Recently – I’ve been having dreams of a past boyfriend – let’s call him Dante. It’s unnerving. I don’t have any desire to be Dante’s friend. I don’t have any desire to know about Dante – or know what’s going on with him. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with MCSquared. But – I keep dreaming about Dante.
It’s driving me nuts!
Why won’t our past just stay there? I’m no psychic. I have no amazing ability to know when people are thinking of me – or that they need me if I am thinking of them. I can’t feel it if my sister gets her hand burned when cooking – or other such nonsense.
So – why won’t my past get out of my head?
Do you know why this is frustrating me? Because it’s not the first time I’ve dreamt about Dante. Worse – I feel like I’m cheating on MCSquared. Not that I’m doing anything with Dante, but just dreaming about him makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong. Subconsciously – why am I thinking of him? I can almost understand if MCSquared and I weren’t doing well – and we were fighting as we were before. But – we’re not. We’re talking, we’re sharing, we’re having a grand ‘ol time together.
MCSquared has a mantra he lives by. Don’t tempt fate. I believe in that. I think there are guilty pleasures someone might have – and a quick way to lead your life into an abyss is to give tempt it. Oh – well if I only do this one. If I only contact Dante once, remind him I want nothing to do with him – just that I think of him and I hope he’s doing well. What does that do? It does nothing but make me feel temporarily better. But – doesn’t it then open the door for him to try to contact me? Isn’t that dangerous?
I’ve wanted to contact this guy for months. Months. Just to see how he was doing. MCSquared basically thinks “dated = dead.” Meaning – once you’ve dated a person – and broken up – you must treat them like they are dead to you – otherwise, you’d be tempting fate. I agree now. I didn’t before, but to a certain extent, nnow , I agree. If you’re still friends with an ex – there’s unfinished business there. Plus, you were once attracted to this person. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean you stop being attracted. So – doesn’t that make it just as bad if not worse than you showing attraction to a complete stranger on the street? I’d be jealous if MCSquared did that (which – I can never catch him doing it – and it has been fantastic for me…I know he does – cognitively – but well – I don’t catch him doing it…)
Alls I'm saying is - I just want the past to quit me. I don't want to think about the past when I've got a good thing going now.
Past past go away.
Ne'er come back another day!!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
What about Happily Ever After?!
Helllooooo after a long hiatus. I apologize for that.. A lot of things have happened in the last month. I got myself knocked up again…. (damn you MCSquared) and I’ve basically been in a coma. I’ve finally emerged from my first trimester, dusted off the cobwebs, picked up my 2 year old that has aged and now calls me “mother” instead of “mama” – nodded in the direction of my husband – who seemed to have stayed right where he was before my first trimester coma, and I’m back with a vengeance.
Of course – the first thing I do – like any in the closet chick flick-a-holic is get a fix. So – I scour the premium channels for a “Twilight” or a “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” or a “The Incredible Hulk” (that freakin Ed Norton can make unrequited love scenes in any freakin movie!!) or “Emma” or “Sense and Sensiblity” – and I think to myself… dam. I’m one of them.
I’m one of those “Happily Ever After” chicks. It’s not my fault. I didn’t do it to myself. I blame society, I blame mainstream media that promotes these freakin movies... I blame everyone else.. even the baby in the belly.
I don’t understand life after “Happily Ever After.” That climactic scene where they realize how much they love each other – and the crescendo of the music, and the kiss, and the heartbeat, and the pouring out of love and the vulnerability! I mean – is it wrong that I expect that almost every day of my life?
Sometimes, I think that I purposely create drama in my marriage so that I can have that make up moment that feels a lot like the first time we said I love you.
But here’s the revelation.
Wait for it.
Life is like that.
Okay – hear me out.
Notice, throughout the movie, there are really only 10-12 things that really stand out. Ten to 12 moments that are captured. I’m sure that in a relationship that spans the time the movie purports to have created the relationship, we all can find 10-12 things that we would admire or look at just as lovely as the movie portrays it to be. I can remember things that MCSquared has done that if I only showed those specific acts, he’d be that guy. He’d be that unbelievable – he doesn’t exist, this is crap – guy that I scoff at. There have been those longing, smoldering looks, hot sex, unrequited moments. Hidden between—oh so conspicuously—are those moments that make up life. Every belch, fart, he’s late, doesn’t show up, forgets your birthday moment. Every he forgot to wash the dishes again, I fell into the toilet because he left the seat up again, moment. Those are interwoven between the scenes that are in those happily ever after flicks. Problem is – because the focus is on the good – we seem to think that we should be able to have all that – and none of the fillers.
These movies aren’t giving an accurate picture of good deeds to bad/boring/heartbreaking things that the guy does. But it’s not the movie’s job is it.
It’s ours.
Not that I
I’m going to explain that to my kid. You can have your Happily Ever After…
You just have to make it that way.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Green Eggs and a side of baloney…
I met the Mikes (a gay couple I know, both of whom are named ‘Mike’) for dinner the other day at a local Japanese restaurant, and they announced to me that they were getting married. So excited for them, I gushed and oohed and ahhhhed and applauded them for finally taking the plunge after about 7-8 years of being together.
Then the topic of kids came up. The Mikes’ would be phenomenal parents. Amazing. Both of them possess qualities that are both representative of the traditional nuclear family. One Mike is extremely sensitive and sweet. The other is extremely hard handed and matter of fact. They both compliment each other wonderfully – and it would be so wonderful if our kids played together.
So – I asked them about the possibility of adoption. There was a lot of, “well – we’re not having kids now… we just want to enjoy each other… blah blah blah…. Buuuttt… we have thought about adoption.” Not really thinking about it – I asked, “have you thought of surrogacy.” Yes they have. They said it would solve some issues of having the adoptive kid that would eventually pine for their birth parents, despite feeling complete love for the Mikes. By having a surrogacy, they can at least guarantee a legacy, and have ½ of a whole pie of biological information about the baby. They both wanted two kids, so one from each would be ideal. It seemed the perfect fit.
Then one Mike said, “it is so cost prohibitive though. Getting one egg costs about $10,000.” That’s ten grand for one egg!?!? Don’t you need to have a whole bunch of backup eggs? So – I took a moment, and then offered, “I can give you some eggs.” Quickly, the Mike’s were gracious. Oh no – it’s okay – it’s a huge commitment, we’re not even sure we want to have kids now… etc… I reiterated, “Well, I suppose you should harvest them while I’m young, so you have some young eggs, rather than some old eggs.” The conversation fell away, and then we moved on talking about other things.
