Finding Zen

A Place To Call Home

My town is small and quaint.

My house looks different than the other houses on the street.  It has it's very own unique identity.

I want nothing to do with the #4 floor plan of the model homes (with the garage flipped to the other side) lost in a sea of cookie cutter homes stacked one on top of eachother.  I see those stuccoed, spanish tile roofed homes that mimick every other house alternating in colors, and they remind of every home in every derestricted community in Florida.  ACK.  I can't stand the site of some beautiful piece of land that has been cleared out of all its natural vegetation for these types of neighborhoods.  There are these eye sores in Atlanta as well.  The stucco is replaced by brick and the spanish tiles for shingles.

My house has exposed beams and tiled floors (some rooms have wood) with radiant heat.  We have a steam shower and great water pressure.  My house is just big enough for my family and maybe for you if you come visit.  It is a blend of vintage and old english farmhouse and spanish influences.  Natural light fills every corner of my home.  The colors are warm and inviting.  The ceilings are high, archways separate rooms, and there is a flow from one room to another that moves like a gentle breeze.   The outside is brought in.  We have almost an acre of beautiful soft green grass for little toes and dog noses.  There are canopied trees everywhere. 

The neighbors have their own little slices of heaven down the road and my children can run wild with your children and I have the piece of mind that they are safe.

There is little noise.  There is no traffic.  But if I want to go buy a new pair of shoes I don't have to drive an hour to do so.  I don't really mind a 20 or 30 minute commute to work (or to buy my groceries or get gas) as long as it's not sitting in traffic contemplating bodily injury to unsuspecting moron drivers who are undoubtedly holding a cell phone to their ears.

There are good schools for my children and the neighbors don't come by to witness us with their pictures of children and panda bears.  Diversity is nice.  High home appreciation is nice.  Low cost of living is nice. But they aren't the most important.  What is important is that there are parks (preferably not themed ones) nearby and the neighbors and the community pull together in times of crisis or need.  I know the woman at the post office has 2 kids and she smiles.  A lot.  There is little pollution and low crime.  There are boulders and mountains around for the boy to climb.  If there happens to be a Starbucks in town, that's great too, but my hunch is that a Starbucks wouldn't thrive in 'small and quaint'.

There are four seasons.  This is very important: The winters are cold and dry but not harsh.  (Which basically rules out beautiful and romantic New England.)  I will never leave the house if driving means 'on ice'. The summers are mild.  The humidity is low.  There are more sunny days then there are rainy.

If you know or have seen My Slice Of Heaven, please tell me where.  Because while we can build our dream home anywhere...I just can't seem to find this place.  It sure as hell isn't in Atlanta.  Where the players play.  And we ride on them things like every day.  Big beats, hit streets, see gangsta's roamin and parties don't stop till 8 in the mornin!

Stella on Tap

I'm on tap.  Are you ready?  Here I go.  *pump, pump, pump, pump, pump* 5 pumps aught to get us flowin good.

We're gonna do this Edge style.   For once.  Because I don't have the energy to distinguish one thought from the next for you tonight.

Full.  I feel full.  And sometimes so much so that I fear if I consume another breath it might be my last.   I 'phoned a friend' not too long ago and we discussed my upcoming wedding.  He asked if I was beginning to feel 'gassy yet'.  I said, 'why yes, I do feel gassy as a matter of fact'.  He explained to me that being farty was something that happens to people who are getting ready to get married.  I tried to tell him that I wasn't feeling farty gassy, but rather full and bloated gassy.  He told me 'you just wait'.  I really hope I don't have farty gas on July 15th.

Anxious.  Anxious about life, always, but particularly about leaving a country whose borders I've not crossed.  Ever.  Before.  Anxious about money, and choices, and danger, and dysentery, and terrorists, and not having a place to drive off to when I just want some time to myself.  About leaving my friends, my dog, my Vern.  My family...even though they always seem so distant to me.  Anxious about getting robbed, or raped, falling off the side of a mountain in a bus, getting Japanese encephalitis, or malaria. Anxious that we won't have our good friends Lexapro and Adderall for a WHOLE YEAR, when we will probably need it most.  I am anxious about getting married.  Not because I am unsure of my choice, but because I will be entrusting the REST. OF. MY. LIFE. to another human being.  One that has a penis and looks at porn, and probably uses the word 'pussy' instead of 'her delicate flower' to his friends.

Frustrated.  I feel I can't absorb enough.  And as quickly as my brain receives, processes, and reasons, my anxiety/OCD/ADD/whatever it is, is always there to give a preemptive strike.

So I am full, anxious, and frustrated and all the while bursting at the seams with anticipation for all the uncertainties that lie before me.  All of my belongings stowed away in a basement, our home and all the hard work we put into it is now someone else's, the money is in the bank, Marley is scheduled for his 'de-nutting', and in a closet somewhere hangs side by side a groom's 'bespoke' and a brides 'Lazaro' waiting for their big day.  The boy's business is in the process of changing hands, we are scheduled for a month full of shots, (see: Japanese encephalitis), I will say goodbye to my Marley and turn him over to my dear friend Kat and cross my fingers that he remembers me when I come back. 

I am on a steady diet of Twix bars (thank you A) and Prilosec, and while one might imagine I am counting the days left to 'the big day', I am more interested in the number of days I have left in comfortable beds with pillowtop mattresses and McDonalds, Taco Bell, B&J's Chubby Hubby, Nutty Butty bars, Kraft Mac and Cheese, and all the faces and places familiar to me.  I am absorbing my Americano, because I know I will go thru a withdrawl unlike the common traveler excited to experience all the authentico offerings of his new surroundings.

Holy shit.  We're really doing this.

I better find my chi.

p.s.  I just can't wait another 3 days to 'unveil' May's header.  Compliments, AGAIN, by my dearest Karen.  She gives good head.

Is It 'Just Music'?

