What We Need to Know

We need to know that no matter how big of a mess we make, there will be at least one person in our life who won't just "be there", but who will actually FEEL there.

What I Learned from Goo-Goo Dolls

The best concert that I ever attended has got to be the Novell Brainshare 2007 concert in Salt Lake City, Utah.  It featured the Goo Goo Dolls.  But if the Goo Goo Dolls ever heard me say this, I bet they would have to pause for at least a moment.  During that pause they would be debating if they even played Salt Lake in '07.  Not because they were too stoned to remember or anything like that, but because for performers...I imagine it had to be the most boring audience ever assembled.  At Brainshare '07 they played to an arena full of 20,000 mega-geeks, half of which I think spoke math better than they did English.

It was surreal to sit there while Rzeznik and the boys busted out their amazing repertoire on stage just to look around and see a room full of people idly watching as if a quartet were playing Mozart.  It was such an un-rock concertish way to respond to what was happening.  I really thought the band would lose their energy and the show would die.  BUT...

Rzeznik kept playing and singing like the house was hoppin' and all of his best friends were there pumping their fists.  I was in awe.   I was also in heaven, because with me were my oldest children.
This was their first rock concert.  I thrive on getting to watch their firsts.  They've been GGD fans ever since. 

Parenthetically, John Rzeznik, the lead singer of the band, originally was not the lead singer.  He was too shy.  This fact makes his energy in the face of such hardened party-poopers that night, even more respectable. 

So what did I learn from Goo Goo Dolls?  

Don't let the audience dictate your performance.   

Poor Design

She would bring a fresh, clean towel and leave it right next to the shower for him.  Otherwise, due to poor bathroom design, he would have to step out of the shower, dripping wet, and grab one off the hook from the other side of the room.  It was one of her little ways of saying "I love you". 

However, if he was distracted, he would not see the clean towel within his reach and he would step out, all wet, and grab an old one from across the room any way. She thought it was funny when he did that.

Then one day upon entering the bathroom, she saw a clean, overlooked towel still sitting next to the shower.  She picked it up to return it to the closet in anticipation of his next sleepover, when she noticed his cell phone was lying underneath. His new habit of taking his cell phone with him everywhere, had been the subject of a conversation just a few days before. Another new habit of keeping the phone in airplane mode all the time was also discussed. In defense, he said it was nothing and dismissed her concerns with "you can look at my phone if you want".  Which she refused.

But now, on second thought...

An hour later, face wet with tears and heart torn from her chest, she selected and erased every sweet and loving text she had ever sent him, from off his phone.  She left the impassioned love letters he had recently written to his ex, letters in which he described her, his new girlfriend, as "just a few dates that leave me feeling empty inside." She left those just as she found them, and then clicked off the phone.  She drove over to his house and left it on his doorstep.  

After the "I wasn't crazy after all" exhale, healing began for her. But not for him.  He now picks up the pieces, when he should have just picked up the towel.  He should have just seen the love that was offered him, love waiting to be accepted. It's drenched in the cruelest shade of symbolism; looking past the clean, fresh towel...that act of love...that promise of a fresh start.   Instead choosing an old towel, forever out-of-reach...forever cold...ass flapping in the wind.

The Trouble with Rebounds

Six weeks, five months and divorce not even final yet. These are the lengths of time between when a few of my boyfriends started dating me and when their previous relationships ended. In other words...I'm pretty good at showing up right when its pick-up-the-pieces time.

 I'll admit, I haven't always been happy about that; about being the rebound. In fact at one time I had sworn it off completely. I became a big believer in Dr. Joy Browne's One-Year Rule. But then I met him. He was neck deep in the rebound stage, yet so hopelessly irresistible. This one was going to hurt like hell but I knew I'd rather be his rebound than his nothing.   

 So I tried to look at rebounds in a new way: when a relationship ends we are left holding a bunch of feels that we aren't quite sure what to do with. There used to be someone else there who not only created those feels with us but helped carry them as well. Now we're left holding them all by ourselves. It makes all the difference to have someone special in our life to help reorganize/carry them through this difficult time.  This picture that my son made illustrates what I mean:

Of course, we can't ignore the fact that while you are playing this noble role of "human anesthetic" for another person...you have just opened yourself up to getting hurt.  But then again...anytime you are someone's anything you are probably going to get hurt!  That's why it is so important to go into relationships with eyes open, especially when one of you is recovering from a recent break-up.  Expectations do most of the driving and all of the damage in relationships.  

