Ordering at a restaurant. . .getting what you want

My mom was ordering and she expressed that she didn't want toast, so the waitress suggested she substitute tomatoes for toast.

What a brilliant idea.

"I would also like substitute tomatoes for toast." I said when I ordered my Mediterranean omelette. Nice, that way I'll get some enzymes from the fresh tomatoes while avoiding gluten.

When my plate came out it contained an omelette and several large tomato slices, but no home fries.

"Doesn't this come with home fries?"

"You substituted those for tomatoes."

I explained that my intention was to substitute the toast, not the potatoes (which I love).  She explained that tomatoes were expensive so they can't "stand in" for toast.

Being told that tomatoes were expensive was very annoying.  I said if I had known I couldn't substitute toast for tomatoes, I wouldn't have ordered them.

In any case, she figured out a solution by handing my tomatoes to my Mom and somehow producing a side of home fries.

I never asked for anything, or asked her to do anything.

Moral of the story?  Getting what you want isn't always easy, especially when it doesn't fit the "standard order."  Pointing out the facts as you understand them, however, can be an effective way to get what you want. It sort of gives cues to others about what they can do to solve the problem.

I need two dollars! Two dollars is what I need

The bus driver told her she needed to get off, but she wouldn't budge. She said she needed to get to Bexley. Then a man yelled that we needed to move.

She wouldn't budge.

She began to sing.  It was a beautiful song, with the simple lyrics: "I need two dollars!  Two dollars in what I need!" Then a man sent up his bus pass to try allow her to use it - but it wouldn't work.

She continued to sing.

I didn't have two dollars, only larger bills.  But the young man behind me got up and gave her two dollars.  She entered, then stood at the front of the bud holding on to a strap. And she yelled out "Thank you Ray!  We need more good men like you the world."

Previously, another man had said good luck to "Ray" as though his gesture was merely to get some sexual favor from the young woman.

Her statement and her thanks established her humanness in that moment, and humanity at the same time.

Sure signs. . .subtle signals

I went went out to dinner with someone I have been friends with for a long time. He chatted up our server, and I could tell she really liked him.  So I said she really likes you. Later on, when we were about to leave he asked her if she would like to go out sometime.

I think he made her day. . . first of all, he was asking her all about her self and making substantive compliments before that, and secondly he listened to her and she opened up a lot.  Sure signs.

That and her big smile.

He wondered aloud if at first she thought we were a couple and may have been surprised by his proposition.  We thought about it and decided that if someone was really observing us they could figure out we were not on a date and we were not a couple. We were too comfortable around each other to be on a date, and we were not behaving like a married couple either.

So, perhaps it didn't surprise her at all when he asked her out at the end of our "date".

Biological forces. . .but it ain't so bad

According to Darwinian Evolution, men are programmed to be attracted to women with features indicating fertility. These include (but are not limited to): a certain waste-to-hip ratio, full lips (indicator of high estrogen levels as well), and others.  In addition, indicators of health (which also tend to align with universal standards of beauty) are very important: shiny thick hair; clear glowing skin, and overall symmetry of face and body.

What is my point here? Well, as we age, each of those diminishes (well not so sure about the symmetry, but the point is older=less fertile-looking).  That means, scientifically speaking, we continually grow less attractive!

What a gut punch that one is.

I was catching up with an old friend a few nights ago and as I expressed this feeling to him, he expressed that it's just as brutal for men - their attractiveness for women stays in proportion to their resources (i.e., wealth).  With these as universal elements in human experience, it's no wonder there is so much injustice in the world.

But the good news is, there are so many more factors than that.  Men are interested in so much more than fertility, just as women need a lot more than wealth or resources.

Sandy, a reason for wine

The last couple weekends have been very cold. Yet, I've been finding myself outdoors quite a bit! My boyfriend and I have a penchant for bubbly, so he has been packing a bottle in his back pack on these excursions.  One Sunday we decided to crack it open at the bus stop to make the fact we were freezing seem more "palatable"! We even waved a bus on to finish our glasses! Ha!

I was communicating with a friend in New York City about her experience during hurricane Sandy and I asked her how she could keep warm with no power or hot water for five days.  She said she didn't much keep warm, but she and her family drank a lot of their wine.

I have been thinking I really need to look critically at what I consume and stop taking in anything which isn't good for me - including, and especially, alcoholic beverages.  When I try to discern alcohol's purpose, there doesn't seem to be a good one.  Except when I think of the immense comfort it brings during times of physical hardship.

There is a time and place for everything.

Diverse cultural perspectives on courtship

I stopped by one of my regular coffee spots to get some writing done yesterday and saw one of the owners. He has befriended me over the past year as I spend a lot of time there.  He came over to my table to catch up with me after he served all of the drinks that had been ordered.

One of the things he asked me about is if there is a man in my life.  He is from Pakistan and quite traditional so that is a very normal question in his culture.  I told him that I need to focus on my candidacy exam for the next few months, and then I would work on getting married, but for now I have a good man in my life who is treating me well.

He lamented the fact that men here don't have any "long term feelings" about relationships with women.  He was like, "It must be so hard.  It's horrible."

Actually, I agree with him.  Without the courtship mechanism, men have very little incentive to commit to one woman.  That said, I could never be comfortable in a traditional culture which institutes such mechanisms because they also constrain the individual, especially women.

Commitment and interdependence. . .my new paradigm

My cousin and I just had a conversation via Facebook IM. We made tentative plans for Thanksgiving at my aunt's house.

Our planning tends to be tentative.

She's on my Mom's side of the family and most of us on that side have a preference for open-ended plans, and they're almost to the point of being non-commital. It used to drive my ex-husband crazy. Ha!

I have a friend at work who has a similar outlook on planning and we've been discussing the aspect of commitment in forming loving relationships lately.  Does it mean we're not doing the right thing by being non-committal? What does it mean to "be there" for someone?

Christian Carter recently said something in an interview that speaks to this.  He said that you need to be able to rely on someone (for it to be a committed loving relationship), but you have to be able to fulfill your own needs when that person isn't able to.  They aren't going to be able to every time - they have their lives to live, too. He said that is what being inter-dependent means (I assume he meant in opposition, or in contrast to "co-dependent").

Why I blog. . .the insatiable need

My boyfriend told me he feels a little embarrassed when he reads this. Like he's reading (what should be) private information. He worries that I am making myself vulnerable by sharing my life in this way.

That gave me pause. 

I thought, "Am I sharing too much?. . . Is it narcissistic to talk about my private thoughts publicly? . . .Why should anyone care?. . . Or, are there gossips who care too much (or KNOW too much)? what if what I am doing is dangerous!!?"  My heart sank, and I felt a bit of a cortisol rush, actually. I do now again as I write this. 

But. . .this blog is my friend.  

It has been my long-standing friend, and there when I needed someone to talk to during a year of much isolation on account of my graduate studies.  And. . .the fact is, my friends do read it.  And, they talk to me about it, and say they feel up on my life because of it, and they ask me about things I say on it!  My girl friends do, especially. . .

I think women like me have a need to express these thoughts.  We are just waiting for someone to ask us about our experience (who will listen). But there is so little time for deep engagement, so few opportunities to connect.  

I guess this is my way of filling that rather insatiable need. 

Being seen off

This morning, I looked back, as I was walking to catch my bus.  He had come as far as the door and was waving.  Being in slippers prevented him from going past the threshold. He said goodbye, and I said goodbye, too, and blew him a kiss.  His smile was so genuine, making him look handsome and dignified.

There is something amazing about being "seen off."  It is something I never knew I longed for until just now.  That kind of care and affection is so meaningful, so encouraging, especially when it is genuine and not out of obligation. It makes one feel truly loved and cared for.

"Seeing someone off" conjures images of a train platform, airport terminal, or even a simple bus stop.  It also implies a return, or a desire to continue the connection, somehow.  I remember in college, my sister and I used to always say "OK, see you tomorrow!" when we were saying goodbye to our friend (my sister's best friend) and we didn't know when we would see each other again (I can still see her smiling - almost crying - in the Lugano train station, many years ago). And, you know, we have always managed to see her again, often almost miraculously.

Transit, love, genuine interaction. That's "being seen off" in a nutshell. It points out how human connections can be so tenuous, yet they can be so strong!

To see myself through his eyes

On Saturday it was "Museum Day" - museums nationwide were allowing free entrance. My boyfriend seized on the idea of a museum date.

First, we went to the nearly empty Ohio Historical society.  The inside was disorienting and strange - what can I say? We are easily confused.  In any case, we found our way to the "Ohio Village" which is outside on the Museums grounds, which was a relief.

We then went to the Art Museum and saw a mosaic brought in from Lod, Israel, and an extensive collection of Elijah Pierce's woodcut paintings. Both were amazing.

We also explored various interactive items intended for children (we had attracted kids at the Ohio Historical Society previously when we did the seesaw and began swinging nauseatingly high on the swing set - it was that kind of day).

Just now, I looked up and saw a drawing stuck to my wall. He had put it there sometime that day or the next day. But I didn't see it till now. It was of me in the art museum - he drew it while I was looking at the Elijah Pierce paintings.

It makes me feel loved to see myself through his eyes.

