Whoa. Another blog entry? Already?! I know all of you reading are shocked. All BOTH of you!
So again I'm going to rattle off stream of consciousness without editing. I'm into that now. My friends and I were discussing James Joyce and Faulkner at brunch, and I guess I'm going to try that style today.
Wow. I made that sound like we had this erudite meeting of the minds. And actually, yeah, I think our conversation today does qualify as that, but it was more about Jim Morrison's influence on Iggy Pop, (because I work Jim Morrison into every conversation) and the administrators at our kids' school, and our upcoming travels.... see? I'm doing it already. Why are those authors revered? This stream of consciousness shit is a breeze! Anyway, as I was thinking/saying/writing, we really did have a good time, because I love talking with these very smart people.
And don't you love it when you have that connection with people? Where your conversation could go for days? You have it in the beginning of a romantic relationship. That giddy ionic bonding through language, both verbal and non-verbal. If you're really lucky - for the entirety of your romantic relationship, you will maintain that connection, even if the demands of every day life dictate that you can't abandon responsibilities to engage constantly. (Supposedly. I don't have empirical evidence of my own, although I hope to one day.)
So... Don't you hate it when you lose that connection?
(A moment of silence.....) Ok, enough of that shit.
My niece wrote a song a long time ago, "Unknown Encounter." It's one of my favorites of hers just for the sound of it. It popped into my head today, because I was thinking back on the past week. In the last few days, I've had some fantastic, thought-provoking conversations with old friends, new friends, and old new friends or is it new old friends? In her song, she sings, "I was havin' a debate... on religion and politics, and if I needed faith." She wrote this as a teenager, and it blew my mind that she had such perspective. The same song says, "The next year we hung around... and pretended to be friends... but the truth is you have potential, so this isn't where it ends."
And it's potential that powers those debates, those connections. Whether we do it with another, or with ourselves, we drive our lives by converting this potential into kinetic energy. When people say that they feel "alive," this is what they're feeling. Sheer current that, if you are quiet while it's flowing, you almost can hear it. The kind that quickens your pulse and widens your pupils. The kind that keeps you painting even though your thumbs are numb. The kind that keeps you typing even though your eyes are blurred. The kind that keeps you awake until 4 am just to listen to a voice.
Magic happens. And when it happens with two people, hearts heal, minds unite, cells divide, and synapses fire. Yes, the synapses that fire together DO wire together, to paraphrase Carla Shatz. But they also can tire together. If I have to lose the connection, I think I prefer to be knocked to the ground by lightning rather than to just have the battery drain or the wiring get so old it's too brittle to conduct. (Then you end up with that "sound and fury signifying nothing" - which was Faulkner quoting Shakespeare and I guess meant that nothing means anything. Bleak. That was his stream of consciousness, so let's get back to mine... after this brief message.)
Taking a short intermission from my stream of consciousness: I grabbed this info from Wikipedia, but only because I know about it from my job, but didn't know how to succinctly explain it: "In electronics, capacitive coupling is the transfer of energy within an electrical network by means of the capacitance between circuit nodes. This coupling can have an intentional or accidental effect."
Same goes for our coupling. Humans are not meant to be resistors. We must connect or our lives will become blackouts. Just like every medicine is really only the right amount of poison, so then is every connection life-sustaining but possibly deadly. You've got something in your head, and in there, it's safe. But once you let it out, once you so much as voice it, that current is flowing. Don't kid yourself that just because you didn't directly stick a fork in a socket that you might not be creating a dangerous arc. Exciting, beautiful. And often the more exciting, the more beautiful, the more lethal. But also often, the result is worth the hazard. Just be sure to use shielded cables.
"Ohm's Law is a linear relationship, meaning that for any given body of resistance, the more volts you have, the more amps you'll have. That's why it's misleading to say that it's not the volts that will kill you; it's the amps. The volts directly determine the amps."
(The volts are thoughts, and the amps are actions, if you didn't follow me there.) When you've got that 230 VAC/50 Hz surge buzzing through your body, please use it! (Or domestically, you should probably use 120/60, but I digress.) Be careful how and where you channel it, but use it to power something.
