Unknotting the Gordian

Let's see...the last time I wrote was around late March...hm...why haven't I written since them? It's been two months...

RIGHT! I remember now: I got dumped by the woman who is now my ex-girlfriend. And not just dumped as a girlfriend, but as a friend, too. (The former was a little stingy, the latter hurt a lot.)

It was. By all accounts. And Emotional Explosion from which I'm still picking out the shrapnel.

But, it wasn't really a traditional kind of dumping. It was the kind of dump where she made it impossible for me to continue dating her and so I had to dump her. Mind fuck.

And it wasn't over any major issue, really. Well, to be fair, she felt it was a major issue. I thought that it was just a misunderstanding that got blown up - or that she blew up - into a MAJOR catastrophe.

See, the thing was, we were going along just fine fine fine and then suddenly there was this miscommunication about a date we were going on - she thought it was going to be quality time together, I thought it was a "hey there's this amazing show, wouldja like to come see it with me" kinda thing. I understand why shy would have misunderstood that the central and sole reason for the get together wasn't the show -- it's something that's quirky about me, and I apologized for not making it clear -- and when she found out about that fact, she wasn't pleased. We talked. She claimed she was fine. You know, in that way that people say, "I'm f i n e" when what they really mean is that they're NOT fine, but they're either a) going to make you work to find out what's really going on by apologizing up and down and begging them to open up to you because you can't stand being left out in the cold OR b) NOT going to talk about it at all and let you simmer in their passive aggression.

So, knowing that she might need some room, I said, "Ok. Is this one of those times that you need some time to figure out what you want to say or how you feel?" (The code term we developed to get us out of what could be deep shit when it didn't have to be.) And she said, "I don't know." Hm. Conundrum. How do I respond to that? Well, I figured, "Ok. Well let's talk later when maybe you'll know how you're feeling. 'Cause I don't know what else to say." We got off the phone. I thought: "Phew. Major altercation averted!" And went on with my day.

Around 3pm I get a text, "Have anything to say yet?" Huh... weird. So, I called and said I thought we were waiting for her to say something... and that was the beginning of the end. From there everything unraveled...it was "We're not on the same page." and "You don't understand me." and then it progressed onto, "All I'm asking for is a little support." and "I'm in excruciating pain." And all the time I was like, "Huh? Wha? Where did this come from? This is *not* what I signed up for." And, lest I seem really cold... I totally engaged in all these multi-hour conversations and pages-long emails with care, respect (well, except for the one time I really felt fucked with and told her to where to stick it) and integrity (I wasn't going to cave and apologize for anything I hadn't done just to get the emotional tornado to stop.)

And then it came down to, "Well, if these are your values, then I think we should part ways." She wrote it to me. And I agreed that parting ways would be a good idea. We were in such a Gordian knot by that point.



So, that's the backstory. The front story is that I've been really reeling from this experience. I mean, nine or twelve months with this woman and then KABLAMO, it's over in a big mushroom cloud. And I don't get it. I mean, she said she was totally fine with all the limitations I had - with time and, well, mostly time. I didn't have very much time at all and when I did have time I wasn't always present. And she kept saying she was in it because I was worth it and because she loved me. And I believed her. I believed that she thought I was ok.

And as nutsy as this may sound (since, at least in the opinion of my friends, who, granted, have only gotten my side of the story), I miss her. Or, I miss the person I thought she was. Or maybe she is that person and the alchemy of us just made her lose her shit all over me.

In any case, I couldn't sleep in my bed for a month afterwards and I didn't know why until a few weeks ago when a friend said, "Well, the last person who shared that bed with you really hurt you." Hm. Psychology. And my daughter really misses her and tells me that she doesn't want me to date anyone else because she feels bad for my ex-friend.

Girl, that really hurts. Ex-friend. Two years together. WTF.

Since then, I've had a whole SLEW of shit to deal with and so I have a backlog of emotional stuff to process. And it begins with breaking up with her. So, here I am dealing with it and realized that I never mourned that relationship.

Images are coming up for me.
Her smile (obvious, I know, but true).
Her intelligence.
Her curiosity.
Her hugs.
Her support.
Her companionship.

Hm. That's a pretty generic list. Odd. I mean, to protect the guilty, I can't get into much more detail than I already have. But even when I think it over, I realize that what I really miss and what I really bought into was how much she was into me. It's not that I loved the adoration in general. It's that I believed that she, specifically, thought I was amazing and that made me feel amazing and her rejection made me feel like all that was a lie, or at least not entirely true.

I guess I really internalized her feelings for me. Or what she expressed to me were her feelings.

Hm.

I guess that's why the rejection of our friendship hurt so much.

Wow. I feel lighter.

I feel the ropes loosening. I think I'll be able to pull them apart soon and the whole thing will fall untangled onto the ground floor of my emotional foundation.

Now I know one of the take-aways from this relationship. And that makes me breathe easier.

Thanks for reading,

Pandora

Love Song

Somewhere 50 years from now
There's a home with warm pillows
On wide soft couches
And sunlight
And a big King Sized bed
And hers and hers bathroom sinks
And slippers - her's purple and orange, her's pink
And photographs of vacations
New Year's Celebrations
Graduations of Children
From Acclaimed Institutions
And there's a window nook
With space for Two chairs
and a small table just big enough for
her pot of tea and her glass of kombucha
And there's a chihuahua that she talked her into accepting
In exchange for the 2000 square foot performance studio in the back
Where she records her tracks about how lucky she is to
Have what she thought she couldn't ever have
Double the halves of what she thought was possible...

And 51 years from now, there will be a first anniversary
Which will be followed very closely by a fatal coronary heart attack
But life will not have completely lacked the
co-existence of
self-sustenance and romance.

But really I sit here indulging images of vacation photos I will never own
And decades of coming home alone
And knowing that I chose this
That the love of my life who makes me the most happy
Is at once faceless and filled with thousands of smiles
Is one that I can never take home
Is one that is totally full of caprice
Is one that will never really know me
is one that I can never know actually
Is one that knows me slightly but loves me completely
Is one that I feel so secure with
Is the only place where I feel truly at home, truly best self

The place I always feel alive
Healthy
Productive
Like I'm not cheating
Like I don't want to hide
Is where the lights shine hot
And the people surround me
And nobody knows what's going to happen next
Including me

Totally free.
Just me.
And a few hundred strangers.
Totally free.

Well, as free as things get for me these days...