Meeting in a smoke-filled room (Hookah smoke)

There was a meeting of a student organization I advise and, as it was on the way to my home, I decided to stop by.

It was at a hookah bar. As I walked in, all eyes were on me. A bit uncomfortable, I approached the man behind the counter . . . not really knowing why, except that maybe somehow he would know if anyone in my group had shown up yet. It was literally so smoky, it would have taken night goggles to see anyone in the darker part of the room.

Well, that's where they were. No sooner had I opened my mouth to speak, than he stood up and waved.

Wheew!

The president and treasurer were the first ones there, looking tres chic, and one disgruntled-looking young woman. They offered me a puff, and I took it gladly.

"If you can't beat 'em", I said. . . "Join 'em" he finished for me.

Random strangers. . the game we play

He called out "Have a nice day, miss!" from a distance.

I said, "You, too!" in a friendly tone.  I suspected he wanted something, but acknowledging a person's humanity is important and doesn't open the door for more conversation if you don't let it. This is the premise of many individuals (not all) who I encounter downtown: "I will function from the premise that this is a civil society in which we greet each other with no other intent than to be civil. Therefore you must respond, and I have an opening to speak with you and approach you. then perhaps I can ask you for something (human interaction, first of all, usually money, and, sometimes unfortunately, they want to harass you)."

My premise: "Since you are a human being I must acknowledge you exist, but because you are total stranger, there is no reason, or social obligation, to have a conversation with you. I therefore respond with kindness but show, or say, I am on my way somewhere else for important business (i.e., my life)."

To continue: I intently finished unlocking my bike and packing my things to go. He then called out something again, to which I yelled, "Sorry!"  He then called it out again louder: "Miss! . . .Pray for me!"

I said. "OK!"

And, he was on his way. That's the game we play.

Lucky number 7 (bus number 7, that is)

It was hard to wake up this morning.  I felt like I could easily sleep another four hours. But, I really wanted to get my yoga in and be on time.  So, I got myself going. 

My preferred bus is the number seven.  It is mellow, or, I should say, the people on board are mellow.  This is because it is usually on time.  Needing to load a bike before getting on board can make riders impatient on other buses. . ."We gotta get to work!!" "Yeah!" etc. . .

So, I was considering skipping my pre-boarding coffee stop where I like to fill my thermos.  But, I decided it was worth it to risk missing the number seven because: a) I like the guys who work there; b) it's cheaper than the coffee places on campus; and c) the coffee is delicious. 

They refilled my thermos and set in on the counter a bit far away from me.  Another customer blocked my way for a moment, too, so I came up close to get it just as one of the guys was putting another order there. He caught my eye and said "Good Morning," and I responded in kind. That was so nice.

It made it totally worth it! And. . I was just in time to catch the seven! Life is good.

You must be old friends. . . Oh yeah!

The Martini was served.  The lady next to me, who we had been speaking with off and on since we sat down, said "Now that's a dirty Martini." I said, "Well, it looks like a dirty Martini, but I ordered a classic gin Martini" (I like the hard stuff).  It was cloudy.

My best friend said "No it's just the frozen stuff." She used to bartend and could distinguish different sorts of cloudy.  Then she stuck her finger in my glass and took a lick.  "Yeah, that's fine."

The lady said. "OK, you must be old friends."

We were like, "Oh yeah!"  And proceeded to catch up on what seemed like years since we had last talked.  It cozy in the bar and the fact people could overhear, made us censor our conversation quite a bit - gory details were saved for the ride. home.  Aaahh.  So nice to have a friend like that.

Got called out. . .thank you!

Someone called me out on doing teacher mode.  He was commenting on the whole "dating thing" and I sort of tried to "set him straight" about the definition of dating.  He asked "Is this the teacher mode?" Ha! Touche.

One new insight regarding that: It's a defense strategy. Yeah. When I don't want to get into emotions - either someone else's or mine.  That is, it can be a defense strategy.  Sometimes I feel passionate about a subject and want to explain some aspect of it - in that case it's cool.

In any case, I really appreciate him calling me out on it.  He could just as easily, having felt turned off by it, which I am sure he did, ignored it and stopped communicating altogether.

My tribe. . .where are you?

A friend texted me at four asking if I wanted to meet for a drink at 6:00.  I have been wanting to do just that with this person for so long!

But, I knew I had much more than two more hours of work to do, and I needed to go home in order to get it done (not hang around in the area where the bar is).  So, I told her I wouldn't be ready to go out till eight and she politely declined.  Oh well. Kind of sucky.

It seems so hard to have friendships these days! I mean in the sense of ongoing contact where you share your day, the latest updates of your life, and talk about life in general.  I have so many long-distance friendships, and the friends I have in town may as well be because we all have such tight schedules.

If I ever do get married (have no idea), I would like it to be in the eyes of a loving community.  That is the only way it makes sense to me anymore.  Yet, it seems such a community is only in fairy tales. Where is my tribe? I need you.

This song fits my mood exactly, speaks a truth from the depth of collective consciousness: http://www.metrolyrics.com/future-reflections-lyrics-mgmt.html

Noticing things which make you happy

We had planned to go on a bike ride, but rain was threatening and his bike needed a repair. So. . we were at the park down the street from my apartment instead, watching people and their dogs.

I said, "I love dogs. I can just look at a dog and it makes me happy." So, we looked intently at an adorable little dog romping.  Its enthusiasm and playfulness made us both smile.  The dog was clearly behaving in a way which was intended to inspire play and interaction with humans.  Then we talked about the relationship between humans and dogs, and the devotion that dogs show which is probably a part of their species' survival.

Devotion is a beautiful thing.

Good feedback deserves attention, reflection

I recently shared this blog with a professor of psychology I met on the plane back from France.  One of his reactions was that he wouldn't want to be featured in one of my posts. I'm so glad he pointed that out.

Coincidentally, another close friend also recently said that I might be making myself vulnerable by putting these thoughts out in public.

The opinions of others shouldn't dictate one's life, but feedback is incredibly valuable, and when it's said in a caring way it especially deserves serious consideration.

Honestly, I feel bad about posts I've made dissing people (Aug 10, 13 and 20th, esp). Not nice! And. . . very hypocritical considering how I discern good behavior in others.

patterns of injury, imminent decisions

I threw my back out this morning. I was doing yoga and when I stretched my arms up into Warrior One I felt that old familiar shift.  Now I'm feeling that old familiar pain.

It has gotten much better over the years, but the weakness in my upper back persists.  Aside from affirming the true importance of the new exercise regime I'm starting, it indicates that worry and stress are still factors in my life.  After some intense issues and problem-solving this week at work, after a weekend of long flights and travel, it's no wonder my body succumbed.

I am still packing too much into my life.  Over my recent vacation, I decided it's time to focus on my dissertation.  No more full-time work, full-time student nonsense.

Breaking a bad habit. . . I go into teacher mode

I told my colleague about a really short date I had that I sort of cut off because I had to run to my friend's house to do laundry.  It was during that time when I had no electricity about a month ago and I have no shortage of stories about that situation.

She asked if there had been any more dates with him.  I stopped and thought. Yeah, there were two more after that.  She asked if I thought there would be a fourth.  "No. . ."  I said.  I explained why I didn't like him in a nutshell - he doesn't know enough about the world.

Sounds snobby.  But the problem is, if I have to teach it's like I'm at work (not relaxing and fun). When someone asks me something about the an area I know about it's hard for me not to respond by teaching them about it.  This guy asked me about everything.  He asked me tons of questions.  What are curds and whey? he asked.  What's it going to be like when OSU goes to the semester system? What self help books do you read? Really what's it about?

I really need to break the habit of going into teacher mode when someone asks me about something. Actually, I should call him.  I need to practice. :-)

Texting out.

I just 'texted out.' I feel guilty now.

A guy who is courting me called on Wednesday and I have been struggling with the idea of returning his call. He texted me last Friday to ask if I would be interested in attending "the symphony" with him and I asked "when?" He then asked "if that was a tentative yes?" I said yes.

Then I saw he called and I can read most of the voice message as a text so I knew he was calling regarding that plan.  He also said "He just wanted to talk to me in general."

I am really struggling with how much his behavior irritates me.  Why?  I think it's because I feel sense of obligation whenever I interact with him.

So. . . out of guilt. . I finally responded to his voicemail with a text to let him know I have no time for a concert before I leave for France.  I was trying to be considerate, but now I feel I should have just not responded.

I am a Pollyanna.

"You can use 'Next Web' for server space.  They don't publicize it much, but that's what it's there for." He said, help/hopefully.

I was at a Drupal working group meeting and I had just told them the story of how our web site went down when someone unplugged our server, just thinking it was a regular computer.  It was sitting on a coffee table.

Yeah. . .it happened twice. True story.

The whole room laughed.  They couldn't believe it.  The ease with which they saw how ludicrous my situation  is with web support really made me feel better.  It sucks when the people you work with see such things as OK, normal, or, more likely, have become inured to them because they are dealing with the same effects constantly.  You feel like you're the crazy one or the naive Pollyanna for wanting to improve the situation.    

I have said this before, and I will say it again.  I am, and will always remain a Pollyanna.

Finish telling your story

I needed to pick my bike up at my friend's after work, so he invited me for dinner as well. We started with sweet champaigne by the pool, and I was telling him about a work situation.