You can't live without your power. Share it. Open yourself to the flow of others. Connect. Be cautious but remember safety is never guaranteed. Keep in mind that you will definitely live through a little bit of static shock.
And if you're looking for a spark but afraid to plug in, start slowly and try something of lower risk, like maybe licking a 9 Volt battery.
But don't do that at brunch with your friends, or they'll think you're really weird.
Go listen to Ariel!
Electric Arc
Science, y'all
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Requiem for Demand-Withdraw and Laughter
Today I learned that one of my friends was getting a divorce. She had posted about it on Facebook and apparently someone had criticized her for divulging too many details.
A second friend recently addressed the fact that she was hearing some untrue things about herself that apparently could be traced back to her ex. Rather than retaliate, she showed class and reminded everyone that when people are hurting, you should take what they say with a grain of salt. Basically, she said she understood, and that she wasn't going to hold a grudge over things she knew were said in pain. What a gracious way to put that. I'm impressed with her empathy.
Ordinarily, although I'm usually an open book about myself, I think I would agree that it's best to err on the side of discretion when it concerns someone else's secrets, feelings, and/or when there are kids involved.
But in this case, I really get the "oversharing." She owes no protection to her soon-to-be ex.
Some people put so much stuff on social media that you're like, "Do you ever look up from your phone?" Other people only put the happy stuff and you kinda get sick of it because you get the distinct impression that they are full of shit. But you also don't want to see someone constantly complain. Who wants to follow Eeyore on Instagram?
It's tough to strike a balance. For the most part, I guess I tend to lean toward posting more of the "good." It's not phony. It's polite. There's no need to document every mood swing. On the other hand, I'm also not going to image craft a life that I'm not really living, and I don't even have the time or savvy to do that. Even if I'm slightly skewed toward the auspicious, I'm pretty authentic online. And that's simply because I don't know how not to be. If you really know me, well, you know me. We've all read about the implications of social media and we all know not to compare our blooper reel to everyone else's highlights. (Am I plagiarizing Dr. Phil or someone? It's good advice, whoever said it.)
For those of us who are old enough to have had more than one class reunion, here is your explanatory metaphor: Social media is the mall. Remember the mall? It wasn't like school. It was more of your own turf, with the glass vestibule entrances providing just enough of a buffer between you and your parents so that you felt safe knowing they were a phone call away, but you could also call someone an "asshole" instead of a "jerk" and you might put on more eyeliner than you were really supposed to be wearing. Maybe you might make out with someone in the movies. (Or was that just me?)
Maybe you were one of those boys who liked to look at the funny, dirty cards in Spencer's Gifts or one of those guys always doing stupid things with those bouncy balls. (Was that a subliminal message, guys? Don't answer that.) Maybe you were one of those girls who liked to try on shoes. But mostly we just walked around talking and looking at each other and letting other people talk to and look at us. If you were me and you were 13, you were naively wearing an Ocean Pacific half shirt. (I still have it. It still fits. Yes it's hilarious. No, you can't see. Ok, maybe just one of you....)
Side note: A lot of times, at the mall, you looked a lot dumber than you thought. But that's ok. We all did. We still do. And it's still ok.
So it was fun to be at the mall and you went there looking good and being friendly. But sometimes you might find yourself arguing with a friend at the food court. Maybe you walked into Miller's Outpost and saw your boyfriend flirting with the girl working there and you spilled your purse as you tried to storm out. Maybe your parents just got divorced or you'd gotten caught skipping school that day and been stripped of your student council seat.
Sometimes a lot of the kids, and it seems like all of the kids, at the mall know what just happened to you and you're embarrassed, even if you didn't do anything wrong. Your choices are to stay home, (or to go home, should the thing happen AT the mall) or to just deal with it right then and there.
So my friend with the cheating spouse made an excellent point: She said that people shouldn't judge her for "airing her dirty laundry." (He had already gone out in public with the other woman.) "Why judge me?" she proposed. "Judge them." And while yes, she's saying this while in pain, she's right. I totally am going to judge that. I shouldn't. We're not supposed to. It's none of my business if your marriage falls apart, or even if you had an affair. But could you at least have kept that relatively private? Or if you just had to go out in public, could you not have done it where you knew people your wife knew would be? But I wasn't there. So I can't really comment. But if I reserve judgment of him, I will also refrain from judging my friend for putting her opinion out there.
