Girdles and jocks

Ok so I am a nerd.  I was listening to the radio today about magic.  Really a radio show about magic shows.  Magic doesn't really translate well to the a non visual medium, and I started to think about perspective.  Magic, in many cases, is about perspective and misdirection.  Ive written about perspective before.  It is a phenomenon that fascinates me.  Oddly people have not been pelting me with platitudes about fish and such, which I am grateful for.  But I do feel that keeping things in perspective is important.  Imagine if you will (that I am Rod Serling) two people standing next to each other.  One of them starts to walk away.  To each of them, the other gets smaller and eventually vanishes.  In reality neither changes size nor vanishes. Their perspective of each other has changed. But does that really matter ? For the viewer it is real isn't it ?  The same applies to the time dilation principles of space acceleration but that is for another day.  If we as an audience member see someone being sawed in half, is that person effectively sawed in half ?  Intellectually we know that no one can survive vivisection and reassembly.  We suspend our belief. But what WE see is a person in two parts.  The magician and their victim see the inner workings.. If the "sawee's" container was turned a degree or two in another direction... our perspectives would change. We accept many things based on perspective... I mean look at Fox News.  We are taught to trust our senses ("Seeing is believing").  If we can't rely on the our five senses. what can we rely upon ?

So I am going to make a huge jump here and apply this supposition to some more real world situations.  I had a friend of several years who I shall call  "And Miss Reardon Drinks A Little"  The sobriquet is appropriate on a couple of levels.  Any way...Miss R and I had a conversation the other night that arced in a way that serves as a great example of perspective.  The first (and sober) part dealt with gossip about a person mutually known to us.  This person is complaining about holiday decorations on public buildings being discriminatory.  To the kvetcher's perspective, wreaths represent something that is non secular.  Miss Reardon thinks that the kvetcher is simply trying to make an issue of a non-issue.  So who is right ?  Why not both ?  

As the frozen cosmos starting hitting Miss R's bloodstream, he starting to acknowledge his drunkenness.  He also started to assert that he and I were the same when it comes to alcohol abuse.  I drink.  I enjoy drinking.  It has a place in my liver.  But am I on the same level as Miss R ?  I don't think so, but clearly he does.  Each has a point... each has a perspective... each is right... each is wrong..

Finally, Our Miss Reardon was stumbling drunk.  I asked him if he would do me a favor... I asked him if he would let me help him walk down the stairs.  If he could help me out ( by letting me help him) my boss wouldn't get mad at me.  He agreed.... until he reached the door.. I thanked him for helping me out.. he then turned to me and said "WE ARE DONE"... perspective all over the place.

I mean...look at Tom Wopat's career... look at current events... I mean look at Fox News


THINGS THAT ROCK:
Exposing people to new things
Amy Farrah Fowler
Just for Men

But There are Dreams That Cannot Be..

I can't believe its been three years since I last wrote here.  So much has happened.   So much... Most of which I wont go into in great depth.  I learned so much in these years... about my perspective... about how I am perceived... about love... about honesty... about me.  I need to acknowledge a few people for helping me through...I wont go into the specifics of why these people have been so significant to me in the past three years but they all have been in various ways...Skooter Signorelli, Wayne Wescott, Wendy Chunn, Joan Lyman, Brooke Libby, Michael Jones, Matt French and Jonathan Nason.  While I know there are other people who have helped me (and I appreciate their help... all of it, in every way), these people have been instrumental in my survival.

  I have been infatuated with several men.  Some could have been real relationships, but mostly they were fantastic Walter Mitty types of relationships.  I retain friendships with some... some slowly dissolved in to oblivion. and most, somewhere in between. I have romantically loved three men.  Or one.  AH was my first love.  I fell in love with him and found out later that he was involved with someone else.  We were involved in a poly amorous relationship where (pardon the pun) I was on the bottom. It ended with me in hysterics. The second left me without notice or explanation.  It ended with me in hysterics.  And then there was the third.. or the one.  I love MM.  Loved him almost immediately upon meeting him.  A telling point... I slept with him.  And no.. I don't mean bumping uglies..I mean, I slept.  When we spent the night together, I actually slept.  I have never have been able to sleep with another person.  Never.  There were issues.  Some big.. some trivial...MM taught me something.., well many things... but I learned that I don't cross the threshold of love easily... but when I do.. it is completely.  Another thing that made me know I was in love, was the fact that I planned a future with him...we joked about marriage.. but I could see THAT KIND of future..if not marriage, a clearly painted partnership.  For the first and only time in my somewhat median length of a life, I felt special...MM made (makes) me feel like I am the only person in the world that matters..And as much as my mother loves me and my incredible friends, MM made that love feel like a black and white shadow in comparison.  I learned about sacrifice.  I learned about priorities.   I learned about self worth...Would I give my life for him?   Quite possibly...   Would I ever have to ? Quite doubtful.  As much as I believe he loves me ( and I do believe and feel it), I also believe that I am not enough to keep him.  MM is leaving... Geographically and impractically for me.  I am not enough to keep him.  Do I resent his leaving me?, No.  I love him and want him to have what he wants... I believe that this move is beneficial for him.  His life will be better in his new location.  I worry about his future.  I worry about him.. I love him.  And if I were enough, it would be phenomenal with me at his side.... I'd be so happy to keep his dinner warm...But I am not enough...No one can TELL me otherwise.  Has our relationship ended ? ... mostly.. at least our romantic relationship I guess.   I still wake up EVERY morning thinking about him.  Waiting for his text.  Missing him.
But its over... not that he doesn't love me nor I him.  I wish that I could change... to either be enough, or not to love him.  I wish he were a douchecanoe, a child molester, or even Tom Wopat.  But the none of those are wishes that will come true.  I love MM and I always will.  It ended in tears slowly falling down my cheek...no hysterics.

