Life


Last night I had the pleasure of cleaning and dressing a large wound on my arm.  I took an ill-advised bid for a disc at Ultimate and ended up with road rash on my leg and a very large “scrap” on my arm.

So after cleaning the wound – a very unpleasant experience – I had to dress the wound.  The only thing I had on hand was a gauze pad, underwrap, and some tape.  So, imagine trying to hold the pad on your elbow, wrap it with underwrap, and then wrap it with tape.  All tight enough to hold it in place – by yourself.

After this experience, I’ve determined there is no way Rambo was able to sew his shoulder together by himself.  Impossible.  Period.

I can’t imagine jamming a needle through my arm, in a dark cave, to stop the bleeding.  I could barely hold a freaking gauze pad in place long enough to get some tape over it, let alone sewing a gaping wound together.  Just not going to happen.

Tonight, I cried in front of the person I love. Not full on breakdown of sobbing, but those lone few tears of release. It felt good to get it out – Lord knows I’ve needed to do that for while.  And at the same time, I felt incredibly vulnerable. But not for the reasons that one might think.

I don’t feel it as a sign of weakness. It is in fact the complete opposite. I’m afraid of coming on too strong.

You see, I’m ready to put all my chips in the center of the table.  All in.

This also scares the shit out of me.  I don’t play poker for a reason; I’m a terrible liar and have no poker face. I don’t gamble and I hate to lose. But I know the rules, how to play the game, and know a good hand when I see it.

And I’ve been dealt a great hand.

But enough of the analogies. I cried because I’m scared. Scared at coming on too strong. Scared that it’s all too easy. Scared that I want it all; the good, the bad and the ugly.  Ooooh, and it will get ugly.

Time to date myself.  😉  I’ve got the theme song stuck in my head from a TV show that I used to watch growing up…

You take the good, you take the bad,
you take them both and there you have
The Facts of Life, The Facts of Life

Yep. The good is so good, I’m willing to take on the bad.

So much for my poker face; I just laid my cards out on the table.

For curiosity sake this morning I used Google to define “dissolution”.  The definition was not a surprise.  “separation into parts” or something close to that.  But the third bullet in the list was interesting and confusing.

  • profligacy: dissolute indulgence in sensual pleasure

Profligacy.  I’ve never hear the word.

I read the definition and I’m not sure I understand it.  “dissolute indulgence”  – what does that mean?

Well, it seems “dissolute” has nothing to do with “dissolution”.

dissolute:

  1. Unrestrained by morality.
  2. Recklessly abandoned to sensual pleasures.

I’m not liking where this is heading.  Unrestrained by morality?  As if the situation is immoral.  Well, a little more digging says it is.  Morality, you see, is really a way to refer to the “real-world beliefs and practices concerning proper conduct”.

Yeah, “proper” “conduct”.  Proper as defined by the masses.  The popular consensus.   People.

You know the saying – a person is smart; people are dumb.

I guess there is part of me that cares what people think, but only a very small part.  I’m more worried about the “beliefs” people deflect on to others.  Especially impressionable ones.  Ones without well-formed beliefs.  Beliefs that can be negatively affected by the “masses”.

The masses say the pleasure is immoral.  The masses are why it is unknown.  The masses are why it is quiet.

I get that.

I don’t want it to be quiet, or unknown, or immoral.

I want it to be known.  I want to abandon the quiet.  I want to be reckless with the pleasure.

Well, OK, I guess the pleasure is already reckless 🙂

“Be [the] CIA guy” are words that I recently read in a blog.  “Love the shadows, my friend. Be a gazelle in the grassland and don’t draw attention to yourself because you’re in the trenches and there’s no glory in the trenches.”

Ironic?  Probably. Words I should listen to? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

It’s hard for me to love the shadows. In fact, it sucks.  It’s in my nature to stand out, to shine.

There are so many things that I want to do and say. Take for instance Facebook. Posting a comment, in certain instances, would not be advised.  I have to lurk and remain silent.  And remaining silent is among the most difficult tasks I could undertake.

Truth be told, if I could shout from the rooftop my new found admiration, I would.  But I’d settle for just being able to tell my friends. To openly post a comment. To text without fear.

I sit here tonight contemplating what it means to be lonely.  Usually the word summons up images of solitude; of being alone. In that sense, I’m not. I’m surrounded by friends on a daily basis.  But I cannot seem to get that word out of my head. Almost as though not being able to express my feelings is causing me to feel isolated. Of course, 1/2 bottle of wine shared only with myself doesn’t help…

But I’m not trying to draw a pity party. I just hope that because it’s not being said, that it’s not being known. But I suppose that is the point… to “be [the] CIA guy,”  right?

“There’s no glory in the trenches.”  No, there isn’t.  But there is love… and I’ll take love.

Recently I used the word “beautiful” to describe someone.

I realized after the fact that I’ve switch from other words to beautiful.  From words like hot, and amazing, and sexy to beautiful.

That, I believe, signals a change in direction.  A change in meaning.  A change in intent.

A move from physical to mental.  A move from short term to long term.

It is good.  And it’s bad.

I could of used a different word.  Perhaps I could of stuck with “hot”.  But that wouldn’t be wholly encapsulating.  I needed a word that expressed more that just a staggering initial beauty or a physical attraction to the outer form.  I needed a word to express extreme physical attraction, as well as an inner beauty.  A connection that runs far deeper than any mere physical attribute.

