"I never should have trusted you!" She screamed and started to storm out of the room.
"You're right. But you did, so really this is all your fault." He seemed almost bored.
She stopped and turned. That was not the answer she was expecting. She had been expecting him to follow her and plead for her forgiveness or explain how it was all a misunderstanding. Something contrite. But not this.
"What?"
"What, what?"
"What do you mean this is all my fault?"
"I was agreeing with you. You said you never should have trusted me, and you were right, you shouldn't have. This is what it feels like to be right. Is this your first time?"
Her eyes got very wide. "Excuse me?"
"Is this your first time being right? You seem very unsure of how to behave right now."
She actually was unsure. There was a pattern that should have been followed. She got mad, he apologized, then did something to make it up to her, she forgave him until the next time. It was a cycle that she had played out in almost every relationship she had ever had. Her friends called her a Drama Queen but she preferred passionate. If a relationship wasn't passionate what was it? So she tended to find men who would fit her pattern. Passionate.
This time she had dated someone who hadn't really fit that mold. She had loved it about him. And her friends were so impressed with how grown up this relationship seemed compared to her others. No shouting matches in bars, no big scenes at dinner with friends. It was all very drama free. She had thought that she really liked this new relationship style. But now he was sitting there unphased, like it wasn't his fault at all. When it clearly was. He had been flirting with another woman. Well, flirting was mild, he had been pursuing another woman. And not even hiding it very well.
"You were going to cheat on me. I am not sure how that is my fault."
"Going to cheat on you? When did we become something that was cheatable?" He looked at his hands and reached out for hers, "I don't see any rings. I don't recall any promises. You pursued me when you knew I was dating other people. I am not sure how you thought that was anything that changed."
"Because we started dating! We have been going out for months! How could it not have changed? I don't see anyone else!" She was starting to find her footing again. Feeling the righteous anger build.
He shrugged his shoulders, "I don't remember ever telling you to stop seeing other people."
"You didn't have to! I shouldn't have had to! We were seeing each other multiple times a week! You were staying over here on weekends more often than you weren't! We were obviously exclusive! You cheated on me!"
"It's not obvious. You are assuming that because it's easier to stay in one bed than move in the middle of the night it meant something more than I like getting an extra hour of sleep. And you're closer to downtown than I am. It's just easier to stay here than trek out to my place. I like you, don't get me wrong, but we never made any promises to each other. You putting something else on me that I didn't ask for is your own issue."
"You need to get out."
He slowly got up and started to gather his things, "Okay."
"Okay? That's all you have to say is okay?"
"I am really beginning to believe you have no idea what you want. You told me to get out, so I am getting out. What do you want me to do? Refuse to leave?"
"Well, at least act like you want to stay."
"Why would I want to stay? You are mad and yelling and carrying on. This isn't a great place to be right now."
"Do you not care about us at all?"
"Sure I care. I've been having a good time with you."
"GOOD TIME? That's all this has been?" She was fuming again.
"Yes, a good time. Shouldn't that be the goal? To have a good time? What in the world are you looking for? A bad time? A miserable time?"
"I want to be more than a good time."
"What else is there?"
This stopped her. Her last relationship had ended because they weren't having fun anymore. Neither one of them were having a good time. It was all too much drama all of the time. And the one before that ended the same way. And the one before that. They stopped being a good time. And now she was mad because he only thought of her as a good time and that wasn't enough either. What did she want?
"Well?"
She sat down on the edge of the couch. "I don't know. But something. There has to be something more."
"God, I hope not."
She looked at him like she had never seen him before. And she was realizing that she hadn't. Not really. She had done to him what she had done to every relationship before him. Just slotted him in the empty space and made him what she wanted him to be. She needed a mature, drama free, grown up to have a stable relationship with just to prove that she could do it, so she made him that. But really she had brought home a selfish, inconsiderate jerk, just like always, but just showing it in a different way. Not that she bothered to look. "Hunh."
"Hunh?" He was clearly puzzled for the first time all morning, "What do you mean, hunh?"
"I just figured out that it really wasn't you. It was me. I never knew you at all. You're kind of an asshole."
He laughed at this, "Am I?"
"Yeah, you really are. You knew that I would assume we were dating exclusively, don't act like you wouldn't. But you never bothered to say anything. You liked being able to stay here, and have sex with me, and go to the clubs that I can get in to that you couldn't. You're an asshole. Don't get me wrong, you're really an attractive asshole and you're adequate in bed, but you aren't all that special."
"Adequate?"
"Yeah, adequate. It's enough for a good time. Not great. Wait! That's it."
"What's it?"
"You asked what else there was, that's what else there is. Great. Not good, great. I'm looking for great."
"Okay...." He started to sit back down.
"Oh no, you still need to get out. You will never be great. So you should go find someone who is satisfied with good enough."
He laughed and shook his head, "Alright. You're crazy, you know that right?"
She smiled back at him, "Actually I think for the first time in a long time I'm not."
She followed him to the door and locked it behind him. She went to her desk and started to make a list:
Drama Free-but not an asshole
That was a good start on her way to great.
Saturday, March 10, 2018
Friday, March 9, 2018
Vacation...
Okay, we're back.
Hawaii was wonderful. I think that's standard right? Hawaii is just wonderful. Even last year when it rained almost the whole time it was still wonderful. This year it was a little windy but it's still wonderful.
I didn't do my old normal pack it full vacation. We went for a little longer, we did a lot less, we just relaxed. We're trying to find the balance between just enough and too much. I think this time it was probably a little too little, but part of that was weather related. We discovered that we prefer the summer water for sure. Now to decide if we trade water warm and calm enough to snorkel off the beach whenever we want to for whales. No whales in the summer.
I love whales.
BUT...I also love being able to snorkel without a chill.
So we are balancing.
Speaking of balancing...
We tried Stand Up Paddleboarding this time. I changed it to Sit Down Paddleboarding after the third time I fell. I wish the guide had taken pictures of the falls, they had to have been spectacular to see considering how they felt. I'd go up...then BOOM right back down. Once I ended up sitting on the board, the other two times I hit the board then bounced into the water. I'm not graceful, but I really thought I might be able to do it. Nope. We will probably give it another try at some point. Even sitting on the board it was a nice way to spend the morning.
Our guide was a nice kid. Originally from California. Moved to Utah in middle school. Went from being one of only two blond kids in his school (his brother was the other one) to being one of a "everyone looks like me." Culture shock for him. He graduated high school early, then went to college for a couple of years and dropped out. It was a religious college in Utah...He decided he didn't want to be that religion, it wasn't a good fit for him. He stressed about telling his parents and then found out that they didn't hold the belief anymore either. They were just letting him come to his own decisions about it. Which I thought was remarkable. We talked about it a bit. I think he was amazed that we knew what the college was as soon as he started talking about it, and that we understood things like his family not being able to go in to the church to see a family wedding. There is a big family reunion this year with the other side of their family and it will be the first time they will be together with that group since his core left the church. He's a little nervous about it. I know more too. Like his trip through New Zealand and Tasmania and his roommates and what he is going to be doing for work this summer. People tell me things. I'm a pretty good listener.
People just want to be listened to. That's a good thing to remember in life. Nobody gets listened to enough. If you can make some space to listen to people you will learn all sorts of things and they will feel pretty good about their time with you. Be a good listener.
We went kayaking again. We were hoping to kayak with whales but there weren't any around when we set off. We waited for a little bit then went snorkeling instead. We really like snorkeling and snorkeling off the kayaks is great. You can get out to places that aren't super crowded. We were a little bummed to find out another group found some whales, but only a little considering how far out they kayaked to them and how far south they got blown coming back. The tour was supposed to be over around 10 and it was closer to 11 by the time they got back. Considering how gassed we were at 10, with a snorkel break from paddling, I cannot imagine how tough that would have been. But if we go back and try again we will go a little earlier in the season. The whales are coming in earlier and leaving earlier lately. Probably something to do with that non-existent climate change.
We did see whales on a whale watching tour. We saw competition groups. Which we had never seen before. Basically one female and a group of males showing off for her. Head lunges, tail slaps, breaching, jostling with each other in the water, it was pretty spectacular. Gorgeous sunny day as well. Which led to a pretty solid sunburn for both of us. I normally don't get sunburned because I wear sunscreen when I even think about a sunny day, but we used a different brand and it was not good. We are in the process of switching over to a zinc only sunscreen, reef safe, you see. And the hotel gave us a bottle of their zinc lotion. Since it was too big to take back we thought we would use it up there. I should have stuck with the the stuff I brought. Oh well, live and learn! Even with a little extra pink on my face and ears...well purple on the ears but because of that I bought a new hat, and it's a really cool hat so it all worked out okay.
