest. Leap of faith.
My inner dork is resurfacing as well. I did a routine reminiscent of vaudeville for the boy. He joined in by the end. So much fun. Joy. Finally feeling safe enough to be myself. Keeping the critical voices in abeyance--voices from inside and outside of my being. Damn but I can be a flake sometimes.
It's been a tough go as of late. I'm seeing the light though. I'm moving forward. I have no idea where I'll end up but I'm curious enough to keep going.
My voice is stronger. My singing voice. I've been singing more. Different styles. I'm being nudged to do something more. We'll see. I would want to do it right. Thoughtfully yet impulsively. Work and play. It has be the right time and place. I've been asked to record some stuff on my own and pass it along. The first step is sometimes the hardest. Leap of faith.
My inner dork is resurfacing as well. I did a routine reminiscent of vaudeville for the boy. He joined in by the end. So much fun. Joy. Finally feeling safe enough to be myself. Keeping the critical voices in abeyance--voices from inside and outside of my being. Damn but I can be a flake sometimes.
It's been a tough go as of late. I'm seeing the light though. I'm moving forward. I have no idea where I'll end up but I'm curious enough to keep going.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Home
Today was a day off. Beautiful blue sky and sunshine. Got lots done. Went to the market with the kidlings to the Lush store for bath bombs, bubble bath and shampoo followed by a quick trip to the grocery store. Then we gardened. Cleaned up and turned the veggie garden, raked leaves in the back, put the tarp on the barbecue, struck the hose, put summer toys away etc. Back then to the grocery store to get the two things we went to get in the first place but forgot -- oatmeal and butter. Home again to make apple oatmeal muffins. The girl read the recipe from the computer as the boy and I mixed the ingredients. They turned out fantastic. Then I put a chicken in the oven with a thai/peach glaze. Dinner was chicken, rice and a spinach salad with a warm goatcheese dressing. Three loads of laundry and kids in the bathtub. Bedtime for kids, tea for me and watch tele 'til a gf arrives later tonight. She wants to move to Ottawa and will crash here for a while until she gets things sorted.
I finally feel at home and it feels very good.
I finally feel at home and it feels very good.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Pulling Punches
Interesting class last night. One moment brought to the forefront an issue that lately has been swirling around in my brain. Ok. Not an issue but a lens through which, after blowing on it and wiping away extraneous environmental and social crud and and then peering through, revealed a beautifully laid bare illustration of some of the crap that one has to go through to be a functional woman in a dude's world.
We were practicing a move wherein the attacker is thrown backwards after being pushed in the chest. I attacked and was pushed back. Sensei stopped to make a point. The fella that pushed me was told to 'be careful when practicing with a woman' so as to not, I inferred, hit the squishy bits on my torso. He should 'ask first' before touching me but even better should alter his technique so as to not risk touching/damaging? my breasts. (The squishy bits were not named but were merely alluded to. To name them I guess posed a further danger to my fragile self?).
Huh. First off. When I enter the dojo and step onto the mat I am giving implicit and explicit consent to have my body pushed, pulled, pinned and thrown. You don't have to ask me special permission cuz I have tits just as I don't expect to ask the dudes if it's ok to push, pull, pin or throw them. It's a martial arts class. Physical contact is part of the program.
Now, in class, I won't go around and punch or kick a dude in his 'junk' (that would be rude) but that does not stop us all from learning techniques that, if a dude puts his genitalia in harm's way the potential for it getting punched or kicked is pointed out. Many positions are explained in such a way as to tell the dudes to protect their valuable assets. Instead of telling my attacker to avoid my breasts, why not show me how to better protect them (ya, they are sensitive to being hit as is my face) and that way we can each learn to practice on a more even keel. Each body is different, male or female, and practicing with various sizes, abilities, sexes is a privilege. The attacker and receiver must each learn to protect themselves from being hurt. Ultimately, it becomes a personal responsibility. Protect your own body.
If we are practicing and you are stronger then me or have more experience, then yes, pull your punches. I will also pull mine if I am practicing with someone weaker or with less experience than myself. It is a sign of respect. Respect for the human being. It is also a part of a good practice. We learn from those more and less experienced then ourselves. If I get hurt, I look to myself to see what I had done to not better protect myself. If I hurt someone else I look to see how I could prevent that in the future. The point of the practice is not to disable someone but to learn the techniques. Ok. There are times when people are arseholes and go out to cause pain. They aren't fun to practice with but face it, if one is going to be attacked on the street is the attacker going to watch out for your delicate womanly/manly bits? Isn't it best to learn to protect oneself from all manner of attack?
Treat me like a human being and I will return the favour.
But wait, there's more! I have been so guilty this past while of complicity. Trying to play and be accepted in this dudely world where because I have tits I am, whether I like it or not (and I don't) shoved into the sex class. I am ashamed to say that I once convinced myself that being called 'fuckable' was a compliment. I listened in silence (actually my mind was playing the 'I Dream of Genie' soundtrack on full volume) as I hung out with dudes who claimed a distrust of woman because of their inherent duality and that women who expressed interest in some of these dudes were immediately labelled as prostitutes/whores cuz they couldn't possibly be out dancing at a bar without an ulterior motive. This unspoken motive was to somehow/someway screw said dudes of money, self respect or both. Geesh.
When I dared speak up I was told that my reaction was 'not intended.' Huh? Ok. One's intentions may be important but even if you don't intend to hurt someone and you end up hurting someone you have hurt someone. The hurt has been done. I will accept that I need to learn to protect myself from being hurt as I learn to protect myself physically in class. I'm not quite sure, in cases like this, how this may be accomplished. I could ignore the words/vitriolic/misogynistic sentiment, develop a thicker skin or even 'lighten up' but that just adds to my complicity. I could speak out and be beaten down time and time again for not buying into the dude perspective but this gets tiring.