Things that Rock:
My convertible laptop
Knowledge
Love

I have a new one coming...

What Good is Cake You Have, But Never Eat ?

Being the victim is easy.  How you deal with your victimness isn’t.  I have been  watching American Horror Story (on Fox Wednesday nights) and it is freakin awesome and freaky.  In this show, there are all sort of victims.  But the victim line that has struck a chord most with me of late is that of Ben (played by the increasingly handsome Dylan McDermott).  His wife had a miscarriage prior to the start of the show. And to deal with it, he has an affair with one of his students.  His wife, Vivian, catches them in flagrante delicto.  In order to get a new start on life they move from Boston to LA to a stunning house that has a past peppered with crazies and murders.  Ben claims that, after the miscarriage, Vivian turned to her annoying little “I need to be kicked” dog for comfort. As Ben had no pets, he was forced to turned to his mistress.  In effect it was Vivian’s fault that Ben cheated on her.  Recent events compel me to say one word “BULLSHIT”

I recently met a man who is in a 20 +/- relationship with his “partner”.  He is not faithful.  (I didn’t realize this until about 18 Justin Beibers of time later. The partner part, not the faithful part.)   Apparently the magic had gone out of their relationship… They love each other very much, but just no longer have sex, but they are intimate.  Now, I know all about sex without intimacy and intimacy without sex, but love throws the entire equation off.  If you have a 20 year “relationship” with someone, and you are not having sex with them, you are either family members, roommates, or in a pod.  But the thing that got me was that my new friend was the victim.  Here he was cheating on his “partner” with me, but he was the victim.  Really ?  His partner was at work, or cooking dinner or cleaning the toilet,  or any number of things that wasn’t victimizing to anyone other than maybe a butterflied chicken breast.  The sad thing is that I know others who have claimed the same thing.  BELIEVE ME I GET THE TEMPTATION TO HAVE SEX.  And fine!  Go out and have all the sex that you want as long as you are not hurting yourself or anyone else IF you and your knudleing friend are single.. I know couples who have open relationships with all sorts of mutually agreed upon rules.  Generally, I find that one of the partners in this relationship is less happy about the rules than the other, but that’s not the point.  The point is, why have wife, partner, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend or any kind of relationship if you are going to cheat on them and then blame them for your behaviour ?  Its called wanting your cake and eating it too.
I understand rationalization as well if not better than most.  Its easier to accept unacceptable behaviour if you are forced into it by someone else’s actions or lack thereof. I have been “the other woman” in more than one situation.  And I continued my clandestine arrangement, but pardon the expression, in the end, I wanted more.  The other men in these relationships had convinced themselves they were the victim, and believed in so vehemently that they convinced me of it too.  I ended the relationship because I woke I realized that it wasn’t going to work

 But instead of whoring around town and the internet, why not put your energies towards either fixing the issues with your relationship, fixing yourself or ending it and find someone knew who wants to stoke your fires every night ?


Things that Rock:

American Horror Story
My Halloween Costume
Audra McDonald

My name's not Alvin! That's not my life. I'm not a hillbilly.

Its funny.  The things that move us.  I went to see the Music Man at the Ogunquit Playhouse the other day.  Not a great production, but with some mentionable highlights.  The woman who portrayed Marion has a phenomenal voice and I hope her talents take her deservedly far.  But this show, and particularly this production had a profoundly saddening effect on me, and for many reasons. Many of those reasons shall remain private.

 For those of you who don’t know the Music Man, it’s about a man who comes into town and changes everything for the better in just a few short summer weeks.  He does this through flimflammery and deceit.  And I doubt flimflammery is a word, but it should be. Lies create drama.  Now ain’t that a mouthful. Anyway, everything turns out in the end in appropriate musical comedy style.  The girl gets her man, the town gets a band and everybody exits to a 6/8 time signature. But the Music Man (Professor Harold Hill) gets caught in his own trap.  You see, he falls for Marion and exposits it so eloquently to us with, “Well, for the first time in my life, I got my foot caught in the door”  And isn’t that what love really is ?  A door that opens for us for the first time revealing a marvelous new setting, eventually turning into a place that’s comfortable.  Sometimes so familiar that we can navigate our way in the dark.  Sometimes left open for the world to see inside, and sometimes locked (and sometimes the locks get changed).  But the faithful reader knows my views on love, so enough!

