Another case of "Midnightitis" for me. Can't quite find the sweet spot, sleepwise, so I got up. The boys are snoozing, though both have colds. I think I'm getting their cold, too -- can feel it in my lungs a bit, being irksome.
The blizzard is here! It started snowing around 9:00 this evening, and is in full swing. I can hear city plows on the street. If it keeps coming down the way it is now, we'll really be hit. We'll see. I'm ever the empiricist on these things. But the wind keeps howling, and the snow keeps falling.
My brain has been more active than usual, creatively; the ideas just keep rolling in, and I'm trying to keep track of them, trying to be organized. Doesn't come naturally to me, but I suppose I have my own system.
The ghost I don't believe in has been extra-thumpy this evening. An out-and-out thump in the dining room, and a shuffle in the living room. Frickin' Thumper, up to her usual hijinks.
It's 2011, People. I remember as a kid, thinking about the Year 2000, thinking "Wow, I'll be 30 then. That's so old! What'll the world be like then?" Now it's 2011, and 2000 is a distant memory. Funny. For me, the 90s are still fairly close to me, although I rationally understand that they are Ancient History(tm) these days. Back in the 00s, It would periodically startle me to reflect that 1995 was a long time ago; nowadays, I understand that it really is, but it still doesn't seem so far away. And the 80s might as well be even another dimension -- I'm not one for nostalgia, and I really am not, but how different that time was from today.
I am weirdly happier these days than I've ever been in my life. With Exene in my world, I was actually lonely, as odd as that might sound. You can be really lonely even when you are living with someone, depending on that someone. And I was. For most of my life, I was (given how early we married). Which is ironic from my perspective, because I married her because I didn't want to be alone (it was a consideration for me in my naive youth). I did that, and ended up incredibly lonely over time. Ah, the Cosmos, the great trickster, the games it plays, the laughs it enjoys at our expense. I'm not lonely now; I'm happy. Maybe not as happy as I could be, but far happier than I was, and that makes all the difference.
Anyway, I'm peaceful and reflective at the moment. Can't sleep for the howling of the wind, but at peace, all the same.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Abominable Snow, Man!
Supposedly we're (the Midwest, or as much as one-third of the country) are about to get pummeled by some super-blizzard (tonight? Tomorrow? I'm not entirely sure). We'll see if it actually happens, but the weatherfolks are claiming it's going to be "dangerous" and so forth. Normally, I would do a proactive grocery run, but I just went the other day for a few things, so I'm going to make due with what I've got on hand. As long as the boys are covered, foodwise, I don't sweat it. Plus, in the city, even during a big snow, one doesn't have too far to go for supplies (famous last words, right? OoOOooh!)
Sent out another short story, trying to blow on that tinder, catch a few sparks. Part of the grind.
Nothing else terribly exciting. I need a haircut. I'm beginning to look like "Steff" from "Pretty In Pink."
Sent out another short story, trying to blow on that tinder, catch a few sparks. Part of the grind.
Nothing else terribly exciting. I need a haircut. I'm beginning to look like "Steff" from "Pretty In Pink."
Amore Alla Fresca
Selma: "Don't you love me?"
Troy McClure: "Sure I do! Like I love Fresca!"
(from "Simpsons")
Troy McClure: "Sure I do! Like I love Fresca!"
(from "Simpsons")
Blizzard?
Looks like there's a blizzard watch for tomorrow. Yay! Supposedly the chance for a foot of snow! Yeee! I love that. Love when big storms come in, just because they're dramatic and fun. I like the idea of walking the boys to school in a toboggan, pulling them along. Haha!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Loveless
But my relationship with her took a real toll on me, and revealed a major challenge one risks in love -- that you can love somebody who is not terribly good for you (or even good to you). That's something I still think about, and what it means. I mean, with Exene, my love for her was gradually belt-sanded into resentment of her, anger at the lack of reciprocity and partnership, until I burned out. What had been a true love (as near as I understood the term at that time) eroded away in the face of the reality of my situation with her.
Eventually, I just was going through the motions, without my heart in it. I can say without equivocation that I definitely fell out of love with Exene. I am happier now without her than I ever was with her -- and this was after months (and perhaps even years, when I think back on it) of agonizing soul-searching. But that's something of a rule of thumb measure of love -- are you happier without your Love than you were with them?