We went on a snorkel tour to the northern beaches. But it was too windy to snorkel up north so we went down south, to a spot that ended up being too windy to snorkel in so we came back up mid-island to another spot. Snorkeled there for awhile. We actually snorkeled with sharks for the first time, well the first time we were aware of them anyway. Too bad we weren't made aware until after we were out of the water. The photographer got some great shots of them, but I wish they would have called us over to see them. I would have loved that. We were supposed to go to another location for more snorkeling but the wind was too much so we went sailing instead. All things being equal I would rather snorkel.
BUT good news on the boat front, no seasick issues. I took dramamine AND wore my sea bands, but I'm still counting it as a win. I seem to be okay on REALLY large ships and catamarans. I'm really relieved by this because taking a boat out to snorkel or to whale watch is my favorite part of these trips.
We went snorkeling off of a couple of beaches, it was a little cold and the surf was a little rough, but it was good snorkeling once we were out in the areas. Saw some new for us fish. That's always fun. No, I don't know what they were. The shiny ones, and the purple ones, and the one with that thing on his face...that's the way I describe them to Brent later. "Did you see that one that did that thing like this?" That's what he usually gets on the beach. We also saw a few turtles, or excuse me, honu again. We've seen enough of them now that we are kind of nonchalant about it. Which is amazing. Oh yeah, we snorkeled with turtles today, no big deal...
We ate well. Really well. Oof! We had some fun drinks. We got yelled at by a crazy man on the beach about stealing his cabana. Then we got apologized to by a contrite man who strongly resembled the crazy man when he realized his mistake. We spent a lot of time relaxing and reading by the beach or on our lanai or in the rocking chairs next to the lagoon.
And then it was over.
Super fast.
Even though we were there for a week it seemed like we had just arrived and it was time to go.
It was wonderful.
But Hawaii always is.
Hawaii was wonderful. I think that's standard right? Hawaii is just wonderful. Even last year when it rained almost the whole time it was still wonderful. This year it was a little windy but it's still wonderful.
I didn't do my old normal pack it full vacation. We went for a little longer, we did a lot less, we just relaxed. We're trying to find the balance between just enough and too much. I think this time it was probably a little too little, but part of that was weather related. We discovered that we prefer the summer water for sure. Now to decide if we trade water warm and calm enough to snorkel off the beach whenever we want to for whales. No whales in the summer.
I love whales.
BUT...I also love being able to snorkel without a chill.
So we are balancing.
Speaking of balancing...
We tried Stand Up Paddleboarding this time. I changed it to Sit Down Paddleboarding after the third time I fell. I wish the guide had taken pictures of the falls, they had to have been spectacular to see considering how they felt. I'd go up...then BOOM right back down. Once I ended up sitting on the board, the other two times I hit the board then bounced into the water. I'm not graceful, but I really thought I might be able to do it. Nope. We will probably give it another try at some point. Even sitting on the board it was a nice way to spend the morning.
Our guide was a nice kid. Originally from California. Moved to Utah in middle school. Went from being one of only two blond kids in his school (his brother was the other one) to being one of a "everyone looks like me." Culture shock for him. He graduated high school early, then went to college for a couple of years and dropped out. It was a religious college in Utah...He decided he didn't want to be that religion, it wasn't a good fit for him. He stressed about telling his parents and then found out that they didn't hold the belief anymore either. They were just letting him come to his own decisions about it. Which I thought was remarkable. We talked about it a bit. I think he was amazed that we knew what the college was as soon as he started talking about it, and that we understood things like his family not being able to go in to the church to see a family wedding. There is a big family reunion this year with the other side of their family and it will be the first time they will be together with that group since his core left the church. He's a little nervous about it. I know more too. Like his trip through New Zealand and Tasmania and his roommates and what he is going to be doing for work this summer. People tell me things. I'm a pretty good listener.
People just want to be listened to. That's a good thing to remember in life. Nobody gets listened to enough. If you can make some space to listen to people you will learn all sorts of things and they will feel pretty good about their time with you. Be a good listener.
We went kayaking again. We were hoping to kayak with whales but there weren't any around when we set off. We waited for a little bit then went snorkeling instead. We really like snorkeling and snorkeling off the kayaks is great. You can get out to places that aren't super crowded. We were a little bummed to find out another group found some whales, but only a little considering how far out they kayaked to them and how far south they got blown coming back. The tour was supposed to be over around 10 and it was closer to 11 by the time they got back. Considering how gassed we were at 10, with a snorkel break from paddling, I cannot imagine how tough that would have been. But if we go back and try again we will go a little earlier in the season. The whales are coming in earlier and leaving earlier lately. Probably something to do with that non-existent climate change.
We did see whales on a whale watching tour. We saw competition groups. Which we had never seen before. Basically one female and a group of males showing off for her. Head lunges, tail slaps, breaching, jostling with each other in the water, it was pretty spectacular. Gorgeous sunny day as well. Which led to a pretty solid sunburn for both of us. I normally don't get sunburned because I wear sunscreen when I even think about a sunny day, but we used a different brand and it was not good. We are in the process of switching over to a zinc only sunscreen, reef safe, you see. And the hotel gave us a bottle of their zinc lotion. Since it was too big to take back we thought we would use it up there. I should have stuck with the the stuff I brought. Oh well, live and learn! Even with a little extra pink on my face and ears...well purple on the ears but because of that I bought a new hat, and it's a really cool hat so it all worked out okay.
We went on a snorkel tour to the northern beaches. But it was too windy to snorkel up north so we went down south, to a spot that ended up being too windy to snorkel in so we came back up mid-island to another spot. Snorkeled there for awhile. We actually snorkeled with sharks for the first time, well the first time we were aware of them anyway. Too bad we weren't made aware until after we were out of the water. The photographer got some great shots of them, but I wish they would have called us over to see them. I would have loved that. We were supposed to go to another location for more snorkeling but the wind was too much so we went sailing instead. All things being equal I would rather snorkel.
BUT good news on the boat front, no seasick issues. I took dramamine AND wore my sea bands, but I'm still counting it as a win. I seem to be okay on REALLY large ships and catamarans. I'm really relieved by this because taking a boat out to snorkel or to whale watch is my favorite part of these trips.
We went snorkeling off of a couple of beaches, it was a little cold and the surf was a little rough, but it was good snorkeling once we were out in the areas. Saw some new for us fish. That's always fun. No, I don't know what they were. The shiny ones, and the purple ones, and the one with that thing on his face...that's the way I describe them to Brent later. "Did you see that one that did that thing like this?" That's what he usually gets on the beach. We also saw a few turtles, or excuse me, honu again. We've seen enough of them now that we are kind of nonchalant about it. Which is amazing. Oh yeah, we snorkeled with turtles today, no big deal...
We ate well. Really well. Oof! We had some fun drinks. We got yelled at by a crazy man on the beach about stealing his cabana. Then we got apologized to by a contrite man who strongly resembled the crazy man when he realized his mistake. We spent a lot of time relaxing and reading by the beach or on our lanai or in the rocking chairs next to the lagoon.
And then it was over.
Super fast.
Even though we were there for a week it seemed like we had just arrived and it was time to go.
It was wonderful.
But Hawaii always is.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Believe What You Will...
Quite a few years ago I read an article on belief and one of the things that stuck with me was the notion that to believe in a thing, you have to believe in all of the parts of that thing. It resonated with me because it reflected how I left the church. I stopped believing in one thing about it, then another fell, then I looked at all of the tenants of the faith and they didn't hold up to scrutiny anymore. Once I knew one thing was wrong, I was no longer able to hold on to my faith.
To believe in a thing, you have to believe in all of the parts of that thing.
When you realize that people are born gay or straight then you question why there would be a god who would make people a certain way and then tell them that if they ever act on it, they are going to hell. Are you a perfect being who never makes mistakes so there is nothing wrong with being gay, or are you an asshole deity who sets some of your creations up for lives of misery or certain sin? Which is it? Because it can't be both.
