Previous post-
"There will be rest some day in the future, since it is the Judge's opinion that after all this foofaraw not much else could happen co-incidentally. The snickering in the back of the courtroom will cease immediately."
Darn snickering will get you everytime.
TNI is ineptly named, since she showed up on this jurist's radar exactly 25 years after she exited it. TNI lives 5 miles from the mater, the sisters dig her immensely.
This is the dreaded Long Distance Relationship.
Negotiations proceed daily.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
She's not long.
The mater is weakening daily. The New Inamorata got to meet her, and received her blessing. They bonded very quickly. It was eerie, but not unexpected. They are both very compassionate people.
TNI was very unhappy, thinking that the mater will not get to be her mother-in-law and she will not be this woman's daughter-in-law. Although this is not in the current plans, TNI always thinks ahead to what could be. I think she doesn't care about the in-law part, it's the relationship she will miss having. TNI is smart that way.
I, being male, couldn't say anything other than "I know, honey."
Life doesn't suck, but often howls very loud in one's ears. Sometimes one cannot write, nor paint, nor sing, nor occaisionally raise one's head from the couch cushion for the sound of it.
It is still Life, and everyone has to listen to it. One raises one's head and sings along.
TNI was very unhappy, thinking that the mater will not get to be her mother-in-law and she will not be this woman's daughter-in-law. Although this is not in the current plans, TNI always thinks ahead to what could be. I think she doesn't care about the in-law part, it's the relationship she will miss having. TNI is smart that way.
I, being male, couldn't say anything other than "I know, honey."
Life doesn't suck, but often howls very loud in one's ears. Sometimes one cannot write, nor paint, nor sing, nor occaisionally raise one's head from the couch cushion for the sound of it.
It is still Life, and everyone has to listen to it. One raises one's head and sings along.
Seeking Satisfaction
The judge who recently lost his lawsuit against his drycleaners should be paid some money. Every PR rep in the country is smacking his or her head into the desk, saying, "Why can't I get that kind of sympathetic press for my client?"
The judge earned a PR fee, big-time.
It's interesting that the crux of the suit was over the sign in the cleaner's window- "Satisfaction Guaranteed".
You or I may see that as "satisfaction guaranteed or you don't have to pay, or we'll get a new pair of pants or the equivalent".
The judge appeared to have taken that phrase to mean what was established in the days of dueling- "satisfaction" meant "I will stab or shoot you through the heart".
As in those days there were incredibly talented, often wealthy, bully-boys running around looking for causes of offense. Think of them as frat-boys (or lacrosse players in a Southern university) with 3-foot razor blades. They all demanded "satisfaction" as well.
Since lawyers (from which we derive most of our judging fraternity) are well-skilled in the razor-like aspects of the law, many of us are targets for the bully-boy type. There aren't many, but they stick in the mind when you run into one- perhaps at a divorce proceeding? I digress.
I consider it a good thing that this Court is not overly trained in the legal arts, and a doubly good thing that particularly litigious jurist didn't get what he didn't deserve.
So decreed.
The judge earned a PR fee, big-time.
It's interesting that the crux of the suit was over the sign in the cleaner's window- "Satisfaction Guaranteed".
You or I may see that as "satisfaction guaranteed or you don't have to pay, or we'll get a new pair of pants or the equivalent".
The judge appeared to have taken that phrase to mean what was established in the days of dueling- "satisfaction" meant "I will stab or shoot you through the heart".
As in those days there were incredibly talented, often wealthy, bully-boys running around looking for causes of offense. Think of them as frat-boys (or lacrosse players in a Southern university) with 3-foot razor blades. They all demanded "satisfaction" as well.
Since lawyers (from which we derive most of our judging fraternity) are well-skilled in the razor-like aspects of the law, many of us are targets for the bully-boy type. There aren't many, but they stick in the mind when you run into one- perhaps at a divorce proceeding? I digress.
I consider it a good thing that this Court is not overly trained in the legal arts, and a doubly good thing that particularly litigious jurist didn't get what he didn't deserve.
So decreed.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Life Turns- But Rarely Signals Beforehand.
The judge has been broadsided by some life events, which taken separately, would be involving enough. Synchronous events, however, have a way taking attention away from everyday activities such as deep thought and meticulous crafting of word pictures. Eating, sleeping and regular bathing sometimes are brought into question as well.
