C'mon Russell...

So last night as I was headed home I heard Russell Simmons being interviewed on NPR. He was being asked if he felt his record label has participated in the glorification of the gangster lifestyle and violence in general. He defended by saying that people in Compton have the right to talk about their surroundings and their experiences.

Essentially, I agree because that’s all country music is. People don’t have a problem with it because it is glorifying the cowboy lifestyle and the truck driver lifestyle.

That said, hip hop and rap obviously glorify the gangster lifestyle.

While it’s true that living in the inner city seems pretty shitty (Miami barely has an inner city, I lived in da ‘hood – I’d thank you to note the distinction), and the situations these artists sing about are surreal, they are also INCREDIBLE! These events are so distinct and special that 99.99% of Americans will never experience anything remotely like them in their whole lives let alone live in a place where they would have these experiences again and again.

That was a great thing about moving to Delaware. For example, I have only ever been shot once and to be honest it was in the knee and I was grazed really. Also it happened on the playground when I was 5 so I wasn’t doing anything cool. Plus, by high school, it was a just a faint mark. I had friends who had been shot up – 5, 6 real wounds all over. In Miami, I never brought up my “GSW” because it would just be embarrassing. In Delaware, where I have yet to meet anyone who has ever been shot – or even grazed, I am a giant among midgets. (Thanks to “W”, I bet I’m gonna end up not being too special any more. Plenty of people my age are getting shot up pretty good right now.)

…and I have to admit too that I don’t know many people in Delaware that have a past like mine. In Miami, because I never stripped professionally and never was “managed”, my friends (who had) said that me and “my kind” were just “users” – now, thanks to the spread of hip hop culture, we are not “users” – negative connotation, but “players” – damn, that sounds better.

…and when I talk to the uninitiated, I can’t help but talk about the incredible things that happened. I am “glorifying” that lifestyle. In a lot of ways, now that it is the past, I have forgotten much of what sucked about it and I don’t focus on ways in which living like that at such an impressionable age has made it difficult to blend into suburbia. Obviously, I am totally nostalgic about it too.

No, I am not a rap/hip hop follower, but these people who argue that it should be banned because it encourages young whites to feel disappointed that they didn’t grow up in the projects are missing the point. I would argue that Russell Simmons knows that what he said on NPR isn’t true. He knows the majority of these artists are not singing about their own real experiences. They are talking about these incredible stories. It’s about story telling, not reality. It’s about young people, rich, poor, black, white, in the US or the Ukraine feeling powerful, larger than life, bigger than their surroundings.

…and for those of us who have lived some approximation of these stories, know how far they are from the truth.

…and know that the only way into this world legitimately is to be born poor in a city, grow up with next to nothing, raised by family members who were just trying to survive themselves – and be surrounded by fear and violence at home, at school, every where.

…and it sucks

…but there is some poetic justice served every time a group of upper middle class white kids drives by me with their dark tinted windows and bass blasting. I spent my youth feeling jealous of them and it turns out, they think they would have wanted to live like me (Bill Maher: “little Ashley trading her kootchie for Gucci”).

What's the question?

So I have this friend at work who confessed that he reads my blog. I joked with him today that he could probably get a lot of inside info by reading what I write...but that's not why I am concerned. I am concerned because I really tell this guy just about anything and everything. After he left my office today I found myself thinking, other than work gossip, is there anything new here for him?

My life is such an open book in general. Other than stupid trivia, I think people know about all there is to know about me. Yet people seem to look at me like they have a question they are dying to ask, but won't.

What's the question? Is it the same for everyone?

Why are people afraid to just ask? I view myself as being really open - maybe that is not how others see me.

Lately I have found myself feeling kind of cut off from others.

At work today everyone went to lunch together and "forgot" to invite me - again. It's been happening all summer. I feel like my co-workers know what is going on, but no one is telling me. My direct supervisor has been particularly distant. She came out to Bosnia with me and she and I along with another colleague even took a nice little trip to Dubrovnik. That was early June. Since she returned to the US, she has held me at arms length. Was I too open with her? Did I say something offensive? (Keep in mind this woman used the words "bitch slap" in a meeting with the Dean and a department chair present to refer to a faculty member)

Also today a colleague of mine who works in Bosnia was commenting that a mutual acquaintance and I have gotten closer. It's true. Over the last month or so, we have IM'd everyday...but we were closer in January. We spent some time together and he told me things - deep, important things - that I have now come to understand are not typically shared with anyone ever - and yet he told me. I can remember the words he spoke like he is here speaking them now.

