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.