I went home and didn’t think about it much, and I’m not really sure what prompted me to think about it again – or to bring it up for that matter – with McSquared. We were lazily lying on the couch watching TV, and I said, “so – if I wanted to donate my eggs, would you have a problem with that?” He slowly turned to me and said, “you cannot donate your eggs.” I explained it would be to the Mikes, and it would be for good people. He said again, “no.” At this point, with no explanation, I got a little heated under the collar. Who are you to tell me what to do with my body? He answered with a resounding, “those are MY eggs.” I did a double take. “Excuse me?!?!? Your eggs? How are they your eggs?”
Apparently, for you women who might not be in the know – if you marry a man, your physical body is no longer your own. They are now the full possession of your husband’s. If you wish to do anything drastic to it, “big picture” things – that may have no effect on your husband, you must still, ask for permission.
What the…..
It’s been a few days since I wrote that – and I still don’t get it.
It’s been a few days since I revisited, and I STILL don’t get it. Don’t I have a right to use my own body for whatever purposes I want to – if it doesn’t involve him? I’m not going to have sex to consummate. I’m just going to donate eggs. I don’t think I’m damaging my body. I know there are a lot of risks – but – I think I can weather through those…
It’s was the same when I told him that I wanted to donate my organs to save lives. Not for R&D, but to save lives imminently. If I’m able to – why not? But – being a strict Christian, he needs the body to be intact, un-mutilated. Which also means I can’t get cremated either… which is how I wanna go. I don’t want my body rotting in the ground. When baby Jesus comes back, won’t he just give us new bodies? So, if you’re horrifically scarred from something terrible, does that mean that you will have the same body that you died with – and not a newly generated beautiful version of what you once were?
But- that’s an entirely different blog.
Alls I’m wondering is, do I have to respect my husband’s wishes, even if I think they’re dumb?
Then the topic of kids came up. The Mikes’ would be phenomenal parents. Amazing. Both of them possess qualities that are both representative of the traditional nuclear family. One Mike is extremely sensitive and sweet. The other is extremely hard handed and matter of fact. They both compliment each other wonderfully – and it would be so wonderful if our kids played together.
So – I asked them about the possibility of adoption. There was a lot of, “well – we’re not having kids now… we just want to enjoy each other… blah blah blah…. Buuuttt… we have thought about adoption.” Not really thinking about it – I asked, “have you thought of surrogacy.” Yes they have. They said it would solve some issues of having the adoptive kid that would eventually pine for their birth parents, despite feeling complete love for the Mikes. By having a surrogacy, they can at least guarantee a legacy, and have ½ of a whole pie of biological information about the baby. They both wanted two kids, so one from each would be ideal. It seemed the perfect fit.
Then one Mike said, “it is so cost prohibitive though. Getting one egg costs about $10,000.” That’s ten grand for one egg!?!? Don’t you need to have a whole bunch of backup eggs? So – I took a moment, and then offered, “I can give you some eggs.” Quickly, the Mike’s were gracious. Oh no – it’s okay – it’s a huge commitment, we’re not even sure we want to have kids now… etc… I reiterated, “Well, I suppose you should harvest them while I’m young, so you have some young eggs, rather than some old eggs.” The conversation fell away, and then we moved on talking about other things.
I went home and didn’t think about it much, and I’m not really sure what prompted me to think about it again – or to bring it up for that matter – with McSquared. We were lazily lying on the couch watching TV, and I said, “so – if I wanted to donate my eggs, would you have a problem with that?” He slowly turned to me and said, “you cannot donate your eggs.” I explained it would be to the Mikes, and it would be for good people. He said again, “no.” At this point, with no explanation, I got a little heated under the collar. Who are you to tell me what to do with my body? He answered with a resounding, “those are MY eggs.” I did a double take. “Excuse me?!?!? Your eggs? How are they your eggs?”
Apparently, for you women who might not be in the know – if you marry a man, your physical body is no longer your own. They are now the full possession of your husband’s. If you wish to do anything drastic to it, “big picture” things – that may have no effect on your husband, you must still, ask for permission.
What the…..
It’s been a few days since I wrote that – and I still don’t get it.
It’s been a few days since I revisited, and I STILL don’t get it. Don’t I have a right to use my own body for whatever purposes I want to – if it doesn’t involve him? I’m not going to have sex to consummate. I’m just going to donate eggs. I don’t think I’m damaging my body. I know there are a lot of risks – but – I think I can weather through those…
It’s was the same when I told him that I wanted to donate my organs to save lives. Not for R&D, but to save lives imminently. If I’m able to – why not? But – being a strict Christian, he needs the body to be intact, un-mutilated. Which also means I can’t get cremated either… which is how I wanna go. I don’t want my body rotting in the ground. When baby Jesus comes back, won’t he just give us new bodies? So, if you’re horrifically scarred from something terrible, does that mean that you will have the same body that you died with – and not a newly generated beautiful version of what you once were?
But- that’s an entirely different blog.
Alls I’m wondering is, do I have to respect my husband’s wishes, even if I think they’re dumb?
Monday, February 15, 2010
I love you … good bye.
Like everyone else in America, I am glued to the screen watching the Winter Olympics. Like a lot of people (more who would not care to admit) I am glued to the TV for the human interest stories. The biggest one that comes to mind right now is Shen Xue and Zhao Hongbo. For those of you who might not know who they are because (1) you’ve been held captive in a cave for the last 5 days, (2) you have too much of a life, and have only arisen from your drunken stupor to read my awesome blog, or (3) you are deaf, dumb and blind – Shen Xue and Zhao Hongbo are/is the Chinese couple who came out of retirement to win the gold after winning the bronze twice in previous winter games So – I’m totally rooting for them.
Not cause they’re Chinese. Well – there might be a little bit of that in there too.
Whilst watching the drawn out 9 hour coverage of just the figure skating, peppered with speed skating, snowboarding (which was awesome) and other such things, they did this little story about the Chinese coach who helped them get to where they are right now. His name is Yao Bin. He was recounting his story of how he became a coach. He was in the Olympics, and he threw his partner for one of those throw your partner in the air and hope she lands gracefully on foot and doesn’t fall thingies… and well.. she fell. He said that was a great embarrassment for him – and as a result – he went into coaching to teach others how to not be embarrassed that way.
Why am I so angry about that? Because Chinese people seem to live a double standard. On the one hand, they stress family and togetherness, and filial piety and all that stuff.. The unit, not the individual. And then, when it comes to making a livelihood – Chinese people will kill their own young (at least in spirit, by leaving them for so long…) to get ahead in their own aspirations.
I don’t get that. It’s a generalization – it’s true. But it seems to be one that still holds true today. My husband feels that it is alright, and so does a couple of my Chinese friends. It is important to make money- and if that means leaving your family for a couple of years – so be it.
Remembering where I’m coming from, I suppose you can argue that I don’t understand because I’ve never been at a place where I needed to leave my family to make money. Don’t get me wrong – I completely understand when you need to leave your family and make money to SURVIVE. But that’s not what this guy did. He didn’t leave his family because they weren’t making ends meet. He left because he wanted to actualize a greater good- and make sure that other skaters didn’t go through what he was going through… the embarrassment.