Woke Up, Got out of Bed, Had this Sex Dream in my Head

I'm still reeling
Woke up feeling
Soooooooo...riled up
Thought I could satisfy
My needs
But I felt too wiled out
Doubt I could find relief
In a buzzing O-theif
What I crave
Is a knave
to grind me down into the ground
Spin me around and around and around
Make me arch my back
Crack open my safe deposit box
Break the chains and the locks
Hard and fast from behind
Deep and Deeper where the sun don't shine
Your light inside me
Power up my electricity
Surge with my Urge to Purge my Tension
Hit each note of my Vocal Declension
O O O O O O O O
And on and on and on and on
Waaaaaay past the finish line
Waaaaaay after the woman of size sings
Waaaaaay after the deathknell rings
Energizer Rabbit my Ass
We've got him trounced
Bounce me up an down
'Til I melt right into the sound
of my tears of gratitude
For your generosity and servitude.
And when our eyes meet
Deep
And I hit the bottom of your soul
And rebound back up
I close my eyes
And fall back...to sleep.

Hobby - Shumi

Last year I created a Meet Up group (www.meetup.com) called the Central Jersey Japanese/English Speakers and Learners group (I think that's the title of it). Anyway, I started it up and it attracted a few people and we met a couple of times, but people weren't really into talking in Japanese and it was more social than speaking/learning and I sorta dropped it.

Then this year, MeetUp was sending me emails saying that my group was going to expire - it costs a bit of money to set up a group - and I let it go and then a second notice and then the final notice: "WE'RE CANCELLING YOUR MEETUP GROUP TOMORROW!" And, I thought: "Eh, why not give it another go?"

So, I renewed.

And I set up a meeting and about seven people showed up and we all spoke in Japanese half the time and I set it up that we were going to talk about our various jobs. So, we did and after the 1.5 hours were up, we decided to do it weekly and I'd find another spot (we were at a restaurant - which was too noisy and disruptive)...which I did. And we met the next week and the next week and the group is getting bigger and we're talking more and more Japanese and all of the sudden...it hit me:

I have a hobby!

I have a bona-fide activity that is completely unrelated to my work in any way (well, it's not entirely true, I do eventually want to tour Japan...) but in the short-run at least, there is no relationship to my work. It's a place where I can go, kick up my heels and just jammer on in Japanese and make mistakes and it doesn't matter. There's nothing at stake. And I love it! It's the highlight of my week! It's so great.

And the people are so dedicated to learning, it's inspiring. And everyone's Caucasian, which totally wilds me out -- I mean, here we all are -- well, there was another half-half there -- all with an interest, most with a love -- for Japanese and we have no idea what else we have in common, but it doesn't matter. We're coming together for this activity.

It's uplifting.
Engaging.
Life-affirming.

Wow, when "they" say "You need a hobby!" they really know what they're talking about! It's amazing!

I love it!

Gambaru!

Matane!

Language Snob

Ok...it's fewer not less and it's more than not over.

MORE THAN 50 people said that they loved my show.
FEWER THAN 6 people showed up for my writing workshop.

If it were OVER 50 people, then something would have to actually be jumping OVER those 50 people while saying "I love you show, Pandora!"

And if it were LESS than 6 people who showed up to my show than those people who showed up -- would be lesser in quality in some way -- perhaps they would be six people who were 2/3rds as tall as a group of 'regularly heighted' people. Or maybe they were Burger King-eating, La Leche League members... (oh, my prejudices do come out when my ire is raised over language!).

I don't have much else to say about this. It's been coming up a lot so I figured I'd say something about it. Go ahead, keep saying over and less, I'll keep saying more than and fewer. I'm sure we'll all get along no matter what, in the end.

:-) Love,

Pandora

warm up poem

if i start this poem

with no idea what it will say

if i keep writing with no theme in mind

with no message of any kind

with nothing but the compulsion to write

to type

something that may, eventually, mean something

to me

to you

to maybe every-you

could that be enough?

if i start this poem

with no goal in sight

with nothing but the sunlight

to illuminate the page

and the ink that flows out of the tip

and stain the paper

as I sip tea and ponder wonder think

should i drink water instead?

could that be enough?

if i continue writing this poem

into its third stanza

still unclear as to its meaning

but aware that i am moving forward

into the unknown

quietly, but intently

because i know that i am now somewhere i wasn’t when i was at the start

and my heart is warming up…

could that be enough?

and what if this is a warm-up poem?

what if this is the process i go through to prepare for the “real” poems

the ones with themes and metaphors and similes and jokes that please

and let’s not forget rhymes

but those poems don’t emerge from nowhere, there are thousands of lines

that get written and only a few make it to the ether

between me and you.

what if this is a warm-up poem?

is it enough?

it’s a vital step in the journey to get to the “good” stuff.

we’re so product hungry

finished and glossy is what makes it in our society

and this is just a peek into the backstage

the VH1 behind the page look

into how we get pieces that are much bolder

much louder

much more produced.

but i think i know my answer now.

this poem is a key part of the how

and my how is just as important as my what

so i’m gonna strut my warm-up poem

up and down the red carpet

‘cause it is exactly what i need to show right now.

How We Tell People Off

SO...SOMEONE really pissed me off today. And this person - had he been in my grill, would have inspired such contempt in me that I believe

I believe, mind you

that I would have spit in his face.

How 19th Century, right? At least that's how it seems to me. When the greatest insult a woman could exact upon a man would be to spit in his face.

And then I started thinking, "Why is spitting in someone's face such an insult?" Or spitting on someone's grave or "spitting on the memory of your grandmother!" I mean, ok, it's messy. And the mouth is, actually, the most bacteria infested part of the body (I just wrote that - is it true? I'm too pissed off to even look it up right now) -- so, in essence, spitting on someone's face is the grimiest thing one could do besides pooping and smearing the feces on the person's face - which requires a gigantic amount of pre-planning and then quick access -- and I dunno -- by then the window of opportunity for comeback has passed...

What bothers me about this insulting gesture is that it is exactly that same spittle that we exchange when we like someone(enough to kiss them - ok, "French" kiss someone...why it's called "French" kissing, I don't know - another thing to look up at a time when I'm not fuming). So how come when someone tickles my fancy, their bacteria-riddled spit is something that I'm willing to voluntarily take into my mouth. But if that person finds me beneath contempt and spits on my face, I find that the gravest of insults?

It's the same spit.

It's the same with the phrase "Fuck You" right? To insult someone, we say "Fuck you!" To tell someone that we want to engage in some very pleasurable sex with someone, we (some of us) say, "I wanna fuck you." In one instance, the concept of someone being fucked is an ugly, insulting act to wish upon someone else. In the other, it's an act that someone(s) might desire greatly.

So, where are the insults that don't have this double meaning? That can't be turned around in another context and used as a positive gesture or be associated with something desirable?

"I'm going to kill you." That's pretty negative all around - although we do still say, "I'm going to kill you!" in jest. But there are few situations in which someone says, "You should be killed" and means it in a positive way. But then, there's the fact that no one wants to be caught having said something like that and then, goodness forbid, if the person in question dies... the speaker would be in a world of trouble.

There are cultures in which the insults are completely unambiguous: "I wish for your dead mother to be raped."

Which makes me wonder why we don't say, 'Rape you!" when we're pissed off. But that is SOOOOOOO Taboo.