Last night on my drive home I became acutely in-tuned to the lyrics of the songs I was hearing.  The station was an R&B/rap station.  I will probably get flamed for saying this, but is it just me, or do rap artists rely more on repetition and sound than actually coming up with something decent to say?  Because all I hear over and over again are the same handful of 'rhymes'.  They tend to include, but are not limited to:

bitches

da hood

da club

gangsta

gangstaz

hoes

uhhh (think Master P...'let me hear ya say uuuuuhhhhh')

ass

lumps

them

niggaz

nigga

fuck __ (with, you, off, ya'll)

roll

And I'm thinking to myself about all the kids that are listening to this music.  Which then leads me to thinking about the music I was listening to at 14, 15...16.  So I have done some research today.  Here is what I found out, and my two cents.  Now, granted, I realize that every generation will probably have something to say about the decline of the music of newer generations.  I do recall the disgust on my mothers face as she heard Tool and Fugazi playing from my bedroom.  Grundge/alternative was something of it's own in the early 1990's, and every genre has had its criticism.  But where do we draw the line?  When did it become okay to hear 'Juicy J' of Three 6 Mafia tell me that he stays 'in a girl ear to keep that pussy wet?'.  Do I give a shit how he keeps the pussy wet?  Hmm...not so much.  But thanks for playin. 

So I pulled the lyrics of the top 10 songs from 1992 and as they are currently, today, 4/14 of 2006.  Here are the results.

Top hits of 1992:

1. Nirvana - Smells like Teen Spirit (harmless)

2.  Whitney Houston - I will Always Love You (yes Whitney, we know you are a narcissistic crack addict.  this could be categorized...as Finance likes to call it...MOE-SHOW.)

3.  U2 - Mysterious Ways (harmless)

4.  Red Hot Chili Peppers - Under the Bridge (harmless)

5.  Wreckz-N-Effect - Rump Shaker (oh yeah baby!!  check baby check baby 1-2-3!)  Sample lyric:  'Total seduction, from face, hips, to feet.  A wiggle and jiggle can make the night complete.  Now since you got the body of the year, come and get the award.  Here's a hint, it's like a long chop sword.'  They just have to talk about their penis's don't they?

6.  Michael Jackson - Black or White (clearly having an identity crisis - but clean for the most part)

7.  House of Pain - Jump Around (this would have been a bit racy.  here is a sample lyric:  'I'll serve your ass like John MacEnroe.  If your steps up, I'm smacking the ho.  Word to your moms I came to drop bombs.  I got more rhymes than the Bible's got psalms.'  There we have a nice christian reference and a threat to your mom.  And John MacEnroe. 

8.  Boyz II Men - End of the Road (My first slow dance.  I felt paralyzed from the waist down and I cried the entire time.  I mean, what with lyrics like 'I belong to you, you belong to meeeeeeeeee').

9.  Arrested Development - Tennessee (harmless)

10.  Eric Clapton - Tears In Heaven (more Moe-show)

The top 10 hits of today, make 1992's list look like an ABC after school special.

Top hits of 2006:

1.  Shakira featuring Wyclef Jean - Hips Don't Lie (sample:  'Oh baby when you talk like that you know you got me hypnotized.  So be wise and keep on reading the signs of my body')  Whatever.  Next.

2.  T.I. - What You Know (sample:  'Know you don't like me cause yo bitch most likely does.  She see me on them dubs in front of every club.  I be on dro I'm buzzed give every ho a hug.  Niggaz don't show me mugs cause you don't know me cuz').

3.  Fort Minor - Where'd You Go (pretty harmless)

4.  Mariah Carey featuring Snoop Dogg - Say Something (sample:  'Babygirl follow me to the rest room, now get buck wild, shh don't make a sound, I'll take you , lay you down, make your body go round and round.  Do you want me to, don't say you won't, I know you do, Most girls play shy, it won't hurt until you give it a try, I know you like my smile, dig my style, big bow-wow.')

5.  Ne-Yo - When You're Mad (sample: 'Then when we get mad together and have angry sex, I'll blow you out...'  Now THAT is romantic.

6.  Bubba Sparxxx - Ms. New Booty (sample: 'Sippin on patron, blong blong blong  Shawdy in a thong, whom whom whom, Ass get da jiggling, mother fucking wigglying, get that thang shakin, like she frost bit shivering, ass be delivering, all type of flashes, cashes, got these hoes shaking that molasses.')  Nice.

7.  Three 6 Mafia - Poppin' My Collar (now these fellas are a smooth bunch.  they actually have a song title 'SLOB on my KNOB'.  AWESOME!  Sample lyrics:

(Juicy J)

Well you know me by the Juice man hangin out with Big Keith, standin on tha porch, drinkin liquor, drunk, smokin weed.  tyrin to get a paycheck, but work that ain't came yet.  thats why i stay in a girl ear to keep that pussy wet so I could get paid and relax in the shade and say fuck a nine to five cuz a nigga tired of slavin.  it's never easy for a playa in tha hood on tha come up if I meet a gal with three kids or more she get done up.  (well, now, that was nice of him to call her a 'gal').

(Crunchy Blac)

She's just another hoe that I met in the hood.  I told her I was Crunchy Black and it was all good.  She might as well go on head and suck on my wood, and let me whisper something in her ear if I could.  I got some hoes out there bringin ya boy back some good, that ghetty green you know what I mean, that bitch is understood.  ain't havin to shout at no motherfuckin slut.  you better get out there and get my money in the woods.  i'm a hit cha in the head and leave ya ass with a plug.  you know I gotta have, gotta get my  money what these hoes out here be fuckin gfor a muthafucking dub, FREAK BITCH!'.

Now I gotta tell you people.  Can ya feel the warm fuzzies?  CAN YA FEEL EM???!

9.  Black Eyed Peas featuring Jack Johnson - Gone Going (They had to put out something to redeem their reputation after that damn LUMPS song). 

10.  Red Hot Chili Peppers - Dani California (Good to see a classic still on makin the charts 14 years later!  RAWK ON RHCP'S!!!)