In life we are taught to pick/choose our battles wisely. It doesn't make sense to kill your spirit over something that, at this time, may be unwinnable if you are left with nothing with which to carry on. At the same time, perhaps I have been seeing my attackers as somehow weaker or less experienced then me and have been treating them with an undue (and in keeping with dude centric compliance), maternal/nurturing gentleness. There are times, even in class, when a more experienced person will 'teach a lesson' to a less experienced one by going a wee bit harder/more martial in order to illustrate where the technique could lead.
Perhaps, it's time for me to stop pulling my punches.
We were practicing a move wherein the attacker is thrown backwards after being pushed in the chest. I attacked and was pushed back. Sensei stopped to make a point. The fella that pushed me was told to 'be careful when practicing with a woman' so as to not, I inferred, hit the squishy bits on my torso. He should 'ask first' before touching me but even better should alter his technique so as to not risk touching/damaging? my breasts. (The squishy bits were not named but were merely alluded to. To name them I guess posed a further danger to my fragile self?).
Huh. First off. When I enter the dojo and step onto the mat I am giving implicit and explicit consent to have my body pushed, pulled, pinned and thrown. You don't have to ask me special permission cuz I have tits just as I don't expect to ask the dudes if it's ok to push, pull, pin or throw them. It's a martial arts class. Physical contact is part of the program.
Now, in class, I won't go around and punch or kick a dude in his 'junk' (that would be rude) but that does not stop us all from learning techniques that, if a dude puts his genitalia in harm's way the potential for it getting punched or kicked is pointed out. Many positions are explained in such a way as to tell the dudes to protect their valuable assets. Instead of telling my attacker to avoid my breasts, why not show me how to better protect them (ya, they are sensitive to being hit as is my face) and that way we can each learn to practice on a more even keel. Each body is different, male or female, and practicing with various sizes, abilities, sexes is a privilege. The attacker and receiver must each learn to protect themselves from being hurt. Ultimately, it becomes a personal responsibility. Protect your own body.
If we are practicing and you are stronger then me or have more experience, then yes, pull your punches. I will also pull mine if I am practicing with someone weaker or with less experience than myself. It is a sign of respect. Respect for the human being. It is also a part of a good practice. We learn from those more and less experienced then ourselves. If I get hurt, I look to myself to see what I had done to not better protect myself. If I hurt someone else I look to see how I could prevent that in the future. The point of the practice is not to disable someone but to learn the techniques. Ok. There are times when people are arseholes and go out to cause pain. They aren't fun to practice with but face it, if one is going to be attacked on the street is the attacker going to watch out for your delicate womanly/manly bits? Isn't it best to learn to protect oneself from all manner of attack?
Treat me like a human being and I will return the favour.
But wait, there's more! I have been so guilty this past while of complicity. Trying to play and be accepted in this dudely world where because I have tits I am, whether I like it or not (and I don't) shoved into the sex class. I am ashamed to say that I once convinced myself that being called 'fuckable' was a compliment. I listened in silence (actually my mind was playing the 'I Dream of Genie' soundtrack on full volume) as I hung out with dudes who claimed a distrust of woman because of their inherent duality and that women who expressed interest in some of these dudes were immediately labelled as prostitutes/whores cuz they couldn't possibly be out dancing at a bar without an ulterior motive. This unspoken motive was to somehow/someway screw said dudes of money, self respect or both. Geesh.
When I dared speak up I was told that my reaction was 'not intended.' Huh? Ok. One's intentions may be important but even if you don't intend to hurt someone and you end up hurting someone you have hurt someone. The hurt has been done. I will accept that I need to learn to protect myself from being hurt as I learn to protect myself physically in class. I'm not quite sure, in cases like this, how this may be accomplished. I could ignore the words/vitriolic/misogynistic sentiment, develop a thicker skin or even 'lighten up' but that just adds to my complicity. I could speak out and be beaten down time and time again for not buying into the dude perspective but this gets tiring.
In life we are taught to pick/choose our battles wisely. It doesn't make sense to kill your spirit over something that, at this time, may be unwinnable if you are left with nothing with which to carry on. At the same time, perhaps I have been seeing my attackers as somehow weaker or less experienced then me and have been treating them with an undue (and in keeping with dude centric compliance), maternal/nurturing gentleness. There are times, even in class, when a more experienced person will 'teach a lesson' to a less experienced one by going a wee bit harder/more martial in order to illustrate where the technique could lead.
Perhaps, it's time for me to stop pulling my punches.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Letting It Pass
The other day my son and I discussed lonliness. In the course of this talk I asked him if he were ever lonely. Looking at me with surprise he said 'of course mommy. I feel lonely all the time.' I was taken aback. I asked him what he did to make himself feel better when he felt lonely. He responded with yet another look. This time it was one of incrudulity.
'Mommy. There is nothing you can do when you feel lonely. You can only let it pass.'
Huh. How many people spend thousands of dollars on therapists or bang their heads over and over again on metaphoric brick walls before they come up with this answer. Honest. Elegant. To the point.
'Mommy. There is nothing you can do when you feel lonely. You can only let it pass.'
Huh. How many people spend thousands of dollars on therapists or bang their heads over and over again on metaphoric brick walls before they come up with this answer. Honest. Elegant. To the point.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
A Relationship Thing
Sunday. Slept in. Nothing really to do today except shower, laundry, groceries, water plants, sweep and wait for the return of my children. A busy weekend up til now to be sure. Three shows. Each with their own quirks but overall filled with delightful people. Went out for drinks with a gf last night. Saw an old friend who has recently been married. He stood up with me as a bridesmaid when I was married. Prior to that we had an on again off again 'thing.' He had called me a 'pain in the ass.' He had once asked me as we were both heading up the stairs to his apartment what I was going to do when he found a real girlfriend. I replied that I would find myself a real boyfriend. The next night I met Xman. After the birth of the children I lost touch with him. Family responsibilities kept me at home. Well, not just the responsibilities. I loved being at home. Being in a family.
People come and people go. When they reenter one's life I get the idea that there is something more to the relationships overall. These people who are in and out of my life are extraordinarily special.