What do you do when you love someone you're not compatible with? It's a harder question than one can know, and maybe it's a luxury people enjoy in this world that was immaterial in past generations. Then again, marriage and love are not synonymous -- the Victorians really saddled the bucking bronco of romantic love to the draft horse of marriage, and much of that problem plagues people today, like expecting that One Person to be The One, or unrealistic expectations of that person, that relationship. For some folks, they might stick it out, or, because they're loving, they look the other way when confronted with the things that hurt them in a relationship. Or maybe they split when they realize that what they have to offer isn't what the other person wants or values (and/or they realize that the other person offers them nothing and gives them nothing but grief).
If you really love someone, you forgive them for their faults, and if you don't, you won't -- rather, those faults will just nag at you and probably magnify in time until it's all you see. What do you do if you forgive someone for those faults because you love them, even though you recognize that those faults are likely to come back to haunt you again and again? I think people make that kind of Faustian bargain all the time, whether trying to change somebody for the better, or to heal them, or appeal to their better nature, when that nature may not be there to begin with.
It's a pragmatic thing to consider, so it doesn't come naturally to me, but how someone makes you feel and how they treat you are factors in the overall process. But the optimistic and romantic part of me thinks that one should forgive, too. That capacity to love carries within it the necessity of forgiveness, and the hope and promise that true love brings.
Just as trust and appreciation and hope are integral to true love, so is forgiveness. The first three are like fertilizer for love, they make love possible, whereas the latter is something that lets love endure through hardship; it's kind of a defense mechanism for love. But what can you forgive, and what is unforgivable?
That's something I think about (and here is where my atheism comes into it -- Limoncello said I was the most spiritual atheist she knew, and she's a believer) -- that nature of forgiveness. If you still love someone, you can forgive them; without that love, you can't. But it is the capacity to forgive that lets love through -- it's a chicken/egg kind of paradox, in some ways. If somebody is vindictive, they're not going to be able to forgive, and that is a love-killer. If you are forgiving by nature, then you can still feel love, even through adversity.
It's labyrinthine. It highlights the curious power of love and forgiveness, how inextricably they are tied -- if you love, you forgive; if you are forgiving, you will be loving -- I don't think it's possible to be loving and vindictive, because the latter requires grinding love under an iron-shod boot.
1 Corinthians puts it well:
“Love is always patient and kind; it is never jealous, love is never boastful or conceited; it is never rude or selfish; it does not take offense, and is not resentful. Love takes no pleasure in other people’s sins but delights in the truth; it is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes. Love does not come to an end.”
Now, of course, the Bible's all about God-lovin', versus people-lovin' (I mean, sure "love one another" and such, but above it all, God hovers and hogs the spotlight), but as an atheist, I can look at what it said about that God-lovin' and apply it to this world. The above is a nice invocation of true love, the idealized love we see expressed in the pop culture (or used to, anyway -- is love passé these days?) It's kind of funny -- to the Christian, God is Love; but to the heathen Romantic, Love is God -- bahah! It's how I can look at that line above and think of it with real-world love, instead of with spiritual love.
I suppose one could spin the above around and find what love isn't that way: "Non-love is always impatient and unkind; it is always jealous, non-love is always boastful and conceited; it is always rude and selfish; it takes offense and is resentful. Non-love takes pleasure in other people's sins and delights in lies; it is never ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and won't endure whatever comes. Non-love ends."
- Impatient
- Unkind
- Jealous
- Boastful
- Conceited
- Rude
- Selfish
- Vindictive
- Resentful
- Wicked
- Dishonest
- Unforgiving
- Mistrustful
- Hopeless
- Transitory
It's kind of funny to see it that way -- I resisted calling it "hatred" -- which is habitually expressed as the opposite of love, because it's not quite right, here. But I'm contrasting true love with what, exactly? Non-love, which isn't the same as hatred or indifference. Non-love is when you think someone loves you (or when you think you love someone) but you're wrong about it.
But seeing it as a list above, it's amusing -- how can one possibly love with that much emotional pollution choking their spirit? And if a relationship (or an individual) is riven with those things, how can it possibly be love? How can they even feel love, or recognize love if they even run across it?