Now.  I don't know about ya'll...but I'm thinking DA DA DAMN, WTF are our kids listening to?  My stomach churns as I read those lyrics to 'Poppin' my Collar' and think of some 14 year old kid thinking it's the 'jam'!  I haven't even heard the song, and I imagine lots of kids don't even pay attention to these lyrics.  But there is a message.  And the message is being received.  Do we have no other choice but to CHOSE not to listen?  This is all the same to me as my frustrations with sex on tv and pornography online.  How long before there are NO filters?  There are NO ethical standards?  And should we be so surprised with how it's affecting our children's development?

Holy shit.  It just took me like 20 minutes to spell check.

Discuss.

*NPR had a discussion the other day about an 'emerging political group' they call 'CRUNCHY CONS'.  I think I'm one of them. 

My Precious Precious!

Every morning I leave him in bed.  It has almost always been this way, as our business hours' are so different.  He comes home after 11p most nights ready to eat and chat and unwind.  I have already sometimes spent 5 hours on the couch eating and unwinding, and I am ready for bed.  He gets to sleep in, and I have to be at work by 8:30am.  Someone clearly has the better deal.  And it's not me.

The irony with this arrangement, is that while I would much prefer working for myself, dictating my own business hours...and not to ever have to hear the sound of the alarm go off at 8am (yes, your math is right...it's amazing how much sleep I can buy myself by not going through the labor of applying makeup)...I would miss out on one of the most precious moments I get to experience in my day to day with Finance.  That is our morning goodbyes.

On the rare occasion that Finance has been the one to leave me in bed, he is lucky to get acknowledgment of his departure.  I am not the most affectionate person to deal with when you are intruding on my sleep.   

Perhaps the phenomena that is our morning exchange when I am leaving the bedroom ...is due in part to the stark contrast that is the situation reversed.  He undoubtedly leaves behind a pit viper, while I leave behind a fuzzy bunny.  He even has his own sound effects if you ask him what he hears when I talk to him in the morning.  I can tell you this.  They aren't WORDS.  Think, rattlesnake.

It's all in a moment.  We're talkin 2 minutes tops.  2 minutes, every morning, Monday through Friday.  I come over to him on his side of the bed, purse over arm, freshly sprayed down with perfume, sometimes still damp from the shower.  I sit down next to him most times, not always, but I try to.  And he wakes up and he rolls around, adjusts his body into a new position facing me and he mumbles how much he loves me and how great I am and he fades back to sleep with the most content and peaceful grin on his face.  Always.  And I run my fingers through his hair, and rub his back like you would calming a baby face down in it's crib.  He feels so good to me, the moment is devoid of errands and chores, and who needs to do this and that.  It always feels like a fresh slate.  Every morning.  A new day.  And oftentimes it is in this moment that I reflect on how lucky I feel to be with this man.  How loved I am by this man.  And there usually comes a fleeting moment of panic at the thought that it might be the last time I see him.  The last time I hear him tell me he loves me, or have the opportunity to tell him how much I love him 'this morning'...because I am always aware of the unpredictability that lies in the moments we are apart.  Anything can happen. 

His mother tells me he was always so sweet in the morning, that he would crawl up under her skirt and hold onto her legs, and nuzzle up to her with love.  Now, he ain't crawlin up my skirt these days, but maybe thats because I don't wear any.  Hmm.  Making.  Note.  To.  Self.  Anywhoo.  I hope some day, if I have boys, they are as affectionate. 

Something changes in me every morning when I have that moment with him.  I close the bedroom door, walk down the hall and out into the street to start my day, and I feel whole.  I am reset.   There is this incredible feeling of fullness, that comes with an exchange of this kind, that takes my breath away.  It never gets old, and as much as I can predict the interactions, it always feels so innocent and so pure. 

It is lust, of a different kind.  In a nonsexual way.  It is the lust of my heart that is filled completely by his love.

 

Money and Marriage

Within months of dating Finance and I were living together and sharing a 'joint' checking account.  Since both of us bring in roughly the same income, it was easy to determine individual contributions to that joint account.  We created a budget and living as a couple became easy to do as all our joint expenses:  food, entertainment, mortgage, insurance, savings, vacation, gifts, taxes, utilities, were accounted for.  Then of course there is a much smaller portion of our income that is our own to manage as we see fit. 

Finance and I come from two very different upbringings, having learned to value money differently.  When I wanted things as an adolescent that my parents wouldn't pay for, I went out and got a job.  From the age of 15, I learned that all I had to do was earn my own money and then I could have the things I wanted.  I would never have to rely on someone else, and I would never have to hear the word 'no'.  I never liked 'no' very much.  Who does?  So I always had money, and I always got the things I wanted by working for them.  I had the money to pay for all the those frivolous things my parents thought were unnecessary.  Like a limo ride to the school dance, or an expensive dress, or school trips, etc etc.  When I went away to college I was afforded the opportunity to learn and live for four years on my parents dime.  My tuition and books were paid for.  I was given a stipend for rent, food and utilities.  And yet, I still worked all through school.  Sometimes holding two jobs at a time.  Not to contribute to my needs, but in order to entertain my wants.

Finance grew up learning that he could have the wants, but not before making contributions to 'his' needs.  This is huge.

As an adult I quickly found my way into credit card debt after college.  I never learned that I would have to sacrifice some wants, in order to have was really important to me, and therefore, there is this missing link that occurs when I am confronted with making a purchase that I really cannot afford.  And not in the sense that there isn't money available to make the purchase, but in the sense that purchasing that 'thing' will cost me, down the road.

I am the financially irresponsible one.  Without question.  And my anxiety + OCD + ADD (lions and tigers and bears OH MY!), all make it very difficult to control the urge to spend.  Not only is it compulsive, but it makes it very difficult for the people around me, who want to see me have the things I want, determine what is really iimportant to me.  Because oftentimes, like a dog who has just dropped his bone to move in on another dogs 'toy', in no time I will likely be on to something else, and the 'thing' that I REALLY REALLY wanted 10 minutes ago, is long forgotten.