The newish job has become all consuming. The judge is very skilled at data wrangling, planning and execution, not so much at people wrangling- people execution, however, is still a forte.
This job was taken to develop that very skill. One learns some things by degrees, and this position is no exception. It has turned up the degrees to an uncomfortable level. The judge is learning an entire new corporate vocabulary, of which English is only a distant relation. Example: A staff member is put into a form of job performance correction called "coaching". The judge formulates a plan to coach- to review and train with the goal of increasing certain skills in said staff member. Judge is told by his peers and superior that there is no coaching involved, it is merely a way station on the path to a more formal process of correction, one ending in termination.
Judge is perturbed the proverbial spade (a shovel) is not called a spade in this organization. More examples abound, but you get the picture.
Judge's mater, being 76 years old and having smoked for 60 of them, is beginning to fail in her pulmonary system- still hospitalized as of this writing. The sisters and judge are prepared for this eventuality. Judge often sits down with them (they being 360 miles away) lately, and watches as they smoke and worry about their mother's emphysema. Absurdity is not lost on them, nor on the judge.
Judge's favourite nephew and ex-fiance' got married, and Judge was obliged to attend- happily. The new Mrs. Nephew was his ex-fiance' when he joined the service. FN did a 180 degree about-face in the personal growth and responsibility sector in a 16-month period- 8 of them in the service. This is something the ex-fiance' was waiting for, though she didn't know it. He came home for leave, she said "I still have some of your things, shall I bring them to you?" and the rest was preordained.
She did with good humor remind him that he really should inform the girl he had been dating. This was not a serious situation, and he did so with all due speed.
Seven weeks later, we present Mr. and Mrs. Nephew, which happened to be 1 week after the transfer orders to Iraq came through, effective in 12 weeks. This was not unexpected, but universally feared. All tensions were held at bay until they went to his post, but spilled over afterward. The judge knew this was coming, and had taken a week off to spend time with his sister for her breakdown. The brother-in-law, knowing his wife well, also planned a vacation far away to give her something to work on.
Judge's former Mrs. Judge is perennially short on cash, and Judge speaks often with her on this matter. The IRS was very interested for a short while in Judge's tax returns, but beamed with acceptance when all proper documentation was supplied them. This allowed the judge to send some cash to her to help alleviate a nagging grinding sound in her car's brakes, mere months after a supercharger need to be rebuilt due to a lack of lubrication (no oil) in the engine for what may have been weeks. This is a friendly, though sometimes distant, relationship. You would be interested in details? A later post perhaps.
Many 360 mile drives, phone calls, appointments with government officials of all stripes, and the occaisional accountant later- the Judge is a tired jurist.
There is, of course, no rest for the wicked- a tired jurist is no exception. Judge has been asked to help out a local artist's cooperative with advice on How to Run a Business, which was once the judge's stock in trade. All Judge wanted to do was paint some pictures. Things get involved when reasonable suggestions are made, and more suggestions are asked for when the first set appear to be good ideas.
There will be rest some day in the future, since it is the Judge's opinion that after all this foofaraw not much else could happen co-incidentally. The snickering in the back of the courtroom will cease immediately.
So decreed.
The newish job has become all consuming. The judge is very skilled at data wrangling, planning and execution, not so much at people wrangling- people execution, however, is still a forte.
This job was taken to develop that very skill. One learns some things by degrees, and this position is no exception. It has turned up the degrees to an uncomfortable level. The judge is learning an entire new corporate vocabulary, of which English is only a distant relation. Example: A staff member is put into a form of job performance correction called "coaching". The judge formulates a plan to coach- to review and train with the goal of increasing certain skills in said staff member. Judge is told by his peers and superior that there is no coaching involved, it is merely a way station on the path to a more formal process of correction, one ending in termination.
Judge is perturbed the proverbial spade (a shovel) is not called a spade in this organization. More examples abound, but you get the picture.
Judge's mater, being 76 years old and having smoked for 60 of them, is beginning to fail in her pulmonary system- still hospitalized as of this writing. The sisters and judge are prepared for this eventuality. Judge often sits down with them (they being 360 miles away) lately, and watches as they smoke and worry about their mother's emphysema. Absurdity is not lost on them, nor on the judge.
Judge's favourite nephew and ex-fiance' got married, and Judge was obliged to attend- happily. The new Mrs. Nephew was his ex-fiance' when he joined the service. FN did a 180 degree about-face in the personal growth and responsibility sector in a 16-month period- 8 of them in the service. This is something the ex-fiance' was waiting for, though she didn't know it. He came home for leave, she said "I still have some of your things, shall I bring them to you?" and the rest was preordained.