And it all fell apart from there. I questioned the patriarchal parts next. Started reading about how the bible was actually put together. Started reading texts from other religions. Started questioning everything I knew. To believe in a thing, you have to believe in all of the parts of that thing. It was all a house of cards just waiting to come down.
Now I know that there are people out there now who have decided to pick and choose a little bit more. To reconsider certain parts of the text and come to different conclusions, and if that works for them then I'm happy for them. But for me it just didn't.
I've been thinking about this decision a lot lately. I have a friend who recently left the Evangelical fold and is finding his way in a different mindset. He's dealing with it differently than I did. But I think in a few decades he will look back and see a lot of similarities to my story. He stopped believing in one part of the faith (or the faithful) and the rest started to fall apart. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, moments.
But the thing that you don't really get when you first stop believing something like that, is that it doesn't just affect your belief. If you were raised in a church, all of your family has one religion, you've been going to church and Sunday school and youth group and choir practice and bible study and you can see that the majority of your social circle is in that belief system. And when you decide you aren't it makes things a little tense.
I've been dealing with it for years. Some of the people I grew up with (most are still in the church at least "on paper") are surprised to hear I don't believe anymore. They can't wrap their brains around it. They stopped going to church most Sundays, they drink, have had a divorce or two, a little extra marital sex here and there, but they are still good Christians and cannot believe I would abandon god like that. It always makes me shake my head a little bit.
See, the stance on homosexuality was the piece that led me to leaving for good but the very first thing I questioned was what I was just talking about. I knew some real jerks in the church. And I'm not talking about skipping church or divorcing, I mean some very bad people. BUT they were baptized and could ask for forgiveness at any and all times and it would be granted so they were getting in to heaven. I also knew some really outstanding people who did great things for others, who were kind, generous, salt of the earth but weren't baptized so that meant they were going to hell. This never made sense to me. Especially when you added it up with people who our missionaries were supposed to be finding and reaching with the gospel to save them from eternal damnation. We were back to the whole, why would an omnipotent, all knowing, all loving god put people in parts of the world where they could go their whole lives and never hear the Word and then just send them on in to hell. Who would do that? It was the first unsteady card in my house of cards.
But I left. The rest of my circle did not. My family still has the same faith. The people I grew up with still do as well. I am the sinner. The fallen one. The black sheep. And I'm usually fine with it. I left over 30 years ago. I've spent more time on the outside than on the inside. It doesn't usually bother me. Not when they tell me I'm going to hell (it's hard to be upset about going someplace you don't believe exists), not when they tell me they are praying for me (I have no problem with you doing something that comforts you even if I don't think it's doing anything else, that's a fine thing for it to do), not when they tell me that their heart just breaks because I don't believe what they do (though this one makes me a little sad, your heart breaks because of who I am. Let that sit with you for a moment and understand what you just said to me).
I talked about my lack of faith when Dad died. How that set me apart from my family a bit. They all believe that they will see him again. What a great comfort. What a great feeling of peace that can bring. It's not loss, it's temporary separation. I don't have that. What I believe is what I have left of my father is all that there will be for me. I'm not going to be reunited with him on some celestial plane. The voice in my head that I have of his is all that I will ever hear from him again. The part of me that he influenced. That's what I have left. It's enough for me. It's what I believe. But it is very different than thinking he's someplace with our siblings just waiting for the rest of the family to show up.
But like I said, I'm usually fine with it. Usually. But at times it makes me frustrated. The moral superiority that is felt. As if I am fundamentally broken because I don't believe in your god. Because I spell god with a lowercase g. Being good without god is a really easy thing to do. I'm not kind to people because I think I will get a reward for it later. I didn't teach my son to be a good person so he could get in to heaven. I don't donate to charities that need help because I think it will help me on my path to those streets of gold. I live my life the way I live it because it's the right thing to do. I don't think you doing similar things for the heavenly reward puts you on a higher moral standing than I am.
The TV show The Good Place touched on the concept of moral desert in their season finale this year. The concept of deserving rewards because you did the right thing instead of doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do. Eleanor didn't want to be good for goodness sake, she wanted that gold star. And you don't always get a reward. There is a reason there is an expression "no good deed goes unpunished" because sometimes you get screwed by doing the right thing. But you do it anyway. That's what being a good person is.
Now, if you are being a good person because you think when you die you will be rewarded for that behavior, fine, you live your life reaching for that goal. But don't tell me I'm a horrible person for living my life as a good person without the thought of a reward. Because that's a shitty thing to do.
And that's when it bugs me.
Not enough to stop being who I am. Because I believe in me. All of the parts. The good ones and the bad ones. And because I believe in all of the parts of me, I continue to believe in me.
"As soon as you trust yourself, then you will know how to live." generally attributed to Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
Continually lived by Denise Mastenbrook
To believe in a thing, you have to believe in all of the parts of that thing.
When you realize that people are born gay or straight then you question why there would be a god who would make people a certain way and then tell them that if they ever act on it, they are going to hell. Are you a perfect being who never makes mistakes so there is nothing wrong with being gay, or are you an asshole deity who sets some of your creations up for lives of misery or certain sin? Which is it? Because it can't be both.
And it all fell apart from there. I questioned the patriarchal parts next. Started reading about how the bible was actually put together. Started reading texts from other religions. Started questioning everything I knew. To believe in a thing, you have to believe in all of the parts of that thing. It was all a house of cards just waiting to come down.
Now I know that there are people out there now who have decided to pick and choose a little bit more. To reconsider certain parts of the text and come to different conclusions, and if that works for them then I'm happy for them. But for me it just didn't.
I've been thinking about this decision a lot lately. I have a friend who recently left the Evangelical fold and is finding his way in a different mindset. He's dealing with it differently than I did. But I think in a few decades he will look back and see a lot of similarities to my story. He stopped believing in one part of the faith (or the faithful) and the rest started to fall apart. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, moments.
But the thing that you don't really get when you first stop believing something like that, is that it doesn't just affect your belief. If you were raised in a church, all of your family has one religion, you've been going to church and Sunday school and youth group and choir practice and bible study and you can see that the majority of your social circle is in that belief system. And when you decide you aren't it makes things a little tense.
I've been dealing with it for years. Some of the people I grew up with (most are still in the church at least "on paper") are surprised to hear I don't believe anymore. They can't wrap their brains around it. They stopped going to church most Sundays, they drink, have had a divorce or two, a little extra marital sex here and there, but they are still good Christians and cannot believe I would abandon god like that. It always makes me shake my head a little bit.
See, the stance on homosexuality was the piece that led me to leaving for good but the very first thing I questioned was what I was just talking about. I knew some real jerks in the church. And I'm not talking about skipping church or divorcing, I mean some very bad people. BUT they were baptized and could ask for forgiveness at any and all times and it would be granted so they were getting in to heaven. I also knew some really outstanding people who did great things for others, who were kind, generous, salt of the earth but weren't baptized so that meant they were going to hell. This never made sense to me. Especially when you added it up with people who our missionaries were supposed to be finding and reaching with the gospel to save them from eternal damnation. We were back to the whole, why would an omnipotent, all knowing, all loving god put people in parts of the world where they could go their whole lives and never hear the Word and then just send them on in to hell. Who would do that? It was the first unsteady card in my house of cards.
But I left. The rest of my circle did not. My family still has the same faith. The people I grew up with still do as well. I am the sinner. The fallen one. The black sheep. And I'm usually fine with it. I left over 30 years ago. I've spent more time on the outside than on the inside. It doesn't usually bother me. Not when they tell me I'm going to hell (it's hard to be upset about going someplace you don't believe exists), not when they tell me they are praying for me (I have no problem with you doing something that comforts you even if I don't think it's doing anything else, that's a fine thing for it to do), not when they tell me that their heart just breaks because I don't believe what they do (though this one makes me a little sad, your heart breaks because of who I am. Let that sit with you for a moment and understand what you just said to me).
I talked about my lack of faith when Dad died. How that set me apart from my family a bit. They all believe that they will see him again. What a great comfort. What a great feeling of peace that can bring. It's not loss, it's temporary separation. I don't have that. What I believe is what I have left of my father is all that there will be for me. I'm not going to be reunited with him on some celestial plane. The voice in my head that I have of his is all that I will ever hear from him again. The part of me that he influenced. That's what I have left. It's enough for me. It's what I believe. But it is very different than thinking he's someplace with our siblings just waiting for the rest of the family to show up.