Forgiveness is the last bastion of love, I guess. If you can't forgive, you can't love. But, on the bright side, if you can forgive, you can love.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Midnightitis
B1 made me laugh tonight, when I tucked him in. He was staying awake, and I said "Hey, Buddy, do you have insomnia?" and he nodded, said "Yeah, but I think 'midnightitis' is a better name for it." I loved that.
I think I have a bit of midnightitis, myself.
I think I have a bit of midnightitis, myself.
Hats Off
I love a good Western, and integral to a good Western are good cowboy hats, right? Hell, yeah. I don't usually wear hats, myself, but I appreciate a good hat when I see one. Three of my favorite cinematic cowboy hats...
3. "You be the Josey Wales!" The Josey Wales hat is a good one. Almost enough to make me forget that he was a no good damned Johnny Reb. Good mix of practicality, looks, and no-nonsense badassery.
2. Speaking of Southerners, Val Kilmer's Doc Holliday from "Tombstone" -- great performance, anchored by a great hat worn at a rakish tilt. His hat has a bit of a big brim for my tastes, but the jaunty angle he wears it at nicely offsets it. It's a perfect topper for a gentleman scoundrel.
1. Johnny Ringo (perfectly played with psychopathic intensity by the one and only Michael Biehn) from "Tombstone" has a great hat. I think he has the best hat in the movie, mingling deadly practicality, a horsehair lanyard, and with that hint of a roguish swoop of the slim brim. Perfecto.
I covet the actors who get their pick of perfect hats, selected for them by the movie's costume designers, and surely pick something ideal for the character and the actor.
I covet the actors who get their pick of perfect hats, selected for them by the movie's costume designers, and surely pick something ideal for the character and the actor.
Heh
Wow, "slept in" until 5:00 today. Bahah!
Interesting to see all the turmoil in the Middle East lately -- given our policy of supporting dictatorships in the region for generations, we're definitely on the wrong side, relative to the protesters. Our foreign policy there was focused on access to oil; we didn't want a more democratic Middle East, because it might diminish the flood of oil that came our way, so we supported (and funded) dictatorships in the region, which then kept the oil coming. Of course, this pissed off everyday Arabs, who saw us as the pimps for their respective autocrats, oligarchs, and dictators -- and when you're giving $1.5 billion annually in military aid to, say, Egypt, it's pretty hard to pretend to be pro-democracy. Anyway, our policy there certainly fueled the Islamist movement, who just wanted us out of there. All of this points to why our country has desperately needed an energy policy, even though the benighted Carter was the only president to even try, to be serious about it. We still don't have an energy policy, unfortunately. We're still mired in the Middle East, supporting the bad guys, without a diplomatic hand to play. Oil's not the future; it's the past. So is supporting dictatorships and pretending that it has anything whatsoever to do with democracy. We need to get the hell out of that region, rather than get further mired in it.
In other news...
Good piece on SF's cultural role.
Interesting to see all the turmoil in the Middle East lately -- given our policy of supporting dictatorships in the region for generations, we're definitely on the wrong side, relative to the protesters. Our foreign policy there was focused on access to oil; we didn't want a more democratic Middle East, because it might diminish the flood of oil that came our way, so we supported (and funded) dictatorships in the region, which then kept the oil coming. Of course, this pissed off everyday Arabs, who saw us as the pimps for their respective autocrats, oligarchs, and dictators -- and when you're giving $1.5 billion annually in military aid to, say, Egypt, it's pretty hard to pretend to be pro-democracy. Anyway, our policy there certainly fueled the Islamist movement, who just wanted us out of there. All of this points to why our country has desperately needed an energy policy, even though the benighted Carter was the only president to even try, to be serious about it. We still don't have an energy policy, unfortunately. We're still mired in the Middle East, supporting the bad guys, without a diplomatic hand to play. Oil's not the future; it's the past. So is supporting dictatorships and pretending that it has anything whatsoever to do with democracy. We need to get the hell out of that region, rather than get further mired in it.
In other news...
Good piece on SF's cultural role.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Near Miss
I thought I'd miss Exene when the split happened, but I didn't. I really sweated the lead-up to that, wondered if I had a right to be happy or not. Stressed out majorly from it -- she actually could make me physically ill. Not her directly, but just the associated stress of the situation. I'd get reflux! I actually got an ulcer for my troubles. Talk about internalizing stress!