Finance gleefully declared, while going over business figures with Vern last week, that 'One year I lived off of 8,000 dollars!'.  And I believe it.  To him, it is almost a challenge to see how little he can get by on.  Purchases to him require way more thought than they ever have to me.  When he buys something, he has thought it through, done the research, and has the money lined up to do so.  When he buys something, you know - without question, it's a big deal to him.  I on the other hand, am like MRS. PACMAN.  I want everything (and I want it now, not tomorrow), and buy everything, and when something comes around that I really really want, but can't afford, I look to everyone around me to help me figure out how I can get it. 

This all makes for an interesting dynamic when it comes to negotiating the things we 'value' as a couple.  For Finance it has, and will always be a matter of his money affording him TIME.  He would sooner sleep on a dirt road for a month, if it meant he could spend more time traveling.  Which brings me to my next point.

As the Big Trip is nearing...we are realizing how much more interconnected, and affected we will be by our financial choices, and just how many financial decisions we will have to make on a day to day basis, that we've never dealt with before.  And it will be interesting.  To say the least.  He worries I will have blown our 'load' within 6 months of drinking the most expensive wine and insisting on the finest hotels, and I worry that we will be sleeping on dirt roads and begging for food for a year.  We are both clearly paranoid - obviously while on our own those might not be ridiculous propositions, we know eachother well enough to know that neither of those scenarios would 'fly' with the other.  We also know through experience, that anytime we discuss hypotheticals, we get way off course...and at the 'point of contact' we find our goals are one in the same.

They always say that one of the biggest catalysts for dissolution and disconnect in a marriage is Money.  And I believe it.  I am also an example of how important it is to teach your children financial responsibility.  What they learn as young adults, and they learn from their parents, is critical.  Because I can't tell you how challenging it is to learn those values as an adult. 

So my message to you today is, prepare your children to be financially responsible.  Teach them to save.  Teach them to donate.  Teach them to make contributions to the family.  Teach them the importance of taking care of needs before wants.  Allow them the opportunity to manage their own money.  Give them room to make poor decisions, and pay the consequences, before sending them out into a world eager to loan them money at an interest rate of 23%.  It will be one of the greatest gifts you can give them.

A Final Goodbye

I don't remember the room number.  For some reason, that seems like it should be an important detail to the story, but it's not.

The elevator door opened up and I started walking down the long hallway that would eventually lead me to my fathers room.  That smell.  I hated being there.  I hated coming back to this place filled with pain and sorrow.  I wanted to look at all the patients in their rooms with their open doors, but I couldn't.  I didn't want to hurt for them.  I didn't want to cry.  I needed to be strong and composed for what was waiting for me at the end of the hall. 

I had made several of these trips.  He would get better after a brief stay, and then return home.  I think they had reserved this room for him.  On the corner of the floor, near the nurses station.  He had windows, and lots of room to himself.

My last visit prior had been at Thanksgiving.  I watched on - that day as he huffed and puffed his way through all the fixings.  He was determined to orchestrate this meal and all the cooking, for his family.  For his wife.  For his 6 year old daughter.  And for his two adult children; myself and my older brother.  I'm certain he knew this would be his last.  He couldn't have weighed more than me.  He had become a shrunken, old, broken version of himself yet with the same passion and determination to live each day with purpose and intent.  Laughter.  And wit.

After dinner he lay resting on the couch.  Every move was painful to watch, I can only imagine the pain he was enduring.  They had placed a stint in his chest and he had his shirt off.  I came over and laid down next to him with my head right under his chin, careful not to touch the stint.  I wanted to hold on forever.  There is nothing more heartbreaking than being unable to love on someone who is in so much physical pain.  Especially when it's your daddy.

I knew he was dying.  And I hated it.

When I reached his room the door was ajar.  I walked in to find my father sitting in a chair in front of the tv, a football game on, and a nurse who had just finished washing his hair with a sponge.  She told him, 'You're daughter is here'.  His back to me, he couldn't turn around.  He was clearly well medicated.  The nurse left us, and for a brief moment I almost wished she would stay.  I didn't know how to be.  I didn't know what to do left alone with this dying man and all of our unresolved history. 

I pulled up a chair and sat down beside him.  He was in and out of consciousness.  His eyes met mine and I am pretty sure he thought I was his youngest daughter.  Kaitlyn.  He said her name a few times.  He mumbled a lot.  I had never seen my dad this way before.   A man of words, reduced to none.  A man of great charisma and energy, so deflated.  I grabbed his hand and we sat there in front of the football game.  Nearby was a table with a framed photograph of his wife and child.  Racing forms were strewn around the room.   As though he had important work to take care of. 

There had never been a point in our lives as father and daughter, where I felt the role I was in at that moment.  Which was not the child.  But I wanted to be.  I wanted to be there with my mother holding MY hand.  I didn't know how to be. I didn't know how to look at this man and not feel myself breaking into a million tiny pieces around his feet.

But I had to.  I fought back tears, at times, unsuccessfully.  I noticed all the bones in his spine poking out of his gown like a crocodile.  His skin was thin and the veins beneath it obvious and pulsating.  He was so fragile looking.  He was almost unrecognizable to me.  I spent my last moments with Cancer.  Cancer in its most advanced and ruthless stages.  Dad was gone.  Cancer had won.  The spirit of that man, was no longer in that room.

The nurse came in and helped him to the bathroom.  Then we helped him back into bed.  There he fell asleep almost instantly.  We exchanged few words.   I will always wonder if he even knew I was there that day.  I squeezed his hand and whispered 'I love you' and walked to the door.  Standing there, I knew this would be the last time I would ever see my father, and it was.

I turned around and started walking out the door and back down the long hallway of pain and sorrow.  I didn't look back, I was too afraid his eyes would be open.  I was too afraid he would see me leaving him.  Finance was waiting downstairs to pick me up, and when I got into the car and shut the door, I broke.  I think the next 20 mins were longer and harder than getting the news that he had passed some weeks later.  Something about knowing you have just said your last goodbye to someone you will never ever see again.

