Bad Form

this post is mostly for the benefit of those of you who know the wasband, because it is so obviously true, but I just saw it. 

Anyone read J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan recently enough to remember it?

I don't know exactly why I was thinking about this, but I just realized  how much the wasband reminds me of  Capt. Hook.

I 'm not being horribly nasty - just hear me out.  I am not claiming that the wasband kidnaps little orphan children and threatens to make them walk the plank.  I'm not suggesting he is clever enough to seduce fairies into switching allegiance.  In fact, I want to examine how he shares the character trait that the author might see as the captain's most redeeming quality - his sense of propriety.

I'm sorry, I can't quote; I don't have the book with me.  But basically, Capt. Hook is able to die (although he somehow invariably returns from the maw of the crocodile in most sequels) with a gleam in his eye, because of Pan's impropriety.  After the final duel on the ship, the victorious Pan kicks Hook to the water and the waiting crocodile below, and Hook is finally able to proclaim "Bad Form!"

The wasband is truly led by the aspiration to "Good Form."  I remember when we were just married, and I asked him about his crazy college days, did he do this or that.  A couple answers surprised me.  "Why did you do this?"  "Feh, it looks low-class to do the other."  Not "I didn't want to," or "I didn't think it was right," or even "It was more trouble than it was worth."  It was because of "Bad Form."   

Why do I bring this up?  Back in the "So I'm a Jerk" post,  I suggested that it was easier on my heart to think that the wasband was acting so cold not because he outright hated me, but because he thought I was a big jerk.  I don't know whether I believed that theory even when I wrote it - as I said, it was a rope to grab for.  But it is clear what really motivates his reaction.  Calm fortitude is "Good Form."

Does that make me feel better?  No, definitely not - whattaryagonnadoo?

my (heretical?) veiw - a waste of talent

*This is the post I wrote about two months ago, but waffled on the propriety of making it public.  Going back to it from this distance, I think it is well within appropriate limits, and I feel as strongly about the content.
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This week my children's schools held Parent / Teacher meetings.  I heard everything I expected to hear, and more so, and I am terribly frustrated.
For reasons not pertinent to this posting, one of my children is at a school that I feel is terribly unable to serve him properly.  No obfuscation: my son is too good to detail, a teacher's dream. But now several of his secular-studies teachers are finding that because of a school philosophy coupled with a lack of space, capital, equiptment, time, etc., these teachers see his year being wasted, while my son sits through (or walks out of) classes far below his level. I don't want to go into details that I see will spin out of control,  but let me say that I don't think his is an isolated case in any way.

The administration, while somewhat sympathetic to my distress, feels that this lack of secular stimulation is a minor problem, because he is doing so well in his religious studies.  I have two major grievances with this response:
1) They strongly advertised the school as college-preparatory, with a serious secular program.  I am only asking for what was already promised.
2) I disagree with the underlying premise, that it is acceptable, and even preferable, to minimize secular aptitude.  My feeling is the Creator, with Ultimate Vision, gave my son this gift.  So he should waste it?  What a loss!  And don't tell me (as several administrators did) that he can get more advanced secular studies later - we all know what a tremendous opportunity we have to learn while we are still young, how difficult it becomes later in life.
This lack of appreciation for the gift of intellectual resources makes me think of the old joke of the man in the flood.  For those of you who don't know it :  A deeply religious man is trapped in a flood, his house surrounded by several feet of water.  Neighbors drive up in a truck, "Come with us to safety."  "No need," the man replies, "G-d will save me."  The water rises, the man goes up to the second story.  A rescue party on a boat comes to the window. "Come with us to safety."  "No need, G-d will save me." The water continues to rise.  The man is able to climb out to the roof.  A search party in a helicopter fly over him. "Come with us to safety."  "No need, G-d will save me."  The water soon rises above the house, and the man drowns.  He reaches heaven and asks G-d, "I trusted in you completely, why didn't you save me?"  "What do you mean!?!  I sent you a truck, I sent you a boat, I sent you a helicopter...!"
Unfortunately for my son, this year, there seems to be no punch line.

Po is Missing a Piece

Last night, when everyone was in pajamas, the boys and I read Shel Silverstein's "The Missing Piece", a first reading for all three of us.

Even though my little guy, Po, can read pretty much anything to himself, I still find this immensely enjoyable, maybe more than when I "had to" read to him.  Anyway, we were going along, and enjoying silliness of the story, a circle looking for a piece to fill his empty wedge, and then the mood turned.  The circle has apparently found his perfect addition, a wedge that wants to be with him and fits perfectly.  But the circle decides that the he was mistaken - he really doesn't want "the one perfect piece."  So he lets it go, and moves on.  Po, my deep, tender soul, was upset, very upset.  His brother tried to tell him it is just a story, not to take it to heart.  But I know all three of us saw that the issue was deeper that this story of crudely drawn shapes.  "Po, if the circle really needs to put down the wedge, than it is not a good ending for the circle to keep that piece.  In real life, a being needs to look to create the circumstances that let it fulfill its purpose in God's world.  The ending of this story may be a confusing ending, or unsatisfying, but we don't know what would be on the next page.  " Then Moo and I came up with suggestions for continuations to the tale of the circle and the wedge, which I think helped Po a bit, but he just had to work through this.