Not that I'm advocating lingually violent and extreme exchanges
between people as ways of addressing tension.

But, in the event that I have the opportunity to show my contempt for someone, I will probably spit in the person's face.

Although...I have noticed that whenever I am in a position where I am poised to spit in someone's face (not often at all - maybe three times in the past 20 years), I find I end up with dry mouth. And by the time that I wait 'til I work up enough spit...again...missed window.

Well, now that I've written this, I feel less enraged. I supposed that's good.

Peace,

Pandora

Girlie Girl

She went searching for her self
In all the corners of her life
And she didn't know it was hidden
Under the bookshelf with no light.
So it sat there growing mold
And it festered and it bruised
And it waited for her to wake up
And stop being so confused.

But dizzy is as dizzy does
And girlie girl couldn't know what she couldn't know
So the story of her life was
Absent of her ego.

She walked through hallways and down sidewalks
Like any other sister or brother
But she was unlike any other
But she couldn't even bother
To notice her sheen in the screen
'Cause she absofuckinglutely knew
She was
Unseen.

And ghosts don't have lives
And shadows don't breathe
So why would she need air?
There was no one to believe

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out she came one day from underneath her bookshelf
She had scrapes and broken bones and bloody gashes on herself
But she pulled her body down the hall
Passed the soon-to-be past at a crawl
She worked her way to the door
And she whispered under her breath "no more."

She reached up for the door knob
She turned it just enough
She threw it open to the light
And she pushed the screen door rough.

And as it swung open
She quickly skittered out
It slammed shut fast behind her
And now she began to shout

No more!
No more!
No MORE!
NO MORE!

With each shout she healed a broken bone
Each word erased a bruise
Each syllable cleaned up all the blood
She knew she had nothing more to lose.

Standing now on the porch of what would be the house that was never a home
She strode confidently down the stairs and headed out to roam
The world and shout
No More!
No More!
No.
More!
More!
More!
More!
And More!
And More!
And More!

She screamed - she couldn't get enough
She wanted so much more in life, she soaked it all way up
Into her Lungs
And into her Heart
And into her Mind
She would never leave herself behind
From this day forward
She held herself
Carefully in her strong arms
And never again
Never again
Never
Again
Would she let it ever be harmed.

Forty-Third Chances

I just started reconciling with a friend. We had a major falling out that, not surprisingly, I thought was his fault and he thought was mine. It turns out, again not surprisingly, that it was both of our faults.


If I forget the path we've shared
To get here
Would you remind me
Would you turn me around and show me the organic kale trail
That we've left behind us as we walked together
Together
To this point
Because, I forget
And then I get
I get
Angry
and
I forget
That we climbed over mountains together
And that you helped me over that ravine
And we balanced each other over the rocks through the river
And I'll do the same for you
Turn you around to see the trail of carrot tops
We've left behind us on our way to the top
of this Precipice that, at first
and second
and third
and fifth
glance
Looks so precarious
But is actually just another challenge
For us
And I don't blame you for leading us here
And please don't blame me for leading us here
We left the map at home
Well, not actually at home
Well, actually, there never was a map to begin with
Well, actually, there wasn't actually a starting point
There was just this meeting of paths
And this sudden decision to walk alongside each other
And then some kind of inevitability to walk the same path
And there were points at which I should have taken my own detour
And you probably had those points too
And we could have trusted that we would have found eachother after a while
But we didn't and so we have this trail of carrot tops and kale behind us
To remind us that we got here together
For worse or better.

Yes. It's a precipice.
And you could turn around and go your way.
And I could jump.
Or vice-versa.
But I'd sorta like to do this together.
So, whaddya say?
Wanna do this? Rise to this challenge. Helping each other
Without leaning too hard, white knuckled.

And if we choose
with Intentionality
to jump, maybe I want to leave half-eaten garlic cloves in the air behind us
which will happen to criss cross with whatever you leave...what...in the air behind you
And when we land our paths will criss cross as they do
Mine with yours and yours with mine.
And then things will be
Well...
It may seem too simple
But you like simplicity
Then things will be
just fine.

Or maybe I'll jump the precipice and you'll climb down it and we'll meet at the bottom...or somewhere deep in the forest.
Just
Can we agree
That we'll
Remember
Or Remind each other
That we're friends
Traveling partners
Friends
That we're together
in some Whatever-way-that-works-for-us Manner?
Even if we don't see each other for weeks or months or years
That we remember our connection when the other appears
That we tap into that that day?

Whaddya say?

Paradigm of Inclusivity

Disclaimer: I was on a total awesome roll and intend on getting back on it. I've been sick the last three weeks -- and in the middle of that celebrated the beginning of my 40th year! (aka 39th birthday.) I am sooooooo excited (no joke) to be in my 40th year.

Pardigm of Inclusivity. Without getting into the nitty gritty - or maybe I will. In the MSW class we're learning about paradigms -- ways of thinking shared by large (LARGE) groups of people that inform their behavior. According to my professor there are traditional ones (paternalism, whiteness, privilege) and alternate ones (these are harder to name - diversity is one, feminism was posited as a response to paternalism - hm).

First off, I take issue with the idea that feminism is a response to paternalism in that feminism doesn't mean that women take care of men - that women are the breadwinners and deciders. It posits that women are equal to men and deserve equal rights, pay, treatment, etc. Maternalism would be the "alternate" to paternalism. This was something that a friend of mine came up with. I just thought that "Equality" would be the alternate. But maternalism works better.

After speaking about the paradigm of diversity (the concept that there are many different ways of approaching life), we were asked what other alternate paradigms there could be, I offered:

The Paradigm of Inclusivity.

I was asked what that meant. I responded: Everyone is Equal. Everyone is Included. No one is left out.

This was challenged in the group. It caused confusion in some. It was suggested that this was not a paradigm that was held by many. I responded that its held by millions in the East (a point that I'm not exactly sure is absolutely factual).

But I've been thinking about this concept: The Paradigm of Inclusivity. Who does it apply to? Everyone?

Ax Murders?

Everyone who obeys the laws?

Conscientious Objectors?

Everyone is doesn't hurt anyone else?

Domestic abusers who are struggling?

Where is the line? Inclusivity means everyone is included. Well, it means "inclusion" which, according to dictionary.com means "including a great deal, or including everything concerned; comprehensive" (2nd definition).

So, the Paradigm of Inclusivity could mean everyone who does not hurt anyone else. But then, what do we mean by hurt? Impede? Destroy?

I have a feeling I'm going to be pondering this one for a while.

It was also suggested to me that this concept is idealistic. (It may have been me projecting or interpreting negatively, but I truly felt that the word "idealistic" was being used in an every so slightly pejorative tone.)

It may be a idealistic. It's also a vision.