Well – what the heck about his family? His kid? His wife? What about them? Did they have to live his dream for him? What if she never signed up for it? What if he had to realize this dream AFTER he met her? What if – for her – she was in the middle of what she expected to be her life, only to be railroaded with this?
In America, there is no understanding that the familial unit is greater than the one. In fact, in America, all is done to teach the individual to survive on their own. You go to college, and if you come back, there’s some humiliation there. It’s meant to be there. Go sew your own oats now boy. Make a man outta yourself. Since the feminist movement, that has translated to women as well. We’ve come full circle because now – kids come flying back. But it’s not because of some necessity to keep the family together. It’s because they can’t DO better in standard of living in their paltry entry-level salaries.
In China, you’re supposed to be a part of your family. You’re supposed to come home after college. You’re supposed to be a part of the family!!! It is what is understood. Sure – you’re actions should be done to honor your family – so I get how Yao Bin did what he did to honor his family – but heck – who cares about honor when you’re not there!?!?!
So – I call bullshit on that practice. You pick a job that keeps you home – unless your entire survival – and the survival of your family depends on it. Otherwise, I call bullshit.
Okay – now I’m off to watch the team I was here to watch.
Dude.. My palms are sweating…
Not cause they’re Chinese. Well – there might be a little bit of that in there too.
The he said something that floored me. He was away from his family for two decades. He didn’t see the birth of his son. He cried a bit after that revelation – and the first thing I screamed out at the indifferent TV was – “I hope it was worth it!”
Why am I so angry about that? Because Chinese people seem to live a double standard. On the one hand, they stress family and togetherness, and filial piety and all that stuff.. The unit, not the individual. And then, when it comes to making a livelihood – Chinese people will kill their own young (at least in spirit, by leaving them for so long…) to get ahead in their own aspirations.
I don’t get that. It’s a generalization – it’s true. But it seems to be one that still holds true today. My husband feels that it is alright, and so does a couple of my Chinese friends. It is important to make money- and if that means leaving your family for a couple of years – so be it.
Remembering where I’m coming from, I suppose you can argue that I don’t understand because I’ve never been at a place where I needed to leave my family to make money. Don’t get me wrong – I completely understand when you need to leave your family and make money to SURVIVE. But that’s not what this guy did. He didn’t leave his family because they weren’t making ends meet. He left because he wanted to actualize a greater good- and make sure that other skaters didn’t go through what he was going through… the embarrassment.
Well – what the heck about his family? His kid? His wife? What about them? Did they have to live his dream for him? What if she never signed up for it? What if he had to realize this dream AFTER he met her? What if – for her – she was in the middle of what she expected to be her life, only to be railroaded with this?
In America, there is no understanding that the familial unit is greater than the one. In fact, in America, all is done to teach the individual to survive on their own. You go to college, and if you come back, there’s some humiliation there. It’s meant to be there. Go sew your own oats now boy. Make a man outta yourself. Since the feminist movement, that has translated to women as well. We’ve come full circle because now – kids come flying back. But it’s not because of some necessity to keep the family together. It’s because they can’t DO better in standard of living in their paltry entry-level salaries.
In China, you’re supposed to be a part of your family. You’re supposed to come home after college. You’re supposed to be a part of the family!!! It is what is understood. Sure – you’re actions should be done to honor your family – so I get how Yao Bin did what he did to honor his family – but heck – who cares about honor when you’re not there!?!?!
So – I call bullshit on that practice. You pick a job that keeps you home – unless your entire survival – and the survival of your family depends on it. Otherwise, I call bullshit.
Okay – now I’m off to watch the team I was here to watch.
Dude.. My palms are sweating…
EPILOGUE
They WON!!
Totally awesome!!
And read their story!!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Listen to understand
Listening to understand seems like a relatively simple concept. Listen to a person to understand what they are trying to tell you, and then responding in kind.
The only issue is – it is really really hard to do this.
We live in an ego-centric society. Generally, it is a “me” mentality both consciously and subconsciously. Our entire way of going through life is to satisfy the hunger within, whether through giving, taking, neither or both. It is also reflected in the way we talk to each other.
Have you ever told a story to a friend and have them come back with a story of their own that is similar but not the same? This is commonly referred to as relating. But when did you ever say to the person, “hey – when I tell you this story – I’d really like you to relate to it.” The only request, through implication, is for the listener to, well, listen. We take it upon ourselves to try to relate to what the story teller is saying so that it means more to us—what the person is going through. If we do not have a similar story, it appears that we detach from the story and aren’t as understanding or empathetic. But when we relate, we relate and understand the person’s story as it made us feel in a similar situation. We don’t often ask ourselves to stand in the other person’s shoes and understand how it made them feel.
Understandably so. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not here to judge it. I understand it. I do it. I relate to it. I get it. To truly listen to understand what the person is saying, and appreciate what the situation did to them, made them feel, we have to be compromised with their views, beliefs, experiences and attitudes. We’d have to know this person well enough to really understand the affect the situation had on them. The irony is, the closer the person is to us – the harder it is to listen to understand – especially when the story has any tenuous connection or similarity to a specific issue/problem you might have with this person.
I had a conversation with McSquared earlier. It was a criticism on the messiness of our house. He was trying to tell me how he felt when he walked into the house when it was so messy. Immediately, I became defensive, and argued that if he would only help around the house then maybe it wouldn’t be so dirty and messy, and maybe then he could come home and enjoy it better. I didn’t need to do that. He wasn’t blaming me for the mess. He was simply telling me that it sucked to come home to mess, even though he had a healthy part of creating it. If I just listened to understand, and didn’t own it, it would have been really easy to say, “Yes, I can understand that. It really does suck to come home to a house that is messy.” But rather, I took it upon myself to hear his words, and not understand it, but defend myself to it.
Earlier last week, Luscious and Fujimoto-san (a new addition to my entourage of colleagues) were discussing my inability to say no to another colleague. I knew I needed to learn how to say no – but it was difficult for me to. I tried telling this to Luscious and Fujimoto-san. They were chock full of wonderful girl advice about how to fix it, and what I needed to do in the situation – all good intentioned, all meant to help.
But I was bothered by it the entire day. I only realized later that – all I needed/wanted from Luscious and Fujimoto-san were understanding and sympathetic ears. I didn’t necessarily need advice, because I knew what it was that I needed to do. Getting there was the issue for me. But at the moment I talked to them about my dilemma, I just needed to be heard.