At a certain point he looked at me and said: "You interrupted me." as he smiled.

I hadn't noticed.

Then he explained he was glad, that it was a 'milestone' he said as he laughed, knowingly making a reference to my blog. I was glad, too, because I was relaxed and not overly concerned.

We women get too caught up with being proper and polite (i.e, demonstrating being a 'good girl' which is just a people-pleaser). I'm not saying one should interrupt or not listen, but just be secure enough to finish telling one's story.

Hen-pecked husbands. . . No thanks. Cock-sure is for me.

"No!" She said, cutting him off mid-sentence. "That's exactly what you do."

He looked at her playfully, and stomped his foot like an adamant child as he pointed in his bowl. He was trying to deny what she was accusing him of, but she wouldn't have it. She looked up at him steadfastly from her chair.

This man, this husband, is in for a long haul. His wife was telling him to not do things, talking down to him, taking sides with his friend when he made fun of him. All morning.

Have fun with your hen-pecked husband, I felt like telling her.  Cuz, he won't put up with it long without passive aggressive revenge or emotional withdrawal.

Wow. Married life can be unappealing.  Between an emasculated hen-pecked man, or a cock-sure cock, I'll take the latter. I'll also accept my responsibility in the matter.  I am guilty of being cocksure at times. However, much less often now I'm aware of the societal situation.  I highly recommend saving that for sports or perhaps in the boardroom, ladies.

A kiss. Payment for dinner. In this case an equal exchange.

I haven't had internet at home for three weeks now. For a blogger this is somewhat of an obstacle. This explains the unusually long time between posts, too.

I went out on a date on Tuesday. He took me to dinner and I ordered mussels. They were delicious, but since I DON't eat bread anymore, they weren't enough. I was still hungry!

We were needing a change of activity, too (boring conversation will do that). So, he took me to another restaurant where I had grilled salmon on salad. Now that's more like it!

At about nine I said I needed to get home. He said he also needed to get home because he goes to bed early. All night, whenever I stated a preference, he seemed to want to have the same preference. Like somehow that would make me like him better, or that I needed to give him approval. 

Blech. What a turn-off.

I'm trying to be open, though. When he leaned over to kiss me, I let him. It wasn't bad.

Being a bearer of bad tidings

At lunch my friend shared a very interesting learning experience with me along with exciting ideas on leadership and authenticity.  A story she shared helped reminded me of when I had to give a message to a student I absolutely hated giving and which I delivered in a way that it was very hurtful.  It was about a very unfortunate outcome (we would not be able to pay him money) which was a result of his actions which were based on misinformation his department had given him.  When I realized what had happened, I decided to tell him because I thought he should know what was coming (not what he expected).  

It came across as cold.  He must have been very upset because his adviser actually emailed me to tell me what a horrible email I had sent.  I, in turn, felt very upset. Wasn't it obvious I was just the bearer of bad tidings?

After my conversation today, I reinterpret what happened as me staying in my mental capacity, not my feeling capacity, in order to protect myself and my organization.  This is when the most hurtful things are said.  

9:00 PM Call

While I normally am awake at 9:00PM, it is a time I am winding down and often quite sleepy.  I am a "morning person" which gears me toward being more alert in the AM. I received a call at 9:00 last night and, having enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine already, was too drowsy to pick up.

It was a request for a date!

He was like, "I'll be awake until 10 or so. would you please give me a call?" Ummmm...no.

I actually went back and forth on whether to call, but in the end I decided to go with my feelings and I did not feel like it.  I'm gonna call him now and let him know my schedule.  I don't have many openings left this week and I wonder if, especially after not having called when he wanted, if I will seem too difficult or even uninterested.  Perhaps, this discomfort is part of becoming used to being a girl with boundaries. 

But I have already put wayyy too much analysis into this.  Ha!

Pride Parade

Went to the Pride Parade and festival yesterday. There were a lot of people walking with shirts off, even a couple women. Scantily clad and outrageously dressed people form a key part of the event's atmosphere.

A group of young, shirtless gay men with nice bodies were walking in front of me. A preteen girl who they were about to walk by, stood up and asked for a hug from one of them. He said, "OK, but we're a little gross." it was hot out so he was probably meaning sweaty. She said "That's OK! All boys are gross." He was like, "Well that's true." after he gave her a hug.

Teachers: I love 'em now

I'm interviewing participants of a recent program we did for teachers to get some additional evaluation data. Today I had four and by the end of the third one I was dog tired. She had a lot to tell me - much of which was not what I had asked for. Evaluation doesn't necessarily mean you are asking participants to evaluate your program. It is for getting a clearer idea of their experience, and how program choices impacted their thinking. I am happy to receive suggestions for our programs, however, but by email. Enough said.

Luckily, the fourth interview was really uplifting and I got to learn a lot about the person's school. He told me they're doing a unit on water that includes every subject: math, science, social studies, literature, etc. It was really exciting to hear directly from a teacher what they're doing in the most cutting edge high school programs. Honestly it's far ahead of our undergraduate programs here at Ohio State.

I want to get out of academia but stay involved with teachers. As much as I hated them as a kid, now I think they're awesome. There must be a karmic tie. . .

An outsider asks me where the "safe neighborhoods" are

I went to the gas station to buy a couple necessities.  I walk by necessity as I don't own a car.  Walking down the street from my apartment building, I pass a corner surrounded by a variety of businesses (art galleries, coffee shops, restaurants, etc), then I pass renovated Victorian homes with gorgeous yards, a boarded up building, and row house-type apartments.  The houses are occupied mostly, not entirely, by white couples and families while the apartments tend to be occupied by black families.  There are also a lot of hipsters in the neighborhood, but I believe they live as roommates in nearby houses.

I got to the gas station parking lot, and a man spotted me and immediately headed towards me.  I must have looked taken aback because he was sort of apologetic.  He's like, I don't mean any harm.  I just moved here and some of the neighborhoods don't look very safe.  I saw a white woman walking alone, and I thought "That's a good sign."  What are the neighborhoods like here?  Are they mixed?

OK, I thought.  Do I tell the story of gentrification, or do I tell the story of "urban renewal"?

I was like, yeah, they're mixed. He's like, I know I'm not white.  Then he said something about the racialized state of society in North Carolina, where he's from.  I was like, "Well, I hope we can overcome seeing class in a racialized way.  In this neighborhood it is pretty hard to judge by color.  I feel safe here, though there are some neighborhoods nearby that have serious issues."

He was appreciative.

Talk about being put on the spot.  But I am glad I had the opportunity to break through someone's stereotype about color's connection to "safe neighborhoods."

Is life what you do? Interactions seem to focus on it. .

I needed coffee, and an eclair sounded like just the thing to get me through writing a paper today.  I walked into the neighborhood bakery, and only one other customer was there.  I saw his iPad at one of the counter seats before I saw him.

I got my eclair and my coffee and sat two seats down from him.  Their monumental eclairs take quite a while to eat, and I eat slowly (especially something delicious).  So, it must have been quite a few minutes until he spoke to me because I was almost done.

He said he had just moved in the neighborhood, so I said, "welcome."  He loved the walk to the bakery, and I said so did I - it helps keep me sane when I have a lot of work to do. We talked, and eventually he asked me what I was studying.  Of course whenever I tell people "global ed" they don't really know what that means.  So, I told him it had to do with technologies for learning, diversity, and issues of equity coming from a global perspective.

Hey!  That's pretty good.  I think I may finally have found a formula for answering that question.  However, on the walk home I was thinking "I can't wait until I can just tell people about what I do and not what I'm studying." Right now (and that's about to end - thank God!), I am so ensconced with writing and reading for my classes, I can barely think about anything else!

Becoming a specialist without knowing it

I had woken up at 5:00 and started working by 7:00 which I continued at full throttle until a meeting at 3:00.  That meeting was hard to sit through. I don't know why I did!  It would have been easy to make an excuse.  I did get good feedback on my writing, though. Good, in the sense that it is always useful.  It was frustrating - basically, "we don't understand what you're trying to say." and it should be "more accessible."

Always what you want to hear.

And. . .I was exhausted, so I didn't have the mental wherewithal to question and figure out what next steps I could take to address that.  They did suggest I explain what postcolonial theory was.

You know, no big deal.

Aren't I supposed to be writing to other scholars? Yet, what they're saying is true: a writer's job is to make meaning clear. I admit, though, at times it would be nice if the reader would work a little harder. . .

From stoicism to free expression. . .a clue to greater societal ills

Yesterday I had a breakfast meeting with a professional contact I get along with really well on a personal level. Our business meetings often entail philosophical conversations, and we've gotten to know each other pretty well.  So, he felt comfortable to ask me if my divorce was an inevitable result of my decision to become a happy person.  I told him that in choosing to do the things that made me happy I made my spouse mad on a daily basis, which is what led to me leaving.  He was like, "you kicked him to the curb, then, huh?" I don't remember what I said, but the look on my face must have told him something.  He apologized, and I said, "yeah, that was a painful time."

I used to minimize or deny my feelings when people noticed them in my facial or bodily expression.  I used to think, "Geez, I can't hide anything!  My face gives it away!"