Writing

Writing is a process of self-acceptance

There isn't a target with excellence at its center to aim for

Writing is so much more

It is the willingness to give in to voice

To allow the odd or obvious choice

To fill the page

To fill the screen

To fill the stage

To fill the room

Zoom out of the womb

Where things are comfortable and safe

And go wherever and to anyplace

Your fingers, your imagination, your mind, your heart takes you

This is how to write from you

From your heart

From your gut

From your mind

This is the groove, the zone, everyone talks of

It comes from self-love

Not from books about writing or how-to's

It comes from being true to you.

Maybe you think orange rhymes with florange

And that florange is a type of flower

With the power to make people love one another

And that your sisters and brothers

Should eat that flower and bring themselves

Closer to each other in a wellspring of happiness.

And maybe you don't believe in rhyming.

Or.

You.

Think.

That.

poems.

need.

formatting.

Maybe you believe that metaphors are extra - too much

Or that metaphors are the touch of angels in the springtime of your mind.

Whatever your feelings about whatever you can think or feel

If you are true to yourself and you express it in your own way

You will create something beautiful and it will be poetry.

You Know You're Doing SOMEthing Right...

...when you hear that someone hates your work so much that they call you a cunt.

TEE HEE!!!

Ok...so maybe I'm supposed to be totally offended or something -- or I'm supposed to have this really sobering response like, "Obviously, I've hit some kind of button in Jane Doe and this is an opportunity to reach out and to make things clearer, smoother, better..."

...a learning moment...

And...

And...

And...

All I can think of is that my existence pisses someone off so much that she called me a cunt behind my back and it got back to my front and I couldn't be MORE thrilled. (I mean, I could be more thrilled, for example, if everyone on the planet were jiggy with being jiggy with each other, etc... but barring that...I'm thrilled because:)

If I weren't STANDING UP FOR SOMETHING THAT REQUIRED CHANGE then NO ONE would be resistant or angry at me or threatened by me.

Well, at least this is the old school way of looking at impact. Maybe it's sophomoric. (No insults made toward sophomores). But it sure seems like I'm doing something -- I mean it feels as much like I'm doing something as when someone tells me that someone is doing their college project for class on me (yeah, that happened this week, too). Cool!

I stand for inclusivity and truthfulness and self-acceptance and self-love.

I stand for all people being permitted to express what is in the hearts.

And I know, in my heart of hearts, that I don't think this person is anything but possibly threatened and upset by something I represent to her -- who knows what that is. And that if there were something I could do to reconcile the situation, I would, but I don't think that this is possible in the near future.

I actually see the advent of my finding out about this exchange as being a real blessing. 'Cause while I've always *thought* it was best to keep my cool, I didn't realize how out of sorts and vulnerable one becomes when one's cool is lost. I feel so centered in the midst of what could be an emotional hailstorm.

I am sorry that my work or whatever representation of my work this person has come into contact with has made them upset --- I don't revel in this, in specific. I wish for them some kind of peace - hopefully, in some positivity - something, I guess I would, arrogantly, identify as positivity.

This person is not my "other."

I've got my "other" cut out for me. More on this later...

Power to the Peaceful and Love to All...

Humanity - The Sad and the Great

Yesterday started off with my friend texting me that she had just seen the website "The People of Walmart" (don't look it up, please) where some person had posted pictures of people from across the country who work at Walmarts. I'd heard of the site a few nights previous and had heard comments like, "It's amazing how much alike they all look like no matter what part of the country they're in. It's like something happens to them when they start working there." And so on and so on... (p.s. My friend texted me that she felt sad when she perused the page which had been forwarded to her, she said, by a "really nice guy.")

"They" and "Them" --- in an economy where jobs are scarce, I'd think we'd be extolling the perseverance of these people for *having* a job and *keeping a job* at an employee-unfriendly company like Walmart.

High Horse Alert: These "theys" and "thems" are people with families and bills and they work at Walmart and that's all I know about them. And isn't this the same sort of thing as we did in Middle School going through the yearbook and vandalizing the pictures of those kids who we thought were "uncool" ? (I say "we" because, frankly, I don't remember if I did that or not, but if I did, I learned somewhere between then and now that it was a waste of time and unkind - probably not in that order.)

My day yesterday ended in a circle of people, all from different backgrounds, different orientations, different ages, different talents, insecurities and strengths who had just made space for one other to express themselves.

I've started up a new Out of the Box at the Pride Center in Hudson County -- in Jersey City (you should look this place up). Chilltown Out of the Box, open mic. Last night was the 2nd one and it was amazing. There were about 15 people there and we came together to support strangers and friends as they shared parts of themselves. There were pieces about love, pain, being alive, feeling dead, standing up for yourself, identity and acceptance. And there were two dancers, too. It was so inspiring.

One particular young woman got up and sang her heart out - it was hard for her - she forgot the lyrics and then was cajoled by her friends to continue by listening to the song on an iPod and singing along with it and she did it. She did it. And then she sat down. And she started crying. And ... well, I wanted to stop everything and make her feel better somehow. But every time I looked over her friends were indicating that I shouldn't put more attention on her... but I just couldn't just continue as though there wasn't this emotional experience happening ... so I was going to do one piece and just butch through it - but then I realized I had this new piece - Enough - and it's all about how we're all enough. We are all enough. And I did that piece instead - after spending all this time introducing Box... I changed my mind and did Enough.

And I felt the room focus. And I felt the room support the young woman. And I felt the woman fill with warmth. And I felt the room fill with love.

And this is the part of humanity that keeps me going.

And I am so thankful for those people in that room last night in Jersey City. For every inconsiderate person out there who does something thoughtless and hurtful...there is at least one, if not three or five people who are out in the world making it a safer place. It may be quieter work, but you can find it if you look. I did. Last night.

Feeling blessed.

Teaching and Teachers and Me Me Me

I'm taking a class in Social Work. I think I mentioned that in the "How to Study" blog. In any case, I have a feeling that this class is going to be fodder for lots of these blogs. Holy mackerel how much stuff comes up for me while being a students.

Like watching the teacher use all the same tricks and gimmicks that I use while I'm teaching. I mean, they're effective, but it is such a wild ride to actually be on the receiving end of things like,

Me: "Professor, could you repeat that, please?"

Prof: "Oh, you're going to make me remember that? Ok, I'll try...I probably won't get it the same, though." (class laughs)

or

Prof says something personal about her life - using it as an example to illuminate some point - usually something about a person she's dating or involved with. There's a pause. And then she says:

"Don't worry, I'm not going to be inundating you with info about my private life. It's just so that you get what I'm talking about." (class laughs)

or

Prof asks for people to speak more in class. Students are quiet. She says, "C'mon guys, you're making me work too hard, here!" (class laughs)

or

the WAY that she l e a d s the class to the answers she's looking for...is sooooo familiar. And she always says "yes" to what everyone offers as possible answers until she hears the one she's looking for and then highlights that one and explains how, somehow, it encompasses all the other ones that she also validated, though to a lesser extent.