But since then, even under difficult circumstances at work, I found the stress was gone, the reflux all but vanished. Smooth sailing. It was amazing. Take that static out of my daily mix, and I was fundamentally better, and happier.
The boys are joys, of course, and I'm so grateful for them -- but when I faced the relief of not having Exene around, I thought "God, I should've done this 15 years ago."
All concern about whether it was the right thing to do or not was gone; I realized it was the right thing.
And I also realized that a big reason I'd carved that path long, long ago (and good lord, how long ago it was), but it was because of a fear of being alone. Even though I ended up with somebody who was nearly as good as being alone for me, emotionally, the specter of being alone frightened my 22-year-old self, and I "solved" that "problem" by marrying Exene. Ridiculous.
Now that I am alone, I find peace and comfort in it, and freedom. I always knew that I was giving way, way more than I ever got with Exene, but to see it played out so vividly in my day-to-day was a true revelation: I really did have nothing to lose. She lost way more than I did, and it was predicated on our situation -- I was happy to make her happy, worked very hard to make her world fun and entertaining and joyful. I did the worrying, I covered the bases, and I soaked up the stress, too. And for what? For love, obviously. Duh.
But that love eroded away in the face of that erosive situation.
Somebody said that when you love somebody, all the qualities you love about them become the qualities you hate about them when you fall out of love with them. I mull that now and then, because I definitely fell out of love with Exene, but it was hard for me to say that those qualities were perceived differently by me after the fall, because, for me, they were always there, like speed bumps in the road, stuff I had to navigate around and generally just ignore. Exene would always be Exene -- for anybody she's with, you get exactly what she is; it's just up to you whether you put up with that or not. I did, for two decades, I did, until I couldn't, anymore.
While I can't say that her qualities boomeranged in my estimation, I will say that when divorcing someone, there is an intensification in the nature of the person that occurs -- if a spouse is selfish and narcissistic, when you're divorcing them, they become more selfish and narcissistic. If they're an asshole, then they become an even bigger asshole as you're parting ways. This isn't just your perception of it, but rather, without Love's blinders to have you look the other way, you just see it (and them) far more clearly. What annoys you about them, what you blew off when you loved them, becomes like a klaxon going off. That's how couples on the outs can get into arguments over, I dunno, what cheese somebody bought at the store, or about what shirt the kid's wearing.
And this was even in a by-and-large amicable parting, so I can only wonder how stressful and difficult it is in a situation where the parting is rancorous. Exene was coldly resigned to the reality that I wasn't coming back -- if I didn't come crawling back to the nothing that she gave me, well, that was my problem, in her eyes. And in my view, anybody who wanted the nothing that she gave in a relationship was more than welcome to it. So, weirdly, we found a mostly peaceful detente in that mutual apathy.
A columnist pithily put relationships like this: "Love is when you put up with another person's bullshit." I loved that, because it's really true. When you love someone, you do put up with their bullshit -- you forgive it, you forget it, you look the other way, you explain it away, you rationalize it -- a thousand mental and emotional dodges. When you fall out of love with them, you see the bullshit for what it is, and there's no way around it. Ideally, the bullshit-to-goodness ratio is skewed far in favor of the goodness; somebody who has too much bullshit is unlikely to be able to fool somebody into loving them. Somebody who is mostly goodness is surely "a catch," somebody who is mostly bullshit is trouble, more so because they likely try to camouflage their bullshit to sucker people into loving them, and/or don't even see their bullshit as bullshit, so they need a real song and dance to get people to take the bait. Some folks walk into it with a desire to "help" or "heal" or "save" that other person from their own bullshit. But that's nothing but trouble, and the person who does that is a glutton for punishment.
Everybody has bullshit (hell, some of the worst folks think they are bullshit-free, but that's the biggest load of bullshit around, and woe to the soul who steps in THAT pile of bullshit, right?) Anyway, being human is a bullshit situation, right? So, of course, we have it -- what folks might label "baggage" in a less invective-prone setting. The question you run into is whether that person's baggage is worth lugging, or even if you consider it baggage -- one person's baggage might be another person's treasure, I suppose. Although I believe that bullshit is bullshit, and can't be spun into gold -- you either love somebody enough that you put up with it, or you don't, and, therefore, can't. But if, through it all, you find you still can put up with their bullshit, congratulations and condolences: you're in love.