I have just ended another 'thing' with another special person. He also called me 'a pain in the ass.' This 'thing' ended with hurt and anger. Accusations and name calling. According to him, I caused him to be rude to me. I am therefore a rude person. I know I'm pushy. Head strong. I was called rude and insensitive. Probably. I can see it. I can also see that these qualities have allowed me to survive. I work in an industry where being acquiescent and nice must be tempered with an ability to say 'no' regardless of who's feelings might be hurt. I work at saying 'no' in a nice way but this is not always possible. It's also a gender thing (what isn't?) and being a woman in a man's world comes with its own issues as one tries to navigate an unfamiliar and dangerous terrain.
After telling me that he wanted solitude and was not going to be involved with anyone he has started a relationship. I saw it on my facebook homepage. (Facebook is a whole other topic!) Yes it hurt. It caused me to question the 'thing' we had. What we had wasn't a relationship. It was a 'thing.' An amorphous undefined thing. Same type of thing as I had had with the fellow I saw last night. I questioned what this particular 'thing' was. This questioning caused more anger. More hurt. I questioned his intent. I questioned mine. Thing is, even though I knew from the outset that this 'thing' could not ever be more then a 'thing' I knew that it wasn't enough. So did he. Even though we both tried, at the end of the day a 'thing' is just a 'thing.'
What is the difference between a thing and a relationship? I don't know if it can be explained. If one is being honest, the difference is very obvious. One knows the difference. It's more of a feeling however then something that can be expressed in words. Can 'things' become relationships? I don't think so. Does this mean that one might not wish that they could? No. That's where the problems arise. Fervently wishing that things could be different but knowing full well that they can't. One tries to make the 'thing' into something else. Not wanting to lose the good part of the 'thing.' 'Things' must end though and usually end with unsettling feelings. Since the 'thing' can never really be defined, when it ends, one is at a loss as to what and how to feel about it. I don't think a 'thing' is less important then a relationship. 'Things' are necessary. Why? I'm not exactly sure. For myself, 'things' have coincided with periods of personal growth. I don't regret the 'things' I have had. Some of my fondest memories have arisen out from 'things.' Strange that I don't harbour any ill will for those I have had 'things' with but do tend to feel more antipathy toward those with whom I have had relationships.
Some past 'things' I have had have grown into friendships. The fellow I saw last night is one such person. We instantly hugged and bridged the time and distance that had separated us. Time has been required before this could occur. What made the 'thing' the 'thing' has had to fade before anything like a friendship can be allowed to grow. Will this latest 'thing' fade and grow into a friendship? Hard to say. Maybe. Maybe not. When put in the situation where I find myself involved in another 'thing' will I call a halt to it as soon as I realize what it is? Probably not. Interactions between people are complicated. Nothing is ever black and white. Reason, logic, emotions, spirits, personalities, past baggage, personal circumstances, and the like make most relations between folk difficult to say the least.
Why persist? For those moments of beauty. The joy that can only come when a moment of beauty is shared. And we realize that despite everything, we are not alone.
People come and people go. When they reenter one's life I get the idea that there is something more to the relationships overall. These people who are in and out of my life are extraordinarily special.
I have just ended another 'thing' with another special person. He also called me 'a pain in the ass.' This 'thing' ended with hurt and anger. Accusations and name calling. According to him, I caused him to be rude to me. I am therefore a rude person. I know I'm pushy. Head strong. I was called rude and insensitive. Probably. I can see it. I can also see that these qualities have allowed me to survive. I work in an industry where being acquiescent and nice must be tempered with an ability to say 'no' regardless of who's feelings might be hurt. I work at saying 'no' in a nice way but this is not always possible. It's also a gender thing (what isn't?) and being a woman in a man's world comes with its own issues as one tries to navigate an unfamiliar and dangerous terrain.
After telling me that he wanted solitude and was not going to be involved with anyone he has started a relationship. I saw it on my facebook homepage. (Facebook is a whole other topic!) Yes it hurt. It caused me to question the 'thing' we had. What we had wasn't a relationship. It was a 'thing.' An amorphous undefined thing. Same type of thing as I had had with the fellow I saw last night. I questioned what this particular 'thing' was. This questioning caused more anger. More hurt. I questioned his intent. I questioned mine. Thing is, even though I knew from the outset that this 'thing' could not ever be more then a 'thing' I knew that it wasn't enough. So did he. Even though we both tried, at the end of the day a 'thing' is just a 'thing.'
What is the difference between a thing and a relationship? I don't know if it can be explained. If one is being honest, the difference is very obvious. One knows the difference. It's more of a feeling however then something that can be expressed in words. Can 'things' become relationships? I don't think so. Does this mean that one might not wish that they could? No. That's where the problems arise. Fervently wishing that things could be different but knowing full well that they can't. One tries to make the 'thing' into something else. Not wanting to lose the good part of the 'thing.' 'Things' must end though and usually end with unsettling feelings. Since the 'thing' can never really be defined, when it ends, one is at a loss as to what and how to feel about it. I don't think a 'thing' is less important then a relationship. 'Things' are necessary. Why? I'm not exactly sure. For myself, 'things' have coincided with periods of personal growth. I don't regret the 'things' I have had. Some of my fondest memories have arisen out from 'things.' Strange that I don't harbour any ill will for those I have had 'things' with but do tend to feel more antipathy toward those with whom I have had relationships.
Some past 'things' I have had have grown into friendships. The fellow I saw last night is one such person. We instantly hugged and bridged the time and distance that had separated us. Time has been required before this could occur. What made the 'thing' the 'thing' has had to fade before anything like a friendship can be allowed to grow. Will this latest 'thing' fade and grow into a friendship? Hard to say. Maybe. Maybe not. When put in the situation where I find myself involved in another 'thing' will I call a halt to it as soon as I realize what it is? Probably not. Interactions between people are complicated. Nothing is ever black and white. Reason, logic, emotions, spirits, personalities, past baggage, personal circumstances, and the like make most relations between folk difficult to say the least.