And I'm thinking, "That's what I do! You mean, I didn't INVENT this way of teaching? You mean there are other effective teachers out there who read student's behavior and respond to it?"

Prof called on someone saying, "You had something to say, what is it?" And the student responded, "I didn't raise my hand."

Prof: "But you had something to say."

Student: "Yeah. How'd you know?"

Prof: "The way you..." and then she did an impression of the way the student moved her head.

And AGAIN, I'm thinking, "I do that! You mean I didn't INVENT this way of teaching??? WHAT is going on here???"

And I also think, "Yeah, well, this makes sense, huh? If a woman who is a social worker is teaching in the same manner as I've been teaching for 15 years or more...maybe this is a profession that would suit me in some ways." It's so amazing to feel like I'm being taught be someone who knows how to relate to people and students and teach with ease and passion. I feel fortunate to be in this class as my first one back into grad school (for the second time).

Chalk it up to my lack of exposure, apparently, and the poor teachers I had in all my educational experience... 'cause underneath it all? I'm just fucking flabbergasted that I'm not the only person who teaches the way that I teach, which is to say: effectively.

Ads for Smokes

So, my kid has opted out of the D.A.R.E. program -- with my support (I've heard over and over from teens I've worked with that D.A.R.E. taught them how to get high offa products they could find in their own homes -- ammonia, prescription meds, snorting vitamins - DO NOT DO ANY OF THESE THINGS).

Anyway, despite the fact that my daughter has opted out of the program, she still gets assignments from one of the 'health' teachers (ok ok, I put health in single quotes because I'm dubious about their credentials...not to dis all health teachers, but I've worked with my share of 'health' teachers who were Physical Educators and who really knew nada about the other topics covered under health like nutrition, drug abuse, physical impediments (like concussions), sex education...enough to know that it is truly common to relegate someone with no education to the responsibility of educating children on these topics.).

The particular assignment in question involved going on line and finding three ads for tobacco. My daughter found her three and submitted them to the teacher. She also found a forth, which she withheld from the teacher, but which she pulled out of the depths of her pocket and unfolded carefully and showed me: http://www.tobaccofreekids.org/adgallery/display.php3?ID=310

"I think we should talk about this," my 10-almost-11 year old said in a very sobering tone. "I didn't show it to my teacher because I didn't think she'd like it. But I want to talk to you about it."

Exasperated Daughter (ED): "They're talking about lesbians smoking and that's bad."

Progressive Mother (PM): "Yes, but they're saying a lot more here, too."

ED: "Like what?"

PM: "Like what's the main message here?"

ED: "I choose."

PM: "And who is saying that."

ED: "No one."

PM: "No, someone in the ad is saying it. Which one of the women is saying it?"

ED: "The one looking at me."

PM: "Yes and what is she choosing?"

ED: "To fall in love with a woman."

Do you see how protected my kid is from mainstream idealogy? It's amazing and scary at the same time.

PM: "Well, does a person choose to fall in love with a woman?"

ED: pause. "No, it just is. It just happens."

PM: "That's what I think, too. So, what is this ad saying about her?"

ED: "That she's choosing to be with this woman."

PM: "And what do you think mainstream Americans think about choosing to do that?"

ED: "That it's natural."

Again, do you SEE what I'm working with here? I've created a completely open-minded and hearted kid here.

PM: "Actually, mainstream America - like most Americans - are going to think that this is risky, edgy, individualistic and exciting behavior. And what else do they want you to think of as that?

ED: "Smoking Lucky Strikes."

PM: "Yup."

PM: "And do you see what these women look like?"

ED: "Yes."

PM: "Do they look like the lesbian you know?"

ED: "Why does there have to be a "look" to a lesbian. Anyone can be a lesbian!"

PM: "Right. Right. Of course, but there are certain ways that people think lesbians look and ways that straight women look. And these two women are dressed like straight women. So, what does "I CHOOSE" mean?"

ED: "It means that these woman are choosing to be with each other. That it's not something in them naturally."

PM: "Well, yeah, that's what I take from it. And is it a choice to be gay or lesbian?"

ED: "No."

PM: "So, that's kinda what annoys me about this ad is that either they're saying that being a lesbian is a choice or they're saying that these women are choosing to be sexual together because they are risky/edgy, etc."

ED:

PM: "Is there anything else you want to talk about this?"

ED: "Why do we have to put people into columns? This one is this, this one is that. Why can't we all just be human. If there weren't any labels then no one could say that someone was different from them. We'd all have to just be human!"

Achieving Apathy

I've recently been through a very tumultuous breakdown with a friend of mine. Communications got completley skewed between us and tempers flared and expectations were dropped and promises were broken and lines were drawn and misunderstandings were plentiful.

Actually, truth be told, much of our relationship has been tumultuous. We'd get along smoothly, even gloriously, for four to six weeks and then something would happen - some kind of major misunderstanding or crossing of boundaries. And then we'd spend the next three to four weeks picking up the pieces and then we'd have four weeks of goodness and then it'd start all over again. Cycle. Cycle. Cycle. It's been hard.

But now (we'll call this person "A"), A has gone too far. Our values have, apparently, diverged to such a point that A seems unrecognizable to me. And unreachable. I don't want to get into the details here, but the result is that I feel that A is so far gone that I don't even care to try and reach out. To help. To find out what could possibly be going through A's head. I feel so abused and misused and fucked-with, and now I feel that A has screwed with other people in my life, and I just don't want anything to do with A.

They say that if you hate a person, you really care. I wish I hated A right now. But I don't. Maybe I'm just numb and when I thaw out, I'll hate A and feel strongly, because I really do care. But right now, I feel that I've reached apathy.

And maybe this is a defense mechanism so that I don't get sucked back into the tumult. But even if it is that, the result is the same, I don't care. I don't care enough to get involved in the tumult, which is what I've been doing for so long. Getting involved with the tumult. And it's really hurt me - especially lately.

I don't think A is a bad person. I don't think bad things should happen to A. I care about A in so much as I hope that A has a good recovery from whatever is going on. But, as for my personal investment, I just - well, maybe it's best put that I "can't let myself care."

Well, to be totally honest, I've only felt this for the past 10 days or so. Most likely, it'll change and I'll let you know when it does. IF it does. Until then...it's nice to have some peace inside me.

Numb v. Apathy? Hm. (Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm probably just numb...we'll see.)

p.s. I do have another friend (we'll call this friend "X") that I haven't been in touch with for almost two years. I KNOW that I feel apathy towards X. It probably takes longer than 10 days to get to this point. Hmmm. But it is nice to not feel that emotional pull.

Process

Thinking about process...I think of those cooking shows where they show the making of the batter or basic fixings and then put it in the oven and then they pull out a finished product from the other oven. As if the baking itself isn't important.