It’s not an inherent flaw with my friends. I adore them, and know they meant well. But – there are two social engineered reactions to a story about a problem. We either offer words of advice on how to fix it, or we relay our own story about a similar situation, how it made us feel, and how we overcame it. Did we ever, however, ask ourselves what exactly the person who was talking wanted from us? Did they want any offer of advice on how to make the situation better? Did they utter those wonderful little words, “what should I do?” which then opens the floodgates for you to offer any kind of advice you can think of that relates, however loosely, to the topic at hand? After all, it is solicited isn’t it? Or did we just take it upon ourselves to do it for whatever reasons – our need to help a friend in what we’ve decided is need, a need to relate, a need to move the story along so that you could then tell a story of your own, a need to pretend you’re listening? Whatever the reason, we tend to do this.
I do it all the time. But after my reaction to McSquared (and a subsequently successful therapy session) I began to really think – maybe I should listen to understand and “detach from outcome.” (A happy little therapy term which means – don’t take the story so personally, and see how it affects the person and reaffirm what you think is their feeling, not your own.)
I don’t know how successful I’ll be at it, but I’m going to try…(As long as someone doesn’t tell a story that is similar to any story I have in my arsenal of awesome stories that I use to relate and/or a story that doesn’t make me feel like I’m being judged or accused of doing wrong…)
As you can see – I got a little bit to go in this….
The only issue is – it is really really hard to do this.
We live in an ego-centric society. Generally, it is a “me” mentality both consciously and subconsciously. Our entire way of going through life is to satisfy the hunger within, whether through giving, taking, neither or both. It is also reflected in the way we talk to each other.
Have you ever told a story to a friend and have them come back with a story of their own that is similar but not the same? This is commonly referred to as relating. But when did you ever say to the person, “hey – when I tell you this story – I’d really like you to relate to it.” The only request, through implication, is for the listener to, well, listen. We take it upon ourselves to try to relate to what the story teller is saying so that it means more to us—what the person is going through. If we do not have a similar story, it appears that we detach from the story and aren’t as understanding or empathetic. But when we relate, we relate and understand the person’s story as it made us feel in a similar situation. We don’t often ask ourselves to stand in the other person’s shoes and understand how it made them feel.
Understandably so. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not here to judge it. I understand it. I do it. I relate to it. I get it. To truly listen to understand what the person is saying, and appreciate what the situation did to them, made them feel, we have to be compromised with their views, beliefs, experiences and attitudes. We’d have to know this person well enough to really understand the affect the situation had on them. The irony is, the closer the person is to us – the harder it is to listen to understand – especially when the story has any tenuous connection or similarity to a specific issue/problem you might have with this person.
I had a conversation with McSquared earlier. It was a criticism on the messiness of our house. He was trying to tell me how he felt when he walked into the house when it was so messy. Immediately, I became defensive, and argued that if he would only help around the house then maybe it wouldn’t be so dirty and messy, and maybe then he could come home and enjoy it better. I didn’t need to do that. He wasn’t blaming me for the mess. He was simply telling me that it sucked to come home to mess, even though he had a healthy part of creating it. If I just listened to understand, and didn’t own it, it would have been really easy to say, “Yes, I can understand that. It really does suck to come home to a house that is messy.” But rather, I took it upon myself to hear his words, and not understand it, but defend myself to it.
Earlier last week, Luscious and Fujimoto-san (a new addition to my entourage of colleagues) were discussing my inability to say no to another colleague. I knew I needed to learn how to say no – but it was difficult for me to. I tried telling this to Luscious and Fujimoto-san. They were chock full of wonderful girl advice about how to fix it, and what I needed to do in the situation – all good intentioned, all meant to help.
But I was bothered by it the entire day. I only realized later that – all I needed/wanted from Luscious and Fujimoto-san were understanding and sympathetic ears. I didn’t necessarily need advice, because I knew what it was that I needed to do. Getting there was the issue for me. But at the moment I talked to them about my dilemma, I just needed to be heard.
It’s not an inherent flaw with my friends. I adore them, and know they meant well. But – there are two social engineered reactions to a story about a problem. We either offer words of advice on how to fix it, or we relay our own story about a similar situation, how it made us feel, and how we overcame it. Did we ever, however, ask ourselves what exactly the person who was talking wanted from us? Did they want any offer of advice on how to make the situation better? Did they utter those wonderful little words, “what should I do?” which then opens the floodgates for you to offer any kind of advice you can think of that relates, however loosely, to the topic at hand? After all, it is solicited isn’t it? Or did we just take it upon ourselves to do it for whatever reasons – our need to help a friend in what we’ve decided is need, a need to relate, a need to move the story along so that you could then tell a story of your own, a need to pretend you’re listening? Whatever the reason, we tend to do this.
I do it all the time. But after my reaction to McSquared (and a subsequently successful therapy session) I began to really think – maybe I should listen to understand and “detach from outcome.” (A happy little therapy term which means – don’t take the story so personally, and see how it affects the person and reaffirm what you think is their feeling, not your own.)
I don’t know how successful I’ll be at it, but I’m going to try…(As long as someone doesn’t tell a story that is similar to any story I have in my arsenal of awesome stories that I use to relate and/or a story that doesn’t make me feel like I’m being judged or accused of doing wrong…)
As you can see – I got a little bit to go in this….
Monday, February 1, 2010
Grease is NOT the word...
I was thinking about words the other day – as I was trying to explain to my 2 year old the subtle difference between want and need. She is excellent with her words, but she cannot differentiate between what she needs and what she wants. Given, at her age, I think she really thinks she needs that $30 doll that she will probably play with for all of 2 seconds after we get home, but I’m trying to teach her that she doesn’t actually need the doll. She simply wants it, and she cannot, unfortunately, get whatever she wants. A mantra I have heard others use as well – although mostly played out across different relationships in different situations.
I started thinking about the subtle meanings in languages. For example, in English – there is a difference between “listen” and “hear.” In Chinese, there is just one word for listen/hear. It is just assumed that if you are “hearing” the person – you are “listening” to them as well. When you hear parent yell at kids, it’s always, “Can you hear what I’m saying?!” I like the subtle difference in the English language, because – it’s clear that I can hear you when you’re yelling at me at 11 decimals above normal. But I may not be listening. McSquared employs this ability often and frequently.
In Japanese, there is an entirely different “respect” language that is completely different from what men speak with each other that women must employ when they speak to men and elderly people. Completely different – that begins with “o” and end a lot of times with “masu.” It’s amazing. Our languages, and the way we speak them, has a lot to do with the culture, and therein a lot to do with the way people interact. Using the word above, it shows that for Chinese people, in general, there are no subtle differences. There is no understanding of the grey areas. You are or you aren’t, and if you are – that word is loaded with a boat load of assumptions. It is assumed that if you ware “hearing” someone you are “listening.”