Why persist? For those moments of beauty. The joy that can only come when a moment of beauty is shared. And we realize that despite everything, we are not alone.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Living By Candle Light
Becoming more and more silent. Talking when being talked to. Answering questions. No longer really wanting to offer much. A bit, yes but offering nothing to put me out there.
Kidlings started gymnastics again this morning. Home for lunch and then I went off to class. Class went well? I don't know. Still not feeling the joy. Hope it returns again one day. Doing my best not to feel at all really. Home from class...hung out and played then made dinner. Hotdogs and Kraft dinner. Kids were excited. I make my hotdogs and Kraft dinner in a bit of a gourmet style. Why not eh? Fry up some onions, add chopped up hotdogs, add green beans, baby tomatoes, spices and then add the cooked Kraft dinner to the mix. Kids suggested that since it was such a good meal we should have candles. Why not? It was lovely. Talked about how they were as babies. Showed them a 'trick' as I caught the candle flame in my fist (they know not to try it). Giggled. Had fudge for dessert.
Yes this is boring. Feeling a bit less than inspired. Will stay in tonight. Another Saturday night. I don't want to go out alone again. I've tried. It sucks. Well...it doesn't really suck but I come home and feel unaccomplished and more lonely then when I left.
What I miss most? Someone to do nothing with. But the kids are great. And we had a candle light dinner. And I guess I really don't have much to complain about at all. So be it.
Kidlings started gymnastics again this morning. Home for lunch and then I went off to class. Class went well? I don't know. Still not feeling the joy. Hope it returns again one day. Doing my best not to feel at all really. Home from class...hung out and played then made dinner. Hotdogs and Kraft dinner. Kids were excited. I make my hotdogs and Kraft dinner in a bit of a gourmet style. Why not eh? Fry up some onions, add chopped up hotdogs, add green beans, baby tomatoes, spices and then add the cooked Kraft dinner to the mix. Kids suggested that since it was such a good meal we should have candles. Why not? It was lovely. Talked about how they were as babies. Showed them a 'trick' as I caught the candle flame in my fist (they know not to try it). Giggled. Had fudge for dessert.
Yes this is boring. Feeling a bit less than inspired. Will stay in tonight. Another Saturday night. I don't want to go out alone again. I've tried. It sucks. Well...it doesn't really suck but I come home and feel unaccomplished and more lonely then when I left.
What I miss most? Someone to do nothing with. But the kids are great. And we had a candle light dinner. And I guess I really don't have much to complain about at all. So be it.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
And She Put on a Happy Face
Incredible really. The ability to carry on. I sit at my desk and answer emails with a 'cheers' and 'thank you' as tears roll down my face. I get up, wash my face and meet with new clients on the stage and provide advice, encouragement and tell them all that I'm looking forward to their events. And I am. I love the people who enter my theatre. Theatre of the absurd. All the while I know I should be counting my blessings. I have a good job. Am in relative good health. My children are brilliant, kind and wise. So why the tears? Damned if I know. Kinda feel like a magazine subscription that has not been renewed. Kinda feel discarded. Kinda feel as worthwhile as a dried up glue stick. Kinda feel like I wish I didn't feel anymore. But this is just maudlin.
My dad broke his ankle. He was walking and misjudged a step. Innocuous eh? But weeks before he had been complaining about his medication. It made him dizzy. Not himself. I remember thinking 'what will it take before his doctors take notice? Will he need to pass out on the street?' I got a phone call last month to say that he had passed out on a sidewalk while watching a parade. His medication was not changed even though the doctor at emergency told him he should. His regular doctor just lessened his dosage. Now he 'misjudged' a step and is in a cast for 6 weeks.
I visited friends last week. Their cat had liver disease. The cat came up to me and actually told me that it knew it was going to die. As I looked at it I knew and I knew what it was telling me. He died. Another spirit set free.
My pending divorce is still pending. Even when it finally arrives I have come to realize that I will always be stuck with Xman. The father of my children. The connection, for 'better or for worse,' will be there until 'death do us part.'
A person whom I trusted, more than Xman really, to not bring me pain, has through no fault of their own really. Why the trust? I dunno. Because I felt they understood how fragile I was. How insecure. That I needed to grasp onto things beautiful with all my might because of the ugliness surrounding me. I was asked once how it was that I could seemingly make the best out of any situation? The answer? Because the alternative was unthinkable. Too dark. I wish I could feel anger but I can't...except at myself. I am my own worst enemy. I feel toxic. Don't come too close. You'll only get hurt.
Why am I writing this? To try and get some of this out. I won't talk to you about this. I won't trust in you enough to share. When you meet me on the street I may even be singing as I skip along. A light little ditty with a smile on my face.
My dad broke his ankle. He was walking and misjudged a step. Innocuous eh? But weeks before he had been complaining about his medication. It made him dizzy. Not himself. I remember thinking 'what will it take before his doctors take notice? Will he need to pass out on the street?' I got a phone call last month to say that he had passed out on a sidewalk while watching a parade. His medication was not changed even though the doctor at emergency told him he should. His regular doctor just lessened his dosage. Now he 'misjudged' a step and is in a cast for 6 weeks.
I visited friends last week. Their cat had liver disease. The cat came up to me and actually told me that it knew it was going to die. As I looked at it I knew and I knew what it was telling me. He died. Another spirit set free.
My pending divorce is still pending. Even when it finally arrives I have come to realize that I will always be stuck with Xman. The father of my children. The connection, for 'better or for worse,' will be there until 'death do us part.'
A person whom I trusted, more than Xman really, to not bring me pain, has through no fault of their own really. Why the trust? I dunno. Because I felt they understood how fragile I was. How insecure. That I needed to grasp onto things beautiful with all my might because of the ugliness surrounding me. I was asked once how it was that I could seemingly make the best out of any situation? The answer? Because the alternative was unthinkable. Too dark. I wish I could feel anger but I can't...except at myself. I am my own worst enemy. I feel toxic. Don't come too close. You'll only get hurt.