Now I realize I have been rather stoic for most of my life, even though I am a passionately emotional person.  I learned it was better to hide how I was feeling as it wouldn't be honored and accepted by those around me.  I don't mean to blame those around me, though.  Our society is broken, so we don't know how to deal with emotions - they are still seen as a sign something "bad" is happening.  When someone is "upset" it is a big controversy, something must be done to sooth (ie fix) them.  It is a very masculine mindset, in my opinion - I feel like that is the template for how men react to emotion, especially emotion in women.  It is a sign of a problem that must be made right by the heroic man.  there is nothing wrong with that - it is quite nice when in balance with a value of emotion, sensitivity and letting things be as they are.  This is the harmony our society needs to find.

Me, in a nutshell.

The Indonesian ambassador walked up to the group I was standing with after his lecture. I had asked the question "What is the language of business now in Indonesia?" He had answered that it was both English and Chinese now, but that his kids were learning Spanish, also.  So. . .he came right up to me, shook my hand, and I told him I enjoyed his lecture. . . .he then asked me what languages I speak.  I am quite rusty but, I said, confidently, I speak Italian, French and Arabic.  I told him that I had trouble learning a foreign language until I got engaged with Arabic in high school, and then I reconnected with my Italian heritage by learning Italian.  

My life in a nutshell, right there, oversimplified, altered for public consumption, but somewhat accurate.  

Quest update. . .beautiful blond dude

Almost a year ago I made a birthday wish.  It hasn't quite been fulfilled, unfortunately.  But I feel good about what I'm learning many things related to my quest for a life partner:

A) I am actually scared of commitment.
B) Sharing my true thoughts and feelings is much harder than I thought, and I am re-learning how to "be myself" with others.

There should be a "C" but I don't want this to be long.

Oh! "C" is that I love dating and interacting with men and would like to explore that much more, even if I feel cheesy for following the advice of dating gurus.  I am afraid someone will call me out one day: "That was a Cherry Norris move!"  How embarrassing (blush, blush, blush).

So. . .anyway, tonight I was walking down the street, thinking about how I couldn't wait to try my latest advice: look at a guy you find attractive in the eye and smile for six seconds.  OK, sounds easy, but for a recovering stoic, it's hard.

Lo and behold, walking up the sidewalk with grocery bag in hand, a beautiful blond man sauntered up.  His long torso was lanky, and his handsome face drew me to it.  Normally, I would not have looked him in the face at all, feeling awkward about taking a good look at someone in public. He was already getting a good look at me, though. Our eyes locked for a good second as we passed each other.

Damn! I thought.  If only I would have smiled, maybe he would have stopped.  You're supposed to make a man feel "safe" to approach.  I literally learn from these "texts" on dating one little bit at a time.  I couldn't do the eye contact AND smile.  That's how slow I am at this.  Sigh.

But it's fun, and he was hot.

Baby says "Hi" and "Bye" - Mother doesn't like it

A little baby yelled "Hi" at me when I was walking. At first I don't know it was to me so I didn't say anything. As I got closer he said "hi" again and again, extending it out to "Haaaaaaaaaai!" I did my best kid wave, hand wide open, big motions of it back and forth, and said "Hi!"

Then, he wanted to tell me something.  The older kids, perhaps his brothers, held back but he started walking down his front steps toward me.  He had one of those big plastic party microphones in his hand.  His Mom wasn't happy about it, and she angrily pulled him back.  So, I said "I gotta go! Bye"  He said "Baaaaaayeeee" several times as I walked away, and I kept responding "Bye!"

How cute.  There were men on the steps of the building next door just laughing.  The mother, however,  wouldn't look me in the eye.

I don't think she liked me.

Well, I wouldn't like me either if I was stuck with three kids and toil, when I'd rather be walking down the street care-free.

Facebook, a great opportunity for gossips

I got a call from a distressed colleague in my PhD program.  First thing she asked was "who is ______?", referring to my facebook post of a photo of myself with my friend's daughter.  After I answered that she is my friend's daughter, and tried to find out what was so significant about it to her that she needed to call and ask.  She was like "people might think. . ." I was like, "What?" "are people talking about that?" She was like, "no, no one said anything, but people might not understand."  I don't know what she was getting at, what sort of 'scandal' she might be imagining.

Jesus.

Good to know that I have a stalker on facebook.  This is not the first item from my facebook page she has asked about, clearly having gone over it with a fine-toothed comb.

Trying to think loving thoughts. . . since I decided to become a happy person, there has been an unexpected side-effect.  I have guts, and I feel anger and judgment as quickly as they come up.  I confront, I intimidate.  She changed the topic quickly.  To herself, of course.  She is in need of a friend.  I need to focus on that, and not damage my own state of being by judging and being angry.

At the end of the conversation, I asked again, what did you mean when you asked about the photo of my friend's daughter. she was apologetic: "Oh nothing! Just that people might think it's your relative." OK, so clearly now she's embarrassed about whatever it was she was thinking.  nice.

Gossip, and even gossipy thinking, about my life is most unwelcome.

You can dance if you want to. . .

A friend of mine reiterated that he wants me to visit him, and I would be welcome to stay. He and his wife live in California and are really fun to spend time with. Plus he and I do similar work and come up with exciting ideas. He was saying he is engaged in his project on American jazz and the Middle Eastern influences on it. I am also stoked to do more with music, so I told him about Afghan teahouse and popular music I love and that I really want to know more about dance. I actually didn't have any plans in my mind until that moment to do research on dance, but when I said it, it was as though the idea had already been there in my mind. Dance brings together my spiritual, emotional and physical interests. Now adding intellectual interest makes it so fitting for "where I am at.". He was like "It's happening right here!" telling me about Adghan and other immigrant dance groups in his area. This is great because learning about movement traditions from West Asia , Turkey and North Africa, with all their commonalities and differences, would really help me in my teaching about those areas.

Dance. So simple. So powerful in its ability to clarify a seemingly complex reality.

"You can dance if you want to. You can leave your friends behind. Cuz your friends don't dance and if they don't dance, well they're no friends of mine. . ."(Men Without Hats)

Disagreement and political differences . . . are OK

"Well, Bill Cosby says that African Americans think that school is for 'whitey.'" she said in response.  I had just made the statement that I am neither democrat nor republican because neither one focus on what really matters, which is structural inequity.

I hadn't mentioned race as a part of my stance on that.  Obviously, from her response, she knew that I was referring to inequities that are consistent with the state of white dominance in our society.

The African American man at the booth behind us got up soon after that and made a point to look at her disapprovingly before he left.  She was oblivious.

How embarrassing.

Yet, this lady has dedicated a considerable part of her very long life (she's 89) toward equality and cultural understanding, through activities with her church and other community organizations.  She functions from a paradigm of community which is based on Christian ethics of charity, and humanitistic ethics of equality.  This paradigm assumes an equal playing field.  It assumes the dominance of WASP values as everyone's values.  It assumes that everyone should trust her and her community.  She is well-intentioned, but these assumptions create blocks to understanding.

Our friend who is a South Asian Muslim was also nodding her head in agreement as she made the Bill Cosby statement.  I couldn't get a word in edge-wise because the lady wanted to continue with a story about her charity work with Mexican immigrants, peppered with comments about how they "don't follow the rules" and "they lie".  Her church helped a Mexican neighborhood with some building projects and a food kitchen, however, so I'm not going to argue with that.

It's frustrating when people only see what they want to see.  However, trying to convince someone of your differing point of view is very tiring, and. . .pointless.  A person needs to feel invested in their own opinion, not that of someone else.

Odd bedfellows

"Warning: Disturbing Images Ahead" the sign said.  Obviously put there to draw people into their spectacle more than to really warn them about it.

I was upset by the size and prominence of their "show" (they had a stage set up and huge signage showing aborted fetuses), right in the center of the main green on campus (Oval).  When I saw a kid near it with pamphlets in his hands - and I mean kid, like 10-12 years old - I thought they might've put him up to it.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one to have thought that.  No sooner had I gotten "No Thanks" out of my mouth, than he said: "It's not about them!"

I kept walking.  I was confused.  His items not being about them in no way made me more curious to know what would be in them.  Later I heard there was a right to carry concealed weapons rally next to the anti-abortion rally.

Odd bedfellows. Why do we choose the issues to focus on that we do? Why does a country choose certain issues?

Getting together. . .an exercise in not being needy.

Yesterday I had dinner with a friend.  We had spent a few weeks getting our schedules coordinated. With my work and school life, planning ahead can be challenging.

I wanted to be chill, and let him call me first.  But I got another offer, so I wanted to make sure this dinner thing was happening.  I called him around five.  He was at work and it sounded like I had interrupted him.  I was like, are we on for dinner?  He was like, yeah, let's do this thing.

OK. It sounded like he had just decided then, which I didn't like.  But I called and interrupted him at work, and generally showed a lack of faith about his word; i.e., neediness. I suppose I should have had more faith, and known that he would eventually call to let me know when/how we were going to get together.  I guess once you've been stood up in the past, though, it's hard not to let those thoughts go through your mind.  I suppose I need to ask from now on - will you call me just before picking me up/meeting me? How much before? I would like to know by mid-day when/where we're going to get together. 

