It is a couple of years late, but Saturn seems to be returning for me. Last Saturday, i saw someone i hadn't seen in close to 15 years, at an intentional meeting. It was great to see her, and have some small reconnection to a time that had a huge impact on my outlook and life choices. The very next day i ran into someone else from the same time in my life, who had a relatively large impact given the fact that he doesn't recognize me except for having a vague awareness of my name.
I'm not sure what, if any, connection these two people have to each other in any context other than my memories. I'm not sure it matters, but it is interesting to contemplate the connections one has internally connected to a memory compared to the real-world correlations and connections.
The two people i saw last weekend are inextricably linked to the second time my heart was broken. One of them dumped me after falling in love with, and then losing, someone while on a trip to Paris. This was a blow, but not the telling, shattering one. I was down from that, certainly, but i still had a friendship with her; she still deigned to speak with me.
The man i ran into last weekend was, when i first knew him, paired with someone i idolized and eventually fell in love with. The kind of one-way, over-intellectualized love that some adolescent nerds must go through to learn valuable life lessons. It was a perfect counterpoint to the over-emotional, lust-based love that had broken my heart the first time, not even two years before. Oddly, i'm still in regular contact with that person and consider her a close friend; my oldest, in fact. Both traumas taught valuable lessons, but also implanted deeply-buried triggers that resurface cyclically.
In any case, the man-from-last-weekend's significant other is the only one of the four of them that i haven't seen at all since public school ceased requiring us to have contact. She ended our interaction in the most intellectual of ways: a cease-and-desist letter. She wrote me a note, hand-delivered, telling me that she appreciated our interaction, but that people were like molecules... destined to bounce around randomly, interact in mathematically prescribed ways, and then fly apart. She had finished with me, apparently, and had decided that we were done communicating in the same over-intellectualized, unilateral way that i had decided to fall in love with her.
Within the last year, i've had the trigger of unilateral communication cessation fired, and i'm still reeling. I've lost count of my heartbreaks, so i have no number to give the one from last year. Seeing the people i saw last weekend helps me reflect on where the trigger originated, and was somewhat freeing. I still haven't learned the critical skill of letting go, of not having to ask "why? what is so broken about me, or you, or us?" when someone needs to leave in a hurry.
But it's starting to dawn on me, and i'll have to thank Saturn next time he comes around.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
The Gender Police
On our way back from taking the boy to meet up with Omi & Opa this weekend (we were treated to a couple of days of just-us time for our fourth anniversary... thanks mom!), we decided to do some shopping for an upcoming black-tie event.
Passing through the behemoth "factory outlets" we decided to bop around in case there were anything appropriate. While browsing in a clothing section of a Puma shop (i remember when they sold shoes, don't you?) a over-smiling cheerleader-barbie-esque staffmember approached.
o-s c-b-e s: "You guys shopping for someone else?"
us: "Not particularly."
o-s c-b-e s (condescendingly): "Just shopping in the women's section?" blahblahblah, saleprice, blahblahblah.
Busted! The gender police totally nailed us for looking in the "wrong" section. It gave us a good laugh and made sure we wouldn't foolishly give any money to this person's employer on overpriced crap shipped here from overseas (even if it was cute).
Passing through the behemoth "factory outlets" we decided to bop around in case there were anything appropriate. While browsing in a clothing section of a Puma shop (i remember when they sold shoes, don't you?) a over-smiling cheerleader-barbie-esque staffmember approached.
o-s c-b-e s: "You guys shopping for someone else?"
us: "Not particularly."
o-s c-b-e s (condescendingly): "Just shopping in the women's section?" blahblahblah, saleprice, blahblahblah.
Busted! The gender police totally nailed us for looking in the "wrong" section. It gave us a good laugh and made sure we wouldn't foolishly give any money to this person's employer on overpriced crap shipped here from overseas (even if it was cute).
Sunday, May 20, 2007
mad max-y
There's a caravan moving through crowded streets at high speed, the people lining the streets are mostly bystanders with no ill intent, but parts of the milling hordes are in league with the party in pursuit of the caravan. The dream includes ninja-esque combatants in powered armor. The scene appears to have been directed by Michael Bay. It's a conglomeration of scenes from Blackhawk Down, the Island, and the Grapes of Wrath.