She did with good humor remind him that he really should inform the girl he had been dating. This was not a serious situation, and he did so with all due speed.
Seven weeks later, we present Mr. and Mrs. Nephew, which happened to be 1 week after the transfer orders to Iraq came through, effective in 12 weeks. This was not unexpected, but universally feared. All tensions were held at bay until they went to his post, but spilled over afterward. The judge knew this was coming, and had taken a week off to spend time with his sister for her breakdown. The brother-in-law, knowing his wife well, also planned a vacation far away to give her something to work on.
Judge's former Mrs. Judge is perennially short on cash, and Judge speaks often with her on this matter. The IRS was very interested for a short while in Judge's tax returns, but beamed with acceptance when all proper documentation was supplied them. This allowed the judge to send some cash to her to help alleviate a nagging grinding sound in her car's brakes, mere months after a supercharger need to be rebuilt due to a lack of lubrication (no oil) in the engine for what may have been weeks. This is a friendly, though sometimes distant, relationship. You would be interested in details? A later post perhaps.
Many 360 mile drives, phone calls, appointments with government officials of all stripes, and the occaisional accountant later- the Judge is a tired jurist.
There is, of course, no rest for the wicked- a tired jurist is no exception. Judge has been asked to help out a local artist's cooperative with advice on How to Run a Business, which was once the judge's stock in trade. All Judge wanted to do was paint some pictures. Things get involved when reasonable suggestions are made, and more suggestions are asked for when the first set appear to be good ideas.
There will be rest some day in the future, since it is the Judge's opinion that after all this foofaraw not much else could happen co-incidentally. The snickering in the back of the courtroom will cease immediately.
So decreed.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Forgive Me.
I am watching very carefully how the world, the U.S., the media and the blogosphere react to the Virginia killings.
I am watching the reaction to evil. What was in that young man's head was evil.
Now, how do you react to evil?
Attempt the barn-door approach? I'm seeing a lot of that, with talk about locking down campuses. Most of these discussions were so lame and ass-covering that they fade quickly.
The Second Amendment approach (if we all had guns, we'd've shot 'im)? Saw some of that as well, and I see the logic in it. I don't necessarily agree with the logic but I see it.
Then there is the approach that says we have to change our society, it is evil-engendering. We have to close the ozone hole, too. More success doing that.
He was sick, no doubt, and many people knew it. No one did much, since the pressure not to exceeded the need to.
If we say that people need to get involved, that means people will start "getting all up in my business"- can we handle that?
How about we just say he was whacked, and leave it at that. I say this because 10 months from now, very few people outside of Virginia will remember anything other than "a bunch of people got killed by a nutcase".
If this isn't an issue that can change our way of relating to each other on a daily basis, then let's just forget it now, since we are going to later this year anyway. Unless you know a whacked person, and you do something, say something or get in their face. If you don't, then just forget it.
So decreed.
I am watching the reaction to evil. What was in that young man's head was evil.
Now, how do you react to evil?
Attempt the barn-door approach? I'm seeing a lot of that, with talk about locking down campuses. Most of these discussions were so lame and ass-covering that they fade quickly.
The Second Amendment approach (if we all had guns, we'd've shot 'im)? Saw some of that as well, and I see the logic in it. I don't necessarily agree with the logic but I see it.
Then there is the approach that says we have to change our society, it is evil-engendering. We have to close the ozone hole, too. More success doing that.
He was sick, no doubt, and many people knew it. No one did much, since the pressure not to exceeded the need to.
If we say that people need to get involved, that means people will start "getting all up in my business"- can we handle that?
How about we just say he was whacked, and leave it at that. I say this because 10 months from now, very few people outside of Virginia will remember anything other than "a bunch of people got killed by a nutcase".
If this isn't an issue that can change our way of relating to each other on a daily basis, then let's just forget it now, since we are going to later this year anyway. Unless you know a whacked person, and you do something, say something or get in their face. If you don't, then just forget it.
So decreed.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
I sometimes let the "inner college student" run the place for a while. Not too long, though- he has a tendency to go out and buy beer, Doritos and dip and then I have to clean up the living room.
(01:07:42 PM) Steve: I feel like crap.