One big irony for me was that I got this book out of the library because Po had been asking about "The Giving Tree."  I told him that I found that book too terribly depressing to read, but that I would take it out for him.  He just read it while sitting in the library, so we didn't even check it out.  So instead, I grabbed "The Missing Piece" to take home.  I remember being very deeply effected by books when I was little, although no titles are springing to mind.  I'm wondering whether to check out "The Missing Piece Meets the Big O."

I was just telling one of Po's teachers how I love the way he is always dancing,  I never want Po to stop dancing.  He is so full of happy , but I guess it is good he has a full range of feelings.  He is a deep, tender soul.

Fickle

I'm happy, I'm not happy, back and forth.

Last week was great, had the kids, and had an extreme feeling of well-being and contentment.  I wish I had had time to blog.  As it is, you usually get me on the off weeks, when I feel not so complete. 

One might think I would have more "free-time" when the boys are with their father."  If I do, I totally waste it just watching TV.  But I don't really have time, because I stay at work late, do laundry, go shopping for groceries and whatever school supplies or clothes the boys need, and try to take care of all the little chores I still have waiting (switch utility services, change address on documents, etc).  I actually get much more reading done when the boys are with me, and I make good meals and keep the apartment tidier.  These are the benefits of structure...and the self-enforced no-TV period while trying to get the boys to fall asleep.  I have probably finished more books in the last 4 months than in the 2 years prior.

So on Monday I intended to write about how great life is, blah, blah.  Then I had a lot of trouble at work trying to teach myself a new procedure (with, what I later found was, a terribly misleading instruction protocol).   I was very frustrated, and so the whole evening went badly, spilled stuff, didn't get chores done, went to bed angry.  On Tuesday, one of the people I e-yelled to sent me a video-link, and I found success!  All was well, happy happy.  Got chores done, good evening. 

I am much to easily swayed between moods.  I guess that's all, I gotta go do stuff.

But here is something fun
http://www.icollector.com/220-Hedy-Lamarr-Delilah-peacockfeather-eye-twopiece-gown-from-Samson-and-Delilah_i10658047
photos of costumes, etc. from Hollywood auction.  I originally went to it to see the costumes that prove Marilyn Monroe wernt no size 12 no matter how much that might we might like that, more like a size 2 with an itty-bitty 18" waist.  Enjoy.

It's like chocolate, but without even the immediate satisfaction...

I am going for a comfort weekend.  I want to feel swaddled and far away from turmoil.  Maybe I will bring some chocolate, not that my host would really appreciate that.  I'll bring some flowers as well.

I recently met with the wasband, said some things I regretted.  I think I said this before, but I can't believe how my life has come to resemble a "Cathy" cartoon.  To summarize, even though I am happier than I have been in years, even though I see incompatibility after incompatibility in the wasband, even though I don't want any complications in my life right now,  I prodded the wasband into sending a message, "I miss you, let's try again."  My immediate reaction was to cry and be angry at both of us.  30 seconds later, the second reaction hit, "I wonder how much farther I can push him?"  And then it all crumbled into the realization that I could not push him too much further before he would crack, and I would again be distraught like I was before.

Why, why would I try for that tiny sign of lingering affection from this man?  It is so bad for me in everyway, and doesn't give me much satisfaction.  I guess I hoped to hit the jackpot; "I love you, I love you, won't you understand?  I was so wrong to act as I did,  I have regretted it everyday.  I have been so sad and lonely and angry at myself, that is why I have been so cold, for fear of breaking down at any moment.  I will do anything, teach me how to please you!..."

Yeah, right.  I don't know if that has ever happened in the history of mankind, but I doubt the odds were ever stacked higher against it than in our case. 

While trying to drown my anxieties with science and fluff, I came across this T-shirt.  LOVE IT!

For more cool-o geeky T-shirts, check out
http://bitesizebio.com/store/

Please send love

Is that blunt enough?

A good friend sent me a book, a novel about divorce.  I'm finding it terribly depressing, not because of the story divorce or my divorce, but mainly because I am jealous of the woman in the book who seems to have a much better life than I do.  Mostly I am angry that her friends and relatives are giving her a lot more attention than I have gotten.

I had this same problem of constant self-pity before I left wasband, had it for a long, long time (see the 7/1/11 post for just one other example).  But I finally said it out loud to a group of woman recently.  "Have you asked for help, clearly asked for help?"  "I feel like I am constantly begging for help and affection."

If I have not been clear:  "Help me.  Love me.  Visit me.  Write me a letter.  Do my laundry and play board games and watch TV with me.  Call me to go out for coffee instead of waiting for me to call you. Just don't give me any stuff, I don't have room."

That was the pathetic sounding version, because the real version of what's in my head is nasty and pissy and angry.  How can you people, who think you are so wonderful and connected and loving and upright and whatever, how dare you claim these quality, while you leave me feeling so abandoned and alone?   The people I exempt from this mass rebuke are N.L.S and E.N.J. (who ironically sent the book, sorry I'm not planning to finish it anytime soon) who both, although long distance, have been life-lines; C-L.O., the first guest and ONLY person to reach out and ask to come over; and B.W. who came out of nowhere to say hello and lend an ear.  And S.E.M., and H.B.C although I am hoping to hear from you again before I have to call first.