 

The Man Or The Marriage?

Did you, or do you, have the marriage planned before the man? 

In 9th grade I was at a friends house and came across a torn page of a magazine photograph of some silverware.  It was later explained to me that this was 'her flatware'.  I asked, 'what do you need flatware for?'.  I was then told, 'for my wedding'.  Silly me.  Uh-duh?!

FLATWARE?  Flatware was not a part of my vocabulary.  I had 'silverware' at home, my mother fed me, it was all good.  But my friend had 'her flatware' chosen for her imaginary wedding.  She was 15.

I never had a book.  I never had wedding magazines.  I didn't have a 'secret folder' where I stored images of a wedding that may or may not ever happen.  I didn't dream about how it would be or where it would be, or how I would look.  But I did dream about the man. 

Now that I AM engaged, and planning a real bonifide wedding....I can't imagine that any of the decisions surrounding the details of 'our' big day, could have been made without the man.  I realize that many men don't really care if the cake is lemon, or chocolate....or if the table linens are cream or white, but I do believe that Finance cares just as much about the ceremony and the general 'feeling' of the day, as much as I do.  And that 'feeling', the one all those details will be a part of creating, reflect our style, our interests, and, most importantly, OUR love for oneanother.

If I had chosen at 15, my wedding without the man, I probably wouldn't be with Finance.  We wouldn't be getting married in the mountains far far away from my home town, there would be no bluegrass music, and everyone would be nibbling on shrimp.  Bor-ing.

I remember once that Finance had told me about how, while he enjoyed his previous relationship, and nothing particularly occured to make it dissolve, he always felt that 'he' could be anyone.  'She' had big plans for their future.  She was ready for marriage and babies.  I wonder if he didn't sense that their marriage, had they stayed together, would have felt contrived.  As though, he were merely a stand-in.

That would suck.

Now, because I never planned for my July 15th, 2006 prior to meeting Finance, I can't imagine it any other way.  Every decision has literally unfolded before us, and it all just makes sense.  How could it have ever felt right any other way?  So I guess I am just curious...I can understand if you had always dreamed of a certain dress, or there was some detail that was non-negotiable, but to orchestrate a celebration of two individuals and their love for oneanother - without the man....seems nuts to me.

But I suppose it's how you look at it.  Is the wedding a womans ultimate multi-tasking challenge (think, TLC, While You Were Out), her entitlement, HER day..., or is the wedding (the 'party' and it's vibe) a reflection of two individuals and their relationship?

I guess to each his own.  But I am fascinated by the frenzy that is a woman planning her wedding.  I mean, I 'get it', but only to some degree.

Enlighten me readers.

'I got a tissue, for your issue'

My friend and coworker was at a bar one night and had a run in with a very unpleasant drunk woman.  I don't remember much of the details, with the exception of a one liner I will never forget.  Apparently the drunk woman scored a bar napkin and waved it in front of my friend's face and said 'Here's a tissue for your issues!'.  Hilarious.  Hence, the title for today's post. 

I am postponing the 'Pick a topic for Stella to discuss Natty Dread Purse Giveaway' until tomorrow, as some things have come to me late this afternoon.

What's your issue?  I know you have many.  We all do.  But I would bet money that all the issues, all the baggage and history, hurt and pain...insecurities, fears, and doubts we feel in our adult relationships stem from one of two places.  Abandonment and Control.  I read about this over and over again.  In magazines, during conversations with friends, in books...and in my therapists office.  For me, it all goes back to abandonment.  For Finance, it all goes back to Control.  And for Stephanie Klein in her article published in this months issue of Jane magazine it sounds very similar.

We tend to downplay, and even mock sometimes the 'mom card' or the 'dad card'.  Especially as they relate to unlocking the doors to all the closed off places in our hearts, and learning the ways in which we can work those things out in order to be more present, more compassionate, more understanding and patient in those relationships when 'loving' is a challenge.  When our proverbial buttons are pushed and suddenly our wires get crossed, old memories and unpleasant outcomes start to play in our minds and make it difficult for us to treat newer, similar but not SAME, situations - fairly.

I think the reality is that the majority of us didn't grow up with a 'GREAT!' mom, and/or dad.  We are generations of divorce, infidelity, abuse and neglect.  Both physically and emotionally.  The Family, and all the years and years we spent with those people (mom, dad, brother, sister...) whether we liked it or not, are ingrained in our emotional sensors.  Unlike the adult relationships we get to choose, you don't get to choose mom and dad.  And mom and dad, until a child grows up and leaves the house, is all you know.  They are all you understand about emotions, consideration, respect, authority, what constitutes 'good' or 'bad' behavior, responsibility, generosity, ethics, race, LOVE, trust, and the list goes on and on and on. 

As you become an adult you gain more perspective, and your environment changes.  You do the best you can.  You discover that living your life alone, independent is great!  Driving is always more pleasant when someone isn't telling you how to do from the backseat.  Isn't it? And then you fall in love.  You discover that while tooting your own horn is nice, the greatness in loving, and being loved is worth some negotiating away from your comfort zone.  Along with love in your life comes a choice.  The 'make or break' ing, point of a relationship is defined by how willing you are to expose and understand those emotional buttons, and how they manifest as a detriment to your ability to love one another.  For years I kept walking.  Walking, walking, walking...either someone will accept me as I am and/or he will be perfection, or I will be just fine by myself. 

But perfection doesn't exist.  I realized one day, sitting across from a man I hardly knew, that the only perfection I would ever find would be the one that I would have to CREATE with someone equally up to the challenge.  And what I have found is that, it wasn't until I met someone so awesome that I wanted to give the world to, that I realized I could no longer skate along with my windows closed and my curtains drawn, and my flawless ideas about right and wrong...good and bad....acceptable and unacceptable.  For me, it took wanting to give more love than I had to give for me to realize I had so much work ahead of me.  So back to the issues. 