(01:08:00 PM) Steve: Oh yeah, hi!
(01:08:07 PM) Steve: Good afternoon!
(01:08:12 PM) Leann: i would think so... but so do i for other reasons
(01:08:34 PM) Leann: did you sleep well?
(01:08:42 PM) Steve: no.
(01:08:49 PM) Leann: damn
(01:09:14 PM) Steve: life sucks. I hate sunshine.
(01:09:53 PM) Steve: damn happy people going out in the sunshine. hate them too.
(01:10:25 PM) Leann: hmmm... i'd say someone is grumpy today
(01:10:44 PM) Steve: what are you trying to say? go ahead....spit it out.....
(01:11:11 PM) Steve: are you saying I'm not being a ray of sunshine?
(01:11:21 PM) Leann: you're acting like me when i'm PMSing
(01:11:22 PM) Steve: 8>D
(01:12:12 PM) Steve: yeah, I'm generally pissy today.
(01:12:40 PM) Steve: all I want is to dive into a vat of chocolate covered ice cream.
(01:12:56 PM) Steve: and play video games
(01:13:00 PM) Leann: hmmm... that does sound good
(01:13:11 PM) Steve: and watch aqua teen hunger force.
(01:13:29 PM) Leann: all i have is lego star wars 1 & 2, enter the matrix
(01:13:57 PM) Steve: those suck. I want to kill babies and puppies.
(01:14:22 PM) Steve: in a video game, of course, if the government is listening. Hi guys! (waves)
(01:14:38 PM) Leann: lol
(01:15:03 PM) Steve: baby puppies would be even better.
(01:15:27 PM) Leann: riiiiight
(01:16:24 PM) Steve: we have a poster at work-
(01:16:40 PM) Leann: about?
(01:16:44 PM) Steve: picture of yoda and vader.
(01:17:08 PM) Steve: yoda- "help you I can?" vader- "sometimes the dark side gets me down."
(01:17:15 PM) Leann: nice
(01:17:36 PM) Steve: it's like a "choose your attitude, help someone today" thing.
(01:17:47 PM) Steve: I want to rip it into tiny pieces.
(01:17:57 PM) Steve: this is my dark side day.
(01:18:07 PM) Leann: i've noticed
(01:18:07 PM) Steve: I am kidding, of course.
(01:18:13 PM) Steve: but not
(01:18:18 PM) Steve: yes I am
(01:18:22 PM) Steve: no I'm not
(01:18:29 PM) Leann: doing some venting?
(01:18:49 PM) Steve: listen you, shut up, I'm doing the talking. No, you're not, I am. No, me.
(01:19:01 PM) Steve: Sorry, the voices are a little testy today.
(01:20:03 PM) Steve: don't even get me started on the whole "he's on my side of the brain" argument.
(01:20:49 PM) Leann: don't worry... i won't
(01:30:33 PM) Leann: so what are you up to?
(01:31:10 PM) Steve: morose indignation, up from flagellating self hatred.
(01:31:29 PM) Leann: well that's productive
(01:31:34 PM) Steve: that's psychically flagellating self hatred. I'm too lazy to actually do it.
(01:31:35 PM) Leann: anything else?
(01:32:31 PM) Steve: oh, the usual- a little laundry, pay a bill or two, plan world domination.
(01:33:05 PM) Leann: don't forget to wave to the government... [waves]
(01:33:17 PM) Steve: and then go to the library and drop off my "positive attitude" books.
(01:07:42 PM) Steve: I feel like crap.
(01:08:00 PM) Steve: Oh yeah, hi!
(01:08:07 PM) Steve: Good afternoon!
(01:08:12 PM) Leann: i would think so... but so do i for other reasons
(01:08:34 PM) Leann: did you sleep well?
(01:08:42 PM) Steve: no.
(01:08:49 PM) Leann: damn
(01:09:14 PM) Steve: life sucks. I hate sunshine.
(01:09:53 PM) Steve: damn happy people going out in the sunshine. hate them too.
(01:10:25 PM) Leann: hmmm... i'd say someone is grumpy today
(01:10:44 PM) Steve: what are you trying to say? go ahead....spit it out.....
(01:11:11 PM) Steve: are you saying I'm not being a ray of sunshine?
(01:11:21 PM) Leann: you're acting like me when i'm PMSing
(01:11:22 PM) Steve: 8>D
(01:12:12 PM) Steve: yeah, I'm generally pissy today.