Now, I know baking doesn't make for "good television," but it's absolutely vital to the process. Without those 30 or 45 or 60 minutes in the oven, the batter won't turn into a cake, the dough won't bake...

For the past three or four years I've had a bunch of things baking in my head and heart. And I feel like I'm ready to pursue them. Some of them are writings that I want to do. Others of them are actually habits and perspectives that I want to adopt.

The process of getting to the place where I feel ready to "come out" of the oven, has been trying. I had a major nervous breakdown in 2006 and I've spent much of the past four years recovering. I think I finally started to recover last May 2009 and things have been slowly getting more and more stable for me. And as they get more stable, I feel more and more ready to pursue these new avenues to realize my goals.

I'm thinking now of Ellen Degeneres' interpretive dance about coming out and coming up from depths of despair. Have you seen that? It's awesome. In any case, that's kinda what things have been like...I've been working on things like getting enough sleep, eating right, exercising, balancing friends and work, getting on top of my finances, taking care of my kid and now... NOW... I'm ready.

And all anyone's going to see, really, is this "powerhouse performer." And they're going to have no idea what all I've gone through to work up to getting back up on the stage and owning it like I was born there.

(Some of you might think that I haven't been performing - or performing well - for the last three years - and that's not the case --- but I do feel that I haven't been fulfilling my potential. I still haven't been taking myself seriously enough --- rehearsing, writing, editing, rehearsing, rehearsing, woodshedding as the cats call it.)

Roseanne Barr was asked "How does it feel to be an overnight sensation?" Her response: "That was the LONGEST night I've ever spent!" (I hope you're hearing her nasal voice, 'cause it really makes the quote.)

In any case, I'm just wanting to give thanks here for process. For the baking, not the serving. For the walking to somewhere, not the getting there. For the practicing, not the performing.

How to Be A Student

You know...we teach math, languages, english (capital E, I know), science, history, physical education, health (anti-drug use and sex-ed), and a variety of other subjects: keyboarding (that would be how to use word processing software), chorus, drama (if kids are lucky), art (if kids are even luckier) and, sometimes internships are offered in High School.

But we don't teach kids how to learn.

I just started taking a class last night. It's a class called Human Behavior and the Social Environment. It's in the Social Work department of Rutgers University and out of the 25+ students in the class, I was one of, perhaps, three people taking notes. Sure, the professor was "just" giving an overview of the class and what Social Work is about and, ok, I'm green and maybe for most of these students they already know what SW is all about...but even so, she was laying out major concepts about Human Behavior and the Fundamental Values of SW and I was typing away like a stenographer. (I think I actually got much of what she said down verbatim.)

And she was posing questions of us regarding our value systems, our expectations, our behaviors... And she was challenging us to look at certain concepts differently and she was, herself, making assumptions about what was being said by the students (which I found fascinating - one of which I'm going to explore in another post)... and all of this was fodder for my brain related to this world of Social Work that I'm thinking of entering. (No, I'm not giving up any of my performance work, I'm looking to enhance the teaching I do with underserved and marginalized populations with this work and also to help support my performance work with these studies...)

How to learn in class. Some thoughts:

*Assume you will hear new concepts.
*Assume that familiar concepts may be slightly to very different from what you understand them to be
*Think of lectures as a conversation between yourself and the professor -- write down questions of the professor and what she is talking about in your notes
*Write down everything that is said in an orderly fashion -- If the professor says, "These are the major precepts of Script Analysis" write down "SA Major Precepts" and then write down the list w/ definitions as they come up (this is assuming that your professor actually speaks based on an outline form, hopefully!)
*Highlight things that don't make sense to you
*Come up with a code so that long terminology that you have to repeatedly write or type out becomes simpler to write/type (like SW being Social Work and SA being Script Analysis and RTFT being "Read the Fucking Textbook"
*Circle things that you believe you want to research more.
*Review your notes within 24 hours of taking them - elucidate anything that you left vague or unclear.
*Remain open and available to whatever the professor is offering - no matter how trivial it may seem.
*Write down new concepts verbatim so that you can incorporate them into your vocabulary as you learn to speak in the lingua franca of this new area.

Ok. Now that I've written all this out, I feel like I'm being didactic. Probably most of you know all of this. But I figured I would put this out here because it's on my mind and I realize that I was never taught how to take notes and how to learn and that many of my students don't know how to take notes and are ineffective learners.

Learning is, in my mind, often a violent process. Not physically, usually (though I did have a martial arts teacher - he was NOT a "sensei" - who tried to teach me by being physically aggressive. This did not work for me.) It is a psychologically violent process, I believe. The student has what he or she believes to be the right way of thinking (based upon the fact that this way of thinking has gotten him or her thus far) and the teacher has a new way of thinking that he or she is, essentially, selling to the student. In order for the student to take on the new way of thinking some might say she has to take a leap of faith. Taking that somewhat literally, a "leap of faith" (at least in my view) is a leap into unknown territory, where there may not be any ground on which to land. This requires courage and stamina. And when the student does not "get" the new concepts on the first go (which is usually the case) he plummets the depths of faith into the craggy, dried up riverbed below.

This process repeats over and over until the student replaces what he knows with what the teacher knows and is able to land on the soft, grassy knoll of new knowledge that's been awaiting him on the other side of the deep ravine.

Because this is how I view learning, I have the utmost compassion for my students as they struggle with the concepts I introduce to them. Sometimes I may express impatience --- usually it's with myself for not making the leaps less risky. Occasionally, it's with my students for not being more open. But who can fault them? They were never taught how to learn.

Parenting 101

I teach teenagers. I've been teaching and mentoring teenagers for 18 years and I see it over and over and over again:

They are starved for respect and for someone to listen.

Doesn't matter if they're rich, poor, urban, rural. Give a teenager the opportunity to express herself in a space where she's going to be supported for who she is...she's going to open up and spill like a volcano.

And I've been wondering for all these years if this is just that teens don't want to talk to their parents. Anybody but their parents, just because they are their parents. But lately (like the last 10 years) I'm coming to the conclusion that it's really the fact that parents don't fucking listen. They don't listen from the first words to the 403,603rd word. It's all about what's convenient for them to hear. They see their kids as an extension of themselves and they can't separate and understand that even though this is their kid who is financially and practically dependent, he may be a completely autonomous personality.

Parents are fucking up parenting all over the place. Keanu Reeves' character in "Parenthood," says something like: "You know you need a license to drive a car, to hunt, hell, you need a license to fish. But they'll let any butthead asshole be a parent."

I've been running into a whole shitpile of butthead assholes lately and I'm getting really fed up.