The salient plot point comes with a closeup of an individual scout wading into the crowd and eliminating anyone that seemed like a threat, using split-second judgement calls that seemed very unlikely to have any accuracy. Every so often, passing similar groups of people, the scout kills clusters of five or six, leaving one or two alive, with apparently nothing indicating why some died and others lived. Hello, modern warfare.
This contrasted strongly with the scene in Grapes in which the committeemen organize a quashing of riot-inciters sent in by anti-labor groups, which was highly selective, and marginally violent: "If you gotta sock 'em, sock 'em where they ain't going to bleed."
The salient plot point comes with a closeup of an individual scout wading into the crowd and eliminating anyone that seemed like a threat, using split-second judgement calls that seemed very unlikely to have any accuracy. Every so often, passing similar groups of people, the scout kills clusters of five or six, leaving one or two alive, with apparently nothing indicating why some died and others lived. Hello, modern warfare.
This contrasted strongly with the scene in Grapes in which the committeemen organize a quashing of riot-inciters sent in by anti-labor groups, which was highly selective, and marginally violent: "If you gotta sock 'em, sock 'em where they ain't going to bleed."
Friday, May 18, 2007
crushes, milton bradley, and a sheriff
Last night's dream found me getting involved with a crush i've had for a while... this probably could have filled an entire dream, but in this case was merely the beginning of a truly bizarre series of events.
After staying the night at said crush's place, I went to an A's game. Home plate, and the batter's box, was up in the stands, and a woman next to me was ecstatically cheering on one of the players, Milton Bradley (i think that's an actual player). He called time, stepped from the box, and looked around for the source of the incredibly loud, screechy noise, looking enraged. He marched toward the woman, and i stood up next to her to try and help him understand that she was cheering for him. I failed, or he didn't care, or something else, and he punched her really hard in the stomach.
I took him into custody, citizen's arrest style, and marched him out of the park and to a sheriff.
End of weird part 1, segue to weird part 2:
The sheriff and i (why am i with him? i have no idea) arrive at Milton's house, only instead of being a big baseball player dude, it's the guy who plays Sylar, and he's threatening to do himself harm... until i show concern for him, when both he and the sheriff start canoodling and carrying on. It turns out, they're boyfriends, and the tell me how i'm done for. So i take off, and bicycle away, as they throw spinny-blade things which i dodge on my way out... down through some streets and bikepaths/greenways i remember from Portland. My recollection of the dream ends with me trying to get past a big group of little kids on bikes who are having a great time, and seem creepily oblivious to the peril i flee.
I woke up with the familiar feeling of dread that always comes when i reflect on ceasing to exist, because that seemed to be where the dream was headed... children are oblivious to this (at least, most of them are) and seem much happier for it. The fruit of knowledge totally sucks.
After staying the night at said crush's place, I went to an A's game. Home plate, and the batter's box, was up in the stands, and a woman next to me was ecstatically cheering on one of the players, Milton Bradley (i think that's an actual player). He called time, stepped from the box, and looked around for the source of the incredibly loud, screechy noise, looking enraged. He marched toward the woman, and i stood up next to her to try and help him understand that she was cheering for him. I failed, or he didn't care, or something else, and he punched her really hard in the stomach.
I took him into custody, citizen's arrest style, and marched him out of the park and to a sheriff.
End of weird part 1, segue to weird part 2:
The sheriff and i (why am i with him? i have no idea) arrive at Milton's house, only instead of being a big baseball player dude, it's the guy who plays Sylar, and he's threatening to do himself harm... until i show concern for him, when both he and the sheriff start canoodling and carrying on. It turns out, they're boyfriends, and the tell me how i'm done for. So i take off, and bicycle away, as they throw spinny-blade things which i dodge on my way out... down through some streets and bikepaths/greenways i remember from Portland. My recollection of the dream ends with me trying to get past a big group of little kids on bikes who are having a great time, and seem creepily oblivious to the peril i flee.
I woke up with the familiar feeling of dread that always comes when i reflect on ceasing to exist, because that seemed to be where the dream was headed... children are oblivious to this (at least, most of them are) and seem much happier for it. The fruit of knowledge totally sucks.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Diverticulitis
My mom has an annoying, though easily controlled, condition. Armed with knowledge and proper diet, she'll be completely fine. If never eating raspberries again can be considered "fine."
Without antibiotics, she'd be gone now. Thanks, western medicine! You made mother's day possible for me this year.