The manner in which people speak to each other is also amazing. Most Asian cultures, the women are much more soft-spoken than their male counterparts in public. That says nothing about what goes on behind closed doors (those same soft-spoken women can be loud, obnoxious and rude..) In my neighborhood growing up, Italian women were warm, welcoming and loud. Boy were they loud. Jewish women in the neighborhood were ever regretful about something horrible that has happened, and never really said the word of something bad happening to a neighbor circulating the rumor mill. “Cancer” she would mouth, sometimes with a hand covering one side of her face.
One conversation may make or break a relationship depending on the tone and the words used. A man could lose the women he loves forever, because he doesn’t know how to express to her that he loves her in the words she needs him to say. Words are amazingly powerful.
I almost got into a full on fist fight with Luscious over one simple word, and our interpretation of it. The word was “choice.” Of course, she was wrong, and I was right – but it didn’t negate the importance of the interaction, and how heated the discourse was. I almost knocked her sideways. It would have been a good fight – and I think I would have been able to take her.
Despite the overwhelming importance of words, it seems to be the thing we take the least amount of consideration in using. Most people don’t think before they speak. We choose the shoes we put on our feet with more care than the choice of words we use with the people around us. Only when we are in front of strangers and people we don’t know – do we carefully consider the words coming out of our mouth. But isn’t it more important to consider the words we use when we speak to loved ones - people that matter to us the most?
We often poo poo it away as unimportant because we feel that our closest loved ones “understand us” despite the words we use to describe what we feel. We think that even if we choose words badly, they’ll “get it.” Yet, I’ve lent my should out, and have asked for many a shoulder – to cry - on as a result of what for all intents and purposes boils down to a poor choice of words. I didn’t mean to tell my mother that she needed to get over it New Year’s Eve. I didn’t mean to say those things to McSquared, or point out so bluntly to my sister where I thought she had chosen wrong in her life’s decisions. I didn’t mean it.
The words we use on a day to day basis are so important, because it is the only presentation of how smart or dumb we really are. You are only as intelligent as you can articulate, either in the written word, or the spoken one. You can be the smartest person in the whole word, but if you cannot use words to express it – it takes you that much longer to prove yourself to a doubting crowd.
The other interesting thing is – people are inherently suspicious of words. It doesn’t matter that McSquared tells me he loves me, if all his actions directly refute the words he used. Fickle things those words are. When used for good, words are amazing, and can do amazing things. We all know it was words that got our President Obama into office. But, when used for evil, words can be scarring. When people use words to create and spread lies, people come out of those types of events hurt, scarred, and as a result, baggage ensues. Deceptive words can make all future words seems laced with deception as well – even if that isn’t the case. We walk through life, once being hurt by words, inconsolable to their good uses. Often jaded, we doubt the power of words, even when we’ve fallen victim to their exact power.
I’m rambling a bit, sorry about that – but it’s amazing what little regard we have for words, when they are probably the most powerful weapon, resource, instrument, asset we have. Understanding the word, either in your native tongue, or that of someone else in another country, is probably one of the most important things we can do. Words build as swiftly as they destroy. We need to be as careful using words as we are using nuclear powers.
I implore you – think before you speak or write… And if you don’t know the words, don't use words arbitrarily. The results may be scary.
On a side note, my daughter speaks Chinese, English and Spanish. None really fluently, but we’re getting there..
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Pretend my friends
It generally starts out young. For example, when you're crying and your mom or dad tells you to stop crying, and you stop because you pretend that you don't want to cry anymore— even though you probably do. Or how about when your parents told you to go to sleep—you pretend to sleep and eventually you do.
Then you get a little older. You start pretending about other more interesting things. Pretending takes on a whole new kind of look. You start to pretend you don’t like a boy that you really like to show that boy that you don’t like them, to get them to be interested in you. Hm.
But I wonder. Why is the world obsessed with pretending? Think about it – isn’t that what entertainment is all about? The whole entertainment and fashion industry is built around this idea of pretending to be in a place, in a situation that is not your own. Even characters in the show/movie/play/musical that you are watching are pretending they are feeling the emotions they don’t have- and eventually – to a certain extent – even if it’s limited to the show/movie/play/musical – they actually feel the feelings they are pretending to feel.
But isn’t there something a bit nice about the pretending? Have you ever gotten up and was sad about something. Then, you said to yourself, I’m not going to be sad about that – and you “pretended” that you were happy. Something about that pretending makes you a bit happier than if you kept up the whole doom and gloom over whatever it was that was making you sad.
But it doesn’t work with everything – does it?
For example, if you pretend to not love someone – can you not love them? I suppose eventually. But is it because you pretended you didn’t love that person, or is it because time passes and time heals all wounds? You still carry a flame for this person – as evidenced by anytime they walk into the room and your heart suddenly goes pitter patter.
Can you pretend that away? And if you could would you want to?
As you get a bit older, you’ve come full circle, and you try not to pretend anymore. You think that pretending is stupid, and you pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to learn how to be honest with yourself and others. Pretending isn’t real life. To be in the now and really live life, you have to live it through every broken heart, through every honest feeling. Pretending you don’t feel a certain way only makes you prolong the length of that feeling (happy or not) in your life. Because you don’t really face it. You don’t really address it. So, it may be pushed to one side, but it’s never fully dealt with – and it comes back to haunt you.
But we continue to do it to a certain extent. For a lot of people – it’s a coping mechanism, or a defense mechanism. Sometimes the here and now is too difficult to deal with.
We all need our escape I suppose.
I still pretend in my life. I pretend I’m smarter than I feel, and a lot of times that works. Sometimes I get called out – and I look like a bumbling fool, but if I get away with it 8 out of 10 times, you’d better believe I’m going to pretend my way out of most situations. I pretend to be certain about things I’m not. I pretend to be stronger than I really am, I pretend to be more confident and self assured. I have myself convinced a lot of times that I am, but when the lights are down, and no one’s around – you can’t pretend. You can’t lie to yourself. You can only lie/pretend to others. It’s the perception of what you are pretending by yourself or others that keeps the pretense alive. But you know the truth when you’re alone. Bolstered or not in those few moments of pretend, eventually the truth comes out, and you’re left to deal with it, ready or not.
Ready or not – I’m going to pretend I’m the world’s best blogger and that you, dear reader, think I’m amazingly fascinating and can’t wait for the next installment.
Ah – makes me feel soo good!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
I don't need no stinking education...
I had a long talk today with a colleague of mine, and we were talking about education and I came to realize something. I think I'm insecure when it comes to proving my intelligence.
I think it's because I doubt it myself a lot of times.
Don't get me wrong. I'd like to think I am smart. If you knew me on a day to day basis, you wouldn't necessarily think so - but when the chips are down, I'd say I was above average.. Not mensa, not a genius, but smart. I am smart enough to know I'm probably not smarter than a lot of people.
Since I was small, I was counted amongst the smartest kids in my school. I don't know if it just luck, or timing, or both - but I was selected in elementary school to take an exam for a pretty reputable program. Then all through middle school I was in an advanced class, then for HS - I went to a relatively reputable HS in the city.