(01:12:40 PM) Steve: all I want is to dive into a vat of chocolate covered ice cream.
(01:12:56 PM) Steve: and play video games
(01:13:00 PM) Leann: hmmm... that does sound good
(01:13:11 PM) Steve: and watch aqua teen hunger force.
(01:13:29 PM) Leann: all i have is lego star wars 1 & 2, enter the matrix
(01:13:57 PM) Steve: those suck. I want to kill babies and puppies.
(01:14:22 PM) Steve: in a video game, of course, if the government is listening. Hi guys! (waves)
(01:14:38 PM) Leann: lol
(01:15:03 PM) Steve: baby puppies would be even better.
(01:15:27 PM) Leann: riiiiight
(01:16:24 PM) Steve: we have a poster at work-
(01:16:40 PM) Leann: about?
(01:16:44 PM) Steve: picture of yoda and vader.
(01:17:08 PM) Steve: yoda- "help you I can?" vader- "sometimes the dark side gets me down."
(01:17:15 PM) Leann: nice
(01:17:36 PM) Steve: it's like a "choose your attitude, help someone today" thing.
(01:17:47 PM) Steve: I want to rip it into tiny pieces.
(01:17:57 PM) Steve: this is my dark side day.
(01:18:07 PM) Leann: i've noticed
(01:18:07 PM) Steve: I am kidding, of course.
(01:18:13 PM) Steve: but not
(01:18:18 PM) Steve: yes I am
(01:18:22 PM) Steve: no I'm not
(01:18:29 PM) Leann: doing some venting?
(01:18:49 PM) Steve: listen you, shut up, I'm doing the talking. No, you're not, I am. No, me.
(01:19:01 PM) Steve: Sorry, the voices are a little testy today.
(01:20:03 PM) Steve: don't even get me started on the whole "he's on my side of the brain" argument.
(01:20:49 PM) Leann: don't worry... i won't
(01:30:33 PM) Leann: so what are you up to?
(01:31:10 PM) Steve: morose indignation, up from flagellating self hatred.
(01:31:29 PM) Leann: well that's productive
(01:31:34 PM) Steve: that's psychically flagellating self hatred. I'm too lazy to actually do it.
(01:31:35 PM) Leann: anything else?
(01:32:31 PM) Steve: oh, the usual- a little laundry, pay a bill or two, plan world domination.
(01:33:05 PM) Leann: don't forget to wave to the government... [waves]
(01:33:17 PM) Steve: and then go to the library and drop off my "positive attitude" books.
Friday, April 13, 2007
The Wolfowitz at the Door
There are a few things in this world that will tick me off, probably unreasonably. Power-mad moneycrats will every time. So I guess you can probably tell how I feel about the BushWalker dynasty. One of their lackeys has been featured recently:
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ap/fn/4713775.html
"(She) says she is a victim and was forced into a job transfer because of their relationship."
Life is a shithole, ain't it? Quit the job, girl. Get another one. It's that simple for your ilk. Or talk your man into it. Oh no, he's too much of a man, isn't he? He'd NEVER do that for little ole' you.
In what way is she not a whore, and he not a john?
I LOVE seeing him do the media equivalent of putting his coat over his head on a perp walk.
Did either of them give the money back?
I am so sure he transferred her against her will, and she didn't know she had an extra $80,000 coming in. Guess he just took care of his woman, as a real man should.
As my dear old granny used to say, "Fuck you, motherfucker!". Actually, what she would have said is, "Honestly, I just don't know what gets into some people.". Same difference, no?
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ap/fn/4713775.html
"(She) says she is a victim and was forced into a job transfer because of their relationship."
Life is a shithole, ain't it? Quit the job, girl. Get another one. It's that simple for your ilk. Or talk your man into it. Oh no, he's too much of a man, isn't he? He'd NEVER do that for little ole' you.
In what way is she not a whore, and he not a john?
I LOVE seeing him do the media equivalent of putting his coat over his head on a perp walk.
Did either of them give the money back?
I am so sure he transferred her against her will, and she didn't know she had an extra $80,000 coming in. Guess he just took care of his woman, as a real man should.
As my dear old granny used to say, "Fuck you, motherfucker!". Actually, what she would have said is, "Honestly, I just don't know what gets into some people.". Same difference, no?
Internal Bar Fight.
I have been admitted to the bar since I was 15. Not the judicial bar, the alcohol dispensing kind.
