Sunday, November 17, 2013

breaking up is hard to do

This is a reply I wrote to a friend that was describing an ugly divorce.  Having never been divorced myself, I am no expert, but here is what I thought to say.

Oh, be civil! 

My own parents managed to be so ugly to each other in their divorce and not speak to each since (40ish years) that I feel scarred for life, destroyed, but I am a sensitive soul I suppose. I see how damaging that road was, and I would rather live under a bridge, eating cat food than put my children through it.

I on the other hand am mostly friendly with everyone I ever dated, that preppie fellow not withstanding, he remains an angry, indignant, mystery. I suppose it makes it easy that I have never had two pennies to rub together and always dated musicians and artists who were poorer than me, I was the one with a bathmat, a car, a frying pan. What would I have taken or demanded? A gig-bag, a wahh peddle, a frayed black jacket?

One more on social anxiety please

I was talking to a friend about social anxiety and how I can talk your ears right off your head, in a one on one situation, but throw me into a party or a group and I will clam up and appear mute,weird, cold and unfriendly.  I have no idea if that is a good or bad thing (I think most people think it's a bad thing, but I am holding out optimism that perhaps I have been judged overly harshly MY WHOLE LIFE.) Ironically, I talk to people for work, so over the years I have successfully been able to compartmentalize enough to be successful most of the time. 
My mother is fond of telling me that I need to take something for my anxiety, and while this might be true, I have not really observed people taking things with a great deal of luck.  I mean, the people I know that take something for their bad nerves, typically wind up with side effects equal or worse than being shy and nervous.  So, for now I am continuing to just say no.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

remember that time we got arrested? No, not that time...

I had coffee with my friend S and he reminded me of the time we were arrested, well held captive, by a rent a cop in Dunthorpe, in 1984.

It all started with my step sister inviting some people over for a party, which made me nervous, these people would not be up to anything good.  My boyfriend was with me.  He wasn't any more pleased with the situation than I was, but somehow we both wound up walking with the group, a rag tag collection of  skater boys, to downtown Lake Oswego, to shouldertap for beer.

Was it summer? It must have been, since the weather was pleasant, and Shawn was wearing shorts. Chris, the dirtiest boy in the whole wide world was along, and Marcus, "Tall Marc" a fellow that towered over all of us, making my 5'2" look cartoonishly tiny, making the other boys seem like children, I can't remember who else, the step sister and her college boyfriend stayed behind.  I seem to have been sent along for moral fortitude, to prevent the operation from heading into Lord of the Flies territory.  I had a crush on the tall guy, I may have volunteered to go, who knows.  It was an ill conceived trip.  I think we snaked through the upscale neighborhood for a while, before turning off onto the main highway. On our way, the local rent a cop, who knew by by sight, stopped us and shook us down briefly.  The boys postured. I explained "out for a stroll officer" and gave my address.

OOPS! This was intended at be saved as a draft... to be continued!

is it insecurity?

 Oh Dear me oh my I see that a bunch of DRAFTS without EDITING got published, WTF?  OUCH!

or nostalgia that drives me to read memoirs and essays by forty somethings, about their salad days and youth, about the anonymous sex of the early 80's?

Is it memories or validation that makes me chose these books over and over...

Here I go again


as that Was not was song  said is to well I LIKE IT. I am reading Everyone into the pool, by Beth Lipsick.

I am liking, not loving (this is not liar's club,)
but it her experiences are familiar, and amusing.

This gal is a little too high functioning for me to fall on my knees shouting

but a nice little laugh is nice, right?