But then for more than 6 months...silence.

He would avoid even being in the same room with me, much less alone with me. My colleague said, "you have that effect on people; you should stop". He reminded me how important it will be that I remain professionally connected to this acquaintance and how I shouldn't get intimate with him. True, but the damage is done. I know he remembers that night and maybe he can handle it better than I, but I can't just set it aside. I will be seeing him in just a few weeks and I would be lying if I said that I am not completely anxious about it. My inclination is to just hang back and see what he does, but he is an introverted, cautious person who typically sticks to the background and observes. The first two times I came to Sarajevo, he never spoke more than a dozen words to me. I have to find a way to put an hand out to him without scaring him off or letting him too close...and I'm running out of time to firm up an alliance between us.

...and he has a question in his eyes too. Something he wanted to ask me, but didn't...why not? Is it me? After being so open with me, why hold back?

I suppose *I* could always ask...

...but not him...someone else...need the alliance...not intimacy...got it ;)

Impossible choices, Part 2: What's the "Right" Choice

When I worked at the University Advisement Center, 18 year old freshmen would sit crying in my office unable to chose a major. They were paralyzed with an obsession for making "the right choice". This was such a common occurrence (especially at this time of the year). The most common mistake I felt they were making was letting too many voices get into their heads.

Mom says, "You need to make good money"
Dad says, "Make me proud - remember, I'm paying BIG for this!"
Little Brother says, "Your ass better graduate on time - I'm not sharing college with you too"
Cool Aunt says, "Be yourself" (whoever that is!)

...and the student him/herself, eager to avoid screwing up, wants all of these things and cannot find that perfect major or combination of majors/minors that will please everyone. So instead they spin their wheels and their choices narrow and narrow with time. Then they feel bitter when circumstances end up making the decisions for them.

I take the following things from watching this unfold over the years...
1) Unless you have flawless and far reaching psychic powers, you will not have all of the information about every option. Gather as much information as you can gather quickly, but do not let information gathering take the place of making the decision.
2) Act! Your options are typically best and broadest initially.
3) Commit. Stop dwelling on the options that you set aside. I think that there is some merit to reviewing the choice you did make, but we all know what happens to people who try to run forward while looking over their shoulders.

Another really big thing I try to do is to really focus on what I want. Someone once told me that if you are ever totally torn over two options, put it to a coin toss. If you flip the coin and are happy with the outcome, you were probably leaning that direction anyway. If you flip and then are desperate for a "do over", clearly, you wanted the other choice more. I know it is important to consider the impact of your decisions on other key players in your life...but to a limit.

My mother is the walking breathing example of this. Undergrad from Cornell (Phi Beta Kappa), Masters from University of Michigan, she joined the US Foreign Service and served in Uruguay. She had a bright and promising career - and then she met my dad. Although she barely knew him, she quit her job, got married. Three kids later and more than 15 years into a horrible marriage, she decided to go back to Law School, but she had abandoned us long before that. She hid from her abusive husband at work and then at school, then at her new job as an attorney.

She is here visiting me now and we talked for 4 hours last night. She is disappointed with how her life turned out and she has a list of people that she blames - including me. Over and over again, I kept saying that it was her choices that have caused her problems. She will never agree with that assessment because she has filled her life with scapegoats for a reason...

It's far easier to throw your hands up and blame others, than it is to put all of the weight for your fate onto your own shoulders.

So here's what I know... the people whom I love, I love because of who they are, not where they are or what they do. Those people know that they can count on me, no matter where I am or what I'm doing. Therefore, the most important thing for me to consider is myself and what would make me happy. Or I will end up like my mother, constantly taking the path of least resistance and claiming that I did it in sacrifice to ones that love - that way I can later be bitter and blame them for my unhappiness.