But like I said, I'm usually fine with it. Usually. But at times it makes me frustrated. The moral superiority that is felt. As if I am fundamentally broken because I don't believe in your god. Because I spell god with a lowercase g. Being good without god is a really easy thing to do. I'm not kind to people because I think I will get a reward for it later. I didn't teach my son to be a good person so he could get in to heaven. I don't donate to charities that need help because I think it will help me on my path to those streets of gold. I live my life the way I live it because it's the right thing to do. I don't think you doing similar things for the heavenly reward puts you on a higher moral standing than I am.
The TV show The Good Place touched on the concept of moral desert in their season finale this year. The concept of deserving rewards because you did the right thing instead of doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do. Eleanor didn't want to be good for goodness sake, she wanted that gold star. And you don't always get a reward. There is a reason there is an expression "no good deed goes unpunished" because sometimes you get screwed by doing the right thing. But you do it anyway. That's what being a good person is.
Now, if you are being a good person because you think when you die you will be rewarded for that behavior, fine, you live your life reaching for that goal. But don't tell me I'm a horrible person for living my life as a good person without the thought of a reward. Because that's a shitty thing to do.
And that's when it bugs me.
Not enough to stop being who I am. Because I believe in me. All of the parts. The good ones and the bad ones. And because I believe in all of the parts of me, I continue to believe in me.
"As soon as you trust yourself, then you will know how to live." generally attributed to Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
Continually lived by Denise Mastenbrook
Friday, February 23, 2018
To Sleep, Perchance to Freak Out...
As most of you know I suffer from insomnia. I've never slept well. It's always been part of who I am. To the point that I had no idea it wasn't the way everyone was until I was a teenager. I assumed everyone had stretches where they went days without a full night's sleep. And that a full night's sleep wasn't supposed to be a few hours asleep, a few hours awake, another hour asleep, lie in bed until you have to get out. I thought that was how everyone did it. And we talk like that's normal, most everyone is tired all the time. Most everyone wants more sleep. So I just figured that meant everyone slept, or didn't sleep as the case may be, like me.
Now I know that there are mythical creatures that can get to sleep almost every night with ease. Who sleep through the night and if for some reason they wake up in the middle of the night they can get right back to sleep. The lucky weirdos.
Anyway, along with not sleeping chronic insomnia comes with a whole host of other issues. The worst ones come when it's a really bad stretch of lack of sleep. Mood fluctuations, hallucinations. Those are the worst. Before those happen I get involuntary leg movement. When I'm tired my legs twitch. Hours before I am ready to go to bed. I'll be sitting on the couch and *jerk* there goes the leg. It's incredibly annoying. Especially for someone who has control issues. The whole reason I don't drink a lot is because I don't like feeling out of control. I want to know that if I am doing something it's because I intend to be doing that thing. But when I'm tired, *jerk*, *twitch*, *spasm* Argh! It doesn't keep me awake, and it doesn't really happen once I'm falling asleep. So that's great. I know there are people out there who suffer from this pretty constantly and I feel horribly for them.
But the one that is really weird. The one that used to freak me out until I understood what was happening is called sleep paralysis. See the human brain is an AMAZING thing. And when we are in our deepest sleep cycle and dreaming away about running, climbing, flying, walking, whatevering, our brain has turned off our muscles so we don't actually do those things. Sometimes there's a glitch and you get sleep walkers, or sleep talkers, but for the most part the system works amazingly well. But if you are sleeping and go directly from that deep sleep and skip the non REM sleep stage and just wake up it can take a moment for your brain to catch up. So you lay there in bed unable to move with the last vestiges of whatever you were dreaming still playing in your head.
And you can't move.
At all.
You're awake, possibly a little freaked out by what you were dreaming and you are stuck.
It's a very odd feeling. And it can be really scary if you don't know what is going on. I learned about it when I was pretty young and so it usually doesn't bug me. And because I'm not freaked out by it I can focus on the feeling of it fading away. Of the muscles turning back on. And that is a pretty cool feeling. There is a heaviness to your muscles that you don't feel during the day. A weight to them. A sectioning of them. You aren't aware of them usually, they just are part of you. But coming out from sleep paralysis I can feel them.
The human body is an amazing machine and the way the brain runs it is incredible. The capabilities that we possess and use on a daily basis without ever consciously deciding to use them are incredible. We breath without thought. Our hearts beat without effort. Our muscles switch on and off in sleep. And, in fact, while we are awake. I'm typing this right now but I'm not thinking about what I need to do to move my fingers over the keys. I'm just doing it. And I'm breathing, and my heart is pumping, and my leg is twitching (voluntarily this time around) all while I type away at the keyboard.
So why am I rambling about this right now? Because I think there is a short story brewing around sleep paralysis. I can feel it in there, I just can't make it move. Which is appropo really. I'm hoping that by typing all of this out I will move it around. Because I'm pretty sure it's there, I just need it to wake up a little more.
Now I know that there are mythical creatures that can get to sleep almost every night with ease. Who sleep through the night and if for some reason they wake up in the middle of the night they can get right back to sleep. The lucky weirdos.
Anyway, along with not sleeping chronic insomnia comes with a whole host of other issues. The worst ones come when it's a really bad stretch of lack of sleep. Mood fluctuations, hallucinations. Those are the worst. Before those happen I get involuntary leg movement. When I'm tired my legs twitch. Hours before I am ready to go to bed. I'll be sitting on the couch and *jerk* there goes the leg. It's incredibly annoying. Especially for someone who has control issues. The whole reason I don't drink a lot is because I don't like feeling out of control. I want to know that if I am doing something it's because I intend to be doing that thing. But when I'm tired, *jerk*, *twitch*, *spasm* Argh! It doesn't keep me awake, and it doesn't really happen once I'm falling asleep. So that's great. I know there are people out there who suffer from this pretty constantly and I feel horribly for them.
But the one that is really weird. The one that used to freak me out until I understood what was happening is called sleep paralysis. See the human brain is an AMAZING thing. And when we are in our deepest sleep cycle and dreaming away about running, climbing, flying, walking, whatevering, our brain has turned off our muscles so we don't actually do those things. Sometimes there's a glitch and you get sleep walkers, or sleep talkers, but for the most part the system works amazingly well. But if you are sleeping and go directly from that deep sleep and skip the non REM sleep stage and just wake up it can take a moment for your brain to catch up. So you lay there in bed unable to move with the last vestiges of whatever you were dreaming still playing in your head.
And you can't move.
At all.
You're awake, possibly a little freaked out by what you were dreaming and you are stuck.
It's a very odd feeling. And it can be really scary if you don't know what is going on. I learned about it when I was pretty young and so it usually doesn't bug me. And because I'm not freaked out by it I can focus on the feeling of it fading away. Of the muscles turning back on. And that is a pretty cool feeling. There is a heaviness to your muscles that you don't feel during the day. A weight to them. A sectioning of them. You aren't aware of them usually, they just are part of you. But coming out from sleep paralysis I can feel them.
The human body is an amazing machine and the way the brain runs it is incredible. The capabilities that we possess and use on a daily basis without ever consciously deciding to use them are incredible. We breath without thought. Our hearts beat without effort. Our muscles switch on and off in sleep. And, in fact, while we are awake. I'm typing this right now but I'm not thinking about what I need to do to move my fingers over the keys. I'm just doing it. And I'm breathing, and my heart is pumping, and my leg is twitching (voluntarily this time around) all while I type away at the keyboard.
So why am I rambling about this right now? Because I think there is a short story brewing around sleep paralysis. I can feel it in there, I just can't make it move. Which is appropo really. I'm hoping that by typing all of this out I will move it around. Because I'm pretty sure it's there, I just need it to wake up a little more.
Thursday, February 22, 2018
Eight Days...
That's how long it's been since I sat down and wrote anything longer than a status update. Eight days.
Ugh.
One of my constant goals is just to write. Not necessarily publish, though that's a subgoal (blogs) and a another subgoal (submissions) this year, but to just write. Sit my ass down in the chair and write.
I feel better when I write.
I write more when I write consistently. I know that sounds obvious, and it is. Do something more often and you will do it more often, but it's more than that. When you stop writing the gears get stuck. You get stuck. You start to doubt that you will ever be able to write another word again. But when you are writing consistently you loosen up. You let the words flow more freely. The pressure lessens, not just because you are letting the words out but because you are letting so many words out the urge to be precious about them disappears. So what if what I write today is crap, I'll write more tomorrow sort of thing.