Why should the betrayed pretend that they are ok with it? Where's the class in being discreet? Who is she supposed to be protecting? If it makes her feel better to talk about it at the mall, well, let her. If you don't want to listen to her, leave the arcade. Do whatever it is you do. Get a facial at Dillards or go argue with that kid that he needs to put down the Bon Jovi and ask the cashier if he can order a cassette of Suicidal Tendencies or something by Skinny Puppy, because of course they won't have it because "this town is lame, man." Whoever you are, you've got your own life, so you don't have to gawk like she's a freakshow; just move on. But if this is your friend, you can stop and say, "hey, that sucks that you're going through that."
And if she wants to talk some shit on the guy who just decimated her world, that's her prerogative.
The bridge has been burned. Why not have a bonfire with the wreckage?
A few months ago, I ended a five year relationship. Oh, and yes, I'm well aware that I totally buried the lead here. Maybe no one is even reading this far. But there it is. I said it. I don't know why it took so long to say it except that for a while, I guess I didn't want it to be true, and then I was too hurt to talk (I just heard a collective gasp.) and then I was mad and knew I'd say something I'd regret. Until now, I've only said it when I had to say it. We had been engaged and he referred to me as his "wife." We lived together. As far as the state was concerned, we were, for all practical purposes, married. So it was pretty crushing for me, and I think I can safely say it was no picnic for him, either.
The truth is that if you know either of us, and especially if you know us both, I probably don't need to explain. A lot of people were surprised that we lasted as long as we did. But the only other person who possibly knows him as well as I do once wrote to me, "I'm glad you found each other (even though you were right in front of each other)." I still appreciate that vote of confidence, and it means more to me than all the well-intended remarks of even my most caring friends. We did find each other, even if we eventually lost each other. And one of these days I hope I can look back and laugh, because oh, man, we laughed. We fought. But we laughed our asses off. We really, really did.
So it really sucked that it didn't work out, just because I wanted it to, and he wanted it to.... And it sucked even harder that all the people who scoffed at us ended up being "right." I would love it if that didn't matter. I don't put a lot of stock in other people's opinions. It's not that I don't care about people's feelings. I just don't really conform. I'm not trying to be non-conformist. It's laziness, really. I just don't have a clue as to what everyone is "doing" or wearing or what's cool or even what word I'm supposed to be using instead of "cool" to describe what I think is cool. I don't "keep up" with trends.
I long ago realized that it doesn't matter to me what everyone thinks... except when they're right and I wish they weren't. In that time, I realize that I do care, and that we all want to cry in private. I hate seeing my friends not knowing what to say. I loathe being pitied. I can't even begin to describe the gut-wrenching agony of imagining how he is describing us and me. And if you know, please don't tell me. If he's telling you, it's not because he wants to publicly shame me, it's because he trusts you, and I respect that. Unlike my friend who was taken by surprise while she was still in the relationship, he and I are no longer a unit and it's none of my business. And I don't mean to assume, but maybe that grain of salt adage applies to him as well.
So both my friends were right. In my case, I can only say that I just want him to be okay. It turns out that I am not as mature or brave as either of the friends who posted about their relationships. I'm only mature and brave enough to admit that I'm not. Maybe it's because I'm 44 and I thought I'd have it more together by now, or perhaps because I was already divorced, or maybe because it turns out I have some pride, this breakup stings like failure.
And guess what. If I haven't talked to you about it, it's because I don't want to talk about it. (And now I think I just heard a collective sigh of relief!)
Again, I'm only able to admit that I know my feelings aren't logical; I'm not able to stop feeling somewhat embarrassed. Why am I? I have no problem meeting strangers and public speaking is a breeze for me, really. So why now is the open book usually on display now in the restricted section? Why don't I want to talk about it? Why don't most people? I'm pretty sure that if my friend's marital problems hadn't been displayed publicly, she wouldn't have needed to address them that way. And the callous disregard for her privacy justifies her reaction.