P.S. - I quit the Eagles. I had to...I'm gearing up for my 6th trip to Sarajevo and I would have had to work the Bengles preseason game yesterday (the stadium was practically empty after half-time, but I would have had to put in 10-12 hours anyway) and the Eagles Carnival tomorrow. It just got to be too much...even for me...

Impossible choices

Changes are coming for me professionally. I have no control over anything that is about to happen, but I get to make one choice:

Option A: Follow a person who has been my champion for the past year. I don't know where he is going (but I will before I have to choose), but I do know that I would be starting fresh...new job, new state (there is no chance I could remain in Delaware), new friends, and hopefully new salary that is more in line with my skills and contributions. A big downside is that then my destiny will be tied to another person for at least a year or two. I could definitely be going from the frying pan into the fire.

Option B: Stay where I am, keep the job I love and the life I have made for myself. However, not only will my champion be gone, but the two people that would be above me on the project hold a decent amount of contempt for me. The one who would be replacing the lead person on the project is someone I have had a long negative history with and it's pretty unrealistic that his opinion of me will change in the near future. The second person I have only known for a year. His dislike of me stems from the fact that he is lazy and incompetent and clearly feels threatened by me. I am afraid that this will be a totally toxic environment.

I think I will only get one chance to make the call. If I don't go with my champion, I do not think he will ask again. I have some feeling that he has controlled circumstances to manipulate things such that I will get the worst possible deal by choosing not to leave, but I cannot prove that - it's just a suspicion.

I have no idea how I will get a good night's sleep until this is resolved.

Do I love myself?

I'm not sure what this means. I think I'm too close to the project ;)

Ok, so I am asked this quite a bit in a bunch of different forms - usually in relation to the choices I have made in my life. Does the fact that I took a job in Bosnia mean that I am taking unnecessary risk and therefore do not love myself? Does my obsession with my appearance mean I really love myself or that I hate myself (or at least my outer self)? If I decided to do something about my appearance like exercise, do I love myself and want to be healthy...but I thought being concerned about my appearance was unhealthy...or is it all in the motive. I'm not convinced there are lots of people in the gym who aren't at least partially thinking about appearance. But that's other people...

But I guess "other people" are a central issue in the whole question, because I never ask myself if I love me. That's the biggest sign that I do. I don't ask myself if I love the people that I love. I don't think love is a deliberate or conscious thing. I think it happens before we realize it, so we cross the line and then look back at it from the other side. I think I can pinpoint the moment that I knew for sure that I loved a certain person, but the love obviously started before that.

...and I think it's the same with me. I know I love myself. Yes, sometimes I make choices based on impulse and I take risks I shouldn't and indulge in things and activities and people that I shouldn't.

So?

I am happier for living that way - even when I get hurt. When I think about my skating, I remember the spectacular finishes as well as the spectacular crashes with a self-satisfied clarity. Mentally, I gloss over the failures and the million hours of practice just run together. But the first set of stitches I got mean as much as my first gold medal.

Why is it so hard to say what you mean?

So in the week since I last wrote (ok, I know I just cut & pasted something, but at least you knew I was alive...), there have been more adventures with the mystery man from my August 5th post.

We went out to dinner on Saturday night. He spent 3 hours telling me he was never going to see me again - and plying me with alcohol. He explained that his love for me was going to ruin his marriage unless he made a clean break (Duh! I told him this the last time we spoke). He wanted me to "admit" that I loved him. His reasoning being that since he was never going to talk to me again regardless of what I said, this would be my last chance.

Instead of telling him, "I don't love you", I said, "I can't tell you what you want to hear".

Why did I do this? I do not have problems with confrontation...wait...that's a lie. I have a problem with confrontations in that I am pretty well known for being argumentative to the point of being hurtful. I have difficulty letting things go at work and have hurt myself professionally because of it. So why couldn't I be honest?

I guess it's that "concept of love" issue again. I'm not sure what could be more devastating than to hear that the person you think you love doesn't love you back. Add to that, it's the person that you think you have been in love with for 15 years - and she doesn't love you back. Add to that knowing you could have her physically, but you can never have her love. I just couldn't imagine him dealing with that. I don't think he would accept that.