Why am I writing this? To try and get some of this out. I won't talk to you about this. I won't trust in you enough to share. When you meet me on the street I may even be singing as I skip along. A light little ditty with a smile on my face.
Monday, September 07, 2009
The Best and the Worst (or so I'm told)
Waiting for Xman to return the kidz. After the drama prior to this weekend he is going to drop them off himself and no longer demanding that I pick the kidz up at '5pm sharp.' Sigh. I work in theatre. I understand and get drama. I also realize how fake it is. I work behind the curtain and see the wizard bare on a daily basis.
Today I managed to can 12 jars of peaches and cleaned the upstairs bathroom. Yay for me. I spoke to my mother briefly on the phone but other than that I have been devoid of human contact except for the radio -- CBC of course. Haven't spent a day listening to the radio in ages. It's like I've been reunited with an old friend.
I'll be going to an Aikido seminar in Montreal next weekend. My mother is flying up on Thursday to watch the wee ones for me. I am no longer invited to travel with the group from my centre. Long story. Another drama. I'm so so so very tired of drama. I am not exactly sure where it is that I'll be staying but I'll figure something out. I may just end up driving there and back each day. Why not. Seems that I have an innate ability to, when I'm being myself, bring out the very best in folk and the very worst. I guess it's a talent? A gift?
Today I managed to can 12 jars of peaches and cleaned the upstairs bathroom. Yay for me. I spoke to my mother briefly on the phone but other than that I have been devoid of human contact except for the radio -- CBC of course. Haven't spent a day listening to the radio in ages. It's like I've been reunited with an old friend.
I'll be going to an Aikido seminar in Montreal next weekend. My mother is flying up on Thursday to watch the wee ones for me. I am no longer invited to travel with the group from my centre. Long story. Another drama. I'm so so so very tired of drama. I am not exactly sure where it is that I'll be staying but I'll figure something out. I may just end up driving there and back each day. Why not. Seems that I have an innate ability to, when I'm being myself, bring out the very best in folk and the very worst. I guess it's a talent? A gift?
I'm really not sure what I should be doing differently. I'm told to stop resisting. I'm told to not ever give 100% of myself. I should always hold something back. I'm told I'm greedy. I'm told I give too much. I'm told I try too hard. I'm told I don't try hard enough. I'm told I'm intelligent. I'm told I'm obtuse. I'm told I'm a good person. I'm told that I should work at becoming better. I'm told that I dictate right after I'm told exactly what to do. I'm told I write well. I'm told that words are worthless. I'm told that my intentions are obvious (even when I have no idea what it is that I am intending). I'm told that I'm strong enough to deal with all of this on my own and by myself. I'm told to make an effort to bring other people into my life. I'm told to move forward. I'm told to become still. I'm told to control myself. I'm told to let go.
I've had enough of being told. Is it too much to have y'all listen? Just for a moment?
I'm telling ya.
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Credit Where Credit is Due
So. Well then.
It's been a crazy couple of weeks fer sure. Work is great. Doing two jobs makes the days fly by. I'm getting a handle on the invoices and the contracts. Had 3 large shows last week. An East Indian dance troupe from Toronto came in. Lovely people. I got to be a 'tech' and fixed the electrical on a couple chandeliers. It wasn't hard but being the only one with the 'know how' on site to do it felt good. When I went in the next morning there was a case of beer and a gold leaf on my desk left in appreciation. Nice that some touring folk still follow the 'old school' ways.
The second show was a Mongolian Jazz group made up of some musicians from Mongolia mixed with Canadian jazz musicians who were touring Canada. The sound was beautiful and haunting. I love the sound of the urhu (2 string cello type instrument) and the male throat singing was incredible. I put on my chauffeur hat and whisked one of the musicians off to get food for the troupe after sound check. We had only 40 minutes but I got him to the shwarma shop and back in less than 1/2 hour.
The third show was a Christian rock worship event. It was a huge band but sound check went well and but for a small incident involving a faith leader stalker, all was good.
A couple management meetings rounded off any spare time I might have had.
Now it's the weekend and I'm kidless as the wee ones are with Xman. No shows in the theatre so I actually have the weekend off. I went to a band last night. What a difference a good sound engineer makes. I saw this same band the week before and the sound was horrible. Last night, however, the band was in excellent form and the sound was excellent. I went alone and enjoyed myself. It was a bit weird. The person who I had gone to events like this for the past year was there...also on his own. Not sure how I feel about things. I miss being able to babble on with this person but in a weird way, even when I was with him I was essentially alone. Being with him, however, kept other folk away. As it was, I was chatted up by a few other folk last night but really had no interest in them or what they were doing or who they were. It will be quite a while I think before I am ready to let anyone else behind the curtain.
Funny how one fella thought it was necessary to tell me that I shouldn't be there alone and that spending more than 10 min per day alone was a sign of a sick mind. He said this after I politely answered his questions but offered nothing more. When folk don't get what they want it seems they feel a need to immediately go on the attack and find fault. Ok. I'm in the wrong. I'll accept that. I've been in the wrong pretty much all my life. I'm used to it really. I will take full responsibility for you not being able to get from me what you want. Feel better now? Now just leave me alone and walk away knowing that you are the better person and although you made an effort to save/reform/rescue me from myself you can know in your heart and mind that I am too far gone and I will not be grabbing that life buoy of salvation that you have gallantly chucked at my head. If I drown it will not be your fault and if I manage to swim to shore feel free to take the credit.
It's been a crazy couple of weeks fer sure. Work is great. Doing two jobs makes the days fly by. I'm getting a handle on the invoices and the contracts. Had 3 large shows last week. An East Indian dance troupe from Toronto came in. Lovely people. I got to be a 'tech' and fixed the electrical on a couple chandeliers. It wasn't hard but being the only one with the 'know how' on site to do it felt good. When I went in the next morning there was a case of beer and a gold leaf on my desk left in appreciation. Nice that some touring folk still follow the 'old school' ways.