That's what a girl with boundaries would do. 

Then, he didn't show up till eight, when he had said to expect him at 7:30.  I don't like to be strict about punctuality, but it was not fun waiting, not knowing what was going on.  He said he had been panicked, calling me but I wasn't answering.  Which was true - I hadn't received his calls because reception was poor.

We then had a nice dinner, and it was good to catch up. Getting together can be tough, though. . a stressful activity in itself - no wonder so many women are like, "Yuck! I hate dating."  Then we're told our "neediness" is causing the male behavior. Which, it is!  But that can be a hard pill to swallow (jagged little pill).  Why does the responsibility always seem to fall on us?

Getting out of contracts. . .the simple (but not easy) way.

I finally sent the email off. The one to set me free from a very unhealthy relationship. I was cordial enough that he couldn't retaliate, firm enough that he knows he's not going to get anywhere with further interaction.

I had a stomach ache this morning before I sent it, no doubt because unconsciously I knew I would be sending that email today, which my boss and I drafted yesterday. It was a business relationship (in which the feelings got personal, particularly on his side).

I basically paid him to go away. I said we would pay him half of the amount of the PO in order, even though he hadn't completed the job, to end the project. Sort of the same thing that happened when I got a divorce.  I took whatever terms my ex-husband offered. . to expedite my freedom.  

In our culture the one who wants out of the contract has the "lower hand," so to speak.  Remember that powerful truth. Yet, there would be a lot of impact to our greater society if we valued letting someone out of a contract gracefully.  Particularly, if we recognize it is no longer meeting their needs.

Yet being willing to let go of anything allows you freedom regardless, so no need to keep score.

Just let go.

Just let go.

Just let go.

Dangers of physical proximity.

I just got an email from a friend I haven't spoken with in while.  She is separated from her husband and plans to divorce him. 

Yesterday I saw a friend has recently retained a lawyer and plans to separate soon.  We spoke sporadically about the situation, over the din of kids' play while we were at the park.  It is so rare we get to spend time all together that we conversed mostly with her kids, who are lovely. 

But at one point she said something that told me she felt relieved.  The prospect of being physically separate from her husband clearly meant freedom from a lot of misery. 

I don't think I could have ever gotten a divorce if I would not have been able to physically leave my house and stay with my parents for a while.  There is something powerful about physical proximity in a situation of co-habitation.  While it is comforting, it can take hold of you.  The desire for peace - especially when you have children - can silence you.  Yet a pat of you is outraged for having to put up with things that make you unhappy. 

All I have to say is: don't do it unless that person continually uplifts you.

Dis. . .connected

On Monday a massively drunk guy came into the coffee shop I go to for morning coffee in my neighborhood (it was still 'last night' for him).

He was on the phone, too. That made him doubly disconnected yet loud.  He dominated the whole room.  So, I finally decided not to put up with it, and left.

It points out some additional ways we can be in physical proximity and yet be far away from each other: being intoxicated/high; being on the phone.

Last night at dinner, we discussed the fact that we spend all day at the computer. Imagine observing someone behaving like that if you didn't know what a computer was for - it would look completely insane.

In many ways we are insane.  When traditional village, agricultural, or pastoral life was the norm around the planet, we were pretty insane, too (thinking here of Biblical accounts of stoning).  However, postmodern life is characterized by its disconnectedness, and the illusion of being individuals who are totally independent.

Discussion of social change on the back of a bike-carriage

My bus got re-routed yesterday. What sort of road crisis could have caused that? you may be wondering. .

An Ohio State Football game.  In Spring. That's how crazy our fans are - they flock to the "Scarlett and Grey" game where the team divides and plays itself.  Sort of like cellular division, but they don't reproduce.  They come back together, fortified.

Anyway, I was wandering down the traffic-congested road I had to walk down to get to the place I was going - it was cold, nasty humid cold - and, for obvious reasons, I was late.  I asked a bus driver in a stopped bus if there was any way he could take me down the street to where I was going.  There was no way, he said.  Vehicles couldn't get past the bottle neck up ahead where cars were pouring (like molasses) out of the parking lots.

I kept walking.

Then, I saw him.  A man on a . . .I guess a bike carriage?  The kind which can take passengers.  So, I yelled "Can I get a ride?" He was like sure!  He stabilized it somehow as I got in so I wouldn't fall, and off we went.

We chatted.  My view was mainly of the back of his head, but he seemed very fit and good-looking.  Turns out he is a free-lance journalist and an activist, which doesn't always pay much money, so he does this to make a living.

As we got closer, I started to feel a little guilty for just sitting there while he was peddling.  He said, "Don't feel guilty!" As we discussed social change I felt the irony of being in a "carriage", carted around like a princess.

He took me straight to the door of "where I was going." It's nice when you can bypass traffic by riding on the sidewalk. After I told him more about what I do at the university, he noted that there is a disconnect with the activist community that he found somewhat surprising.  So, I pointed out that there are many disconnects which are obstructions in realizing social change, but that the one between academia and activist groups is not the only one: often activist groups are disconnected from the group/s they are advocating for.  He looked at me, smiled and nodded in agreement.

Hip, hip, not hooray? Be hip to which hippies are real.

I went to a poetry reading last night. The owner of the coffee shop where I spend a lot of time insisted I stay last night for it.  He introduced me to the organizer who also MC's.

The first reader was a woman who recited a poem she wrote about hippies.  I wish I could remember some of the exact words. . .but the gist was that they follow a certain style, and even a political ideology, but don't actually do anything of any importance.  Yeah. . free love and all that.  But where is the love now?  The original hippies became yuppies, the later hippies are now helicopter parents, the current hippies. . well, I don't know if there are any hippies now.  Hip sters are more prominent on the urban landscape.

I know people want to feel belonging.  It's powerful.  bell hooks has a new book out on that which I must read.

Sometimes people project a certain style as part of their membership in a group.  There is nothing wrong with that, but there needs to be some critical thought about the political affiliations that come with a certain style territory.  Those who are the most brave, like one of my professors who put her life on the line to protest in el Salvador, have a lovely style that is all their own, which can't be categorized.  Those that we call hippies, and hipsters, tend to be all about form, no substance.

Crazy? Or speaking the truth. . .

An autistic man "chatted me up" at the bus stop. Then when we got on the bus he sat next to me even though there were plenty of completely free rows of seats. I almost asked him why he sat next to me when all those seats were available but he kept talking, and talk, and talking. Finally, I stopped responding and stared down.  He finally left my row.

It's funny, because earlier today a man - some mental pathology was apparent - approached me, looked me in the eye, and said: "You can't speak up for your self. I feel sorry for you."  Then he walked away.

And. . . I couldn't dismiss it, even though a) he didn't know me,  b) he was "crazy", and c) he likely was just trying to "get a rise" out of me.

I believe that "crazy" people are on a different plane of awareness, but often speak the truth.

a small number of beautiful, perfectly fitting clothes

I looked at the clock. It was 7:00.

I texted my friend: "IT's 7 and our reservations are at 7. ETA?" Then I called the restaurant and pushed the reservation to 7:30.  She called to apologize and said she was on her way.  I was like, No need to apologize - I just realized the time, had been totally absorbed in my work.  BTW, what are you going to wear? I'm wearing patent leather heels. OK, I'll wear heels, too, then.

I needed to get dressed asap.  Black boots with three inch heels. Check. Tights. ill-fitting, but they'll do. Black flouncy skirt.  Check.  Shirt, shirt, shirt.  No. . not that one. Not that one. . what about this silvery grey, sleeveless tuxedo shirt?  A bit on the too-large side - well, I can wear it under my cowl-neck sweater.

My friend picked me up, looking gorgeous.  As usual.  She is naturally beautiful, AND she is skilled with make-up and clothes.  Not fair.

She was wearing a fairly elegant outfit.  Slacks, but with a feminine tuxedo jacket, sort of boleroed, in sparkly charcoal.  So. . bit more snazzy than me, but what are you gonna do?  Especially when you put as little time as I do into your wardrobe. . . although I have been reforming myself of late!  My other friend took me shopping a few months ago, and now I have what I would call a wardrobe. Although, she sees it as less than minimal.

I am inviting Venus into my life more and more, allowing beauty for beauty's sake, wearing make-up, decorating.  But I also love minimalism. This equals: owning a small number of beautiful, perfectly fitting clothes, that can be mixed and matched.

A tall order. But, who am I kidding?  I always want what is difficult to obtain.

Know Thyself, in Thy Neighborhood.

Yesterday I went to my neighborhood bar for the first time. I was out with my cousin for her birthday and we decided to go there because, for me, it was something new, and it has a pool table.

It had always had a quite ominous appearance to me when I passed it on the street, very dark, usually a crowd of twenty somethings hanging just outside of it, and loud music pouring out of it. My cousin had been in a relationship with a member of a band that used to play there so she knows it well.

Well, the dark appearance was mainly due to what was covering the from door, posters with black as the dominant color. The inside, is rather open, and, last night at least, not very crowded. The primary clientele are young men living in the neighborhood from what I could tell. Or, more likely, that's who the regulars are, but when a band plays it draws crowds from all around the city.