But it's been 8 days since I've sat my ass down in the chair and written.
I can tell you why. It's been 8 days since 17 people were gunned down in Florida. It's been 8 days of reading and watching the reactions to that shooting. The cycle we go through, again and again. And, yes, in a LOT of ways this time has been different. There is a feeling that maybe this time something will change. But I don't trust it. Not yet. But the utter vileness coming from some on the Right directed at the kids that are speaking out shows me that they are worried this time. And they are never worried about this changing so maybe. Maybe this time.
But it's been 8 days.
Eight days of watching a friend of mine who used to teach at that high school work through her shock, grief and anger. Eight days of watching other friends of mine who are currently teachers talk about what it means to them to do "active shooter" drills with their students. Eight days of listening to people talk about arming those same teachers when they don't even trust them to teach without a test. Eight days of listening to my friends who are parents and the fear they have sending their kids to school every day.
Eight days.
I told Brent this morning that I write a lot of things that are kind of wacky conspiracy sort of stuff. But in a fantasy level. In a supernatural bent. That I like to write about things that make you question what you see, but that it's really hard to do that when you have people in the real world who believe in things much crazier than the make believe I come up with. A friend of mine who writes post-apocalyptic things has had the same problem for the past few years. It's hard to write fiction worlds that are starting to look all too possible.
So now I am sitting down and writing. It's not good. I know that. But it's words. And I'm still not pushing those 17 in to a further corner of my mind just yet. They are still there demanding that I pay attention. Because, as you all know, people in my stories don't stop demanding you pay attention to them just because they died. In fact, that usually means it's time to pay more attention to them. Eight days. Seventeen more deaths.
Maybe this time it will be different.
Ugh.
One of my constant goals is just to write. Not necessarily publish, though that's a subgoal (blogs) and a another subgoal (submissions) this year, but to just write. Sit my ass down in the chair and write.
I feel better when I write.
I write more when I write consistently. I know that sounds obvious, and it is. Do something more often and you will do it more often, but it's more than that. When you stop writing the gears get stuck. You get stuck. You start to doubt that you will ever be able to write another word again. But when you are writing consistently you loosen up. You let the words flow more freely. The pressure lessens, not just because you are letting the words out but because you are letting so many words out the urge to be precious about them disappears. So what if what I write today is crap, I'll write more tomorrow sort of thing.
But it's been 8 days since I've sat my ass down in the chair and written.
I can tell you why. It's been 8 days since 17 people were gunned down in Florida. It's been 8 days of reading and watching the reactions to that shooting. The cycle we go through, again and again. And, yes, in a LOT of ways this time has been different. There is a feeling that maybe this time something will change. But I don't trust it. Not yet. But the utter vileness coming from some on the Right directed at the kids that are speaking out shows me that they are worried this time. And they are never worried about this changing so maybe. Maybe this time.
But it's been 8 days.
Eight days of watching a friend of mine who used to teach at that high school work through her shock, grief and anger. Eight days of watching other friends of mine who are currently teachers talk about what it means to them to do "active shooter" drills with their students. Eight days of listening to people talk about arming those same teachers when they don't even trust them to teach without a test. Eight days of listening to my friends who are parents and the fear they have sending their kids to school every day.
Eight days.
I told Brent this morning that I write a lot of things that are kind of wacky conspiracy sort of stuff. But in a fantasy level. In a supernatural bent. That I like to write about things that make you question what you see, but that it's really hard to do that when you have people in the real world who believe in things much crazier than the make believe I come up with. A friend of mine who writes post-apocalyptic things has had the same problem for the past few years. It's hard to write fiction worlds that are starting to look all too possible.
So now I am sitting down and writing. It's not good. I know that. But it's words. And I'm still not pushing those 17 in to a further corner of my mind just yet. They are still there demanding that I pay attention. Because, as you all know, people in my stories don't stop demanding you pay attention to them just because they died. In fact, that usually means it's time to pay more attention to them. Eight days. Seventeen more deaths.
Maybe this time it will be different.
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
Flowers For My Valentine...
The roses were the first sign.
Wait, that wasn't right.
The roses were the proof that what she had been thinking was right.
They were beautiful roses. What her mother called "proud flowers" the ones with the very long, very straight stems. Two dozen, long stem, red roses delivered to her office. Every woman around her was jealous of them. And that was the point wasn't it? To make them jealous. To show how loved she was. That was the point of very public declarations of love. To show the world "I am loved." and not just that but the added, "I am loved more than you, June, I see your sad little mixed bouquet over there."
It reminded her of elementary school when they all would craft their boxes for valentines cards, little construction paper covered mailboxes. During the class party people would open their boxes and read their cards. The very popular kids showing the candy and treats they got with their stacks and stacks of cards, some of the very pretty girls even getting a card from a boy in the next grade up. That was something to be show off for sure. And then there were the less popular ones cherishing their 5 or 6 cards, even while knowing that they only got cards from the kids whose parents made them give everyone in the class a card. But at least they got a card. Not an empty envelope. Davey Fredrick received 7 empty envelopes one year. One empty envelope could have been a mistake, but seven? At least he got one actual valentine as well. Though he was so embarrassed about the empty envelopes she wasn't sure it made that much of a difference.
Then there was High School, where the student body government sold candy grams for a Valentine's Day fundraiser. The kids who received them would safety pin the notes they came with to their shirts. A walking display of popularity. And then the kid who took pictures for the yearbook would take a shot and it would end up as a permanent record of how very loved they were. More than you, I see you with your pocket full of safety pins and zero notes to show for it. It never would have crossed the student body government group to not sell candy grams, after all, they would all get them, they could never imagine a Davey Fredrick waiting every year for a gram that never came. Even after sending out 20 of them himself.
But here she was at work now with the equivalent of a box stuffed to overflowing with cards and a shirt covered in notes. She was loved. With proud flowers.
Her mother knew everything about flowers. She should have been a botanist. Or at least worked in a greenhouse or florist shop. But she didn't. She worked as a checker at the grocery store. But she had a beautiful garden at home. Filled with gorgeous flowers. Not proud flowers. Not those, she didn't care for long stem roses, she said they were lovely in a vase, but not attractive in a garden and since she didn't want flowers for a vase she didn't want those. Her mother had a strict no cut flowers rule. She loved them, but only when they were growing. Once you cut them they started to die. And what for? So you could see them inside on the table instead of outside in the yard? That was just selfish. So every year her father bought her mother flowers for her birthday, Mother's Day, their anniversary, Valentine's Day, but he bought her flowers. Not cut flowers. Bushes, trees, seeds, living things. And her garden was impressive.
Anyway, here she was. Two dozen proud flowers. The outward sign that everything she thought was actually true.
Her phone buzzed. She knew the text would be from him before she read it. "Did you get them?"
She took a picture and sent it.
"You shouldn't have."
"Just wait!"
She smiled at everyone who told her how lovely they were. How lucky she was. She nodded and told people the name of the florist from the card. Such straight stems, such a deep red, so many flowers.
She left them on her desk when she left work. They were going to dinner and there was no way to carry them. It would have been impossible. But he still looked disappointed when she stepped out of the cab without them.
"I thought you would bring them home with you?"
"Not tonight, there were so many of them. It would have been a lot to manage."
He smiled, "I know it was a lot. But I wanted you to have them. Did everyone see them?"
She gave a small laugh, "I don't think they could help but see them."
He threw his head back and laughed loudly. "That's the point!"
She nodded, "Yes, yes it is."
He ushered her in to the restaurant. Dimly lit, candles on every table, tables all set for two. Very romantic in a this is what romance is supposed to look like sort of way. He walked her toward the table in the front window. It was set beautifully. China and silver shimmering in the flickering light. Champagne already poured and waiting. He pulled out her chair.
"I know you don't usually like big showy things, but it's Valentine's Day so I just had to."
"You really didn't have to."
"No, I did, I just want everyone to see how special you are."
She gave her small smile again.
The waiter came to the table and she waited to hear the specials, forgetting that it was Valentine's Day so of course, there would be a set menu. No choices.
He asked if they wanted anything other than the champagne to drink. Oh here was a choice after all!
"No, just this, thank you, we are celebrating!" He answered for them both.
The waiter smiled, a little too largely, and nodded, "Very good. I'll bring your first course."
He reached across the table and picked up her hand, "I want to..."
She cut him off, "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."