I am the same size (of varying hefts) now as I was then.
I find bars more friendly than church. I have been asked to come over and help build a garage by people in a much-frequented bar. Never in a much-frequented church. I digress.
I had my last bar fight 6 years ago. I've had a lot of practice over the years.
Last week a friend was verbally attacked by another acquaintance (who had overserved himself). Friend is female, "un femme d'une age certaine", and diminutive. Said acquaintance is 6'2", but no physical specimen. He was using language that was not allowable, even given the latitude that is allowed the overserved. He then did the unthinkable, the unacceptable. He put his finger in her face, and threatened her.
Immediately, I went into overdrive. Expanded my lungs for more oxygen, clenched my fists and headed for him to take him down.
I then turned around and walked out of the bar.
As I had walked toward them, I had noticed that verbally she gave as good as she got. She had other friends around her should he go any farther. She wasn't in danger.
As the cold air hit my hot head, I realized I was in turmoil. I promised myself six years ago I would never, never fight physically again, excepting for my life. For six years I have not been in a situation to do so.
This situation didn't require it, truly. I thanked the nighttime I saw that in time. I feared I might not have the understanding in time again. I doubted I did the right thing. I am aware of my knight-errant leanings. I felt I should apologize to her, but for what?
We, 8 of us, went to breakfast after closing time. She sat in the booth across from me. At one point she reached across the table, took my hand, and mouthed "thank you". She knew. She had seen, and understood, even in the middle of the verbal nonsense she had to deal with. She wasn't approving the impulse, she was acknowleging the self-control. I nodded my head in gratitude, and ate my suddenly exquisitely-tasty huevos rancheros.
I think we'll count this as a victory in the bar fight won/loss columns.
So decreed.
I am the same size (of varying hefts) now as I was then.
I find bars more friendly than church. I have been asked to come over and help build a garage by people in a much-frequented bar. Never in a much-frequented church. I digress.
I had my last bar fight 6 years ago. I've had a lot of practice over the years.
Last week a friend was verbally attacked by another acquaintance (who had overserved himself). Friend is female, "un femme d'une age certaine", and diminutive. Said acquaintance is 6'2", but no physical specimen. He was using language that was not allowable, even given the latitude that is allowed the overserved. He then did the unthinkable, the unacceptable. He put his finger in her face, and threatened her.
Immediately, I went into overdrive. Expanded my lungs for more oxygen, clenched my fists and headed for him to take him down.
I then turned around and walked out of the bar.
As I had walked toward them, I had noticed that verbally she gave as good as she got. She had other friends around her should he go any farther. She wasn't in danger.
As the cold air hit my hot head, I realized I was in turmoil. I promised myself six years ago I would never, never fight physically again, excepting for my life. For six years I have not been in a situation to do so.
This situation didn't require it, truly. I thanked the nighttime I saw that in time. I feared I might not have the understanding in time again. I doubted I did the right thing. I am aware of my knight-errant leanings. I felt I should apologize to her, but for what?
We, 8 of us, went to breakfast after closing time. She sat in the booth across from me. At one point she reached across the table, took my hand, and mouthed "thank you". She knew. She had seen, and understood, even in the middle of the verbal nonsense she had to deal with. She wasn't approving the impulse, she was acknowleging the self-control. I nodded my head in gratitude, and ate my suddenly exquisitely-tasty huevos rancheros.
I think we'll count this as a victory in the bar fight won/loss columns.
So decreed.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Hideous Glee.
In my last post, I mentioned "sick makes me laugh". I found this out in a discussion with a woman. We were in the "getting to know about your family history" stage. Beyond dating, beyond first physical activities (whatever you conceive that to be). She told me about her grandfather- a brilliant, well-known man in his international community. He died when her father was in his early teens. She told me her grandfather was riding in a jet airplane, the window blew out and he was sucked out the window. The scene was horrific in my mind, and I laughed. I could not control it. It was not a belly-laugh, not a joyous laugh. It was as if the absurdity of it took control, and I was being tickled unmercifully by the gods of chaos. I couldn't help it in any way. I was laughing, completely unwillingly, as I said "Oh my god, no, honey. That's awful. I am so sorry." It didn't last long, but it surprised us both.
A few minutes later I apologized profusely, but I know I hurt her feelings. I know she believed me, and she had occasion to see it again in other circumstances where hideous absurdity became risible to me. She knew it was unwilling, and not something I enjoyed, but something beyond conscious thought.