I say "think you love", because this guy absolutely does not love me. He lusts after me - and I find that really cool - but he does not love me. For whatever reason in his world, he has to attach the word love to his lustful feelings. Thank you Catholic Church! What a service they have done for society!

How do I know he doesn't love me?

Well, when we left the restaurant, he tells me that he and an ex used to go skinny dipping at a public pool and asks if I wanted to go. I told him no, but he took me there anyway. I refused to get out of the car. He attempted to woo me into taking my clothes off. When I didn't play along he attempted to forcefully remove my clothes.

Those of you who know me must be cringing thinking Oh, shit... Is he in the hospital?... Is he expected to live? For those of you who do not know know me, let me explain that I skated competitively so I am able to lift hundreds of pounds with my legs (a stunt I used to demonstrate at parties). More recently, in my work at the Eagles, I was able to immobilize men 2-3 times my size. In other words, I was never in any real danger unless he had a weapon, which he didn't. Nonetheless, I didn't do what I should of (which would have been to throw him a beating Philly style), I instead attempted to reason with him. When that didn't work, I immobilized him and said, "take me home immediately or I will leave marks on you that could never be explained to your wife".

Dejected, he drove me home. He even leaned in for a kiss when we got there. *Sigh*

But, I am asking, are these the acts of someone in love? If so, his honeymoon must have been a hoot! I feel sorry for his wife, but I can't tell her anything. He would just tell the typical husband lie that I am a stalker and am after him or something. Plus, I am hoping that this is it - it's over and I will never see him again (until I testify on his wife's behalf at their divorce proceedings). I certainly do not wish to entangle myself in the mess that their marriage must be. I know I am not the only woman he takes out for expensive dinners and gets drunk with so I have to think that this is what he does with the others.

...or maybe it's not. A friend of mine that also knows this guy asked if I thought ________ is suicidal and this was one of those "final acts" that are fairly common for people who plan to attempt suicide. The question was upsetting for me on two levels:

1) As a counselor, I should have thought of that, but really I didn't - at least not on a conscious level (I had to throw that in). He has a history of depression but has not seemed depressed to me in at least 2 years. As far as I know, and I think I would know, he has never attempted suicide.

2) I don't care.

This second fact really is difficult for me. I suddenly came to realize that not only do I not love him...even in the sense of "friendly love", but I'm not sure I like him. That night I dreamt that I was at his funeral and I saw his wife crying her eyes out and all I could think was "good thing she never knew the truth". Nothing about how tragic his death was or whether or not I should have done something more.

I know that sounds heartless, but it's true. I guess I could at least call one of our mutual friends to check up on him. Certainly, talking to me, suicidal or not, would just be more damaging.

Just for fun...

the Shock Jock (52% dark, 61% spontaneous, 47% vulgar)

your humor style: VULGAR SPONTANEOUS DARK PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Howard Stern - Adam Sandler - Roseanne Barr

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on OkCupid Free Online Dating

How many people are you in love with?

Well, there is no way to dance around this one without saying how I define love and how I know it for myself.

When I was young I believed what I heard in songs: "When you breathe I want to be the air for you" or "I would die for you". I thought being in love meant that the other person was everything to you - the center of the universe that is "you"... and by definition, the center meant one. One person who is all things; the "other half"; the thing to make life complete.

Damn that's a lot of pressure!

How am I supposed to find this mythical being among the billions of people on the planet?

How could any man or woman live up to this?

This is how people think that they are in love with celebrities. They look perfect, dress perfect, and are constantly portrayed as perfect.

The point at which I realized that this was not love, but some societally induced, Hollywood sponsored fantasy, is the point that I considered myself an adult. Clearly, most of my friends plan to die never making it to full adulthood, but that's a different topic.

In high school I read Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston and it changed my life...not right then, but years and years later. I read the book in 1989 and have never reread it, yet the words reverberate in my mind constantly. In that book, she says:

"Love is lak de sea. It's uh movin' thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and it's different with every shore."

Kind of sounds cliché: "love is like the sea...blah...blah...blah"... but that is not what she is saying. She is talking about love in a radically different way than most people see it. People tend to believe love is a human experience that we hold in common. I think that is only partially true. The fact that most humans seem to need to create emotional bonds between themselves and other people and objects is the common experience. The causes and nature of these bonds are as unique and innumerable as snowflakes.