The second show was a Mongolian Jazz group made up of some musicians from Mongolia mixed with Canadian jazz musicians who were touring Canada. The sound was beautiful and haunting. I love the sound of the urhu (2 string cello type instrument) and the male throat singing was incredible. I put on my chauffeur hat and whisked one of the musicians off to get food for the troupe after sound check. We had only 40 minutes but I got him to the shwarma shop and back in less than 1/2 hour.
The third show was a Christian rock worship event. It was a huge band but sound check went well and but for a small incident involving a faith leader stalker, all was good.
A couple management meetings rounded off any spare time I might have had.
Now it's the weekend and I'm kidless as the wee ones are with Xman. No shows in the theatre so I actually have the weekend off. I went to a band last night. What a difference a good sound engineer makes. I saw this same band the week before and the sound was horrible. Last night, however, the band was in excellent form and the sound was excellent. I went alone and enjoyed myself. It was a bit weird. The person who I had gone to events like this for the past year was there...also on his own. Not sure how I feel about things. I miss being able to babble on with this person but in a weird way, even when I was with him I was essentially alone. Being with him, however, kept other folk away. As it was, I was chatted up by a few other folk last night but really had no interest in them or what they were doing or who they were. It will be quite a while I think before I am ready to let anyone else behind the curtain.
Funny how one fella thought it was necessary to tell me that I shouldn't be there alone and that spending more than 10 min per day alone was a sign of a sick mind. He said this after I politely answered his questions but offered nothing more. When folk don't get what they want it seems they feel a need to immediately go on the attack and find fault. Ok. I'm in the wrong. I'll accept that. I've been in the wrong pretty much all my life. I'm used to it really. I will take full responsibility for you not being able to get from me what you want. Feel better now? Now just leave me alone and walk away knowing that you are the better person and although you made an effort to save/reform/rescue me from myself you can know in your heart and mind that I am too far gone and I will not be grabbing that life buoy of salvation that you have gallantly chucked at my head. If I drown it will not be your fault and if I manage to swim to shore feel free to take the credit.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
In Trust
Why do people lie?
It is in my nature to trust folk. I don’t want to distrust folk. Even after being lied to time and time again I hold out that possibility that this time they are telling the truth. I assume that instead of lying there are instead misunderstandings. Miscommunications. (Please note that I am not referring to you…as far as I can tell, you have not lied to me and in this my gut agrees).
I try to trust myself and my gut instincts (some call it Ki). But when my gut activates my spidy senses I tend to feel that I am wrong. In the wrong. I tell myself that I must be wrong. And then, once again, I am put in the position of the goat. By not trusting myself I put myself in that position. I know this. Yet I want to trust in others before myself. Not hold anything back. But I need to protect myself and only I can do that. It’s a perverse game. A form of violence.
Yes, the saying goes ‘trust must be earned.’ Why? Why must trust be so fleeting. What many do day to day is, as far as I can see, based on trust. Deals are created and work when folk trust each other. You need, however, to add ‘carrots’ – a sort of ‘you can trust this person cuz if they back down they will lose $$ so therefore you are safe’ kind of thing. Trust is shored up. But that’s not real trust is it? Can trust really be bought and sold? Is it a commodity? The cynic in me states that ‘one can trust folk to act as they act in accordance with human nature.’ But shouldn’t it be human nature to desire harmony?
But then again, as I’ve already stated, I don’t trust myself. Perhaps that’s the first step. Trusting in myself. I've been called greedy. Yes. Greedy for a reflection that I could trust. Using that reflection as a form of self validation. I sincerely wish that I had come to this point sooner. Perhaps I wouldn’t have pushed some folk away. But then again, without having these folk as a mirror I am now forced to look inward. This is actually the hardest thing I have ever done. Going inside. Beyond the memories and the stories and the (re)creations. Facing and seeing myself. Warts and all. I need to allow myself to see through my own eyes.
It is in my nature to trust folk. I don’t want to distrust folk. Even after being lied to time and time again I hold out that possibility that this time they are telling the truth. I assume that instead of lying there are instead misunderstandings. Miscommunications. (Please note that I am not referring to you…as far as I can tell, you have not lied to me and in this my gut agrees).
I try to trust myself and my gut instincts (some call it Ki). But when my gut activates my spidy senses I tend to feel that I am wrong. In the wrong. I tell myself that I must be wrong. And then, once again, I am put in the position of the goat. By not trusting myself I put myself in that position. I know this. Yet I want to trust in others before myself. Not hold anything back. But I need to protect myself and only I can do that. It’s a perverse game. A form of violence.
Yes, the saying goes ‘trust must be earned.’ Why? Why must trust be so fleeting. What many do day to day is, as far as I can see, based on trust. Deals are created and work when folk trust each other. You need, however, to add ‘carrots’ – a sort of ‘you can trust this person cuz if they back down they will lose $$ so therefore you are safe’ kind of thing. Trust is shored up. But that’s not real trust is it? Can trust really be bought and sold? Is it a commodity? The cynic in me states that ‘one can trust folk to act as they act in accordance with human nature.’ But shouldn’t it be human nature to desire harmony?
But then again, as I’ve already stated, I don’t trust myself. Perhaps that’s the first step. Trusting in myself. I've been called greedy. Yes. Greedy for a reflection that I could trust. Using that reflection as a form of self validation. I sincerely wish that I had come to this point sooner. Perhaps I wouldn’t have pushed some folk away. But then again, without having these folk as a mirror I am now forced to look inward. This is actually the hardest thing I have ever done. Going inside. Beyond the memories and the stories and the (re)creations. Facing and seeing myself. Warts and all. I need to allow myself to see through my own eyes.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Cuz Only You Would 'Get' This
My boss was chosen today for jury duty today -- Andrew Stevenson murder case -- meaning he'll be off for 6 to 8 weeks. I get two jobs now. Human resources doesn't think that this means I should have a raise at all as it falls under 'other duties as may be required' in my job description. At least there will be at least one sane and level headed juror.