Without antibiotics, she'd be gone now. Thanks, western medicine! You made mother's day possible for me this year.
possible worlds
Some physicists think that there are many possible worlds: that at every juncture ever faced, the universe splits to allow for every possible variation. Assuming this idea has any validity, there are at least three worlds now that i am glad to not exist in. The first world split when there was a chance Antonio had suffered some venomous bite that would take him away from me. The second world split when there was a chance my mom had some kind of incurable pancreatitis. And the third world split when i fell out of a tree Saturday, narrowly avoiding serious injury at the hands of several sharp corners raised from the ground i fell on.
We're all living on borrowed time, so let's do the best we can, ok?
We're all living on borrowed time, so let's do the best we can, ok?
Friday, May 11, 2007
Hospitals
Last night A-train freaked me and Andy the f out. He started crying inconsolably, clutching at his left foot, and then switching to his left forearm, which has a little bugbite on it. I had noticed it a day earlier, but just thought it a mosquito bite, but it had become more swollen, and in the context of inconsolable crying i suspected a venomous spider bite, and we made our way to the ER with haste.
Two blocks from the ER, Antonio is babbling happily about the trees and cars and various other things. No sign of pain at all. No discomfort upon re-inspection of the bite, or his foot, or anything. Just mild crankiness from not eating (as we hadn't had dinner yet). I opted out of visiting the ER with a (now) happy toddler, and went home, where he proceeded to have a mellow evening with me.
This morning, my stepdad calls me to tell me my mom is in the hospital, after being nauseated all night. She's so dehydrated that when they drew blood, it came out black. She has such extreme pain that whatever they're giving her IV is having no effect, and she seems to be suffering more pain as time goes on. They've done a first set of abdominal x-rays, but have found nothing yet. They suspect pancreatitis, which is dreadful, but survivable. I can only hope that it's nothing chronic or fatal, and that we can make it up there relatively quickly.
I have a strong dislike for hospitals, but the past seventeen hours makes me glad that both we and my folks live relatively near to them.
Two blocks from the ER, Antonio is babbling happily about the trees and cars and various other things. No sign of pain at all. No discomfort upon re-inspection of the bite, or his foot, or anything. Just mild crankiness from not eating (as we hadn't had dinner yet). I opted out of visiting the ER with a (now) happy toddler, and went home, where he proceeded to have a mellow evening with me.
This morning, my stepdad calls me to tell me my mom is in the hospital, after being nauseated all night. She's so dehydrated that when they drew blood, it came out black. She has such extreme pain that whatever they're giving her IV is having no effect, and she seems to be suffering more pain as time goes on. They've done a first set of abdominal x-rays, but have found nothing yet. They suspect pancreatitis, which is dreadful, but survivable. I can only hope that it's nothing chronic or fatal, and that we can make it up there relatively quickly.
I have a strong dislike for hospitals, but the past seventeen hours makes me glad that both we and my folks live relatively near to them.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Bike-to-work challenge
Pixar is a very bike-friendly place: we have three teams of five competing in a "bike-to-work" competition, where individuals get points for every day a bike is used for transportation purposes. The competition runs the entire month of May, and my goal is to ride for a point every day this month. So far, so good. I've even broken my fear-of-rain this week past, and managed to make a store trip yesterday and a trip (combined with bart) out to Walnut Creek today.
My big challenge will happen next weekend, when we're slated to visit my mom in the decidedly bike-unfriendly rural area around Placerville. Getting the mail (2 miles from their house) could count for saturday, but i'm not sure what i'm going to do Sunday, unless i can get home and make a grocery trip to the store before midnight.
Go Team Red's Dream!
My big challenge will happen next weekend, when we're slated to visit my mom in the decidedly bike-unfriendly rural area around Placerville. Getting the mail (2 miles from their house) could count for saturday, but i'm not sure what i'm going to do Sunday, unless i can get home and make a grocery trip to the store before midnight.
Go Team Red's Dream!
Saturday, April 28, 2007
electric six
Last weekend, Andy and i were treated to a show (which reminded me to write about previous shows) that really helped me remember the pleasure of watching people perform music live.
The two openers, together, could be a really great band. The guitarist and bass player from the second band were hot shit. The frontman had a lot of personality, but i don't think his singing style really fit with what the crowd was looking for. He was more goth-industrial. Sometimes a little flat, probably because he was thinking more about the pelvic thrusts and messing with select members of the crowd.