I may love someone by my standard of love, and that person may love me by his/her standard, so here we are...two people becoming one, right? We become a single entity - "the relationship". NO! There is no way for that to happen. My experience will always be different from how the object of my affection experiences being loved by me. I believe the fundamental cause of failure of most relationships comes from the irrational desire to force ourselves and/or our loved ones to be confined to this "one relationship" concept (and things like money, fidelity, and child rearing are tangible ways of keeping score of this conformity).

Just think about the people in your life that you love and how different those relationships are:

Mother: care giver -to- Child: seeker of praise
Older sister: protector -to- Younger sister: rebel
Friend 1: life of the party -to- Friend 2: enabler

In each of these, two people are in a relationship together, but having a totally different experience. I didn't talk about sexual relationships because that muddies the waters here. At some other point I'll talk about the sex/love issue.

So, how many people am I "in love" with right now, this minute?

You will have to trust me that I do not believe in love of obligation. No one gets my love as a birthright.

So, including all relatives, 7.

I'm not going to say who they all are, but I will say that one of them is someone that I have known every minute of my life, but just met a little over a year ago. She knows me like no one else can. We are related to each other by marriage and by birth. She pisses me off sometimes because she takes the stupid things I say or do too seriously and laughs at things I think are really a big deal. We have meaningless sex all the time and she isn't judgmental or clingy.

She said the most incredible thing to me the other day.

She said, "I am so proud to be you".

The difference between love and wanting to be loved...

It's hard to address this without diving into the "What is love?" issue, but I want to try because I've got to tell this story. For the moment, I'm defining love as strong attraction of an entity to another entity or thing.

In my book, love is a biochemical reaction. I feel confident that we will eventually be able to create love in a laboratory setting. Not all chemical reactions are the same, right. Sometimes you just put two chemicals near each other and BAM! Sometimes, you have to alter them somehow to get them to react. Some chemicals will not react together no matter what the conditions are. So what I'm saying is that in my experience, love doesn't always happen right away, it could take time, but at some point you have to realize that it's just a no-go.

Wanting to be loved is this weird state. A magnet is still magnetic if it is not near metal or another magnet, but does it realize that it is lacking something? Humans in general seem to be like a mobile phone searching for signal. That's a good thing...that in general we yearn to be connected to others. But what happens when that need is driven by pure selfishness....

And here the story begins:

I need some work from a friend (I am intentionally being vague so as to protect his identity), but I could not pay for this work with money - at least I could never compensate him for what his time on the project would be worth. So I offer instead to take him out to dinner… and last night was the dinner...but for weeks leading up to it, he made one suggestive statement after another until it was pretty crystal to me that he planned to make me "pay" for his services with my, um…, services.

Little background about me: As the date neared, I was conflicted about whether or not I would go through with it and how far I would actually go. I really needed the work and I really couldn't pay for it and I really needed my friend to do way better than a half-assed job. In general, sex acts are not of great monetary value for me so from my perspective, this was like getting an 8 year-old to sell me his new bike for $5 - and if I can get him to trade it for a Pokemon card, all the better...but, I'd have to be pretty maniacal to go through with that deal without some twinge of guilt.

Little background on him: He's married - only just… less than 3 years. The marriage was a stupid idea on the part of both parties. I am dying to tell you why, but can't without making it obvious to the entire population of the tiny state we live in who I am talking about. He talks a big game, but he is relatively inexperienced sexually - keep in mind whose making that judgment, tho. I'd say he's had fewer than 7 partners total, lifetime...

Little background on us: ...and I am one. More than a dozen years ago, we had sex. Again...KILLING me not to tell you the story because it is unbelievable. The sex was OK, but the story is hilarious.

Speaking of stories...

