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."