The first band's singer sounded like Robert Smith (and he completely nailed his set), but paired with indy-pop straightforward guitar and simple base, but with a really energetic and creative drummer. Of the two bands, I enjoyed Test Your Reflex (lookout, flash) more.
I'm not sure i'd see either of the opening bands again unless, like Voltron, they merged to form a super-band, with a giant sword, poised to Rock.
The headliner, Electric Six, exceeded expectations. This is a between-album tour, so they've had a lot of time to hone their set. The band is "from" Detroit, but at least the drummer is from Berkeley (as the frontman reminded the crowd... repeatedly). The band pulls off the suit thing well, and their combined antics (mostly Dick Valentine, lead vocal) are hideously entertaining. The long intermission with Dick talking about politics ("We like to keep things simple, so, we want to just, you know, keep on having everyone vote for bush. Bush. Bush Bush Bush, and so on, down the line") and mocking (or paying tribute. or both) the SF musical heritage of the 80's (The Tubes, Huey Luis, and Journey).
I hate acquiring new music, because i so rarely find something that can hold my attention for an entire album, and i don't like songs piecemeal. I believe, based on the set, that E6 will meet my requirements for albums, and I'm so very glad Del invited me to see them.
Otherwise, i'd only know them for "Gay Bar."
The two openers, together, could be a really great band. The guitarist and bass player from the second band were hot shit. The frontman had a lot of personality, but i don't think his singing style really fit with what the crowd was looking for. He was more goth-industrial. Sometimes a little flat, probably because he was thinking more about the pelvic thrusts and messing with select members of the crowd.
The first band's singer sounded like Robert Smith (and he completely nailed his set), but paired with indy-pop straightforward guitar and simple base, but with a really energetic and creative drummer. Of the two bands, I enjoyed Test Your Reflex (lookout, flash) more.
I'm not sure i'd see either of the opening bands again unless, like Voltron, they merged to form a super-band, with a giant sword, poised to Rock.
The headliner, Electric Six, exceeded expectations. This is a between-album tour, so they've had a lot of time to hone their set. The band is "from" Detroit, but at least the drummer is from Berkeley (as the frontman reminded the crowd... repeatedly). The band pulls off the suit thing well, and their combined antics (mostly Dick Valentine, lead vocal) are hideously entertaining. The long intermission with Dick talking about politics ("We like to keep things simple, so, we want to just, you know, keep on having everyone vote for bush. Bush. Bush Bush Bush, and so on, down the line") and mocking (or paying tribute. or both) the SF musical heritage of the 80's (The Tubes, Huey Luis, and Journey).
I hate acquiring new music, because i so rarely find something that can hold my attention for an entire album, and i don't like songs piecemeal. I believe, based on the set, that E6 will meet my requirements for albums, and I'm so very glad Del invited me to see them.
Otherwise, i'd only know them for "Gay Bar."
Thursday, April 26, 2007
18K
Minerva and I passed 18K yesterday.
In somewhat related news, i noticed a couple of days ago that the front brake pads on my bicycle are almost completely worn away. This explains the mini-dreams i've had lately about not being able to stop my bicycle. I either need to lose some weight, stop riding hills, or stop stopping. Or replace the brake pads.
In somewhat related news, i noticed a couple of days ago that the front brake pads on my bicycle are almost completely worn away. This explains the mini-dreams i've had lately about not being able to stop my bicycle. I either need to lose some weight, stop riding hills, or stop stopping. Or replace the brake pads.
the mansion spaceship
A bit like an episode of Dr. Who, I find myself travelling in a spaceship that is very much like a mansion. There's a downstairs, where me and most of the crew reside, and an upstairs where nobody goes. The layout reminded me of my mom and stepfather's house, only on a much larger scale and with more metal and glass.
Everyone was afraid to go upstairs, but i'm not sure why. Periodically, crew would go missing. Eventually, someone saw a strange smokey-tentacle thing come down from the rafters (yeah... rafters between upstairs and down) and snatch someone from downstairs to up. I decided to mount a rescue expedition upstairs, to find creepy mostly empty rooms with kid sized rocking chairs and clown dolls with ceramic faces. Also, zombies, which were dressed in traditional English servant costume, doing things like tidying up. Apparently, the ship needed to replenish this zombie-crew from the living crew below, and so, periodically, plucked someone up at random.