I know one of the guys pretty well and he said "Hi" and shook my hand. He sat a few bar stools down from us. I felt a little awkward because we had sort of dated at one point, but I got over it, fortunately. Whew! Actually, it probably made the evening because, feeling self-conscious, I clicked into performative mode and began regaling my cousin with stories. 

She had quite a few stories of her own to share, and we had an awesome conversation. My family rocks.

Eating alone. . .emotions in society.

This eating alone thing is tiresome, but it is interesting.

Today is Easter so not many places are open.  One of the few places was First Watch so I went there for breakfast - my local place was closed, of course.  Seeing all the families and couples there, whether after church, or there for the same reason I was - it was open - made me feel uncomfortable.

With my decision for happiness, I have also had to pay a price: emotional awareness.  Seeing pregnant women, women with children, and even happy couples can make me sad.  In the past, in that sort of social situation (crowded, especially) I would be uber polite and go out of my way to say "Good Morning!" - I would not consciously be covering emotions, just unaware.  Today, I had a hard time looking people in the eye and was rather shy.  Knowing emotions can bubble up quickly, I am more reserved these days.

The guys working there went out of their way to take care of me - "We'll get you a table soon!" update five minutes later (or less) - "I see one over there - it's almost clean!" - minute later "Almost ready!"  The waitress then gave me energetically good service, which I rewarded with a $5 tip.

Could they feel my discomfort? Was it an effort to make me feel better? I wonder.

Expand boundaries with your mouth: either overeat, or speak your truth. . .

We were at lunch at our favorite local place.  There were four of us, all of us women and friends at the office.

We had each ordered items of varying "healthiness."  Mine was french toast smothered in whip cream with fresh berries - my kinda food! Two of the other ladies decided to split the pulled pork and cheese sandwich, and the remaining one order vegetarian fair.  My friend to the left was lamenting that she need to lose weight to fit into something.  She was feeling deprived, eating only protein shakes in the evening.

A friend noted that I had gone through a remarkable transformation, particularly in shape of my silhouette, over the past few years. I said thanks, and when they asked how much I had lost, I decided to give the history.  I said at my peak, I may have weighed close to 220.  That was a long time ago though, long before they knew me.  Then a few years ago I had been hovering around 180 and couldn't seem to make that number budge (married life equaled plumposity).  I expressed my wonder at the fact that at times in my life it has been easy to keep weight off, but at other times it has seemed nearly impossible.  I said that since I made the decision to be a happy person, the weight had been much easier to manage.

Excess weight is a sort of expanded 'boundary,' after all.  All this talk about boundaries and how important they are for happiness. . .makes it sound so simple.  But. . .there are sometimes areas of resistance in one's life, areas where it's hard to say "No," to believe that there will be more later. . .a feeling of lack presides.  Weight also helps keeps people away, especially useful when one isn't sure one can say "No." or speak one's truth in a way that will discourage someone who wouldn't be a force for good in one's life.

Asswardness on the bus. . . and a good laugh

The bus driver put the ramp down for a particularly friendly man in a wheelchair.  Actually, many people were friendly today, a girl even smiled at me from her car while she was driving past me.

The man smiled, asked the bus driver how he was doing, and gave the man information on how his chair tied correctly to the bus mount.  This is a task that every driver has whenever someone in a wheelchair boards.

Many bus drivers, particularly those who are portly, struggle with the bending over they must do to attach these chairs.  For anyone, it is a strenuous task, it seems.  For our driver today, it was particularly arduous as the bus aisle was not wide enough accommodate him.  In order to reach where he had to, his body positioned itself so his ass was right in the face of the woman sitting next to me.  Actually, he rammed his ass into her, and she rammed herself into me as she tried to avoid as much contact as she could.

As she did this she looked me straight in the eyes, sort of shocked.  I could not stop laughing.  Once he was through, she joked about it, and the people sitting next to us were laughing, too.

I said, "You've got to make light of things." After all. . it was disgusting and rude. . or perhaps just sad. She could rightly have been offended.  She said, "Absolutely.  Life would be miserable if you didn't.  That's how you get those grumpy old people."  I said. "Yeah.  It all adds up."

Indulgence

Went out to eat last night. We went to a well-curated bar/bistro that I love.  We let our server pick out his favorites on a cheese/meat board for us. 

I've been eating a lot of meat.

I have to admit, I liked the wine a lot and drank a little too much.  Probably I embellished and said more than I should of at certain points due to that factor.  I also played with food, dangling the prosciutto until someone grabbed a piece off of it, and fanning the bread slices like cards. "Pick a cahd, any cahd. .. ."

Miraculously, I woke up on time and am here in my office, fairly unscathed.  What is the role of indulgence, and over-indulgence in my life?  I suppose if I didn't stick to a routine normally, it wouldn't be nearly as fun to do that.  It's all about the change.  Contrasts. . .duality. . .expansion and contraction.. . life on Earth. 

Physical proximity no substitute for real community

When I got on the bus this morning most seats were full.  There were a few open ones, and I chose the one next to a young woman who had politely kept her bags on her lap to make room for someone.

She was reading, and, as I had a library book I need to return in my bag, I decided to read, too.

As we approached downtown, people filed off at the stops.  I always feel an obligation to move when this happens, but I was comfortable.  So, I stayed in that seat.  More people got on as we approached campus.

Later, at mid-day, I was at the library.  The line to get food was long and the cafe was crowded, but I need some refreshment so I stuck it out.  Once I got my yogurt, I found that there were no open seats at the tables.  I went into the lounge area and saw a place on the other end of a couch where a guy was sitting, so I sat there.

I am becoming less averse to proximity.  Partly, it's because of my awareness that we are all alone in a crowd anyway. Allowing one's self to be physically close acknowledges this because there is no impulse to talk or connect, necessarily.  There is an understanding of the need for space, and that's all.  Coincidentally, I read these lines today:

"Let [the person] who cannot be alone beware of community. Let [the person] who is not in community beware of being alone." -Dietrich Bonhoeffer, quoted by Parker Palmer.

There's being with people, and then there's being with people.  There's geographical distance, and then there's mental distance.  Which one is more real, more powerful?  I say the latter.

Every person is important

I just got back from Turkey last night, so I woke up late. I went to a cafe I'm a regular at for lunch before going to work and gave the mother and daughter who run it ceramic magnets from Iznik.

Both of their faces lit up, obviously very happy about receiving their gifts. Gifts are a great way of showing appreciation. I do appreciate them very much. Their delicious food and good conversation have helped me keep my sanity during long days of reading and writing.

Emotional sustenance can come from a wide variety of relationships and interactions, not just from immediate family or close friendships. Truly, every person is important.  Every time there is an interaction, there is an opportunity to feel gladdened. 

Dinner with friends. . problem solving my way?

Last night I saw a dear friend, for the first time in a long time.  She and her husband walked in to the restaurant.  I had just started eating so it wasn't too late for them to join me in a meal.

I had been at a workshop that day on how to be the best boss. I discovered through an exercise that my way of managing conflict is mainly three approaches: a) force a solution; b) avoid the conflict completely, or c) problem-solve with the interested parties.  I scored a zero on "smoothing" which is what many of my colleagues scored high on.

My friend laughed and said it was because I'm "half European."

Let love rule.

This morning I went walking.  I feel disgusted with my depression of yesterday. . .needed to shake it off, get myself right with myself and the world.

The first person I saw was my awesome property manager, who always has something to share, or some kind of compliment for me.  He told me he was going to see Annie at our neighborhood theatre.  He would go despite the annoyingly high number of kids that would be there.  We both agreed it was worth it for the great songs.  I actually saw that play when I was an annoying kid, on Broadway, many years ago.  The sun'll come out! Tomorrow! Bet your bottom dollar. . .

Then I went to the park down the street which is a topiary garden.  There is a special place in my heart for topiaries because my uncle was a gardener who specialized in them.  His yard had two hilariously big ones on either side of his driveway (these are bushes made into sculptures with wire and other techniques).  He also had a spectacularly large Cadillac El Dorado with checkered seats.

I read on a sign where one can stand to view the park from the same angle as the painting it was designed after, Seurat's "Apres-midi Demanche dans l'Ile de la Grand Jatte" There was a man standing there.  In the past I would have avoided the closeness, but nowadays I do what I want to do.  He said "Hi" then struck up a conversation (Kudos to him - not easy).

In the end we traded emails. Interesting where/when interactions can happen, if you're open.  I was reminded that if I want love I need to live love, to be love.

Life sucks.

My friend just cancelled on me at the last minute.  She can't help it, but it still sucks.  She was going to pick me up so I could clear out a whole bunch of stuff like recycling, old books, items for Goodwill.  I don't have a car, so it would have been a great favor for me.  For me, actions are "the language of love."

I would like to feel cared for, like there are people in my life I can count on.  The only people I feel that way about are at work.  I put my energy into my professional life, and it shows.  I need a personal life, bad.

I know I'm not alone in being alone - everyone is sucked into a whirlwind of busy-ness with work, kids, education. . trying to get ahead.  My close friends live far away, or are tied up with their own lives so I rarely see them.  I'm tired of trying to get ahead.

What is the point of doing all this great stuff in my professional life if I have no one to share it with?

Sad. Yes, I get bummed sometimes.