This is where I think the disconnect was.
I didn't go to a reputable college. I didn't apply myself that much in HS either. I think it was the ability to say that I didn't study to explain away my mediocre SAT score, and my B+ A- average in school. (which was bad by the way - in comparison. To who - I don't know, but I was constantly reassured that it was bad..)
I like the college I went to. A lot of things happened for me there. I excelled at school without really trying. I met my husband there. I have great friends from there. I ended up getting a job at a great accounting firm (the biggest now - from what I understand) - hobnobbing with the ivy league students I went to school with in HS.
But there was something about that one hiatus in my life. The fall from grace, if you will. The college I attended wasn't reputable. I often find myself explaining why I went to this college, even though I've done relatively well for myself otherwise, and generally - I'm very happy.
I think it might be that I'm a reverse intellectual elitist. I met too many people who weren't smart, but ended up going to great schools. Or people who looked at the name of the HS, college, graduate school, law school - and immediately judged the person based on where he/she went, and I am relatively repulsed by it. The self-importance that some of these people have. I went to a whole HS with fledgling elitists. To a certain extent they were all that way. The worse part was the school fostered it. It encouraged the pomposity, rather than reinforced the idea that we may be smart, but we need to listen and hear those around us. That our own voices were not the most important, and our ideas may not have been the best. We were encouraged to think that we knew best... even if that wasn't true. I suppose it was one way to foster confidence. For a lot - it fostered cockiness. It was an immediate turn off for me from the very beginning, and perhaps that has translated very deeply into the way I live and view things now.
Yet - I subscribe to it. I must. If not - I would care less about what people thought about my going to a less reputable school, feel need to explain why I went there... It wouldn't matter. But it does. So I'm a big mix of muddled feelings and emotions about this.
The whole conversation came up because I was deciding what I wanted to do/teach my child about education, going to a reputable school, what is smart and what isn't smart. I'm at a crossroad as it relates to setting up my kid's education. I need to decide now whether I will stay in Suburbia USA or set myself up in NYC before she gets to school. (I would hate to pull her after she's made her friends in school wherever she ends up, to opt for the other place, whichever that might be...)
As I am thinking about it - I'm swayed to let her stay here. The school district here is relatively good. There is no guarantee that she will be admitted to the school of choice that I have set my eyes on. I've also determined that life has a way of throwing curve balls at us. Let's say we uproot our lives here, and then she decides that she doesn't even want to continue to go to school. That has always been something that I have told McSquared to embrace, not reject. We teach our kids to understand the consequences of their decisions, and then let them make their own mistakes. That is a part of the beauty of living your own life, regret-free. I think they need to be fully educated, but in the end, if they fully understand what they are doing, who am I to stand in their way? It's not about controlling the actions of your children. It's about guiding them to make the decisions that are right for them, even if it means that you let them make the mistakes they need to in order to get to where they should be. Even if this means it takes them longer to get there.
I want to be able to afford the opportunities to my children that are invaluable in comparison to an ivy league education. I'd like them to see the world before they need to be immersed in it. I'd like them to be able to see those that aren't as well off to appreciate what they have I'd like them to meet different people from different countries to understand that we are all very different, and yet, exactly the same. Life's experiences trump anything you can find in a classroom, and I'd like my children to be subsumed in it. The juggle comes from whether or not I can afford both an ivy league education and all these other programs that give you life lessons...
So - I struggle. I continue to struggle about it. For myself and for my daughter...
I think it's because I doubt it myself a lot of times.
Don't get me wrong. I'd like to think I am smart. If you knew me on a day to day basis, you wouldn't necessarily think so - but when the chips are down, I'd say I was above average.. Not mensa, not a genius, but smart. I am smart enough to know I'm probably not smarter than a lot of people.
Since I was small, I was counted amongst the smartest kids in my school. I don't know if it just luck, or timing, or both - but I was selected in elementary school to take an exam for a pretty reputable program. Then all through middle school I was in an advanced class, then for HS - I went to a relatively reputable HS in the city.
This is where I think the disconnect was.
I didn't go to a reputable college. I didn't apply myself that much in HS either. I think it was the ability to say that I didn't study to explain away my mediocre SAT score, and my B+ A- average in school. (which was bad by the way - in comparison. To who - I don't know, but I was constantly reassured that it was bad..)
I like the college I went to. A lot of things happened for me there. I excelled at school without really trying. I met my husband there. I have great friends from there. I ended up getting a job at a great accounting firm (the biggest now - from what I understand) - hobnobbing with the ivy league students I went to school with in HS.
But there was something about that one hiatus in my life. The fall from grace, if you will. The college I attended wasn't reputable. I often find myself explaining why I went to this college, even though I've done relatively well for myself otherwise, and generally - I'm very happy.
I think it might be that I'm a reverse intellectual elitist. I met too many people who weren't smart, but ended up going to great schools. Or people who looked at the name of the HS, college, graduate school, law school - and immediately judged the person based on where he/she went, and I am relatively repulsed by it. The self-importance that some of these people have. I went to a whole HS with fledgling elitists. To a certain extent they were all that way. The worse part was the school fostered it. It encouraged the pomposity, rather than reinforced the idea that we may be smart, but we need to listen and hear those around us. That our own voices were not the most important, and our ideas may not have been the best. We were encouraged to think that we knew best... even if that wasn't true. I suppose it was one way to foster confidence. For a lot - it fostered cockiness. It was an immediate turn off for me from the very beginning, and perhaps that has translated very deeply into the way I live and view things now.
Yet - I subscribe to it. I must. If not - I would care less about what people thought about my going to a less reputable school, feel need to explain why I went there... It wouldn't matter. But it does. So I'm a big mix of muddled feelings and emotions about this.
The whole conversation came up because I was deciding what I wanted to do/teach my child about education, going to a reputable school, what is smart and what isn't smart. I'm at a crossroad as it relates to setting up my kid's education. I need to decide now whether I will stay in Suburbia USA or set myself up in NYC before she gets to school. (I would hate to pull her after she's made her friends in school wherever she ends up, to opt for the other place, whichever that might be...)
As I am thinking about it - I'm swayed to let her stay here. The school district here is relatively good. There is no guarantee that she will be admitted to the school of choice that I have set my eyes on. I've also determined that life has a way of throwing curve balls at us. Let's say we uproot our lives here, and then she decides that she doesn't even want to continue to go to school. That has always been something that I have told McSquared to embrace, not reject. We teach our kids to understand the consequences of their decisions, and then let them make their own mistakes. That is a part of the beauty of living your own life, regret-free. I think they need to be fully educated, but in the end, if they fully understand what they are doing, who am I to stand in their way? It's not about controlling the actions of your children. It's about guiding them to make the decisions that are right for them, even if it means that you let them make the mistakes they need to in order to get to where they should be. Even if this means it takes them longer to get there.