So the day of the big date comes. He chooses the restaurant. It has a highly suggestive name. He tells me what to wear - dress, no panties. Fine. But I wore panties because…, well…, I'm just not a "no panties" person. It's not a sexiness issue, it's a hygiene issue

... back to the story. The restaurant was weird - trying to be Philly, but it was in Delaware so it had awesome decor, the waitstaff dressed in full black, the total 25-35 singles scene package... except as I perused the trendy drink menu, I couldn't help but notice the family of four to my immediate right and two women that appeared to be a mother and daughter to my left - daughter ~55, mother ~70. So, the Philly look, but not the Philly crowd.

Once we ordered I decided to launch into the scope of the work I needed done. This is because I didn't know where the evening was going and, damn it, if he was getting his, I was for sure getting mine. Also, I know this guy's drinking habits so I needed to get him to buy into the plan while he'd still remember the plan. So after about 15 minutes he's saying, no problem, he'd get it done, no big deal.

The waiter appears with the meal, just as I am told this bombshell: my date looked deep into my eyes and said, "If we are going to do this [he said "this" in away as to make it clear we were no longer discussing work], I have to know that you love me".

Have you ever almost choked on a drink and spit it out at the exact same second? I was convinced I was drowning, but I deftly played it off as if I needed to swallow hard and take a deep breath. The deep breath was of course needed to force back laughter.

I collect myself and asked about his wife, someone that I am well acquainted with, but we are certainly not friends (in general, women dislike me). Try to follow this one: of course he absolutely loves his wife and therefore it would only be worth cheating if we had true love; anything else would destroy his marriage. Luckily, I was so bewildered that the urge to laugh was gone. I told him that in my experience, falling in love with someone else, especially if that love is expressed sexually, is far more threatening to the main relationship than a meaningless one time romp. Nope, he's adamant that he would need love because it is not possible to separate sex and love - that's a myth.

Urge to laugh rising... rising... more deep breaths...

I told him that the connection between love and sex in American culture is a product of our society. Sex and love are no more connected than movies and popcorn (they are often together, but you can certainly have one without the other). Remember Pavlov's dogs where the ringing bell eventually caused salivation? In trained dogs a ringing bell was connected to food so the sound made them salivate. For untrained dogs, the bell did not cause salivation because there was no connection.

Suddenly, I realized that if he believed what he is telling me... Oh Sh*t! He is in love with me and has been since college! Yes, for years we have flirted. Yes, he does constantly touch me inappropriately. But honestly, he likes to talk like a player so I just thought he was trying to act the part too. If you knew this guy you would know that it would be totally possible to believe that these acts were insincere buffoonery rather than some manifestation of long sublimated lust.

So I just laid it out there. I returned his piercing gaze and said, "________, I don't love you; I can't love you. You must already know that". "Of course, of course, I know that", he said looking really flustered. And then he gets this really condescending tone in his voice and says something like, this is why I didn't marry you. "You are damaged goods".

Boy, I haven't heard that term in awhile. His wife has had several past serious relationships so I immediately confirmed he wasn't taking about virginity. He wasn't, but still the irony is pretty potent. He wants to commit adultery and I'm the one who is "damaged goods". But it gets better. He tells me that because I come from such a screwed up family situation, I could never be a decent wife or mother. And, get this...,

Because of this, he could never love me and therefore could never have an affair with me and I was just going to have to accept that my attraction to him was going to go unrequited.

Now, any normal woman would have thrown her drink in his face for all of this bullsh*t, but I kept my cool because:
1) I knew that he was just trying to hurt me because he felt hurt
2) He drove
3) I really need him to do this work for me (hey, I am where I am in life because I know how to keep my eye on the ball)

He proceeded to elaborate on his points so when the waiter came around, I was hoping he'd ask for the check. No folks, he ordered dessert... Not just any desert, but a specific dessert. One that we had shared very erotically in the past. Sorry, but I can't tell that story either.

When it came, he centered it between us and took the utensils away. WHAT? I tried to stay focused on the conversation. After a few minutes he starts into the dessert... he's staring at me. He's got to be kidding. "Come on. Come on, share this with me", he whispers. Fine. I grab a utensil off of the now empty table next to us and dig in - the look of disappointment on his face was just classic. Realizing defeat, or maybe realizing that he now looked ridiculous, he picked up a utensil.

So now I'm was wondering as we walked out to the car, what this evening all about anyway? This guy knows me well - my statement of non-love could not have been a shock unless he was totally delusional.