My dreams are sadly without a compelling story arc.
Everyone was afraid to go upstairs, but i'm not sure why. Periodically, crew would go missing. Eventually, someone saw a strange smokey-tentacle thing come down from the rafters (yeah... rafters between upstairs and down) and snatch someone from downstairs to up. I decided to mount a rescue expedition upstairs, to find creepy mostly empty rooms with kid sized rocking chairs and clown dolls with ceramic faces. Also, zombies, which were dressed in traditional English servant costume, doing things like tidying up. Apparently, the ship needed to replenish this zombie-crew from the living crew below, and so, periodically, plucked someone up at random.
My dreams are sadly without a compelling story arc.
Monday, April 23, 2007
p4wn goal
I watched some of the Detroit-Calgary game last night, including the first overtime. I spent the rest of the evening hanging out with Antonio, and he wasn't interested in hockey, so i didn't get to see the end of the game, but i dreamed that Calgary lost on an own-goal. I felt really bad for the guy in my dream who did it. I was glad to find out that that didn't happen (imagine the shame!) but it's too bad Calgary couldn't hang on against Detroit.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
belated show reviews
Saw a great live show last night, and it reminded me that i wanted to write about a show i saw last year. I think i was too much in the throes of personal spaghetti to write much of anything, and i needed to see another show to make me talk about the last one. Or two.
Andey and a friend of ours (taking the ticket we had originally obtained for an ex) went to see the Indigo Girls at the Warfield. They rocked, naturally. Amy wore an amusing shirt depicting several executive-branch types and the words "war criminals" and Emily wore an... AC/DC tee. Opening for them was Bitch. I actually liked Bitch quite a lot, probably because, as a humanist, feminism doesn't bother me. Others i knew that went to the show lauded her musicianship while lamenting her political bent, which is silly. Politics are part of performance, explicitly or not.
In any case, she plugged her next show at a smaller venue, where she was the headline act. Andey and i decided to check that show out. I'm glad we did, but not because of seeing Bitch again. Her act didn't vary in the slightest. Same set in the same order, same jokes between songs, same "spontaneous" talking to the crowd. So... i'm glad we could support her; you know, as a starving feminist artist, or something. I just wish she hadn't plugged a show to people, when it would be the exact same show they saw during the plug.
It did, however, expose me to Mr. Hayashi, a sacramento band that we both really liked. I meant to promote them back then, but never got around to it. The webpage is a myspace profile, but don't hold that against them. Sean writes good stuff, and plays and sings it like he means it, which matters to me. Someone can perform technically brilliant material, but if there isn't feeling behind it, it doesn't really move me.
Andey and a friend of ours (taking the ticket we had originally obtained for an ex) went to see the Indigo Girls at the Warfield. They rocked, naturally. Amy wore an amusing shirt depicting several executive-branch types and the words "war criminals" and Emily wore an... AC/DC tee. Opening for them was Bitch. I actually liked Bitch quite a lot, probably because, as a humanist, feminism doesn't bother me. Others i knew that went to the show lauded her musicianship while lamenting her political bent, which is silly. Politics are part of performance, explicitly or not.
In any case, she plugged her next show at a smaller venue, where she was the headline act. Andey and i decided to check that show out. I'm glad we did, but not because of seeing Bitch again. Her act didn't vary in the slightest. Same set in the same order, same jokes between songs, same "spontaneous" talking to the crowd. So... i'm glad we could support her; you know, as a starving feminist artist, or something. I just wish she hadn't plugged a show to people, when it would be the exact same show they saw during the plug.
It did, however, expose me to Mr. Hayashi, a sacramento band that we both really liked. I meant to promote them back then, but never got around to it. The webpage is a myspace profile, but don't hold that against them. Sean writes good stuff, and plays and sings it like he means it, which matters to me. Someone can perform technically brilliant material, but if there isn't feeling behind it, it doesn't really move me.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
history
Last night's dream involved a return of someone to my life that i didn't expect to return, though i very much wanted it. The breakup happened less than a year ago, and is still fresh in my mind. The best part of the dream involved having all of the circumstances and personalities behind the breakup healed. People speaking who couldn't before, and a return of empathy and love that had once, however briefly, suffused the relationship(s).