Happy place, compliments. . .letting go

My sister is starting a leadership program, and one of the ways she's kicked it off is to ask people to spend 7 minutes in joy at the same time.  So yesterday at 2:30 EST all the people participating did whatever they needed to do to for that purpose.

I was at the office.  I looked at my computer screen (I almost said clock, but who looks at those anymore?), saw that it was 2:30 so I split.

I jumped into my happy place mentally and walked down the street to get a coffee. All the while I was keeping "my happy place" a top priority.  I thought about buying a stranger his or her coffee, even.  But I'm a bit tight on funds at the moment, so I didn't do it (the thought didn't make me totally happy).

My bank is in the coffee shop, so while I was waiting for my cappuccino, I went to the teller to get some money (always uplifting). I went to my favorite teller.  She worked in the coffee shop prior to working there, and has always been a beautiful uplifting person to talk to when I'm there.  She had a pretty shirt/sweater combination on so I told her and she shared that she had thrown her clothes on in the dark that morning.  I was like wow, you look great.  She's like, well, you can't see the rest of my outfit (because she's sitting behind the counter). . .you, know it's funny how hard taking a compliment can be!  We like to self deprecate.  I've been working on not doing that, but I find it hard, too!  Especially when the compliment is coming from someone who I would like to like me. . .

Why is it that hope is scary? Why do we crush it down?  Disappointment, I know.

Why do we really get disappointed, though? Is it that we don't get what we want?  No.

Wanting things generally leads to getting them, just not always in the way were were expecting them to come.  I've had the idea for a long time that God is looking out for me, that he/she always comes through, but that I can't tell him/her how to make things happen for me.  I have to trust.

Well. . .the same thing is true for my fellow men and women.  The process of learning to let go of the need to control, to specify how something is done, has been powerful.  I am still learning.  Sometimes my ego gets in the way when I let myself believe: Oh, this one is high-stakes.  I really want this person to be my friend, to continue interacting with me, to take care of me, to let me take care of them.  Yada, yada, yada.

Let go!

Let go!

Let go!

Words give hope

"You look beautiful tonight."

Those words, said to me while he walked by, made me smile. What can I say? It made me feel good.

I love affirmations. Can't get enough of 'em, really. Attraction can be wonderful thing.

Oh to have a man in my life say that every day! I have hope.

Making space, a new priority

So my eHarmony subscription is about to run out. I made a last-ditch effort to cultivate some connections this morning on the bus on the way to work.

One fella from the UK bipassed the whole "guided communication" thing to tell me I have a nice smile. That's the one that stands out most because after a while you've heard the questions from the system so many times.

As I was typing this, I was interrupted by an Egyptian man who works at the cafe where I hang out. Among other things, he asked me if I was married. I said no then I asked him why he asked, feigning innocence. He said, I just ask and that's it (with boyish grin). Then he asked me why I am single. With his English being limited and my Arabic even more limited, I kept it simple: I don't have time in my life for a man. He said, So if you had time, you would have a man. I said, yeah, it's simple.

Sometimes speaking across a language barrier really helps clarify things. I need to make space for a man in my life.

Need to be ready and open for when men approach

Last night I was eating dinner with a couple of my dearest friends when a man who I know from Econ class approached us. I didn't realize he was approaching us until I saw he was right there.

He was like "Hi!" and I really wanted to say Sorry-what's your name again?but I chickened out and said "He's in my Economics class!" to my friends. He was like well, just wanted to say "Hi" then went back to his table.

My friends looked at me. They were like, "so does he like you?" I was like, "I don't know - I couldn't remember his name." They were like "I think he likes you." Then one of my friends said, "The problem was he couldn't remember your name."

Damn! If I would have just followed my instinct and asked him for his name, then he could've asked me for my name without losing face.

I need to stop fronting. Period. Then, I would probably get asked out more. . .

Good vibes, bad vibes. . . the stinky woman on the bus

This morning the same stinky woman was on the bus. I feel sorry for her because she is obviously poor and has limitations on being able to wash. However, the smell makes me want to vomit. She has been on my early morning bus regularly for quite a while now. I think everyone is sick of it (literally and figuratively).

After she got off, the bus driver kept the back door and the front door open for a while, which I was thankful for. Then a lady got on the bus. Her nose immediately wrinkled. "What's that smell?" she said. After a minute she got a spray bottle out of her purse and started spraying the area. The bus driver and everyone else started laughing.

When I consider this issue of smell, it makes me think of the similar one of "vibes". I mentioned vibes in a post a few months back, and the legitimate need to stay close to those with good vibes and far from those with bad vibes.

There is nothing wrong with some one with bad vibes, they just aren't aware of the importance of positive thought. They don't know that they have a choice in their own experience. Just like we have to wash our bodies for optimum health and human interactions, we have to get centered and view people, things and situations in the most positive light. This also does wonders for health and human interaction. I do this by meditating in the morning and the evening (sometimes only a minute, but it makes a difference), and focusing on my breath and relaxing whenever I notice tension during the day. Time with loved ones, a good laugh, and the occasional guilty pleasure also do wonders.

How to deal with simultaneous communication

I unexpectedly ran into a colleague of mine at the airport today, on a lay-over.  He offered me a ride home so I called my friend who was picking me up to let her know he would be driving me.

While I was telling her about running in to him, and how I know him, he was, of course, sitting right there.  When I said we were catching up on gossip he laughed and said something so I smiled and started talking more about him for his benefit.

I was having a two-way conversation, but my interlocutors were having one-way conversations.  This used to be something that only happened at home if you were talking in a high-traffic area, or if it was a long distance call to a relative, so everyone was crowded around taking turns speaking. Yes, I remember those days. . .

Simultaneous communication seems to go on all the time now. . . it can be difficult to handle.  I think a rule of thumb is to be ready to either: a) totally engage with the interrupting communique, b) intercept the communique and let them know you'll call them (text them, IM them, etc) back, c) not respond.  Each one can be done in a socially acceptable, unoffensive manner.  "Being ready" for each one means finding your method and your policy for each one. For example, my policy for phone interruptions is that I give the person I'm with "in real life" precedence.  This means, I usually do not answer the phone when I am with someone.  If I do, I let them know I can't talk and ask them a good time to call them back.

To refine even further,  how much do you go by what YOU think is appropriate and socially acceptable, vs. what others think?

Here are some factors to consider:

• emotional bidding - as long as you respond to their bid, the chances are they will be fine with whatever you choose. 
• using direct language or a firm tone - actually, being apologetic can be insulting, implying they were living for this  phone conversation with you, or like it's a favor to them.  
• politesse - "please" and "thank you" go a looong way, also showing appreciation for the person's  communicating with you.  
• intent - a lot of what people receive has to do with the intent behind our words, that overrides all of the above. 

I would like to know what the consensus is on the above issues - would love to hear your comments. 

Like what? . .a river in Qandahar.

I asked my boss today, "like what?"

We were watching a skateboarder - of course with no padding or headgear - go down the street in a wavy line, the way skateboarders do - in front of a bus.

The bus was coming to a stop behind him, and he slipped between the cars stopped at the street light and the sidewalk and was out of site before the bus came to a complete stop.  He was fine. But had he slipped, or made some other mistake, he would have been roadkill.

We stopped for a moment to watch before we entered our building.  I was like, "Whew!"  My boss thought out loud that at that age one feels indestructible.  Then he shared that when he was that age he felt that way and did many things even worse than what we saw.  At that point, I could have nodded my head and said, "I bet." Or, I could have said, "Really? I don't believe you. (to try to goad him into sharing more)"  Or, I could have been absent-minded and just nodded.  But instead. . .you know what I did.

Then he shared that he used to swim across a raging river in Qandahar in a competition with his friends to see who was the strongest swimmer.  They competed for who could cross it with the shortest line across the expanse, the rapids always pushing the line to be longer.  He said there were plenty of rocks he could been killed on, and other dangers - well, they don't call them 'rapids' for nothing.

These stories from his life are precious.  They come from a time in Afghanistan when life was good.  People were freer back then, nature was accessible, and food was delicious.  Now there are Taliban, landmines and. . .well, the food is probably still good, but not in the succulent, abundant way he and his wife describe when they talk about the old days.

So that's the power of "Like what?" Remember that when someone shares something with you.  Ask for details - they might actually want to share more but need to know you're really listening.

Boredom, restlessness and a touch of anger. . .

I believe in hedonism as a means to a better life.  It worked for me when I decided to become a happy person, a decision which has led to a great deal of healing in my life and more wellbeing.

I was having a conversation with a friend yesterday and admitted to not being 100% happy, to feeling pretty happy but with a touch of boredom, restlessness, ennui. . . anger!  A few months ago, I described it as "being amped up" - kind of a punk rock happiness.

I also asked my readers and myself what they/I would go to the mat for some months ago.  I had the idea that I might want to work for creating a sort of Heaven on Earth.  What did I mean? Well. . at the time I didn't know.

But now I do.  I want Freedom-Love, not only for myself, or even for a special person, but for everyone.  I need to be present to the broken society around me, and the wounds it's created in the people around me.  I need to be a friend to everybody, and work towards Freedom and Love for everyone (a path for justice) in order to really be happy.  Hedonism is the stepping stone, finding a sense of purpose is the milestone.