We get into the car and I could tell he was planning to not speak to me, so I turned on the stereo. "Ouga chucka, Ouga, Ouga, Ouga chucka... I can't fight this feeling/deep inside of me..." It was the Reservoir Dogs Soundtrack. One of my all time favorites (because of a guy of course; and not this guy). My date knew how much I liked it. He had actually given me a copy of this CD for Christmas 2 years ago...not realizing its significance to me regarding the other guy.

So the whole evening was totally choreographed. In his world, he was going to take me to dinner, we would profess our love for each other, and we would f*ck in his car to the tunes from my favorite CD. In other words, yes, he is totally delusional.

I think he now feels that I am a dirty whore and he is a saint who had nothing but the idea of helping a friend in mind when he agreed to go out with me to dinner.

After the big fight I just had with my sister, I have now learned that it is dangerous to f*ck with the little fantasies people create to make sense of their lives. If you do, you better be committed to seeing it all the way through. The last thing I wanted with this guy was to discuss this any further.

He pulls up to my place and I airily say, "Are we OK?"
He looks vacantly toward me and says, "No, Ann, we're not"
I say, "Ok then" and I handed him the documents, "I need this Wednesday as we agreed".

Sure, he'll probably do a half-assed job or not do it at all. Oh well. Luckily, he's not the only one who can do this and almost everyone I know that does is male, so... NEXT!

If a tree falls in the forest...Part 2

To Allysther...

I saw my dad and I am fine. He is 72 now and I'm not 10. We have spoken...in-person, telephone or otherwise...a total of 5 times in 12 years and the distance works.

Yes, I find it hard to be supportive of people who are "trying" to get pregnant and are telling the world. Tell me what you did in the bathroom at the fancy restaurant, but if you say the word "ovulate" that's it - I'm outta there!

To Zanla...
I will be seeing my sister in-person tomorrow when we both arrive in Kentucky for my Nana's 90th birthday. So far this has been a totally email battle, which I think is part of the problem.

To Bart...
The interesting thing in my victim/victimiser situation is that no one meant any harm at all. It's just how things played out. There are no villains here and that makes it hard. There is some kind of human necessity to affix blame and something feels wrong when you can't.

If a tree falls in the forest...

I have two main excuses for not writing:

1) No one was writing to me... I didn't really have a topic, a prompt, or *gasp* an audience

2) I am in the middle of an epic battle with my sister. Why? Because she's pregnant. This is good news. She is 29 and married. The issue is that she told my mother that she didn't want to tell me because she was afraid I would be "negative". Here's the thing - I'm not a negative person. Certainly, I'm no optimist. I can be blunt, true. Yes, I have a long and storied history of making cheap jokes at the expense of my friends. And I am pretty sarcastic and cynical, but negative? Maybe to myself about myself, but to others? Gloom and doom? Sorry, she's missed the boat.

So I called her on it. Here's a few lines of her retort:
"... I think that I've always been your little sister and not a separate adult that is respected as you would your peers. I don't often think that you care to ask me who I am or what I'm thinking because you assume to know. Partly, it is my fault ... I don't make extra effort to expose you or mom to my thoughts b/c I don't think they'll be received well."

Confusing, isn't it? Lot's of "you don't ask" and "I don't tell you". Sounds like some kind of f'd up government policy. She ends her message by saying she wants us to have a close relationship. Do I let it go? Of course not! I wrote back and asked her to reread what she wrote about me. I told her I would not want to have a relationship with the person she described. I was trying to get her to see that she was being irrational, by asking "Why do you want a relationship with me?"

She writes:
"If that is the impression you got from my email than I apologize for coming off that way. I, of course, value you as a person and as my sister. "
(Doesn't really address the question does it?)

But then she goes on...
"I really don't know what to say now because I think you're in a place in which you may attack whatever I say and I won't be able to say anything right."
(Huh? Are you following this?)

And there's more:
"I honestly feel like there may be something else going on in your life, some other stresses, that are contributing to how you're reacting to this situation. "

Hello! I was laughing as I read all of this. What can I do at this point? This is the danger of email. She is obviously reading stuff that I'm not writing. There is a whole dynamic here that has been put in play over the last 30 years - give or take.