Parenting 101:

*Respect your child. If you can't respect your child and how she feels and what she thinks, then FIND SOMEONE WHO CAN and allow your child to hang out with this person.
*Be compassionate toward your child. He gets enough criticism from the world, on the whole. Home is the one place he should be able to be himself and express his feelings and needs. It doesn't mean that you have to let him be a maniac - but if he's angry, don't yell. Offer to listen without arguing.
*You want your kid to talk to you? Then shut the fuck up. Listen. Really. No - shut up. No ifs, ands or buts.
*ASK your child if he or she wants your opinion on something (unless it's life threatening or truly goes against your values (I guess)). If you start by doing this, you're going to get much more reception from them, than if you just blurt out what you think and assume that she cares. Kids are so sick of being taken for granted as receptacles of "wisdom" and "advice" from adults.
*Set BOUNDARIES with your kid. Don't talk to your kid about your problems. About how insecure your kid makes you feel. Don't tell your kid that he or she is responsible for your mood ("I was doing fine until you came home."). This gives your kid WAY too much power. Your kid is a KID, remember that.
*Remember that LOVE is an action. Hug, smile and laugh with your child. Be loving. Watch your tone. If you wouldn't talk to a stranger with that tone, don't use it with your kid. Seriously. Check yourself.

And before any parents who are reading this go off on the "Where do you get off" tirade... I "get off" based on, I repeat, eighteen years of having 100s of teenagers come to me to talk out their problems and their feelings and dreams and their frustrations with the other adults in their lives. And, I happen to have a child of my very own who talks to me about nearly everything she's got to say. And who seems, so far, to be pretty damn self-assured and self-possessed. And who, when I tell her that I love you, says with a smile, "I know. I love you, too."

So that's how big my parenting dick is.
How big is yours?

And if you think you're a great parent and you do all the right things and you're on top of your game, read HIDDEN MESSAGES. I was amazed at how many ways I was mixing messages with my kid. It truly helped.

I know it's hard. There are days that I truly wish I hadn't signed up for this job. But I'm here. Bed is made. I'm sleeping in it. And if more people were doing their job, I would have fewer kids depending on me to help save them from the people they call their parents. Some of whom are actually doing some serious damage to their sense of self, if not their personal body.

I'm actually beginning the process of pursuing an MSW so that I can work with teenagers and have the credential to do so.

I know that it's unlikely that I'll be able to save the world with an MSW and that the system is effed up beyond repair in some ways...but I'm going into the system to try and do what I can. 'Cause 18 years of this has worn me down and I'm sick of having to sit on the sidelines and watch kids get fucked over by the one or two people who are supposed to be their primary support system.

If you know a teenager, ask 'em how they're doing. And really listen. Ask what they're into and engage them about that. Engage on their terms. You'll get an ear full.

Power to the Peaceful, the Listeners and Love to All - All.

Boundaries #2

Dual relationships. That's what the psych-heads call it when couples do things like:

date *and* run an organization
marry *and* work together at a company
friends who also work together to make an album
an ex-girlfriend who is your tech-support person
sleep together and serve on the Board of a co-op

Common thinking is that single relationships are very challenging to negotiate and navigate. So, it would be obvious to say that dual relationships are nearly impossible to deal with. And TRIPLE relationships...who THE HELL would get into one of those?

Order Up! One triple relationship with a side of polyamory, please!

Yes, that would be me.

And none, not one, of these dual relationshps, trio relationships, etc... has worked out. Something's always been lost in - one of the relationships gets the short end of the stick and then...BAM: Explosion Time.

It is really fun when my hobbies coincide or are, at least, of interest to my lover, friends mates. But, frankly, I need to have some things that are JUST MINE to do ON MY OWN. So, I'm downsizing all my relationships to singles.

Beginning....

NOW!

Laurie Anderson

Took a ride yesterday four hours up to Mass MoCa (North Adams, MA) to hear Laurie Anderson speak about her new piece Delusion.

She is brilliant.

And so joyful.

An eight hour car ride with two amazing friends to hear a wonderful artist talk about her process and her work for 65 minutes in the space where she is creating the work itself. It was electric. It was totally amazing. And, not surprisingly, inspiring and comforting.

Like my experience hearing Christopher Durang speak at Drew University, I found that here, again, was an artist who I admired, whose work has inspired me and who works almost entirely intuitively. The way I work. The way things/process makes sense to me.

What a gift. What validation.

And the piece she's working on sounds amazing and, for some reason, it doesn't seem that she's playing it anywhere on the East Coast except for Williamstown College in February and then off to Europe for the summer. Maybe the East Coast is getting it in the Fall 2010. But I want to see it now. (AND then). We'll see if I can rope my friends into another four hour car ride up to see the show.

And another thing. And this is almost more important than the experience of hearing Laurie Anderson share her process and me feeling validated. ... One of my goals this year is to do more doing and less talking. And doing this - going up to Mass MoCa for a day trip to hear a one hour lecture was exciting in and of itself. It was DOING something and it felt great. And next week, I'm going on a snow tubing trip with friends and the week after that I'm going to see Ani and the week after that I'm bringing friends to see a new show in Princeton. Doing things. Going to see things. To experience. It sounds simple, but I feel like it's a big deal.

Laurie Anderson inspired me to get up out of my comfort zone (*not* taking a 4 hour car ride) and it was sooooo worth it on so many levels.

Oily Hair and Oily Excuses

My hair looks better when it's oily. I know a lot of people who say that about their hair. When it's dirty, not brushed, not combed, there's a certain je ne se qua (I haven't typed that for *years* - I wonder if I got it right -- I'm not going to check, ha ha!) sense of "I'm so cool I have hair that looks like I just got out of bed AND it looks awesome." People put GUNK in their hair to make it look oily and dirty. Wild.

My friends look worse when they're oily. When they give slippery, dirty excuses for their behavior. When they decide that some selfish or narcissistic act they've committed is "for the best" and is not to be pondered or challenged in any way. When they are inconsiderate and unapologetic, they are ugly and unkempt and not cool.

I know I usually try and keep it light-ish here. But today I just have to speak out about something grave. I am a firm believer that violence - of any kind - against any person - is anti-productive and harmful. I would say I'm a peacenik, except for the fact that I also believe that if someone puts their hands on a child - any child - any dependent or person under the age of 18, they get a bullet to their head. No questions asked. No excuses inquired about. Nada. Zip. Pull the trigger. Problem solved.

Rather black and white of me, I know. And, fortunately, I don't own a gun and will never (never say never, but this one I think is true - based upon my 2nd belief above) own a gun. My first and second beliefs are not contradictory. I don't think killing a someone who beats a child is productive or harmless or even good. It's just how I feel. Strongly. Deeply.

Someone is beating a child I know. And someone I know has known about it for months and has done nothing, so far as I can tell, substantive to change the situation. And I am sick over this. Both. One I will help save, the other I will cut loose. You guess which is which.