The dream was mostly joyous, but held a hint of menace, in that a boyfriend (or ex?) of my ex entered into my life along with her. He was largely based on a roommate i had years ago that annoyed the hell out of me. In the dream, he came to the apartment to pick her up, and was obnoxious about... just about everything. He probably represents my view of reality... that there will always be circumstances and personalities that don't work well together, but which interact.
I don't hold any conscious hope that the person i miss will ever speak with me again, but clearly there are parts of my subconscious that don't feel the same. Perhaps re-connecting with an ex from high school via email triggered this dream.
I don't dream all that often. At least, i often don't remember them. Remembering two dreams in a row is extremely rare, and i wonder if a third is on its way.
The dream was mostly joyous, but held a hint of menace, in that a boyfriend (or ex?) of my ex entered into my life along with her. He was largely based on a roommate i had years ago that annoyed the hell out of me. In the dream, he came to the apartment to pick her up, and was obnoxious about... just about everything. He probably represents my view of reality... that there will always be circumstances and personalities that don't work well together, but which interact.
I don't hold any conscious hope that the person i miss will ever speak with me again, but clearly there are parts of my subconscious that don't feel the same. Perhaps re-connecting with an ex from high school via email triggered this dream.
I don't dream all that often. At least, i often don't remember them. Remembering two dreams in a row is extremely rare, and i wonder if a third is on its way.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Superposition
Last night i dreamed about having two social-circles overlap. The first was my Portuguese family, who live in the south bay. The second were my new Mission-dyke, FTM, genderqueer, and anarchist friends. We (the younger, more queer) group were in the driveway trying to get a car started (dead battery), when a larger group of my more conservative, catholic, extended family arrived... and chose to enter the house by an entrance that didn't require walking past us.
It's pretty obvious what this dream refers to; I think a visit with my family is in order to help me remember that they haven't shunned me and mine.
It's pretty obvious what this dream refers to; I think a visit with my family is in order to help me remember that they haven't shunned me and mine.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Dream Log
I find myself working at google, but it mostly involves sitting at cafeteria/cafe benches with some old timers, talking about a position called "Total Enrichment" which only five people had been promoted to. According to some of them, it meant that those that were promoted couldn't be constructive or productive in an ordered setting, so they're given salary to goof off. The other perspectives are that not having any order or direction allowed the most creative people to find the right things to work on.
(this dream was surely prompted by a conversation at dinner last night about a friend-of-a-friend who got lost in the chaos at google, and an earlier conversation with a libertarian co-worker)
Edit: I remembered, also, that ascending to "Total Enrichment" required going to classes and seminars, which, consciously, reminds me of scientology.
(this dream was surely prompted by a conversation at dinner last night about a friend-of-a-friend who got lost in the chaos at google, and an earlier conversation with a libertarian co-worker)
Edit: I remembered, also, that ascending to "Total Enrichment" required going to classes and seminars, which, consciously, reminds me of scientology.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
separation anxiety
I feel like i'm being given a second chance at learning something i didn't learn when i was 16 (or maybe 17).
Back then, i fell completely head-over-heels in love with someone without really knowing them. We seemed to grow closer, without ever having a "dating" relationship, and one day they handed me a letter which basically said "it was nice knowing you, but our time of interaction is over: please leave me alone now."
I spent days in, near, or well past tears, wondering what it was about myself that they found so detestable, so utterly disgusting that they couldn't interact with me anymore. I couldn't really function at school and really didn't want to be around anyone.
I've felt this way recently, and though the circumstances are different, the final action ("go away, don't talk to me anymore") is equivalent.
What's the lesson here? It can't possibly be that i shouldn't get close to people. Is it that i shouldn't be so reliant on the approval of others for self-image? As social beings, i'm not sure it's possible to escape the need for validation of some kind. What's the lesson here? It can't possibly be that i shouldn't care what someone i love thinks or feels.
What's the lesson here?
Back then, i fell completely head-over-heels in love with someone without really knowing them. We seemed to grow closer, without ever having a "dating" relationship, and one day they handed me a letter which basically said "it was nice knowing you, but our time of interaction is over: please leave me alone now."
I spent days in, near, or well past tears, wondering what it was about myself that they found so detestable, so utterly disgusting that they couldn't interact with me anymore. I couldn't really function at school and really didn't want to be around anyone.
I've felt this way recently, and though the circumstances are different, the final action ("go away, don't talk to me anymore") is equivalent.