The new electrical panel in the booth (same place as the old one) doesn't pass inspection cuz our sound board is in front of it. Against code (though it's been this way for over 15 years). I now have to shop for and purchase a small digital console 'in my spare time' at work and strip the fucking booth again. At least we'll go digital.
Had to fire a sound tech on Sunday. Did it gently...encouraged him to go out and learn his craft but that he wasn't 'there yet' in terms of working in our space. He cried. I did a show. At least this show went well.
Just ran out of propane for barbecue and can't go out cuz the meat man is scheduled to arrive between 5pm and 9pm so I'm nuking my chicken (too hot for a stove). At least I have chicken (and a good excuse to stay in).
The score for the piece that the bride to be for the wedding I'm playing at next month wants to walk down the aisle to is crap. Starts well but gets very chunky. I'll be rewriting sections. At least I have a bit more than a month to learn it.
What I miss most? Sending stuff like this to a person who I know 'gets it.'
The new electrical panel in the booth (same place as the old one) doesn't pass inspection cuz our sound board is in front of it. Against code (though it's been this way for over 15 years). I now have to shop for and purchase a small digital console 'in my spare time' at work and strip the fucking booth again. At least we'll go digital.
Had to fire a sound tech on Sunday. Did it gently...encouraged him to go out and learn his craft but that he wasn't 'there yet' in terms of working in our space. He cried. I did a show. At least this show went well.
Just ran out of propane for barbecue and can't go out cuz the meat man is scheduled to arrive between 5pm and 9pm so I'm nuking my chicken (too hot for a stove). At least I have chicken (and a good excuse to stay in).
The score for the piece that the bride to be for the wedding I'm playing at next month wants to walk down the aisle to is crap. Starts well but gets very chunky. I'll be rewriting sections. At least I have a bit more than a month to learn it.
What I miss most? Sending stuff like this to a person who I know 'gets it.'
Sunday, August 16, 2009
What a Difference a Year Makes
So I ask myself. Have I been wasting my time this past year? The answer lies somewhere between and outside of 'yes' and 'no'. After Xman left I was crushed. Vulnerable. Insecure. Taking care of two wee ones day to day and finding the approach of each new day to be difficult to say the least. Last summer (around August) I met someone with whom I could talk about my feelings and as we chatted (primarily through email) I found myself thinking less about Xman and more about the possibilities of life. I started going out with this person for coffee. Then we began attending music events. To go out and be as an individual person--not a mom, soon to be divorcee etc.--was wonderful. I knew from the onset that this person I was hanging out with was not 'the one' yet I enjoyed the company. My feelings turned to love. Slowly. Tentatively. As I felt my ability to trust return I eagerly awaited the arrival of each new email in my inbox. It was not all good. His issues/wants/needs and my issues/wants/needs would clash. Mutual insecurities and past betrayals haunted us. I was helped by him though. And I was hurt by him. Differing views on what constituted friendship made the whole thing lopsided. I got to know him well. I don't believe the same can be said for his knowing me. At least his actions/words etc. did not reveal any empathic understanding of who I was. Only of who he thought I was. That said, this past year was 'gotten through.' Now, once again in August, I find myself with and without that person with whom I had gained some solace. I am still with him because I do know him. We, because of what we are involved with, will out of necessity see each other each week. I am without him because any other communication besides that which will occur when we must see each other is over. My girlfriends told me that if I hung out and went out with him I would not be approached by any other possible suitor. That was ok by me. I was enjoying the moment and not all that interested in the future. He was recently begun going out again solo. Ladies who had kept their distance from him because of me are now making themselves known to him. I hope he will find what he is looking for. I guess when push comes to shove I really wanted him to see me and know me. To act as a true reflection of who I was because I found it very difficult to see myself. Now I see that the reflection he presented to me was not real. For whatever reason he could not/would not see me for who I was--for who I am. It was for that reflection that I pushed. Funny that the basis of our relationship occurred through email and text. Funny that he would tell me that he wouldn't speak of these things to me face to face. Funny that I have always loved and used words in text to express myself. Funny that from the onset he tried to instill in me a sense that words were basically useless in terms of gaining a true understanding. The glorious contradictions of life. I have a file in his name in my email account that holds all of our correspondence throughout the entire year. A year's worth of correspondence. Exploration. Wrath. Humour. Exasperation. Wit. Love. Like other memories, I'll keep it stored away. Not to dwell but to cherish. Bitter sweet. All in all, it was a pretty good year.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
I Hugged My Kids
Barbecued honey glazed and garlic chicken with a wee bit of Thai chili paste alongside steamed basmati rice and barbecued broccoli gently sprinkled with soy sauce. Belly is full.
No sitter tonight. No class tonight. Good to take a break. Must be the way it's supposed to be.
Had a scary moment on the phone with Xman. Seems that he got it in his head that if he takes joint custody of the children he won't have to pay support. He screamed and yelled and I hung up the phone. He spoke to his lawyer who told him that he was wrong. Hmmmm....I wonder. Will he still make an effort to see the kids more often now that he knows his financial responsibilities will remain the same? Time will tell. I won't be holding my breath.
It was good that this happened in a weird and perverse life lesson sort of way. I immediately reverted to my good ol' fight/flight instinct. I felt that my back was to a wall and my children were behind me holding on to a leg each. I freaked out. I was terrified. Terrified that he might get away with it. Terrified for the kids. They need/want to spend time with him but he has a whole lot of fence mending to do before they would be in any way shape or form ready to spend half of their time with them.
To be fair, I asked them. They consider home to be with me. They don't want it disrupted. Ok. For now I will stay the course.
As it stands, the kidlings will be off to stay with him on Saturday for 2 weeks -- part of their summer vacation avec daddy. I will miss them (once again...'miss' is a totally inadequate word) but we shall all get through this. I just might go out and discover some new friends? Who knows. At least I know that my fight/flight, even when triggered, won't last long. A short time after the phone call, a coolness came over me and I started to cover my bases. Contacted my lawyer. Made arrangements for additional child support (in case XMan were to pull out now completely). Hugged my kids. Hugged my kids. Hugged my kids.