                        

So, why would you EVER want to be someone's rebound?  You don't.  But you will probably do it anyway, especially if you are the least bit optimistic, adventurous, romantic and best of all...horny.

Buckle up, baby.  It's gonna be a bumpy ride. Enjoy it!

1 - Mary C. Lamia Ph.D.   https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/intense-emotions-and-strong-feelings/201309/rebound-relationships

Everything You Own, Owns You Back a Little Bit

One way or another, this picture to the left probably looks familiar to you.  If you are lucky, it will bring back fond memories of watching Snoopy and Woodstock retrieve a ping-pong table for Thanksgiving dinner. If you are not so lucky, it may hit closer to home.  It may be home.

I recently helped a friend sort through two storage units that looked pretty similar to this. They had been collecting dust (and rent) for years.  No pun intended, it was a weighty experience.  

Weighty because of the significant time and physical expenditure involved, and weighty because of the mental and emotional toll as well.   As the lock came off the door and it rolled out of the way, I knew immediately that I had to take a backseat role.  I would be there for support; to "grab that end while I grab this one". I could help with the lifting, but my friend had to do all the driving.  This was his "stuff journey" and it started well before I came into the picture.

Two days and two swept-clean storage units later, I came away from the experience even more convinced than I was before that everything you own, owns you back a little bit.  Possessions possessed possess. That is why we call it a vacation when we go away.  We vacate, abandon, and relinquish not just our jobs and daily responsibilities, but the ties to our other obligation ...our things.
And boy does it feel good! Anchors aweigh!

Think about it.  When you buy something, you agree to give up things you already own for that new thing: Your money and your space.  You sacrifice for it. It has taken something from you.  But it goes deeper than that... then you have to care for it: Clean it, store it, insure it, and nowadays...update it.  Heaven forbid you have to relocate.  Then you have to pack and move it.

What if a new "need" comes along and requires the space that your old "want" is taking up?  Like a crib or a work table?  Then you have to go through the mental exercises of lament or compromise or maybe even resentment.  I have done that before and it's a workout.

So this Christmas, instead of gifts, I am giving experiences.  I realize that this is a total Grandma-move and that yes, I am being that Grandma.  I am spending just as much money on my lovelies, but I am not burdening them with things.  They will get life instead.  Memories, interactions, etc.  December 26th will come and they will awake with happiness and freedom, instead of happiness and burdens.  Well, that's the plan at least.

"The wisdom of nature continues to teach humanity that the material...is immaterial."  -Jason Versey

Pee You Later

As a category 3 germaphobe, the advent of the self-flushing toilet was significant to me.  Sure, I had long since mastered the one-legged-foot flush but now not even the bottom of my shoe had to touch the toilet.  Brilliant! Or at least that's what I thought.  As awesome as these fecal-focused feats of technology are, it has become apparent to me that we need to change at least one thing; voice activation instead of motion activation. Here's why: You know how sometimes after you have done everything on your part to "close the deal" but it’s still not flushing so you’re waving your hand in front of it and pushing things that look like they should be buttons but they’re not buttons and before you know it you realize that you have touched the toilet way more than you ever touched a manual one? Clearly, no matter how many times you reenact the lifting of your tooshie off the seat for the sensor device, motion activation isn't the most reliable approach.  And you can't just leave.  You can't just abandon shit, so to speak.  You have to stay. So what I'm saying is let's make them voice-activated. When you are ready to wrap things up you could just turn around and say “get out of here”, or “it’s go time” or “bye”. "Pee you later?"

I think it would be a good change; and quite empowering too. Just think of how accustomed we'd become to telling crap to get out of lives.  Because frankly, turning our toosh to the problem can be too oblique; too passive.  Sometimes to avoid being 'stalled in the stall', we just need to assert ourselves, take action, say what needs to be said and hear what needs to be heard.  Kerplush!  Time to move on.