As for the rest of us.... Why are we ashamed to say that we're in pain? Don't we roll our eyes when our parents or grandparents groan upon standing up only to say, "I'm fine! Nothing's wrong!"? Aren't emotions as much a part of our lives as our physical bodies? They are what makes us who we are. The body is just the scaffolding. And right now, the inside of this one is a construction zone. Please use caution - authorized personnel only.
A second friend recently addressed the fact that she was hearing some untrue things about herself that apparently could be traced back to her ex. Rather than retaliate, she showed class and reminded everyone that when people are hurting, you should take what they say with a grain of salt. Basically, she said she understood, and that she wasn't going to hold a grudge over things she knew were said in pain. What a gracious way to put that. I'm impressed with her empathy.
Ordinarily, although I'm usually an open book about myself, I think I would agree that it's best to err on the side of discretion when it concerns someone else's secrets, feelings, and/or when there are kids involved.
But in this case, I really get the "oversharing." She owes no protection to her soon-to-be ex.
Some people put so much stuff on social media that you're like, "Do you ever look up from your phone?" Other people only put the happy stuff and you kinda get sick of it because you get the distinct impression that they are full of shit. But you also don't want to see someone constantly complain. Who wants to follow Eeyore on Instagram?
It's tough to strike a balance. For the most part, I guess I tend to lean toward posting more of the "good." It's not phony. It's polite. There's no need to document every mood swing. On the other hand, I'm also not going to image craft a life that I'm not really living, and I don't even have the time or savvy to do that. Even if I'm slightly skewed toward the auspicious, I'm pretty authentic online. And that's simply because I don't know how not to be. If you really know me, well, you know me. We've all read about the implications of social media and we all know not to compare our blooper reel to everyone else's highlights. (Am I plagiarizing Dr. Phil or someone? It's good advice, whoever said it.)
For those of us who are old enough to have had more than one class reunion, here is your explanatory metaphor: Social media is the mall. Remember the mall? It wasn't like school. It was more of your own turf, with the glass vestibule entrances providing just enough of a buffer between you and your parents so that you felt safe knowing they were a phone call away, but you could also call someone an "asshole" instead of a "jerk" and you might put on more eyeliner than you were really supposed to be wearing. Maybe you might make out with someone in the movies. (Or was that just me?)
Maybe you were one of those boys who liked to look at the funny, dirty cards in Spencer's Gifts or one of those guys always doing stupid things with those bouncy balls. (Was that a subliminal message, guys? Don't answer that.) Maybe you were one of those girls who liked to try on shoes. But mostly we just walked around talking and looking at each other and letting other people talk to and look at us. If you were me and you were 13, you were naively wearing an Ocean Pacific half shirt. (I still have it. It still fits. Yes it's hilarious. No, you can't see. Ok, maybe just one of you....)
Side note: A lot of times, at the mall, you looked a lot dumber than you thought. But that's ok. We all did. We still do. And it's still ok.
So it was fun to be at the mall and you went there looking good and being friendly. But sometimes you might find yourself arguing with a friend at the food court. Maybe you walked into Miller's Outpost and saw your boyfriend flirting with the girl working there and you spilled your purse as you tried to storm out. Maybe your parents just got divorced or you'd gotten caught skipping school that day and been stripped of your student council seat.
Sometimes a lot of the kids, and it seems like all of the kids, at the mall know what just happened to you and you're embarrassed, even if you didn't do anything wrong. Your choices are to stay home, (or to go home, should the thing happen AT the mall) or to just deal with it right then and there.
So my friend with the cheating spouse made an excellent point: She said that people shouldn't judge her for "airing her dirty laundry." (He had already gone out in public with the other woman.) "Why judge me?" she proposed. "Judge them." And while yes, she's saying this while in pain, she's right. I totally am going to judge that. I shouldn't. We're not supposed to. It's none of my business if your marriage falls apart, or even if you had an affair. But could you at least have kept that relatively private? Or if you just had to go out in public, could you not have done it where you knew people your wife knew would be? But I wasn't there. So I can't really comment. But if I reserve judgment of him, I will also refrain from judging my friend for putting her opinion out there.