But since then, even under difficult circumstances at work, I found the stress was gone, the reflux all but vanished. Smooth sailing. It was amazing. Take that static out of my daily mix, and I was fundamentally better, and happier.
The boys are joys, of course, and I'm so grateful for them -- but when I faced the relief of not having Exene around, I thought "God, I should've done this 15 years ago."
All concern about whether it was the right thing to do or not was gone; I realized it was the right thing.
And I also realized that a big reason I'd carved that path long, long ago (and good lord, how long ago it was), but it was because of a fear of being alone. Even though I ended up with somebody who was nearly as good as being alone for me, emotionally, the specter of being alone frightened my 22-year-old self, and I "solved" that "problem" by marrying Exene. Ridiculous.
Now that I am alone, I find peace and comfort in it, and freedom. I always knew that I was giving way, way more than I ever got with Exene, but to see it played out so vividly in my day-to-day was a true revelation: I really did have nothing to lose. She lost way more than I did, and it was predicated on our situation -- I was happy to make her happy, worked very hard to make her world fun and entertaining and joyful. I did the worrying, I covered the bases, and I soaked up the stress, too. And for what? For love, obviously. Duh.
But that love eroded away in the face of that erosive situation.
Somebody said that when you love somebody, all the qualities you love about them become the qualities you hate about them when you fall out of love with them. I mull that now and then, because I definitely fell out of love with Exene, but it was hard for me to say that those qualities were perceived differently by me after the fall, because, for me, they were always there, like speed bumps in the road, stuff I had to navigate around and generally just ignore. Exene would always be Exene -- for anybody she's with, you get exactly what she is; it's just up to you whether you put up with that or not. I did, for two decades, I did, until I couldn't, anymore.
While I can't say that her qualities boomeranged in my estimation, I will say that when divorcing someone, there is an intensification in the nature of the person that occurs -- if a spouse is selfish and narcissistic, when you're divorcing them, they become more selfish and narcissistic. If they're an asshole, then they become an even bigger asshole as you're parting ways. This isn't just your perception of it, but rather, without Love's blinders to have you look the other way, you just see it (and them) far more clearly. What annoys you about them, what you blew off when you loved them, becomes like a klaxon going off. That's how couples on the outs can get into arguments over, I dunno, what cheese somebody bought at the store, or about what shirt the kid's wearing.
And this was even in a by-and-large amicable parting, so I can only wonder how stressful and difficult it is in a situation where the parting is rancorous. Exene was coldly resigned to the reality that I wasn't coming back -- if I didn't come crawling back to the nothing that she gave me, well, that was my problem, in her eyes. And in my view, anybody who wanted the nothing that she gave in a relationship was more than welcome to it. So, weirdly, we found a mostly peaceful detente in that mutual apathy.
A columnist pithily put relationships like this: "Love is when you put up with another person's bullshit." I loved that, because it's really true. When you love someone, you do put up with their bullshit -- you forgive it, you forget it, you look the other way, you explain it away, you rationalize it -- a thousand mental and emotional dodges. When you fall out of love with them, you see the bullshit for what it is, and there's no way around it. Ideally, the bullshit-to-goodness ratio is skewed far in favor of the goodness; somebody who has too much bullshit is unlikely to be able to fool somebody into loving them. Somebody who is mostly goodness is surely "a catch," somebody who is mostly bullshit is trouble, more so because they likely try to camouflage their bullshit to sucker people into loving them, and/or don't even see their bullshit as bullshit, so they need a real song and dance to get people to take the bait. Some folks walk into it with a desire to "help" or "heal" or "save" that other person from their own bullshit. But that's nothing but trouble, and the person who does that is a glutton for punishment.