I want to be able to afford the opportunities to my children that are invaluable in comparison to an ivy league education. I'd like them to see the world before they need to be immersed in it. I'd like them to be able to see those that aren't as well off to appreciate what they have I'd like them to meet different people from different countries to understand that we are all very different, and yet, exactly the same. Life's experiences trump anything you can find in a classroom, and I'd like my children to be subsumed in it. The juggle comes from whether or not I can afford both an ivy league education and all these other programs that give you life lessons...
So - I struggle. I continue to struggle about it. For myself and for my daughter...
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Do you believe in life after love? Cause you might be wrong!!
A friend of mine posted this on his facebook status:
Note to everyone: Please stop saying "it all depends on what you believe." It truly DOESN'T matter what you think. Reality is reality, and will continue on its merry way regardless of your personal beliefs. In fact, if there is a difference between your (or my) beliefs and reality, the term for that is "wrong" as in "Boy, was I wrong."
I love this friend, but I think it's a little sad that looking at reality, you can only see what is right or wrong. The black and the white. Allowing for beliefs and accepting the different accounts of people allows you to open yourself up to people and take them in. I'm not saying you have to take everyone in, but perspective involves being able to look beyond ourselves, and be open-minded to differing opinions. This just seems like a hard line to follow, and an ever harder life to live.
I think there is a reality that no one can see. It is the truth, it is the factual manifestation of what has happened. But no one sees it. Because everyone sees this "reality," through their own perspectives, their own experiences, their own understanding of the world. What makes the world so colorful (sometimes good - sometimes bad) are these differences. Two people can walk into a room, see what happen, and have a completely different take on what happened. Both wouldn't be wrong, and neither would be right. But according to my FB friend post, they would both be wrong.
I guess, in the end, it doesn't matter. But I'm concerned with people telling me I'm wrong when I see things differently. Like everyone else, I don't care for people telling me when I'm wrong. I don't mind when people, who think differently from me, accept what I say, not necessarily as correct, but as what I think is my reality. I think people who force others to believe a reality that they don't believe is right, despite the evidence, are the same people who start wars man. I'm just saying...
So - as to not be a hyprocrite, I wrote back as a post (and just a little tongue in cheek):
Brian - I really believe it depends on what you believe...
At least, that's my belief.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
P.S. - I love my husband
I'm usually embarrassingly open about my feelings, despite being raised to be an oppressive passive aggresive asian. Believe me - I can go back to being that - but - for the most part, if I love you - I tell you. If I want to hug you - I hug you... Sometimes I rail against my instincts (because instinctively - sometimes I don't want to tell you I love you - even if I do, or hug you - even though you need one) but overall - I'm pretty open about how I feel - good or bad feelings.
We Americans believe in redemption. Chinese people? Not so much. If you made a mistake - you are dishonored forever. You don't recover. People are not impressed by your ability to pull yourself back up again. You weren't supposed to screw up to begin with - but you did - and now - you might as well kill yourself because that is how useful you are to the rest of us.
Americans on the otherhand, it is soooo much easier to screw up and ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission. So -people screw up - and then - they pull their lives back together, and people are in AWE of that. They have great respect for that. It is so incredible that people screw up and then recover.
I think this is because American's believe that for the most part, once you screw up - you will continue to screw up - and it is the norm. Chinese people think that one screw up is an anomoly - but it doesn't matter -you deserve to die for dishonoring all the hard work your mother and father put into you in raising you right.
As a result, he's changed. He's tried. He's taken some of my very important balls, the ones I am juggling all the time, and has decided to share the burden of that juggling act I call my life. He's extended himself now more than ever before.
I didn't mean to gush about him this entire blog- but boy - he reallly did good today.
Really.
Oh - and P.S. - I am totally and completely into him...
Today - it is nothing but good. McSquared and I have a long long history of ups and downs. It has been a struggle to love each other - but I don't know who else to love. My eyes refuse to lose sight of him, and my loins burn the moment he walks into the room - and my heart decides to go on triple speed when I hear his laugh.
I love everything about him. Well, okay, everything that I don't hate. And there is yet still a lot I hate about him.
But I love him so dearly, that even when I hate him - I love him.
Americans on the otherhand, it is soooo much easier to screw up and ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission. So -people screw up - and then - they pull their lives back together, and people are in AWE of that. They have great respect for that. It is so incredible that people screw up and then recover.
I think this is because American's believe that for the most part, once you screw up - you will continue to screw up - and it is the norm. Chinese people think that one screw up is an anomoly - but it doesn't matter -you deserve to die for dishonoring all the hard work your mother and father put into you in raising you right.
There's a point here - seriously.
So - between McSquared and I - there have been a lot of heartaches and mistake - on both our parts. We met young, we're still trying to figure each other out. But - like Robert Downey Jr., we rise from our mistakes each time - and we seem to be the better and stronger for each mistake we make.
Tonight was an important night for me. McSquared had a history of making these types of days for me horrific - because he usually drops a very important ball that I need him to keep up for me - because it is one of the things that makes the day so extraordinary. For years, McSquared would drop that ball. It got to a point where I wanted to take all my balls back and never let him play with them again.
As a result, he's changed. He's tried. He's taken some of my very important balls, the ones I am juggling all the time, and has decided to share the burden of that juggling act I call my life. He's extended himself now more than ever before.And rather than treat him like dust, like his parents or my parents would - I am in awe of the transformation. In awe. And it has only profoundly deepened my already inextinguishable love for him.
And like the Americans I grew up with and love, this new change in him, these redemptive acts only serve as hooks that sink deeper into me. I cannot escape. Good, bad or ugly, I cannot imagine my life without him - no matter how often I would like to kick him for being a boob.
He's trying to be better. Regardless of whether or not it is for me, for us, for our kids, for himself... he is changing, and he is working on righting past mistakes.
Which makes him irresistible.
I didn't mean to gush about him this entire blog- but boy - he reallly did good today.
Really.
Oh - and P.S. - I am totally and completely into him...
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Hippo Birdie Two Ewe...
I love that. Hippo Birdie Two Ewe.
As you might have guessed, I am/did/will be/in the future having a birthday to celebrate.
Birthdays do funny things to people. Men, women, the young, the old, there's something about the marking of a year of your life that makes you take stock of the previous year you lived and contemplate the next year you're going to live. For some people, it's an ever ticking time clock, counting down the number of days you have left before the skin is looser everywhere, things are sagging that didn't sag before, and there are wayyy too many younger versions of you catching you (and your significant other's) eye.