Abandonment and control.  They both trigger fear and anxiety.  And fear and anxiety are at the root of the majority of conflicts.  They make us mad, upset, cause us to shut down, or explode...close shop, and head into the woods.  They make us want to bail.  They make us want to walk away, give up, be ugly to one another, say things we don't mean, mis-interpret events, lie, mislead, and generally hurt the people we love.

So mine is Abandonment.  And that is what I work on in therapy.  I fear everything good in my life will lead to something bad.  I fear people who love me will hurt, cheat, betray, or leave me.  I fear that if I am not prepared for the bad things, it will suck, really bad.  Fear controls me.  And as long as I allow fear to control me, I am cheating myself of the joy and goodness that is THIS MOMENT RIGHT NOW.

So the moral of todays blog post is, DO YOUR HOMEWORK.  You can't answer the questions if you haven't read the book.

 

A Very Thin Line. Or is it?

I am walking out of my grocery store last night and a black man probably in his early 40's, Mr. Huxtable- esque passes by me and says 'Sophisticated AND SEXY!'.  I smile to acknowledge the flattery.  I am wearing jeans (the 15 dollar ones from Ross, thank you very much), a long sleeved black sweater from the gap, my black nine west pumps, and the new vibrantly colored shawl I had purchased in Meh-hee-co.  There was nothing about my work attire that was soliciting anything of a sexual nature.  I felt the man, with his words, was trying to convey that very point....that I looked sexy, without my titties hanging out.  That was a compliment, and I took it as such.

After the man passed I noticed out of the corner of my eye another black man (I live in Atlanta, where white is the minority), leaning against his car.  Considerably younger, he was dressed in oversized clothing and had his baseball cap tilted to the side.  He had clearly witnessed the exchange Mr. Huxtable and I shared...and decided he would add his own two cents.  It went a little something like this:

Dude:  'Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn (like Smokey to Mrs. Parker, from Friday), you be lookin fiiiiiiiine.  Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmm (as though he is licking chicken grease off his fingers), man, what I would DO TO YOU if I took you home....'

Now.  When the Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam part came out, I nodded to acknowledge he was speaking to me and smiled, as I continued to walk towards my car.  When the rest of the commentary starting flowing from his mouth, I suddenly thought of Jayne, and one of her posts.  And then I thought about V, and one of her posts.  And while at the time of their posts, I had not anything recent happen to me that I could draw from to interject, I was thinking...I have something here.  I want to say.  In fact...if I had had Jayne in my cell, I would have called her in an explosive rage to have this out.

Now.  Because I did not have Jayne's number in my cell, I called Vern.  She is used to these kind of random phone calls about 'but why can't I take the homeless man home with me?' and 'why should I feel that way walking into the liquor store alone at 11pm in a shady part of town?, and all sorts of day to day observations about human nature and tendency, stereotypes and projections that baffle me.   

Now before I go into my explosive rage about things I can't control that piss me off, I have to do a little bit of work (i know, i know..this 'work' thing is really infringing on my blog time).  And then I will come back and speaketh.

Im back.  Here we go.  Deep breath tortugita (the other name they called me in meh-hee-co).

There is a reason for stereotypes.  And I believe it is my responsibility to challenge those stereotypes by giving everyone equal treatment.  Our body language send messages.  Our non verbal communication speaks volumes.  And often times I see people misrepresenting themselves out of fear.  A woman clutching on to her purse in a subway.  Is sending a message to someone.  But I worry how often those messages get mixed up along the way.  It is very difficult, I feel, as a woman...as a white woman in a black male dominated environment.  I have felt this often.  I feel so much pressure to reject in my NONVERBAL body language the 'scared white woman' stereotype.  Yet so many times, when I have done that, I get Mr. Chicken Lips barking at me in the parking lot.  It's the completely UNSOLICITED remarks that burn my ass so bad.  So there I am, hearing this man/child tell me what he would do to me if he could take me home...and what do I do?  I SMILE.  I smile, and walk fast to my car.  And he is probably thinking to himself 'stupid white bitch, running off to her car'.  And he wins.  My silence, and he wins.  And I ask myself...'is this a MAN thing, or a BLACK man thing?', because MOST OFTEN THAN NOT, it happens to be a black man.  But then I ask myself 'would I have responded differently if that HAD been a white man?', and I think...probably not.  So where are my balls?  SO MANY TIMES....I have gotten this sort of attention and ignored it.  Brushed it off with a smile and gone on my way...and I am angered with myself, because I am FEEDING THE STEREOTYPE.  I am saying, with my nonverbal communication 'It is okay for you to speak to me this way'.  And it's not okay.  So again, where are my balls?  Am I a scared white woman?  Am I just a scared woman, intimidated by unsolicited male attention.  I think it is more of the later...however, it doesn't HELP that these things so often occur with black men.  Why aren't we all fighting the stereotypes?  Or is it just assholes will be assholes?

If I am involved in a conversation and someone says something clearly racist or sexist, I don't giggle.  I don't nod, I don't smile.  I make very clear verbally or not, that I do not support or agree with the comments/statements made.  I do not consider myself to be passive...to be misleading, or misrepresentative.  But why is it that I feel so threatened to speak my mind in these male agressive scenarios?  What was going thru my mind at the time, was 'Who the FUCK are you to speak to me that way?'.  or...'Newsflash, you're a prick!'.  BUT SMILE????  I gave that man some level of satisfaction, and that pisses me off.  Because it WASNT cute.  It wasn't flattering, and it was completely innapropriate.

Where is the line?  It seems SO HARD, sometimes, to do the right thing.  I wish I had driven back there and run him and his chicken lickin boca grande over.  Fucking bastard.

Beautiful Woman

I don't understand why she doesn't understand.  She has always been a pillar of strength.  Goodness.  The pure kind, the kind that has always felt like a magnet to me.  The kind that you long to be near for fear someday you might fall over from the weight of your burdens.  She has always been there, not a minute too late, and without condition.  Poised, primed, with a confident veneer that begs to be broken but only surfaces in the quiet nights alone in bed - when no one can hear her cry and she can let go of carrying the weight of the world for everyone else. 