The movie has always had its pulls on me. And by the movie, I mean the original - not that cinematic abortion with Matthew Broderick and Kristen Chenowith.  However, when little Ronnie Howard lisps his way through lines like “Thister, thister!”, the irony of my tears isn’t loss.  And there is something about a happy ending that understandably melts my Jade Queen persona.  Who doesn’t want a happy ending ?

And speaking of endings.  Many of you know of my ordeal of the past several months.  There have been several.  Not going into great detail, but “ordeal” is a good word.  There are worse things I could have experienced and have.  Carjacking being one, but this is right up there.  I am so close to ending things and putting this chapter of my life behind me I can taste it.  Wish me luck.  The thing is, I take full responsibility for the things that have happened to me. And to stick to the metaphor (or maybe a little more literally), no matter how loudly the door is locked behind me, I am the one who entered the room willingly.  Whatever door that may be.  So QED, the future is also my choice.  I guess what I really am trying to say is that my life although has been my choice, it has not been my design.  So who knows what’s coming?  It could be thumthin, really thpethal, juth for me.

Things that Rock

Honestly, my friends are of the best character and heart.  There are many of them…some very obvious, and some quietly in the background.

My new grill

And my new roommates… Jayson and Butch.

Love Look Away

Ok … so as you know I was dumped. Yes, dumped… and its been about two weeks now and I have cried every day. Every day. Some days have been better than others. Some days a lot worse. I know that we were a couple for not a long period of time, but I still ache. There is nothing that doesn’t remind me of him. Nothing… I ache every day. The feelings that I have are as real as if we had been together years. You may deny or disbelieve me, but my feelings are genuine. And I know that it sounds like the jilted lover, but I am never feeling this way again. I told my mother a few months ago that he was going to be my last boyfriend. And if you knew my mother, you would understand why I think that’s important. Mom isn’t really all about the warm and fuzzy…especially when it comes to the gay thing. Not that she doesn’t support me.. It makes her uncomfortable despite what she says. But anyway, the importance of the last boyfriend statement is vast, and also explains why I have felt so bad. I love him. Nothing else really needs to be said about that. Its plain, its raw, and its true. You see, he was the last boyfriend because he was going to be the one that I spent the rest of my life with, or I am going to be alone. So alone it is. I am not writing this out of anger or to get sympathy, and certainly not to hear the oceans of platitudes about being single or finding the right one. I found the right one. But he didn’t find me. I write this because its cathartic for me on a few levels. One, because writing is something that I am good at, and its an expressive outlet that I can make clear my feelings, fears, and frustrations. Two, because a public forum takes away the power of the hurt. Secrets hurt. Secrets hurt the keepers and those that they keep them from. I grew up in a family of kept secrets and I hope whatever few there are left die with me. My brother and mother still have secrets, a fact that I am sure both would deny. I think that my niece and nephew have broken the cycle and are honest “good” people. No more secrets.

So back to my break up.

 The reasons for it are, as the usually are in these cases, irrelevant. I basically received the “its not you, its me” speech. Wasn’t the first time, but again, it’s the last. You see, every significant relationship that I have had with a man, has ended with some variation of that speech. If you hear something enough, you start to create legs to support the table of truth, but only if you are stupid. And one thing I am not, is stupid. You see, all the men that I have dated (and I say all… there have been 4 or 5 significant men in my life. 4 or 5 depending on semantics). All of them have been different people, different situations, and different relationships. The constant in all of these is obvious. Me. So what choice do I have but to believe that it is in fact me, and not you? I am not saying that I am not a catch. I am not saying that I am some troglodytic mutant. I am saying that I am not relationship destined. I don’t know what characteristics I have or lack that put me at a disadvantage in relationships, but clearly there is something. So instead of desperately seeking to find my Achilles’ tendon of love and wear some dumb-assed ace bandage around it, I have made the conscious, deliberate and intentional choice to not only not seek love but to shun it. Yes, I am in mourning now for the love that I lost (no black Sophia Petrillo veils as yet) and that’s important to experience.
 More importantly is that I need to mourn the death of Love. That’s right Big “L” love. I am sure I will be met with “you’re just saying that now” objectors. I am not doubting love’s existence, power, wonder and grace. I wish love for those who want it and can find it. I am saying that love does not want me. And strangely, I am not alone in that. On that note, I wonder if Tom Wopat is available ?



Things that Rock:



My friends who have been there for me. Old and new. I hope you read this and know who you are.

He slept a summer by my side

All I will say is that I am single again through no fault of my own...I miss him and love him, but its over and I am going through the gamut of emotions...
I need to throw myself back into writing... its one thing I know I am good at and is so cathartic,maybe the blog will help me until I can get some resolution.