Why should the betrayed pretend that they are ok with it? Where's the class in being discreet? Who is she supposed to be protecting? If it makes her feel better to talk about it at the mall, well, let her. If you don't want to listen to her, leave the arcade. Do whatever it is you do. Get a facial at Dillards or go argue with that kid that he needs to put down the Bon Jovi and ask the cashier if he can order a cassette of Suicidal Tendencies or something by Skinny Puppy, because of course they won't have it because "this town is lame, man." Whoever you are, you've got your own life, so you don't have to gawk like she's a freakshow; just move on. But if this is your friend, you can stop and say, "hey, that sucks that you're going through that."
And if she wants to talk some shit on the guy who just decimated her world, that's her prerogative.
The bridge has been burned. Why not have a bonfire with the wreckage?
A few months ago, I ended a five year relationship. Oh, and yes, I'm well aware that I totally buried the lead here. Maybe no one is even reading this far. But there it is. I said it. I don't know why it took so long to say it except that for a while, I guess I didn't want it to be true, and then I was too hurt to talk (I just heard a collective gasp.) and then I was mad and knew I'd say something I'd regret. Until now, I've only said it when I had to say it. We had been engaged and he referred to me as his "wife." We lived together. As far as the state was concerned, we were, for all practical purposes, married. So it was pretty crushing for me, and I think I can safely say it was no picnic for him, either.
The truth is that if you know either of us, and especially if you know us both, I probably don't need to explain. A lot of people were surprised that we lasted as long as we did. But the only other person who possibly knows him as well as I do once wrote to me, "I'm glad you found each other (even though you were right in front of each other)." I still appreciate that vote of confidence, and it means more to me than all the well-intended remarks of even my most caring friends. We did find each other, even if we eventually lost each other. And one of these days I hope I can look back and laugh, because oh, man, we laughed. We fought. But we laughed our asses off. We really, really did.
So it really sucked that it didn't work out, just because I wanted it to, and he wanted it to.... And it sucked even harder that all the people who scoffed at us ended up being "right." I would love it if that didn't matter. I don't put a lot of stock in other people's opinions. It's not that I don't care about people's feelings. I just don't really conform. I'm not trying to be non-conformist. It's laziness, really. I just don't have a clue as to what everyone is "doing" or wearing or what's cool or even what word I'm supposed to be using instead of "cool" to describe what I think is cool. I don't "keep up" with trends.
I long ago realized that it doesn't matter to me what everyone thinks... except when they're right and I wish they weren't. In that time, I realize that I do care, and that we all want to cry in private. I hate seeing my friends not knowing what to say. I loathe being pitied. I can't even begin to describe the gut-wrenching agony of imagining how he is describing us and me. And if you know, please don't tell me. If he's telling you, it's not because he wants to publicly shame me, it's because he trusts you, and I respect that. Unlike my friend who was taken by surprise while she was still in the relationship, he and I are no longer a unit and it's none of my business. And I don't mean to assume, but maybe that grain of salt adage applies to him as well.
So both my friends were right. In my case, I can only say that I just want him to be okay. It turns out that I am not as mature or brave as either of the friends who posted about their relationships. I'm only mature and brave enough to admit that I'm not. Maybe it's because I'm 44 and I thought I'd have it more together by now, or perhaps because I was already divorced, or maybe because it turns out I have some pride, this breakup stings like failure.
And guess what. If I haven't talked to you about it, it's because I don't want to talk about it. (And now I think I just heard a collective sigh of relief!)
Again, I'm only able to admit that I know my feelings aren't logical; I'm not able to stop feeling somewhat embarrassed. Why am I? I have no problem meeting strangers and public speaking is a breeze for me, really. So why now is the open book usually on display now in the restricted section? Why don't I want to talk about it? Why don't most people? I'm pretty sure that if my friend's marital problems hadn't been displayed publicly, she wouldn't have needed to address them that way. And the callous disregard for her privacy justifies her reaction.
As for the rest of us.... Why are we ashamed to say that we're in pain? Don't we roll our eyes when our parents or grandparents groan upon standing up only to say, "I'm fine! Nothing's wrong!"? Aren't emotions as much a part of our lives as our physical bodies? They are what makes us who we are. The body is just the scaffolding. And right now, the inside of this one is a construction zone. Please use caution - authorized personnel only.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)