Spontaneity is the spice of life

I just learned that my neighbor is from Toledo and has been in the Peace Corps, and she grew up using public transport as her main means for getting around. Finally, after almost two years of living here! We had been trying to meet for weeks and we finally made a plan for yesterday evening.

When she came over my friend was still at my place. He and I had just gotten Chinese on the way to my place, and he was just going to stop in so he could eat it before he went home. She was really cool about him being there, even though she had no warning. She was like, "Oh, I love meeting new people!" I appreciated that.

It seems like people in this society are so focused on time and planning that they just cram way too much in to their days, and have no ability to spontaneously enjoy some company. Everything has to be scheduled, planned ahead. It was really nice to learn about my neighbor and have a great conversation with my friend, who leisurely finished his meal while we talked. 

 I long for more of that. Real connection can't be planned. Real, awakened experience doesn't happen on a schedule.

Sermon

Don't participate in oppression.

Sure! you say. No problem.

First, ask yourself what pay-offs you get (or commercial entities get) when you accept:

• The objectification of women.
• The appropriation of Black culture.  
• The glorification of straight norms.  
• The idea that membership in a religion is moral. 
• The idea that secularism equals rationality.  
• Many other similar activities. . . 

Do you get defensive when someone observes something unflattering about something you enjoy or identify with? You may need to start resisting the oppressive aspects of entertainment, recreation, and other habits or 'needs' you have.

These are reflections on recent conversations, Facebook threads, and literature I have read. . .more on that later!

Yoga practice, thoughts on friendship

After work I did yoga with my friend who has been my "yoga buddy" for several years now - keeping me on target when I begin to drift.  We hadn't practiced together for several months.  I can't remember the last time. . .
At one point tonight she pointed out I hadn't done budgablahblahblah and I was like, "huh?'  I had forgotten the pose even existed.  Shows how solid my practice has been since she's been out of the picture!

Anyway, it really helps to have someone in your life who holds you accountable.  I hope that we will begin practicing together again regularly.  She has also always been very nonjudgmental of my body, my abilities, etc., and made me feel like I can do more than I thought I could.

Sometimes I wonder if that isn't the core of friendship - constructive criticism on one side and supportive, nonjudgmental love on the other.

Reflections on banter, laughter and pain at the Dentist

Got a filling today.  It's in a tooth which doesn't need any pain killer because the nerve was taken out of it with a root canal. Nice!  Always a favorite topic. . . pain and dentistry.

My dentist is also a professor so he always teaches you something when he is working on you.  He was like, "Well, you won't need any thing for pain today." and looked me straight in the eye to see if I understood why. I was like, "right.  there's no nerve in that tooth"  He was like, "So, no needles today." But you know, I've got a drawer full of 'em."  I was like "I know you do."  He liked that.

Then I told him I am pretty macho when it comes to dentistry pain, but that is a tendency I am trying to overcome.  Perhaps it's because I had to adapt to different norms when I was living around the world.  A friend of mine is from the Ukraine and growing up she never had any sort of pain relief at the dentist.  I would just think of her when I got a little uncomfortable in years past.

I guess there are several approaches to pain. 1) Face it down, realize it is as much of an illusion as pleasure - it's all in your mind! 2) pain killer, or, perhaps alcohol or some other pleasure- enhancer 3) laughter - as Mark Twain said, Heaven must be boring because there couldn't be laughter without any pain.

The filling was, as promised, pain free. Or perhaps I was just so zen I rolled with the discomfort of it.  At the end the dental hygenist offereed me that spit suction tube thing they use to mop up your mouth, for one last expectoration.  I looked at it and said, "as inviting as you offer is. . no thanks!" and swallowed my spit.  They thought that was hilarious.

Bus Stop Interaction

I saw a man standing at the bus stop as I walked up, but didn't take a close look at him until he asked me if the bus was supposed to come soon. I said, "Any minute now." and smiled.

He asked me if I taught at the university and I said "sometimes" but that it wasn't my main job, or something like that.  He said he thought he might have had me once. . . hmmn, interesting choice of words! and asked what I taught.  I said Middle East Studies and told him about a couple of courses I have taught.  He said he majored in communications but that it took him 7 years to get his bachelors, and it hadn't led to anything job-wise.

He said he had a hard time focusing in his twenties. . . but that they say thirty is the new twenty. I said yeah, and forty is the new twenty, fifty is the new twenty. . .I guess there are other people like me who feel like they are in their twenties - BUT FOR VERY DIFFERENT REASONS.  He seemed to be looking for approval.  He said he wasn't doing anything job-wise that was near his core, his passions in life (interesting how much he shared with me at the bus stop).  I feel like I've finally woken up. I am more fit than I've ever been in my life, emotionally and physically.  I like pretending I'm in my twenties because it opens up a world of possibilities, and I want to dance through life for a lot longer.  I want to make my own rules and play a joyous game of transcendence, but also play the game of society and interacting with others.

Love for self and others is where it's at. Realizing we're all one through that love, healing.

Bean bag non-interaction

I am regretting not interacting more this afternoon.

I went to the art museum on my own - a solitary outing is something I am doing more often these days.  As I was walking into the building some guys asked if the front door was closed.  I told them "yeah, I just went up there and the sign said you have to go around back."

We continued walking around the building, until another door appeared on the side - I said "Do you want me to go up to that one so you don't have to try that one either?"  They all laughed - which made me happy because I love when people laugh at my jokes.

We bought our tickets together, too.  Then, I hung my coat up.  Then, I wandered the lobby, looking for signage regarding the Caravaggio exhibit - one of them was doing the same thing.  Suddenly, I spotted large colorful sacs on the ground which two girls were sitting on.

I said, "Are these bean bags?!" (I used to looooove bean bags when I was little - I'm a child of the 70's.) They were like yeah. So I sat down on one.  It felt so good.  I read some things that were posted on the wall for while then decided to get up and look for the Caravaggio exhibit again.

As I got up, I noticed the same guy behind me - it seemed he was coming to the bean bags, too.  But it was too late, I had already started walking away.

Damn!  I should have hammed it up more and lingered. I bet he would have said something to me.

If I am going to take these little "solitary outings" I need to up my game and start paying attention to my surroundings more. . .serious fun surveillance senses turned fully on.

Not hating back, not getting upset when blamed

Today I told someone that I wasn't willing to do what he wanted me to do. I sent him one sentence.  He sent me two long emails.  They contained threats and blame, a plea to understand his position.

Wow. All that for the simple answer of "No." Apparently, I need to either do what he wants me to do, or be exposed to his venomous reaction.  An irate or otherwise emotional response to "No" is abuse.  He is therefore an abuser.  When two people agree on there being a limitation to the two choices of doing what someone says or subjecting yourself to their negative emotional state, an abusive relationship is formed - I simply choose not to participate in an interaction that doesn't feel good.

I don't want to hate which would only drag me into that abusive state.  I want to forgive, to let go -  he is a human being and I understand he is frustrated. But how do you love someone that abuses? Talk to them - "speak your truth."  Talking back instead of hating back.  However, it becomes hard to think, to do anything, when you let their emotions pull you out of your good feeling place.

So, I have just been trying to feel better, focus on doing things that give me joy.

I also called someone for help to solve the problem that keeps me involved with this person, hoping I will be able to pull out asap.  I can't even think about replying to his email without getting anxious, and I have been to the point over the past month where thinking about interacting with him gives me a stomachache.  I somehow feel like I should do more, I can fix it. . .like it's my fault somehow. That is another sign of abuse and what it feels like to interact with a manipulative person.  He actually stated in his first irate email: 

"You are completely responsible for the state of this project. As I mentioned before, the only reason that this project is nearing completion is because of my devotion and commitment to it from the beginning." 

Just reading that gets my heart pounding!  How do you not get upset when you are blamed?  

Loving ladies

Yesterday, at Panera, I was catching my friend up on my life - we hadn't seen each other for a long while - and when I told her of a recent development having to do with a certain male interest of mine I saw her eyes light up.  As though she were in my shoes.  It made me smile.

That's awesome.  I really appreciate the way my close women friends love updates from my life and seem to be able to feel what I'm feeling when I talk about them.  They are loving.

Tonight I was telling another good woman friend about my dream last night.  About half way through I started wondering if the story was too weird, but I looked at her, rapt with attention.  I continued on, and felt very appreciative.  After all, dreams are really personal, their meaning has particular significance to you.  Showing interest in them, regardless of how hard they may be to follow, shows a sincerity that comes from the heart.

What would I do/have done without all the wonderful women who have filled my life?  I would certainly NOT be where I am today, and would have a long way to go to get here.

Minimalism and allowing real interaction

He hasn't called yet.

I was happy to receive his text this morning, and I wanted to text back. But to what end?

Doing what is necessary, but only what is necessary, allows space for real interaction.

• To show him how happy I am? It was early enough that he knew I would probably be asleep and would not be replying.
• To encourage him? I already left him a voice mail that I said I would like him to call me. anyway, do I really want someone who would need encouragement, or do I want to interact with confident men? 
• To inspire him to call. . . more? Obvious answer.  ;-)

So, I will resist. Make myself dinner, and wait. . .try to distract myself with some sort of activity around my apartment. . .like blogging. :-)