She got up and walked to the back of the restaurant. She caught the attention of their waiter, "Tell me."
He looked flustered, "Tell you what?"
She cocked her head to the side, "You know exactly what. Tell me. Yes or no?"
"Yes, but not until dessert, it's been planned out to the minute, don't let on that you know!"
She sighed, the roses had given it away. The outward sign that she had been right. She shook her head.
She went back to the table. He poured more champagne and picked up her hand again. "What is your favorite Valentine's Day memory?" She knew he was asking so he could tell her how this would replace it.
"I don't have one."
"Oh come on, everyone has one. How did your parents celebrate?"
"My father bought my mother a flower for her garden, my mother cooked my father's favorite lasagne. We ate dinner as a family and talked about where mom would plant her latest treasure. How it would fit in to the yard we already had."
He looked puzzled, "That's not very romantic."
"It's extremely romantic. He did what he knew she liked. She did what she knew he liked. And they included all of us because we were a whole family."
He didn't get it. "What about in school? Did you ever have a secret admirer send you a card?"
She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't think so."
"Really? We used to have big parties. And we would all open our boxes and line our cards up on our desks. The really popular kids would cover the whole desk with cards."
"Yeah, there was that in our school as well."
"And I bet your desk was covered."
She shrugged her shoulders again, "I never opened them at school. I would take them home."
"Ah, shy when you were a kid, I see. Can you believe we had one loser in our class who didn't get any cards ever? One time he got a bunch of empty envelopes, it was hilarious."
"You think so?"
"Well not for him, I'm sure, but for the rest of us? Yeah, he was a dweeb. Dweeb. Ha! I haven't used that in years, but that's what he was. You know the ones right?"
She nodded just a little, "Yes, the ones that were set apart from the rest of us. Davey Fredrick was the one in our class. Almost everyone picked on him. They got him with the empty envelope prank one year as well."
He laughed, "Classic."
The waiter brought their plates. He gave her a small panicked look but then realized she hadn't spilled the beans and relaxed again.
"This place is great, right? It was recommended by my boss as THE spot to be on Valentine's Day."
She smiled again, she had agreed to come out, granted she had forgotten it was Valentine's Day when he first suggested they have dinner here, but since she had agreed she was trying her best not to be rude. Even though she had told him months ago that she didn't celebrate Valentine's Day. Didn't care for it. Didn't like the hype and the expectations around it, but here she was. Sitting at a romantic table for two in the front window of THE spot to be on Valentine's Day.
The food was okay. That was always the problem with restaurants on Valentine's Day. Even in great restaurants the food was just okay. Fixed menus and quick table turns. Be romantic and then get out. She had worked as a busser for a while when she was in school. It was a horrible night to work as far as being busy, but a great night for tips. Just because of the turn.
She smiled thinking of her actual favorite Valentine's Day memory. She had been working at that year's THE spot to be and one of the waiters called her over and pointed at a table near the center of the restaurant. There was a middle aged couple sitting there and the man was sweating buckets. Incredibly nervous. Which happened a lot on Valentine's Day. Was he worried she would turn down his proposal? Her friend the waiter had laughed, "No, he's nervous because he brought his mistress in for lunch yesterday and I waited on them. Now his wife brought him here for a special dinner and he's afraid I'll say something." He didn't, of course, and he was very generous splitting the extra large tip he got. It paid for her books for the Spring semester. It was a very large tip.
It was getting closer and closer to dessert. He reached for her again, "These past few months have been so great. You are so great."
She smiled and sat up a little stiffly, "Six months."
"What?"
"Sorry, I was just filling in the time. It's only been six months since our first date."
"But it seems like forever. Not in a bad way, I mean, it just has been so right. You are so right for me. We are so right together."
She gave him her small smile again.
"I love that smile. That just for me smile."
She laughed. She couldn't help it. He took that wrong.
"You have the best laugh. I want to make you laugh forever."
Well here we go. The waiter started making his way to the table. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. She held her hand out and made a flicking motion for him to go away. He either didn't see it or ignored her. He put a piece of very dry looking chocolate cake down on the table. Chocolate cake with a diamond ring artfully laid out on a mint leaf to the side.
"You have made me so happy. I love you and want you to be the sweet in my life forever. Will you..."
"Stop. Just shhh..." She put her fingers over his mouth. "Don't say anything else. Just pretend you never started."
He went from dazed happiness to confusion to anger in just a few seconds, "What?"
"Just shh. Really. Please. I'm going to get up and walk out and I'll get my own cab. It's okay. Really. I should have said something when I first thought you were going to do this. It's all my fault. Really. It is. And I know by morning you will agree. But it's only been 6 months. You don't know me. Not really. I don't like this," she waved around the restaurant, "if you had listened to any one of the things I told you about myself you would have known that. But you didn't. I'm not this. I'm not chocolate cake proposals. I'm not proud flowers on my desk. I'm not display in a window. I'm not THE place the be on Valentine's Day. I'm the kid who shoved candy grams in to the bottom of her backpack so the people who didn't get any didn't feel like they were the only ones. I'm the one who actually gave Davey Fredrick a Valentine and then sent him extras every year after that signed 'A secret admirer' so he could pretend."
"Who is Davey Fredrick?"
She bit her lips together then smiled her small smile again, "Exactly."
She reached into her purse for her wallet.
"Wait, no! You aren't paying!"
"It's not for you. It's for him." She gave the waiter an extra tip, "I'm sorry for the scene. It's not your fault."
And then she left.
She left him sitting in the front window of THE place to be on Valentine's Day. Six months. Who does that at 6 months? She called her mother.
"So were you right?"
"Yes."
"And what did you say?"
She was quiet. "He bought me proud flowers."
"Well, some people like that sort of thing, you know."
"But not me."
"Oh hey, while I've got you on the line here, do you know who I ran in to the other day?"
"Umm, no?"
"Davey Fredrick. Do you remember him? From school? He's back in town. Asked how you were doing. I didn't mention you were about to get engaged. So..."
"Mother!"
"Well he grew up nice, is all I'm saying. Real good looking man now. And he seemed to have very fond memories of you."
She smiled. The real one. That moved her entire face. "That makes me happy to hear."
Wait, that wasn't right.
The roses were the proof that what she had been thinking was right.
They were beautiful roses. What her mother called "proud flowers" the ones with the very long, very straight stems. Two dozen, long stem, red roses delivered to her office. Every woman around her was jealous of them. And that was the point wasn't it? To make them jealous. To show how loved she was. That was the point of very public declarations of love. To show the world "I am loved." and not just that but the added, "I am loved more than you, June, I see your sad little mixed bouquet over there."
It reminded her of elementary school when they all would craft their boxes for valentines cards, little construction paper covered mailboxes. During the class party people would open their boxes and read their cards. The very popular kids showing the candy and treats they got with their stacks and stacks of cards, some of the very pretty girls even getting a card from a boy in the next grade up. That was something to be show off for sure. And then there were the less popular ones cherishing their 5 or 6 cards, even while knowing that they only got cards from the kids whose parents made them give everyone in the class a card. But at least they got a card. Not an empty envelope. Davey Fredrick received 7 empty envelopes one year. One empty envelope could have been a mistake, but seven? At least he got one actual valentine as well. Though he was so embarrassed about the empty envelopes she wasn't sure it made that much of a difference.
Then there was High School, where the student body government sold candy grams for a Valentine's Day fundraiser. The kids who received them would safety pin the notes they came with to their shirts. A walking display of popularity. And then the kid who took pictures for the yearbook would take a shot and it would end up as a permanent record of how very loved they were. More than you, I see you with your pocket full of safety pins and zero notes to show for it. It never would have crossed the student body government group to not sell candy grams, after all, they would all get them, they could never imagine a Davey Fredrick waiting every year for a gram that never came. Even after sending out 20 of them himself.
But here she was at work now with the equivalent of a box stuffed to overflowing with cards and a shirt covered in notes. She was loved. With proud flowers.
Her mother knew everything about flowers. She should have been a botanist. Or at least worked in a greenhouse or florist shop. But she didn't. She worked as a checker at the grocery store. But she had a beautiful garden at home. Filled with gorgeous flowers. Not proud flowers. Not those, she didn't care for long stem roses, she said they were lovely in a vase, but not attractive in a garden and since she didn't want flowers for a vase she didn't want those. Her mother had a strict no cut flowers rule. She loved them, but only when they were growing. Once you cut them they started to die. And what for? So you could see them inside on the table instead of outside in the yard? That was just selfish. So every year her father bought her mother flowers for her birthday, Mother's Day, their anniversary, Valentine's Day, but he bought her flowers. Not cut flowers. Bushes, trees, seeds, living things. And her garden was impressive.