Don't be fooled by her flawless complexion and her smooth silky hair.  She has shed her skin more times with more experience, more darkness and more triumph than most.  She is brave, she is humble, and she has more maternal instinct than plenty of mothers I know.  Talented, wise, full of wit and an infectious energy surrounds her.  She is a complete package to most, and admired by many.  But yet, she still carries more weight than she owns.

One day, she will wipe the sweat off the mirror and see the woman she has become the way the rest of us do.  Confident, poised, beautiful, wise, compassionate, articulate and most of all full of potential to create her niche of warmth and beauty anywhere she goes, to make a difference, to change lives, to embrace and take control of her life with optimism and determination.  She will find her compass, and take chances, she will stumble and get back up.  She'll wipe the dirt off her face, and the pebbles off her knees, sweep the hair from her face and smile at the world, because she has epitomized - she will have found, her Grace.

Moment of Consequence

I saw the movie Sliding Doors when it came out, and loved it.  The movie explores a woman's life divided as events in her life change course on the basis of a missed train.  It was brilliant.  Because we have all wondered at some time or another the mystery of 'WHAT IF...?'.  And what is fascinating is that there is no way of knowing how different our lives would be if we could 'go back' and do things differently.  So what guides us?  What is it that compels us to act and behave in certain ways, under various circumstances.  I believe that for the most part we are selfish creatures.  We tend to act upon our desires, and if there is anyone harmed in the wake of our actions we quickly find ways to justify them.  But what is it really about?  I have often wondered what it is (like some big secret!) that I can teach my children that will enable them to make positive choices.  Like what is the difference between the dude in high school who smoked the same joint I did at that party....and then 5 years later winds up in a coma from a drug overdose?  Was I just lucky that when the coke came around I passed, and he didn't?  I guess it would be impossible to make the best choices all the time, and I believe that people need to experience the lows to reach the highs. 

I am a realist in the sense, that it is important to me to constantly challenge myself to explore and gain knowledge and awareness about issues that either confuse me, or make me uncomfortable.  Especially when the issue seems to divide people.  I believe that the harder I work to understand myself and the people in my life...the more I can give.  I was just discussing this with Meredith (therapist) today.  I was explaining that I feel such determination to push myself towards finding that completely open space in my mind and in my heart...the space that people who meditate find daily...where all negativity, anxiety, fear, suspicion, doubt, and anger are removed so that TRUE clarity can be found.  So that I can love and be loved more deeply.  Until then I feel I am cheating us (Finance and I) from all our potential.  Not to say that daily life, and loss, and anger, and hurt don't exist and can't be managed...but that the dark energy, the stuff we carry over from one relationship to the next, from childhood to teenagers, to young adults trying to discover what its all about with people who are just as confused...can be left there.  Resolved.  It's just not so easy to do. 

I think about that day...that will come.  Because it is as likely as I will get stung by a bee again, that one day I will be unhappy.  I will feel like shit about myself for some reason or another, and I won't feel like I am getting what I need from my partner.  And as I hear it happens, right around that time, I WILL BEGIN TO NOTICE others noticing me for the first time.  And I will pay attention to their stares, their smiles.  I will think their smiles feel good.  Their attention feels good.  I will be sick of the same fight over and over again, and it will feel like I can't get through to my partner.  He will be as spent as I, and all the while 3 children will be begging for attention I don't want to give.  So how does it begin?  Where does it end?  And how many little choices get you closer to a moment of greater consequence than you would have ever bargained for?  We gravitate towards what makes us feel good.  It is by nature that the path of least resistance is often the more desirable.  How many times in your life have you wanted something so badly, that everything else in the world you have worked so hard for meant NOTHING to you in that moment.   That your desire, your need for fulfillment/satisfaction was worth inflicting hurt on someone you love.  I buy things often that I can't afford.  I do it because it makes me feel good.  How do you get to that moment...that moment where you want something so bad and its RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, it's begging for you.  And you walk away?  If you got yourself to that point....why? 

This is the part that I think is most important.  Exploring the 'why'.  I can't FATHOM hurting the one I love with infidelity.  But I can't say it won't ever happen.  (So i hear...and unfortunately I can't argue this one...unless of course I was clairvoyant).  But part of me hates that.  Hates that we can't own our choices, until we have walked in the shoes that might take us to dark indulgent places.  Because, don't we have the power?  Power of self-control? No one controls me. I have to live with my choices, and in choosing to share my life with someone, I now have someone else to consider.  It can't be all about me anymore.  Vern said something about getting to a point where you are content.  And content, as in...you don't NEED FOR MORE.  And that is reality.  Accepting what you have.  I thought it was so perfect.  Obviously we weren't talking about the kind of content one might be that their husband ONLY beats them twice a month instead of every day.  Content as in, not needing to have everything the way you want it, all the time.  That the bad and the good come together...at different times in our lives...and we just have to ride it out.  Or not.  And then you just live a life looking for a perfection that doesn't exist.  Eh?

Hmmm.........

Infidelity

Humor me.  And fuel my neurosis while you are at it.  I often wonder how many people out there may never really know if they have been cheated on.  Because they either never suspected it, or had been lied to and chose to trust their partner.  I wonder how many times a man or a woman has justified a brief fling or a drunken night on the basis that intercourse never happened?  And what is the definition of 'cheating'.  Is it different for men than it is women?  I wonder how many couples don't realize they share a difference in opinion over that definition because they've never discussed it before.  Where is the 'line'?  Is it getting a phone number, making a phone call, emailing back and forth?  Is it a kiss, oral sex....intercourse?  Is it not cheating if you didn't have any emotional feelings for the person?  When is cheating a deal breaker?  Do you believe in 'What you don't know can't hurt you?'?

**Sexist disclaimer**.  Men are really good at the truth but not the WHOLE truth thing.  If you ask a man a question...you have to be VERY CLEAR and explicit.  Men don't assume.  A man will not assume what you are REALLY asking in a question...if you don't spell it out for him.  So if you ask a man if he has cheated...and in HIS MIND the kiss with the girl in that bar the other night does not fit into HIS IDEA of cheating...he will proudly and confidently reply 'No.'.  Am I right or am I right?