This year, my birthday is no big milestone, nothing girnormous happened this year in particular. I'm not particularly moved to reevaluate the last year of my life or try to plan the next year of my life. I've finally reached a point in my life where I'm completely comfortable in my skin. It doesn't mean that I don't have any insecurities, that I don't mess up, I'm forgetful and I'm still aging. But - I know I have my flaws, and I struggle to make myself a better person, but in the end, flaws and all - this is who I am - and I'm not bad... (and gosh darn it - people like me...)
Up until about 4 years ago, I was insecure, doubtful, I didn't know what I wanted, who I was, where I was going. I used to be in awe of people who did. And then - one day - I figured it out, then flipped over in bed, and I've not lost sleep over this since. I'll tell you what the answer is.. and then you'll go to sleep happily and never lose sleep over this again either.
No one has it completely together. Who you are is who you are - flaws, indecision, inseurities and all. The moment you "know who you are" is when you can look in the mirror, and accept all the flaws you have, accept that your path changes everyday, and even well laid out plans aren't really "where you're going" - because life definitely has a way of making you change course midstream sometimes, and you will always have inseurities, no matter how secure you are.
There. Throw away the Ambien.
The moment you accept those things, and stop trying to force round pegs into square holes (not literally, and not in any gross sexual kind of way either.. ew....) you'll finally know yourself.. and feel comfy in your skin.
It's wherre I am right now.
So - Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday dear awesome-oh meee..
Hippo Birdie two geese!!
As you might have guessed, I am/did/will be/in the future having a birthday to celebrate.
Birthdays do funny things to people. Men, women, the young, the old, there's something about the marking of a year of your life that makes you take stock of the previous year you lived and contemplate the next year you're going to live. For some people, it's an ever ticking time clock, counting down the number of days you have left before the skin is looser everywhere, things are sagging that didn't sag before, and there are wayyy too many younger versions of you catching you (and your significant other's) eye.
This year, my birthday is no big milestone, nothing girnormous happened this year in particular. I'm not particularly moved to reevaluate the last year of my life or try to plan the next year of my life. I've finally reached a point in my life where I'm completely comfortable in my skin. It doesn't mean that I don't have any insecurities, that I don't mess up, I'm forgetful and I'm still aging. But - I know I have my flaws, and I struggle to make myself a better person, but in the end, flaws and all - this is who I am - and I'm not bad... (and gosh darn it - people like me...)
Up until about 4 years ago, I was insecure, doubtful, I didn't know what I wanted, who I was, where I was going. I used to be in awe of people who did. And then - one day - I figured it out, then flipped over in bed, and I've not lost sleep over this since. I'll tell you what the answer is.. and then you'll go to sleep happily and never lose sleep over this again either.
No one has it completely together. Who you are is who you are - flaws, indecision, inseurities and all. The moment you "know who you are" is when you can look in the mirror, and accept all the flaws you have, accept that your path changes everyday, and even well laid out plans aren't really "where you're going" - because life definitely has a way of making you change course midstream sometimes, and you will always have inseurities, no matter how secure you are.
There. Throw away the Ambien.
The moment you accept those things, and stop trying to force round pegs into square holes (not literally, and not in any gross sexual kind of way either.. ew....) you'll finally know yourself.. and feel comfy in your skin.
It's wherre I am right now.
So - Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday dear awesome-oh meee..
Hippo Birdie two geese!!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
What are you thinking?.... Actually - I don't care..
Often, I sit with MCsquared in silence. For a long time, that silence was uncomfortable to me, and I found myself asking those four little words that most men dread being asked.
"What are you thinking?"
The reality is - I only want to know what he is thinking if he's thinking about something that has to do with me. That's the truth.
Because - what McSquared is usually thinking is nothing. Not one thing. Or he's thinking about how expensive gas is, or he's thinking that his Prius isn't giving him enough gas mileage, or he's thinking that his butt itches.
But he's not thinking the one thing I want him to be thinking when I ask him, "what are you thinking." I want him to be thinking deeper thoughts like, "I'm so lucky to be married to dyang" or "how can I go on giving dyang everything that she wants/deserves?" or "Dyang is so beautiful.." or "I'm angry with Dyang, and it has made me think deep thoughts that make me look so hot sitting here aloof..."
Okay - so maybe not sooo goofy, but some derivative of that. I think a lot of women who ask this question are thinking the same thing, admittedly so or not. Afterall, we are all a bit narcissistic (sp!?) like that - aren't we?
The immediate answer, after our men, posed with such a question, are silent, is, "Are you angry with me? Is it me?" Most of the time, the answer is - no. But - if you keep asking - it will fast become you.
So - when I ask McSquared what he's thinking - I don't really want to know - unless it's about me, or something deep related to me, or something that makes him seem very vulnerable (like -how he was teased as a kid- and needs some sort of reassurance from me, the woman in his life that means everything, that he is loveable... (that is tootally hot too))...
So men, if you're actually reading this blog, if you really want to answer this question in a way that pleases your woman (because - your real answer won't - I know it already) - make the answer related to her in some way... and then let her prattle on about the answer to your concern, and we will leave you alone..
You say nothing - and we will never let it go.
Never.
I totally mean that.. We will either keep hunting for the answer, or get pissed off at you....
I'm blogging this - while glowering at McSquared for not answering the question correctly..
"What are you thinking?"
The reality is - I only want to know what he is thinking if he's thinking about something that has to do with me. That's the truth.
Because - what McSquared is usually thinking is nothing. Not one thing. Or he's thinking about how expensive gas is, or he's thinking that his Prius isn't giving him enough gas mileage, or he's thinking that his butt itches.
But he's not thinking the one thing I want him to be thinking when I ask him, "what are you thinking." I want him to be thinking deeper thoughts like, "I'm so lucky to be married to dyang" or "how can I go on giving dyang everything that she wants/deserves?" or "Dyang is so beautiful.." or "I'm angry with Dyang, and it has made me think deep thoughts that make me look so hot sitting here aloof..."
Okay - so maybe not sooo goofy, but some derivative of that. I think a lot of women who ask this question are thinking the same thing, admittedly so or not. Afterall, we are all a bit narcissistic (sp!?) like that - aren't we?
The immediate answer, after our men, posed with such a question, are silent, is, "Are you angry with me? Is it me?" Most of the time, the answer is - no. But - if you keep asking - it will fast become you.
So - when I ask McSquared what he's thinking - I don't really want to know - unless it's about me, or something deep related to me, or something that makes him seem very vulnerable (like -how he was teased as a kid- and needs some sort of reassurance from me, the woman in his life that means everything, that he is loveable... (that is tootally hot too))...
So men, if you're actually reading this blog, if you really want to answer this question in a way that pleases your woman (because - your real answer won't - I know it already) - make the answer related to her in some way... and then let her prattle on about the answer to your concern, and we will leave you alone..
You say nothing - and we will never let it go.
Never.
I totally mean that.. We will either keep hunting for the answer, or get pissed off at you....
I'm blogging this - while glowering at McSquared for not answering the question correctly..
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