Anyway, here she was. Two dozen proud flowers. The outward sign that everything she thought was actually true.
Her phone buzzed. She knew the text would be from him before she read it. "Did you get them?"
She took a picture and sent it.
"You shouldn't have."
"Just wait!"
She smiled at everyone who told her how lovely they were. How lucky she was. She nodded and told people the name of the florist from the card. Such straight stems, such a deep red, so many flowers.
She left them on her desk when she left work. They were going to dinner and there was no way to carry them. It would have been impossible. But he still looked disappointed when she stepped out of the cab without them.
"I thought you would bring them home with you?"
"Not tonight, there were so many of them. It would have been a lot to manage."
He smiled, "I know it was a lot. But I wanted you to have them. Did everyone see them?"
She gave a small laugh, "I don't think they could help but see them."
He threw his head back and laughed loudly. "That's the point!"
She nodded, "Yes, yes it is."
He ushered her in to the restaurant. Dimly lit, candles on every table, tables all set for two. Very romantic in a this is what romance is supposed to look like sort of way. He walked her toward the table in the front window. It was set beautifully. China and silver shimmering in the flickering light. Champagne already poured and waiting. He pulled out her chair.
"I know you don't usually like big showy things, but it's Valentine's Day so I just had to."
"You really didn't have to."
"No, I did, I just want everyone to see how special you are."
She gave her small smile again.
The waiter came to the table and she waited to hear the specials, forgetting that it was Valentine's Day so of course, there would be a set menu. No choices.
He asked if they wanted anything other than the champagne to drink. Oh here was a choice after all!
"No, just this, thank you, we are celebrating!" He answered for them both.
The waiter smiled, a little too largely, and nodded, "Very good. I'll bring your first course."
He reached across the table and picked up her hand, "I want to..."
She cut him off, "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."
She got up and walked to the back of the restaurant. She caught the attention of their waiter, "Tell me."
He looked flustered, "Tell you what?"
She cocked her head to the side, "You know exactly what. Tell me. Yes or no?"
"Yes, but not until dessert, it's been planned out to the minute, don't let on that you know!"
She sighed, the roses had given it away. The outward sign that she had been right. She shook her head.
She went back to the table. He poured more champagne and picked up her hand again. "What is your favorite Valentine's Day memory?" She knew he was asking so he could tell her how this would replace it.
"I don't have one."
"Oh come on, everyone has one. How did your parents celebrate?"
"My father bought my mother a flower for her garden, my mother cooked my father's favorite lasagne. We ate dinner as a family and talked about where mom would plant her latest treasure. How it would fit in to the yard we already had."
He looked puzzled, "That's not very romantic."
"It's extremely romantic. He did what he knew she liked. She did what she knew he liked. And they included all of us because we were a whole family."
He didn't get it. "What about in school? Did you ever have a secret admirer send you a card?"
She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't think so."
"Really? We used to have big parties. And we would all open our boxes and line our cards up on our desks. The really popular kids would cover the whole desk with cards."
"Yeah, there was that in our school as well."
"And I bet your desk was covered."
She shrugged her shoulders again, "I never opened them at school. I would take them home."
"Ah, shy when you were a kid, I see. Can you believe we had one loser in our class who didn't get any cards ever? One time he got a bunch of empty envelopes, it was hilarious."
"You think so?"
"Well not for him, I'm sure, but for the rest of us? Yeah, he was a dweeb. Dweeb. Ha! I haven't used that in years, but that's what he was. You know the ones right?"
She nodded just a little, "Yes, the ones that were set apart from the rest of us. Davey Fredrick was the one in our class. Almost everyone picked on him. They got him with the empty envelope prank one year as well."
He laughed, "Classic."
The waiter brought their plates. He gave her a small panicked look but then realized she hadn't spilled the beans and relaxed again.
"This place is great, right? It was recommended by my boss as THE spot to be on Valentine's Day."
She smiled again, she had agreed to come out, granted she had forgotten it was Valentine's Day when he first suggested they have dinner here, but since she had agreed she was trying her best not to be rude. Even though she had told him months ago that she didn't celebrate Valentine's Day. Didn't care for it. Didn't like the hype and the expectations around it, but here she was. Sitting at a romantic table for two in the front window of THE spot to be on Valentine's Day.
The food was okay. That was always the problem with restaurants on Valentine's Day. Even in great restaurants the food was just okay. Fixed menus and quick table turns. Be romantic and then get out. She had worked as a busser for a while when she was in school. It was a horrible night to work as far as being busy, but a great night for tips. Just because of the turn.
She smiled thinking of her actual favorite Valentine's Day memory. She had been working at that year's THE spot to be and one of the waiters called her over and pointed at a table near the center of the restaurant. There was a middle aged couple sitting there and the man was sweating buckets. Incredibly nervous. Which happened a lot on Valentine's Day. Was he worried she would turn down his proposal? Her friend the waiter had laughed, "No, he's nervous because he brought his mistress in for lunch yesterday and I waited on them. Now his wife brought him here for a special dinner and he's afraid I'll say something." He didn't, of course, and he was very generous splitting the extra large tip he got. It paid for her books for the Spring semester. It was a very large tip.
It was getting closer and closer to dessert. He reached for her again, "These past few months have been so great. You are so great."
She smiled and sat up a little stiffly, "Six months."
"What?"
"Sorry, I was just filling in the time. It's only been six months since our first date."
"But it seems like forever. Not in a bad way, I mean, it just has been so right. You are so right for me. We are so right together."
She gave him her small smile again.
"I love that smile. That just for me smile."
She laughed. She couldn't help it. He took that wrong.
"You have the best laugh. I want to make you laugh forever."
Well here we go. The waiter started making his way to the table. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. She held her hand out and made a flicking motion for him to go away. He either didn't see it or ignored her. He put a piece of very dry looking chocolate cake down on the table. Chocolate cake with a diamond ring artfully laid out on a mint leaf to the side.
"You have made me so happy. I love you and want you to be the sweet in my life forever. Will you..."
"Stop. Just shhh..." She put her fingers over his mouth. "Don't say anything else. Just pretend you never started."
He went from dazed happiness to confusion to anger in just a few seconds, "What?"
"Just shh. Really. Please. I'm going to get up and walk out and I'll get my own cab. It's okay. Really. I should have said something when I first thought you were going to do this. It's all my fault. Really. It is. And I know by morning you will agree. But it's only been 6 months. You don't know me. Not really. I don't like this," she waved around the restaurant, "if you had listened to any one of the things I told you about myself you would have known that. But you didn't. I'm not this. I'm not chocolate cake proposals. I'm not proud flowers on my desk. I'm not display in a window. I'm not THE place the be on Valentine's Day. I'm the kid who shoved candy grams in to the bottom of her backpack so the people who didn't get any didn't feel like they were the only ones. I'm the one who actually gave Davey Fredrick a Valentine and then sent him extras every year after that signed 'A secret admirer' so he could pretend."
"Who is Davey Fredrick?"
She bit her lips together then smiled her small smile again, "Exactly."
She reached into her purse for her wallet.
"Wait, no! You aren't paying!"
"It's not for you. It's for him." She gave the waiter an extra tip, "I'm sorry for the scene. It's not your fault."
And then she left.
She left him sitting in the front window of THE place to be on Valentine's Day. Six months. Who does that at 6 months? She called her mother.
"So were you right?"
"Yes."
"And what did you say?"
She was quiet. "He bought me proud flowers."
"Well, some people like that sort of thing, you know."
"But not me."
"Oh hey, while I've got you on the line here, do you know who I ran in to the other day?"
"Umm, no?"
"Davey Fredrick. Do you remember him? From school? He's back in town. Asked how you were doing. I didn't mention you were about to get engaged. So..."
"Mother!"
"Well he grew up nice, is all I'm saying. Real good looking man now. And he seemed to have very fond memories of you."
She smiled. The real one. That moved her entire face. "That makes me happy to hear."
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
News Breaks...
Brent and I listen to a Flash Briefing in the morning when we are eating breakfast. It's basically a rundown of headlines about news stories happening right now. A little blurb about the story itself and then on to the next thing.