No sitter tonight. No class tonight. Good to take a break. Must be the way it's supposed to be.
Had a scary moment on the phone with Xman. Seems that he got it in his head that if he takes joint custody of the children he won't have to pay support. He screamed and yelled and I hung up the phone. He spoke to his lawyer who told him that he was wrong. Hmmmm....I wonder. Will he still make an effort to see the kids more often now that he knows his financial responsibilities will remain the same? Time will tell. I won't be holding my breath.
It was good that this happened in a weird and perverse life lesson sort of way. I immediately reverted to my good ol' fight/flight instinct. I felt that my back was to a wall and my children were behind me holding on to a leg each. I freaked out. I was terrified. Terrified that he might get away with it. Terrified for the kids. They need/want to spend time with him but he has a whole lot of fence mending to do before they would be in any way shape or form ready to spend half of their time with them.
To be fair, I asked them. They consider home to be with me. They don't want it disrupted. Ok. For now I will stay the course.
As it stands, the kidlings will be off to stay with him on Saturday for 2 weeks -- part of their summer vacation avec daddy. I will miss them (once again...'miss' is a totally inadequate word) but we shall all get through this. I just might go out and discover some new friends? Who knows. At least I know that my fight/flight, even when triggered, won't last long. A short time after the phone call, a coolness came over me and I started to cover my bases. Contacted my lawyer. Made arrangements for additional child support (in case XMan were to pull out now completely). Hugged my kids. Hugged my kids. Hugged my kids.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Just Getting Some Words Out
Week off with kidlings. Just hanging out. This and that. That and this. Nice. Haven't slowed down and just allowed myself to 'be' in a very long time. Kidlings will be off at their dad's next week. It'll be hard but . . . we shall persevere.
Xman wants to discuss something in person with me this week. Ok. Not really wanting to face whatever it is but I guess it's necessary. It'll have to do with access or $$. Sigh. I have to remember to not fall into the trap that this is somehow my fault. Guess I'll let him know that he can drop by tonight after the kidlings are in bed.
Had a dream about the King of Wands upside down. A friend who wants to be solitary. Well then.
It hailed yesterday. Strange. Large chunks of ice pelted down.
Practice is going well. Was told that I was beginning to become a 'pain in the ass.' Nice to hear those words again. I'm physically stronger then ever before. Long, hard, sweaty practice last night and I've woken up with nothing sore. Nice.
Playing guitar again. Doing a wedding end of September. Working on getting pieces under my fingers again. Opening up the neural pathways and building up the strength so that the music can come out. Approaching music in a different way. Hard to explain. Letting the sound reveal itself.
For the rest of the day? Not sure. Will see what unfolds.
Xman wants to discuss something in person with me this week. Ok. Not really wanting to face whatever it is but I guess it's necessary. It'll have to do with access or $$. Sigh. I have to remember to not fall into the trap that this is somehow my fault. Guess I'll let him know that he can drop by tonight after the kidlings are in bed.
Had a dream about the King of Wands upside down. A friend who wants to be solitary. Well then.
It hailed yesterday. Strange. Large chunks of ice pelted down.
Practice is going well. Was told that I was beginning to become a 'pain in the ass.' Nice to hear those words again. I'm physically stronger then ever before. Long, hard, sweaty practice last night and I've woken up with nothing sore. Nice.
Playing guitar again. Doing a wedding end of September. Working on getting pieces under my fingers again. Opening up the neural pathways and building up the strength so that the music can come out. Approaching music in a different way. Hard to explain. Letting the sound reveal itself.
For the rest of the day? Not sure. Will see what unfolds.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Wanted?
Kidz home. Sanity returns? Training for eventual empty nest syndrome.
Quotes from the boy:
"I don't mean to be mean but I don't really like daddy much. He didn't have much time for us. He worked and when he was home he spent most of his time on his laptop. We were told to go to our room and watch tv. His girlfriend is nice but she gets headaches everyday and needs her quiet time."
Talked to him that it was ok to express his feelings and no he wasn't being mean or bad. That he had every right to feel the way he was feeling. I asked if he tried to talk to his dad about how he was feeling. He said no. I said it was ok to talk to his dad about these things too. It might help?
"Mommy, why can't you just go out and find us a new daddy...one that can live here with us?"
This one threw me. I've been trying to keep my 'personal' life (not much of one to tell the truth but . . . ) personal. I've not wanted to bring anyone into the kidz lives right now. I've really not wanted to bring anyone deeply into my life right now. Hmmm.... Guess I should put an ad in a local?
"Wanted:
Single but difficult mom seeking man to share her life and take on the responsibility of aiding in the care and growth of 2 exceptional children. Must be low maintenance and not become liken to a '3rd child.' (Been there....done that). Should be tender and affectionate yet able to throw her hard. Must be independent and self sufficient. Humour is an asset."
Quotes from the boy:
"I don't mean to be mean but I don't really like daddy much. He didn't have much time for us. He worked and when he was home he spent most of his time on his laptop. We were told to go to our room and watch tv. His girlfriend is nice but she gets headaches everyday and needs her quiet time."
Talked to him that it was ok to express his feelings and no he wasn't being mean or bad. That he had every right to feel the way he was feeling. I asked if he tried to talk to his dad about how he was feeling. He said no. I said it was ok to talk to his dad about these things too. It might help?
"Mommy, why can't you just go out and find us a new daddy...one that can live here with us?"
This one threw me. I've been trying to keep my 'personal' life (not much of one to tell the truth but . . . ) personal. I've not wanted to bring anyone into the kidz lives right now. I've really not wanted to bring anyone deeply into my life right now. Hmmm.... Guess I should put an ad in a local?
"Wanted:
Single but difficult mom seeking man to share her life and take on the responsibility of aiding in the care and growth of 2 exceptional children. Must be low maintenance and not become liken to a '3rd child.' (Been there....done that). Should be tender and affectionate yet able to throw her hard. Must be independent and self sufficient. Humour is an asset."
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