Gravy Baby

We did a lot of shopping yesterday morning.  Jumping into the car just to go and grab one or two items at the market; only to return an hour later to grab one or two more. It  probably looked a little schizo to some people.  OCD to others.  But it was time to create and our errands were to us as the thumb is to the artist.  Details, vision; a little more of this here, a little dab of that there....

That's how you get ready for Thanksgiving dinner when family is coming over.  You prepare the canvas with aromas and sounds, flavors and illumination.  And then you sit back and wait for the medium to arrive, and they do.

A pile of coats no sooner builds up on a chair in the den than the hues of each individual begin to blend, compliment and contrast with each other.  Laid out.  Trusting. The space fills rapidly... but at the same time, love allows it to expand. Yes, love will ensure there's room for every different palette and brush stroke, where expectations would have otherwise stifled.  The coats soon end up on the floor because the desk chair is now needed at the table.

In the end you don't see, but you hear the masterpiece... and it sounds a lot like laughing.

 "Good art is art that allows you to enter it from a variety of angles and to emerge with a variety of views."    -Mary Schmich, American Journalist

Love is Blind

I had come to the end of a long day of pickleballing and poker when I fell into bed, a happy but exhausted little camper. Oh, and don't forget beautiful. I was was a happy, exhausted, beautiful little camper because without thinking, I had hit the sack that night with all of my jewelry and my fake eyelashes still on. As soon as it occurred to me that I was still all blinged out,  I rolled over and carefully removed the adornments and set them on the table for the next day.

At least that's what I thought.  I thought I'd wake up and find everything as I left them, but I was wrong.  The next morning one of my eyelash pieces was missing.

For those of you that don't have any experience with false eyelashes, there is one thing you should know....they don't walk away. In fact one of their best qualities is their inanimateness. So, finding one of them missing, as you can imagine, was unusual.

The list of possible scenarios leading up to it's disappearance was almost non-existent.  In fact, I could only think of one. Perhaps a modest breeze blew it away? Maybe, unless you consider the facts that: 1. Other items would have been blown out of place as well and everything else was still exactly as I left them.  2. There was nothing in the room that could have produced such a breeze in the first place.

So without a plausible scenario, I was left to focus on a plausible culprit instead. Some"thing" didn't happen to it; some"one" did.  And...because I am unfairly prejudiced against spiders I had no other choice than to blame an arachnid.  Species profiling.  It happens.

But don't get me wrong.  I am quite generous when it comes to the scapegoats in my life.  This spider, this eyelash thief, isn't to be condemned for his actions.  He is to be understood.  After all, my eyelashes have flittered their way in to many a lonely man's heart.  They are beguiling and sensuous and from a spider's point of view...quite leggy.

So who's to say that when this eight legged culprit met my eyelash in the middle of the night on my nightstand and realized that she wasn't going to eat him alive after sex or lay eggs on his head...that he didn't fall madly and deeply in love with her?  Who's to say that the two of them aren't right now at this very moment sitting across from each other at a tiny, romantic table for two somewhere...utterly twitter-pated?

It's "awe, how sweet" and "awe, how sad" all at once, isn't it?  A broken heart looms glaringly in this little critter's near future as soon as he realizes who she really is (or isn't). Because love is blind and SO very drenched in optimism, we can...

Oh hey...my eyelash.  I just found it stuck in my hair.  Never mind....

 

You Have to Pick One

Girl:  Am I “a girlfriend” or am I “your girlfriend”?

Boy:  I’m somewhere in the middle on this.

Girl:  That’s not an answer, that’s like wishing for more wishes. You have to pick one.

Boy:  I will buy you clothes

Girl:  Ok

My Top Movies

Seen and Loved:
Dan In Real Life
Groundhog Day
Princess Bride
Life Is Beautiful
It's a Wonderful Life
Where Do We Go Now?
Forest Gump
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
Walk the Line
Cinderella Man
Slumdog Millionaire
Goodwill Hunting
Shawshank Redemption
Cinema Paradiso
12 Dates of Christmas
Phenomenon
Iron Giant
Lego Movie
Valentin
Mustang
I Am Dragon
The Help

Movies I Would Like to See:
The Patriot
Twelve Years a Slave
Taxi Driver
Fargo
Eternal Sunshine....
Tootsie
Kes
Room for Romeo Brass