What's the lesson here? It can't possibly be that i shouldn't get close to people. Is it that i shouldn't be so reliant on the approval of others for self-image? As social beings, i'm not sure it's possible to escape the need for validation of some kind. What's the lesson here? It can't possibly be that i shouldn't care what someone i love thinks or feels.
What's the lesson here?
Thursday, November 09, 2006
17K
Minerva (the motorcycle i ride) passed the 17K mile mark today.
While i haven't put all those miles on her, i've put most of them on, and can pretty closely match my riding miles to those on Minerva (there have been a couple of other bikes, which compensates for the miles that Lisa put on Minerva early on).
17 thousand miles doesn't seem like much to most drivers of cars; a year or two of driving for the average city dweller. It seems so much farther on two wheels, and certainly more enjoyable and memorable. Somehow the mountains between San Francisco and Portland seem more vivid through a helmet visor than they do through a windshield in my memories.
Things are even more vivid on a bicycle, though. So, here's to hoping i can make it to 1700 miles on my bicycle in the near future.
While i haven't put all those miles on her, i've put most of them on, and can pretty closely match my riding miles to those on Minerva (there have been a couple of other bikes, which compensates for the miles that Lisa put on Minerva early on).
17 thousand miles doesn't seem like much to most drivers of cars; a year or two of driving for the average city dweller. It seems so much farther on two wheels, and certainly more enjoyable and memorable. Somehow the mountains between San Francisco and Portland seem more vivid through a helmet visor than they do through a windshield in my memories.
Things are even more vivid on a bicycle, though. So, here's to hoping i can make it to 1700 miles on my bicycle in the near future.
Monday, November 06, 2006
hurting
After over three weeks of being in a constant state of near-tears (and, often, well passing the place where tears flow and finding the valley of racking sobs), it was good to have a weekend and a day of feeling ok.
In looking back over the last month of my life, i see more pain resulting from cowardice and supplication than would have resulted from fighting. I've learned that conflict can be productive, and doesn't have to mean that everyone loses. Sometimes, maybe more times than not, avoiding a fight (and by fighting, i just mean being brave and honest, even in the face of conflict) leads to more hurt than just dealing plainly with the conflict.
After being on top of the world and feeling like i'd reached a place of acceptance today, i have cause to look back at my shameful silence and burn in my own fear.
I wish i had a way to convey an apology to those i have wronged with my lack of support, i wish that i could ignore requests for privacy and space and deliver an apology, and i wish that it didn't feel like a violation of boundaries to want to do so.
In looking back over the last month of my life, i see more pain resulting from cowardice and supplication than would have resulted from fighting. I've learned that conflict can be productive, and doesn't have to mean that everyone loses. Sometimes, maybe more times than not, avoiding a fight (and by fighting, i just mean being brave and honest, even in the face of conflict) leads to more hurt than just dealing plainly with the conflict.
After being on top of the world and feeling like i'd reached a place of acceptance today, i have cause to look back at my shameful silence and burn in my own fear.
I wish i had a way to convey an apology to those i have wronged with my lack of support, i wish that i could ignore requests for privacy and space and deliver an apology, and i wish that it didn't feel like a violation of boundaries to want to do so.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Fado show
November 12th, the day before my birthday, i'm planning on going to a Fado show. My dad may or may not be one of the guitarists; he's played for the performer on tours before, but isn't currently listed as one of the musicians on the concert website.
I'm not sure why Fado gets lumped together with Jazz. It's much more like... well, it's not really like anything, but it isn't like Jazz. The performers can do a small amount of improvisation within a framework, but that kind of thing is usually reserved for smaller venues and often not performed publicly at all. In any case, i happen to like Fado quite a bit, and like introducing it to others.
I've sent mail to some folks, but thought that i may have missed a few. If you're interested in going to this event with a large-ish group around me, let me know and if i haven't acquired a group of tickets yet, i'll add you to the bunch.
I'm not sure why Fado gets lumped together with Jazz. It's much more like... well, it's not really like anything, but it isn't like Jazz. The performers can do a small amount of improvisation within a framework, but that kind of thing is usually reserved for smaller venues and often not performed publicly at all. In any case, i happen to like Fado quite a bit, and like introducing it to others.
I've sent mail to some folks, but thought that i may have missed a few. If you're interested in going to this event with a large-ish group around me, let me know and if i haven't acquired a group of tickets yet, i'll add you to the bunch.
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