It is true that I was a pretty lousy mother to her (I meant mother, not sister, keep reading). The verbal fights were beyond what any "normal" family would have ever experienced, and the physical fights were brutal. We bloodied each other on a pretty regular basis. Plus, the psychological tortures...

• I locked her in my accordion case (yes, I played the accordion, but at age 8 I had Godzilla-like upper body strength);
• She closed the garage door on me...I was trapped for over 3 hours;
• I hung her teddy bear from the living room curtain;
• She wrote my name in toothpaste all over the bathroom and laughed as my dad literally beat me unconscious (note: she claims she stopped laughing at that point and begged dad to call 911, but who knows the truth?...I certainly didn't wake up in the hospital);
• I convinced her that she could jump off the roof with a hefty trash bag, which would certainly work like a parachute (in my defense, I really believed myself)

Anyway, you get the image. This went on for more than a decade. My parents were out of the picture as parents. My mother left for work at 6:00 a.m. and came home from law school at 11:00 at night. That's when the yelling and nagging would start. A handful of times she'd realize her neglect and take us somewhere as a "family", but that didn't start happening until after she became an attorney - years after. By that point I was annoyed that fake family time was cutting into my evening plans.

My dad was always drinking and had minimum wage type jobs where he worked weird hours. He'd leave for work somewhere between 2:00 - 5:00 in the afternoon and would show up drunk either in the middle of the night or the early morning.

The pattern changed for me in high school when I made a friend who changed my life. A friend who showed me the power of feminine allure...and after that, I didn't need a home. I crashed at her place or at fancy hotels. For my sister life got better too because I was the source of all evil to her at that time so my absence brought more stability to her life.

The problem was that in her mind I had become a whore.

Wait, hear me out on this one...

I really think she thought that I was out on the streets doing unspeakable things with nasty old men for cash. That wasn't it at all, but because she needed to be the opposite of me at all times, she reacted against this person she imagined by becoming practically puritanical. In college she rebuffed Warrick Dunn because he was a football player and you "know what they're after". (When she told me this, I practically got on a plane and flew down there; 10% to slap her and 90% to see whether Warrick had some free time after practice).

You're looking for a point... hang in there... I do have one...

So she has become someone so hung up about sex, that she is having trouble telling people that she is pregnant. She feels it is too private and personal. That's right... I love to talk about sex. I can turn almost any topic sexual. Meanwhile, my sister cannot talk about being pregnant because it would mean admitting that at age 29, she has had *gasp* s-e-x (shhhhhh!) with her husband.

So the two really sad things I get from our email exchange are that:

1) My sister has warped her personally so badly, that she has to hostilely accuse me of being hostile because she is not sure how to feel about her pregnancy. She knows she is supposed to be elated, but she's not, so d*mn it, it must be someone's fault.

2) I caused that with my callous treatment of her when we were kids. Not the crappy fights - she gave as good as she got... whether she wants to admit that now or play the victim. But, the fact that I transformed my life in a way that I did not share with her. She listened to my dad rail on and on that I was a dirty whore and she believed it. The problem is that my dad may have been right (in some people's view) when I was 15 or 16, but he started calling me that when I was 5. As a small child, it was easier (safer, less confusing) for her to see me the way my father saw me, than to see her precious daddy - whom she has always loved with all her heart - for the drunken child abuser that he was.

I am worried about her but what can I do? Please don't dredge up the fact that I have a master's degree in counseling... I can't help her. First of all, I don't believe in counseling as it is professionally practiced (at least how it is practiced here in the US). Secondly, she is projecting her feelings on to me. Ultimately, she will find her way out all on her own. She is not depressed - just hostile.

I was hostile for a while. I don't mean "I felt hostile" or "I was being hostile". I mean I personified hostile...and while I was, I could be nothing else. There wasn't any room. "Hostile" demands all the space in your mind so it drives all other things out. I had to take all the clutter "hostile" spread around my life and get rid of it piece by piece.

A lot I threw out, and some I packed away. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you have to throw everything away. Some things make you who you are and should never be thrown away.

...Two weeks ago, I saw my father for the first time in years.