This morning as I listened to Alexa tell us about the latest news on the opioid epidemic, the battle with the FBI from the President, the cyclone in Tonga, the upcoming expected Russian interference in the 2018 elections, the destruction of Mosul, the Senate briefing that was going to happen to today on threats to the US from inside and out and...well at this point I thought, "It's like the background noise in the opening scenes in an apocalyptic movie." You know the ones, where the dad is driving the kids to school and you hear the faint voice on the radio describing two or three really bad things but nobody is really paying attention because the focus is on dad and the kids driving to school. It's not until about 15 minutes in to the movie when you see that the faint voice on the radio really was what you should be paying attention to because it's all going to shit RIGHT NOW.
It's crazy to me how much that feels like real life right now. There is so much going to shit RIGHT NOW. So much that people cannot possibly pay attention to all of it. I know I can't. And I know it's not even healthy for me to try. You could spend your entire day, week, month, life, just picking up the threads of the latest thing that is going to shit RIGHT NOW.
Now that doesn't mean that I'm not concerned about it all. I am. That doesn't mean that I'm not paying attention. I am. But it does mean that I know I am missing things. It does mean that I know that there are even worse things happening than I am even aware of. There are the political things that are happening right now that are going to affect the courts for the rest of my life, a a good chunk of C's as well. There are political things happening right now that are going to affect the environment for, well, possibly forever. The damage that could be done in the next few years could have irreversible effects. There are things being done right now that are driving wedges in to our society that might not be removed. Or at least will not be removed easily. How did people move past the 60s? I was too young to know. But that seems to be a pretty strongly divided time and we survived. Can we do it again?
I don't know. I do know that the past few years have made me change my mind about things and about people. But that always happens right? It just seems heightened right now. We are constantly changing our stances depending on new information. Or we should be at least. I never trust anyone who says they never change their minds. That's an idiot letting you know they are an idiot and you should just run away.
But I do know that it's been an eye opening experience living in these times. The warm cocoon of believing that deep down we are all pretty much the same has been unraveled a bit. I am frequently left doing that my face thing when I read posts by people and thinking, "Really? You really think that?" or "Really? You really don't see how offensive that is?" or "Really? You expect me to believe you didn't know that was offensive? Please..." It's amazing to me.
Last week my hometown newspaper published a SUPER racist cartoon. Like WWII propaganda level racism. And the editor of the paper tried to say they didn't view the cartoon that way, that really it could be viewed as...and then they interviewed the cartoonist who basically said, nope. It was exactly what those other people thought it was and I'm not even ashamed of that. It's an eye opening time we live in. People aren't even ashamed of things like that anymore.
We have a president and his entire administration that lies constantly and consistently. And right now you can just hold your "every politician lies" line because you know this is different. You really do. There is a difference between spinning a situation in your best light and lying about things that are easily verifiable and ridiculous to even lie about. Yet he does it and they back him up. Thousands of lies upon lies over the past few years. To the point where nobody even knows what is true anymore. And nobody seems to care. I cannot wrap my brain around why this is suddenly okay. Why people are willing to set aside their own moral compass for a faulty one that wouldn't even be able to find true north if Polaris was the only star in the sky.
I am an optimist by nature. I am happy by nature and by choice. I don't linger in misery. It's just not where my set point is. Even now, even while I have the drumbeat of this is all going to shit RIGHT NOW playing in the back of my head I still am a happy optimist. I can't be anything other than what I am. So what do I do?
So what do WE do?
Do we turn off the radio?
Do we turn up the radio?
Do we buy a bunker and start prepping?
I still don't know.
But here's my schedule for the rest of the day:
Study Spanish
Write a blog about the troubled thoughts in my head (check)
Make a roast
Do the laundry
Hope for fiction inspiration while I iron
Hug my husband
Wonder why I don't eat pancakes on Shrove Tuesday, maybe because it's also Fat Tuesday and who needs that sort of reminder...
Listen to that voice on the radio, make the changes I can make, encourage kindness in others, remind you to vote this year and just keep going.
I think it's a decent day. It's the best I've got right now.
Keep going.
Keep trying.
Keep being kind to others.
Keep your eyes open and keep listening.
Make the changes you can.
Encourage others to do the same.
And remember to vote this year.
This morning as I listened to Alexa tell us about the latest news on the opioid epidemic, the battle with the FBI from the President, the cyclone in Tonga, the upcoming expected Russian interference in the 2018 elections, the destruction of Mosul, the Senate briefing that was going to happen to today on threats to the US from inside and out and...well at this point I thought, "It's like the background noise in the opening scenes in an apocalyptic movie." You know the ones, where the dad is driving the kids to school and you hear the faint voice on the radio describing two or three really bad things but nobody is really paying attention because the focus is on dad and the kids driving to school. It's not until about 15 minutes in to the movie when you see that the faint voice on the radio really was what you should be paying attention to because it's all going to shit RIGHT NOW.
It's crazy to me how much that feels like real life right now. There is so much going to shit RIGHT NOW. So much that people cannot possibly pay attention to all of it. I know I can't. And I know it's not even healthy for me to try. You could spend your entire day, week, month, life, just picking up the threads of the latest thing that is going to shit RIGHT NOW.
Now that doesn't mean that I'm not concerned about it all. I am. That doesn't mean that I'm not paying attention. I am. But it does mean that I know I am missing things. It does mean that I know that there are even worse things happening than I am even aware of. There are the political things that are happening right now that are going to affect the courts for the rest of my life, a a good chunk of C's as well. There are political things happening right now that are going to affect the environment for, well, possibly forever. The damage that could be done in the next few years could have irreversible effects. There are things being done right now that are driving wedges in to our society that might not be removed. Or at least will not be removed easily. How did people move past the 60s? I was too young to know. But that seems to be a pretty strongly divided time and we survived. Can we do it again?
I don't know. I do know that the past few years have made me change my mind about things and about people. But that always happens right? It just seems heightened right now. We are constantly changing our stances depending on new information. Or we should be at least. I never trust anyone who says they never change their minds. That's an idiot letting you know they are an idiot and you should just run away.
But I do know that it's been an eye opening experience living in these times. The warm cocoon of believing that deep down we are all pretty much the same has been unraveled a bit. I am frequently left doing that my face thing when I read posts by people and thinking, "Really? You really think that?" or "Really? You really don't see how offensive that is?" or "Really? You expect me to believe you didn't know that was offensive? Please..." It's amazing to me.
Last week my hometown newspaper published a SUPER racist cartoon. Like WWII propaganda level racism. And the editor of the paper tried to say they didn't view the cartoon that way, that really it could be viewed as...and then they interviewed the cartoonist who basically said, nope. It was exactly what those other people thought it was and I'm not even ashamed of that. It's an eye opening time we live in. People aren't even ashamed of things like that anymore.
We have a president and his entire administration that lies constantly and consistently. And right now you can just hold your "every politician lies" line because you know this is different. You really do. There is a difference between spinning a situation in your best light and lying about things that are easily verifiable and ridiculous to even lie about. Yet he does it and they back him up. Thousands of lies upon lies over the past few years. To the point where nobody even knows what is true anymore. And nobody seems to care. I cannot wrap my brain around why this is suddenly okay. Why people are willing to set aside their own moral compass for a faulty one that wouldn't even be able to find true north if Polaris was the only star in the sky.
I am an optimist by nature. I am happy by nature and by choice. I don't linger in misery. It's just not where my set point is. Even now, even while I have the drumbeat of this is all going to shit RIGHT NOW playing in the back of my head I still am a happy optimist. I can't be anything other than what I am. So what do I do?
So what do WE do?
Do we turn off the radio?
Do we turn up the radio?
Do we buy a bunker and start prepping?
I still don't know.
But here's my schedule for the rest of the day:
Study Spanish
Write a blog about the troubled thoughts in my head (check)
Make a roast
Do the laundry
Hope for fiction inspiration while I iron
Hug my husband
Wonder why I don't eat pancakes on Shrove Tuesday, maybe because it's also Fat Tuesday and who needs that sort of reminder...
Listen to that voice on the radio, make the changes I can make, encourage kindness in others, remind you to vote this year and just keep going.
I think it's a decent day. It's the best I've got right now.
Keep going.
Keep trying.
Keep being kind to others.
Keep your eyes open and keep listening.
Make the changes you can.
Encourage others to do the same.
And remember to vote this year.
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