Anyway.  I'm starting to poll (see at the bottom of the page).  I want to know what's really going on.  I am convinced, that no matter the circumstances...no matter how great a person...or how respected or trusted....people really struggle with infidelity.  And it baffles me.  Granted I don't have 3 kids, or 20 years of marriage under my belt...granted my husband doesn't beat me and the pool guy is hot and winks at me all the time, granted I have never found myself in any of the thousands of excuses I have heard and read that breed the grounds for infidelity...I just DON'T GET IT.

Some (wink wink nudge nudge) call me naive.  Maybe I'm a dreamer. 

And yes.  I have 'issues' with this issue. (Along with all the others which tend to revolve around abandonment and trust).  They have to do with an alcoholic father and divorced parents and the Sex Addict college boyfriend.  Thank god for Therapy!  And the most wonderful man who loves me unconditionally....and equally amazing friends and family.  I am trying to beat the fear. 

The Human Factor

There are lots of things in MY LIFE, in THIS life that make me anxious.  The majority of them relate to 'bad' experiences I have had in my past.  Personal experiences.  Then there are the things that make me anxious that have little to do with any personal point of reference.  They are global issues, politics, the things I hear on NPR or catch on the news.  They are crime, natural disasters, ignorance, greed, religious zealots, bigotry, racism, ethnocentrism, EGOcentrism, excessive consumption, waste and lies.  Now, I recognize that every generation and every 'era' has had their struggles, their own great debates, misfortune, and set backs.  But I fear that the one we are in is taking us fast and furiously perhaps to a more 'productive and efficient' place, but not a better one.

I often ponder the great question...of meaning, of life.  Destiny, and purpose.  Purpose as individuals, as nations, as a globe in the universe.  I tend to place more stock in theories supported by science than fiction, or gods.  I believe that there was a man named Jesus, and he did good things.  I believe that the bible contains many important messages but I question their authenticity.  I believe that bad things happen to bad people and good people and I have no beliefs or reason to believe that there are special and not so special 'places' people go, when they die. 

I believe that if you believe in a god or have faith in a religion that provides you with a sense of community and humanity, all the power to you.  I do not however, believe that there is one explanation.  I will not believe, until the scientific community shows me a slide of God's DNA that HE exists, existed...or guides my life.  I do believe in faith.  Faith is conviction...it is belief in something important.  My Faith...My belief....is that there is REASON.  That my life is significant in some way, has meaning, has purpose, and it is my job to discover what that is.  I think that people turn to religion for insurance.  To GIVE THEM something to believe, to feel strongly about.  To help them feel better about death.  Religion, to me, is an aide.  Like cliff notes. 

Back to my point.  So here I am, and no any one religion is entirely compelling to me....science compels me.  If I had to define my own religion...it would be The Religion of Intimacy.  Intimacy with myself, with my neighbors, my friends and collegues, intimacy with the world.  Everything I have ever read about the practice of buddhism, resonates so deeply in me.  It conveys everything important about the mystery of LIVING, and is everything I struggle to practice in my daily life.  It is my goal, my mission, to know and understand myself as innocently as the day I was born, and as intricately as the sum and impact of all the interactions and experiences that have led me through 27 years of life. THEN, maybe I can begin to understand my lover, my neighbor, my friend, my mother, my brother, my dead father, and the world around me.

So here is what I see that concerns me.  That makes me anxious...about the world.  About 'our' destiny.  It's the human factor.  It's dying.  And its sad.  While I appreciate and recognize all the benefits of advances in science and technology...it all seems to be stripping away more and more of what makes us human.  what makes us ALIVE.  It's the pulse, and the pace of our society...the sense of urgency towards bigger and better.  Consumption, waste, and war. Money.  It's all about money.  But it's not about money the way it was in the early 1900's. For Example.

I believe there was a wonderfully innocent beautiful moment or two in time...and certainly probably still occuring in some remote necks of woods, and in countries that are actually SELF SUFFICIENT...around the world....where people sit down to hand write letters about how their families are doing.  Where you know your doctor because he makes house calls and has shared Xmas dinners with your family.  Where you KNOW your community because technology isn't available to make you lazy. Money made the world go around in a sense that it provided food on the table and allowed you to put clothing on your children.  'Things' had function, and the bells and whistles were the exception not the rule.  Shoes kept blisters off your feet, and cars enabled someone to get somewhere quicker.  Period.   

It's glimpses of a life like that, that I long for and dream of - and visits to the mountains of Montana provide a delightful escape.  I come back to Atlanta and sit in traffic yelling at people I don't know wishing them slow deaths, while racing to make it to my desk on time.  We are so impatient...as a society.  We want things to happen NOW and we want them to be perfect.  The moment we notice flaws we are on to the next bright, pretty thing.  Everything...everyone....so disposable.  We are so concerned with getting ahead, having MORE, looking better...we miss so much in getting to know, respect and appreciate the goodness we all have to share.  If we spent half the time and money we spend trying to FIGHT THE AGING PROCESS, to maintain our youth and improve our exteriors....on our INSIDES...we probably wouldn't all need so much therapy.  Time.  Money.  Time.  Money.  Time.  Money.  ACK.  How exhausting.  How one could possibly have the TIME to understand SELF or eachother amidst such chaos is not such a mystery now is it? 

So, I'm not really certain I have a point, other than to say...that as long as we all have our hands in eachothers pockets, and as long as we continue to TOLERATE INTOLERANCE, and as long as we continue to allow RELIGION TO DICTATE SOCIAL POLICY, and as long as we continue to ignore the less fortunate, and as long as we continue to PURCHASE THINGS WE DONT NEED, and throw away things we could have found new uses for, the only destiny we will have to look forward to is a cold cold place.  Either that or we'll blow eachother up before the cold day ever comes.

And there you have the deepest, longest, most political post you will ever get out of me.