Everybody has bullshit (hell, some of the worst folks think they are bullshit-free, but that's the biggest load of bullshit around, and woe to the soul who steps in THAT pile of bullshit, right?) Anyway, being human is a bullshit situation, right? So, of course, we have it -- what folks might label "baggage" in a less invective-prone setting. The question you run into is whether that person's baggage is worth lugging, or even if you consider it baggage -- one person's baggage might be another person's treasure, I suppose. Although I believe that bullshit is bullshit, and can't be spun into gold -- you either love somebody enough that you put up with it, or you don't, and, therefore, can't. But if, through it all, you find you still can put up with their bullshit, congratulations and condolences: you're in love.
 |
| "Shit Fountain," Ukrainian Village, Chicago. |
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Boy
One pet peeve of mine is women who refer to men as "boys." I hate when they do that. Like "I saw this boy the other day" or "I'm going out with a boy tonight." or "Are there any cute boys there?" My experience of women who call men boys is that they don't like men very much, and appear to have a problem with them (and with themselves). They'll deny it, of course, but in their daily lives, I think it's borne out.
I've seen it enough times to wonder if there's a correlation, even if this is utterly unscientific. The women I've seen use that term aren't able to form stable, lasting, healthy relationships, are perennially unhappy, are neurotic as hell, and are generally threatened by men -- it comes out in things they say and do. I think there's a perhaps half-conscious put-down inherent in calling men "boys," or seeing them as boys -- or, maybe there's a level of immaturity in these women themselves that makes them feel threatened by the term "man" and prefer the pert "boy" term, instead. A kind of projection of their own immaturity onto guys.
Grown women can be girly -- that's nice, sure. But grown women aren't girls; they're WOMEN. And, by the same turn, grown men aren't boys. Sure, a man can be boyish, and a man can be childish (just as a woman can be childish, too) -- I've known old people who are immature, crazily enough.
But give "boy" a rest, why don't you? Seriously, the ones I've seen use that term are emotional basket cases. It's just odd to me, because I've seen it used by a whole generation of women (or are they girls?) It's endemic in the generations after mine. Somewhere down the line, "man" was blackballed in the culture, and there's a generation of guys out there who feel compelled to apologize for being men -- maybe those are the "boys" those "girls" are wanting.
To me, it's just so off-putting. I immediately think badly of a woman who uses that term for guys. It's instinctive, but it's there, all the same. I respect a woman who is confident enough in herself to want a man, and not a boy, and who can see a man as a man, and appreciate him as one.
It's one thing for women to call themselves girls, or men to call themselves boys; they're allowed to. But when it crosses the aisle, it rankles. It just feels off for a guy to say "Are there any nice girls there?" It's an affectation, it's insulting, it's lame.
So, guys, if a woman sees you as a "boy," look out. That one's trouble, and it's not going to go well for you.
I've seen it enough times to wonder if there's a correlation, even if this is utterly unscientific. The women I've seen use that term aren't able to form stable, lasting, healthy relationships, are perennially unhappy, are neurotic as hell, and are generally threatened by men -- it comes out in things they say and do. I think there's a perhaps half-conscious put-down inherent in calling men "boys," or seeing them as boys -- or, maybe there's a level of immaturity in these women themselves that makes them feel threatened by the term "man" and prefer the pert "boy" term, instead. A kind of projection of their own immaturity onto guys.
Grown women can be girly -- that's nice, sure. But grown women aren't girls; they're WOMEN. And, by the same turn, grown men aren't boys. Sure, a man can be boyish, and a man can be childish (just as a woman can be childish, too) -- I've known old people who are immature, crazily enough.
But give "boy" a rest, why don't you? Seriously, the ones I've seen use that term are emotional basket cases. It's just odd to me, because I've seen it used by a whole generation of women (or are they girls?) It's endemic in the generations after mine. Somewhere down the line, "man" was blackballed in the culture, and there's a generation of guys out there who feel compelled to apologize for being men -- maybe those are the "boys" those "girls" are wanting.
To me, it's just so off-putting. I immediately think badly of a woman who uses that term for guys. It's instinctive, but it's there, all the same. I respect a woman who is confident enough in herself to want a man, and not a boy, and who can see a man as a man, and appreciate him as one.
It's one thing for women to call themselves girls, or men to call themselves boys; they're allowed to. But when it crosses the aisle, it rankles. It just feels off for a guy to say "Are there any nice girls there?" It's an affectation, it's insulting, it's lame.
So, guys, if a woman sees you as a "boy," look out. That one's trouble, and it's not going to go well for you.
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