I'm sure knowing that didn't make it any easier, but I am also sure that she probably will today occasionally say, "This guy I used to date, when I told him how my grandfather died getting sucked out an airplane window, LAUGHED! Can you believe it?"
So decreed.
A few minutes later I apologized profusely, but I know I hurt her feelings. I know she believed me, and she had occasion to see it again in other circumstances where hideous absurdity became risible to me. She knew it was unwilling, and not something I enjoyed, but something beyond conscious thought.
I'm sure knowing that didn't make it any easier, but I am also sure that she probably will today occasionally say, "This guy I used to date, when I told him how my grandfather died getting sucked out an airplane window, LAUGHED! Can you believe it?"
So decreed.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
What's the Deal with the Real?
Hmm. Must be spring.
Pretty Lady is looking for a Real Man. Well, not actively per se. Go visit her, she is perfectly capable of explaining. She has some standards- good ones, by my reckoning.
Nine Pearls has a man, and is asking other men what a Real Man is, and what is manly. Always a good question. Got the usual mix of unintentional hilarity and sincere but bizarre wackiness that occur when we men-folk start opining on ourselves. She rides herd well on the out of control elements. As of this writing, none of her non-heterosexual female readers haved weighed in that I can see. I'm am very interested in their take, should they have one.
I confess, at the half-century mark, that I have spent a good portion of my life trying to be anything but a real man. It came about that I, while not physically attractive in the classic sense, appear to be very solid. I have appeared to be successful, wise, caring, and have a great future ahead of me. I appear to be protective from a physical standpoint. I appear to have strength and gravitas. I have been approached by a lot of women for a lot of reasons, most of them based on image- the image in their mind.
Mind you, since this started happening long before I became a thinking human being sometime in my late thirties, I went with it, often. It got me laid, it got me female companionship. I do not celebrate, excuse or brag. Please do not think I am proud of it. I mention it only as context.
I have been the Nice Guy to one woman, and the Shit to another. I am the One Who Got Away, and also the One She Couldn’t Get Away From Fast Enough. On my really, really effective days (notice I don’t say good) I have been all those concurrently. I have repaid faithfulness with infidelity, and also had unfaithfulness done to me. Which I deserved, by the way.
So, am I a real man?
Sadly, no, which is actually the basis of my beginning to become a real man. So how the hell do I become one?
Pretty Lady actually brought it up as a description of her father, who sounds like a hell of a guy. She states he has integrity, in great quantities. Apparently it’s a genetic thing, passed down father to son for generations.
If so, then my genes are, well, different. My father was an alcoholic politician with a gift for gab and the underhanded deal. My maternal grandfather was an embezzler of note- his father was a very successful insurance salesman, which is in some ways the same thing.*
Integrity was not an integral component of my manliness.
Dad always said, “You’ve ultimately got to face that man in the mirror”. Dad was an asshat, and wrong to boot.
No one is easier for me to face, and to lie to.
What was hard was to look at the wreckage around me, and say, “How the hell did stuff get wrecked?”.
So I’ve been cleaning up wreckage. This blog will sometimes be part of the clean-up process. Yeah, like a thousand others- I know. I'll try to make it interesting on occasion, or at least grammatically correct. Sometimes. I can promise it will usually be spelled correctly. Best I can do right now. Most other times it will be the usual mix of uninformed opinion, half-truths and outright distortion. Sort of like Fox News. Or Air America (R.I.P.).
When a house is flooded, it is relatively easy to clean the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the outside. What’s hard is to open all the kitchen drawers and get the gooey, yucky silt and sludge out from the drawer, behind the drawer, and inside the frame of the cabinets.
So, if you read any of these or future words, thanks for recognizing the clean-up in progress. I’m trying to discern the integrity of the foundation. It may need shoring up, or replacement- or may be completely irreparable. I'm not too familiar with integrity, but willing to learn.
Helpful suggestions always appreciated.
Can’t tell ‘til the muck is out of the way. This is a site Under Deconstruction.
So decreed.
*Insurance salespeople, do not freak out. 1. I spent 11 years in the trade, I know whereof I speak. I wasn't talking about you. 2. I said “some ways”.
(Mathew Baldwin is, to me, a Real Man. I usually smirk at my computer, rarely LOL. This made me giggle. Yes, I know, it's actually a little sick. Sick makes me laugh.)
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