If you are reading this, I want you to know that I believe that NO ONE, ABSOLUTELY NO ONE has the right to put their hands on ANYONE (including YOU) else without consent for ANY reason. I don't care if it's an unwanted pat on the shoulder, a hug or a slam into a brick wall. They are all the same in my book. My body is off limits to anyone else's decisions -- and so is everyone else's. So help me, if I can protect one child from being in an abusive household, I will be so thankful. Even though this child will probably hate me for doing so. Because this child loves the person who is hitting her daily.

It is not black and white for this child.

Normally, I don't believe in stepping into other people's lives and making decisions that effect them substantively. This is a leap, a stretch, a risk I'm taking. But I believe that it is the only thing I can do.

DYFS, here I come.

Communication Personalities

So, have you noticed that people are falling into communication personalities?

Trads: There are those who always answer their phone.
Screeners: There are those who never answer their phone.
Squares: There are those who always pick up their voicemail and respond.
Maxers: There are those who never pick up their voicemail and respond - and let their voicemail max out (ahem).
Under 25s: There are those who only respond to texts.
Loners: There are those who don't even respond to texts.

What is UP with this? I have to LEARN the communication personality of each of my friends and colleagues to increase the chance of my getting a quick response. Some people require an email adn then a TEXT MESSAGE to TELL THEM that I just emailed them. What is UP with THAT?

And what about people responding by a different medium than the one that they were contacted in? I Facebooked someone and ended up getting a Text as a response. That was SO weird. The text read something like, "No, I didn't get it. Send it again." Ok - so call me low-bandwidth, but I kinda remember what the heck I send out partly based on the WAY in which I reached out to the person. So when I get a text I think, "what TEXT is this in response to?" I don't think, "Hm...what EMAIL or VOICEMAIL or OWL MESSAGE could this be a response to?"

We are on communication overload. All I know is when people MYSPACE MESSAGE me, I feel totally exonerated from any responsiblity for responding to them.

Voicemail Phobia

I have nine messages on my cell phone voicemail.

I'm afraid to retrieve these messages. Why? Because then I'll have nine more things to do - nine more people to call back, nine more questions to answer, nine more tasks to add to my already eight-page long document of "things to do" list.

Don't. Make. Me. Call. My. Voicemail.

Seriously. I've been come so voicemail phobic that I'll actually interrupt just about any conversation or activity that's going on just so that I can answer the cell and get whatever is going on out of the way immediately. So, it doesn't become a looming "thing to do" in my virtual world.

For instance, someone calls just to say "hi," they have no urgent message or task they need responding to...they just want to check in. And what happens if I don't answer? They leave a MESSAGE. And that's, then, a message that I have to RETURN. And that stresses me out. What if I don't have time to return the call? (You know that feature that allows you to leave messages for some people - I think it's via Verizon - without actually calling them? I love that feature.)

Ok, some of you are thinking I'm an ungrateful bitty for not appreciating that I have friends who call. It's not that. I just wish that they wouldn't leave messages unless they really needed me to call them back.

And what about the other eight messages on my voicemail? One is a butt-call from a friend of mine whose cell phone calls me all the time (and I get to hear him having a great time with whomever he's talking to...awesome...thanks....). Another is probably from my mom (and she's NOT telling me to call back when I can...just checking in). Another is probably a by-now completely irrelevant message from my daughter's school. And the other five are who-knows-who, but I don't want to sift through the others to hear them.

Shit.

Maybe we should all just text.

Boundaries #1

New Year's Resolution #1: Set Up and Maintain proper, me-based Boundaries about everything.

Like people. Boundaries with people are difficult. THAT's the understatement of the year (it's only January 4th, I'll be making lots more come the following days/weeks/months). Boundaries with people are like restraining myself from coming when I'm so close to coming... Boundaries with people are like tantric sex -- the whole channeling of the sexual/sensual energy into positive/productive use (am I even CLOSE in getting that accurately?)... it's so much easier to come. To undulate, writhe and rattle and shake and roll and get it all out and then be spent... than to harness that energy and move forward with it. The immediate (or in some folks' experiences, not so immediate) gratification is so so so so so...gratifying and so much easier, as such.

'Cause it would be so easy for me to lean into some of the people around me right now, just say the magic words, "I'm falling apart." And at least a few would come knocking down my window or door to find out what's wrong, to prop me up on my fully-functional legs.

But the truth is that I'm in pain. I'm lonely. I'm feeling rejected. I miss two people in my life -- people who have worked their ways into the neural transporters of my mind. (A poetic and unemotional way of saying I love them deeply.) And nothing can really assuage that pain. As of now, two major, deeply emotional relationships have entered into flux.

Flux does not comfort provide.

Flux does not security offer.

Flux means that things change. And I will not break. I will bend.

I can feel my emotional tendons resisting.

So...Boundaries #1 is learning to accept where dear, dear friends are coming from and to not take it for granted that it is something I have to be happy about. That I won't always feel connected 100% to anyone and that this is a truth I can depend upon. Which is liberating. (While not exactly making me feel like getting up and dancing).

Respect the Escalator

Ok, so I haven't been around for nearly six months and that's because my life kinda blew apart in August and I'm still picking up pieces and debris and pieces of fucking schrapnel in the shapes of the main aorta to my heart...little things like that. But more about this later....I'm sure. (I just saw the movie IT'S COMPLICATED...let's just say that if one is in the midst of ending a relationship, one should NOT go to see this movie, ALONE, with a happily-in-love-couple. No. Nix on that. Not a happy way to begin my new year. Fortunately, my new year began at 12:01 am last night when I was having a BLAST with friends.)

So, I'm scooting out of New York City on this first day of thew NEW FUCKING DECADE --- PHEW! Can I get a Hallelujah? We got the fuck out of that decade... shit. I mean some really great things happened, but overall...really? really? It was a train wreck. And I'm on the Suburban bus out of Port Authority, down the New Jersey Turnpike feeling as though I'm being sped closer and closer to the beginning of my new life - balance, sense-of-self, friends, quiet, emotionial sobriety...

And the first message the new decade sent me - that caught my eye - was at Port Authority - and it's sticking in my head even now as I speed to exit 9 on the Turnpike. It was:

Respect the Escalator.

There are killers, rapists, terrorists, murderers, there are thousands of horrific ways to die - swine flu, AIDS - 40 million children in poverty in the United States. And someones had to design, approve, have printed, distribute and then POST posters that read:

"Respect the Escalators."

Do esclators get more respect than teachers because they're allowed to choke you to death if you manage to wear a ridiculously too long scarf? Do they get more respect from parents because they, when not broken, will DEFIINITELY get you UP and DOWN to your destination? They're dependable? And they have that emergency STOP red button at the top and bottom of them that everyone always itches to hit but doesn't. Is THAT why we should respect it? I've got an automoatic STOP button that would rattle a shitpile of people if it were hit hard enough at the right time... Can I get some respect.

Well...it was an ugly poster, so it probably won't get much attention.



Respect yourself.

and tie your shoes when you get onto an escalator.

Peace,

Pandora