Since then I have been thinking about the use of beautiful.  Perhaps gorgeous would have been a better word?  Then I thought about it and actually looked up the definition for gorgeous:

(adj) gorgeous (dazzlingly beautiful)

Hmmm. gorgeous defined as beautiful.  Ok – let’s see how beautiful is defined:

(adj) beautiful (delighting the senses or exciting intellectual or emotional admiration)

Ah.  It seems I selected the most appropriate word – completely by coincidence.

A word that combines both the senses and the intellect.  Perfect.  And then, emotional admiration.  Hmmmm….

I believe that is how this post started – the switch from physical to a mental.

But it now seems to me that I have not made a switch per se, but added another dimension.  I have added an exciting intellectual attraction and emotional admiration.  Intellect and admiration that some how seem to readily eclipse the delightful physical form (but never totally :)).

I like the physical form, but the attraction is so much more than just physical.  It is emotional and intellectual like I have not experienced before.

This is good.

And this is bad.

I am focusing on the good.  I am choosing to focus on the good.

I will ponder the bad and how to deal with it.  But I will not linger on it.  I will not let it drag me down.  I will not let it hold me back.

I am half full today.  I am complete today.

I’m having a glass of red wine right now and thinking about options.

What are the options?

  1. Status Quo – nothing changes and we continue on like we are
  2. Total Honesty – let the cards fall where they may

In reality, there were more options, but I can’t remember them.  One good reason to avoid text messaging, and the same reason to use it, no “paper” trail.  Nevertheless, we have all the different variations in between.

One thing that was not on the list was “Ending It”.  You know, go back to your life and not look back.  Perhaps that was the intent of status quo, but that is not how I took it.  I thought status quo was continuing on the current path.  More on the current path later.

Why would ending it not be on the list?  Why should ending it be on the list?  Let’s discuss.

“Not On” the list:

  1. Because separating from that which makes you happy is never the right answer.
  2. Because that doesn’t make any sense.
  3. Because it’s not an option.

I’ll admit – all those options are really the same thing.  But I have to compete with the next list.

“On” the list:

  1. It eliminates the immediate guilt
  2. It’s the “right” thing to do
  3. It’s what they would want
  4. It’s what society would want

So, I say fuck #4 – that doesn’t matter to me.

#3 – hmmm, yeah, but who wouldn’t?

#2 – Yeah, it is. So? 😉

#1 – ah, #1; yes it would.  That *would* be nice.

But why is there guilt?  I have a couple wine induced theories.

First, I’m thinking guilt because society says we should stay committed to the person we commit to. That seems obvious.  When you stray, in any way, you are not honoring the sanctity of the vowel you took.

Second, guilt because of the endless scheming to make time with someone else.  Always thinking of errands to run, places to be, place to not be, just so you can be “free” for one perfect moment.

Third, guilt because you can see unhappiness around, yet you are happy.

Or at least you are trying to be happy.  Trying because the guilt it weighting down the happiness.  Guilt is being turned into anger and frustration.  As if there wasn’t enough anger there already – because  of the situation that has lead us here – to add anger about being guilty about being happy?  Holy fuck.  That’s not fair.

So, I’m on the verge of saying fuck it.  I’d rather be happy than not.  But, I’m a lazy person.  I don’t like dealing with details, and drama, and all the bullshit.  I think my biggest fear right now is not being happy because I’m too fucking lazy.  Like being lazy is a good excuse.

So, a close relative had a terrible break up with her new husband.  From newly wed to divorced in 6 months.  Then remarried and had a child in another year.  When we talked about going from newly wed, to newly wed again (within 6 months), she said she was finally happy and that is all that matters.  I love her for being that courageous.

Courageous (adv): brave; possessing or displaying courage; able to face and deal with danger or fear without flinching

Hmmm, without flinching.

I hate myself for not having that kind of energy and emotional commitment.  But I want to change.  I hate change.  But I want it in this case.  I’m really, really, really, really close to change in this case.  <- that’s the wine talking….

So, why is red wine important.  Because when I drink I get more emotional.  I get nostalgic.  I get in touch.

With only one glass behind me don’t expect table dancing any time soon, but who knows what might be said…

Wine helps me eliminate the barriers that normally hold things back.  This is good.  This is bad.

Bad because in large part red wine (and beer, and vodka, and ……) led me here.  Bad because it decreases the normal resistance to doing and saying things that may be better off left unsaid or undone.

I think back to the exact moment when it happened for me and I wonder, if I were completely sober would things have turned out differently?

Right now I believe the answer is no.  Too much evidence on points to this being the right decision; the right action; the right choice.

I am here because time has led me down this path and a few things have coalesce at the same time.  Finding a soul mate is hard work – maybe time is what it took?

Back to the point.  I believed ending it was a viable and rational solution to the situation.  And then I had a red wine.  Before the red wine I had something that was equally intoxicating, but that’s not the point.  Now, ending it is not a viable solution.

This is the confliction that makes the situation untenable.  I think I blame being conflicted on guilt, but I’m not so sure.  I do feel guilty at times, and I’m angry that I do.   The anger is taking away goodness from what is perfectly pure and genuine.

When I walk away and think “what the fuck am I doing”, I feel bad.  But then I see her face, or hear the “hi”, and my stomach jumps.  I feel all weak in the knees and goopy in side.  Nothing can replicate that feeling.  I’m not sure I ever felt this way.

You should not deny yourself the goop.

op·tion

–noun
1. the power or right of choosing.
2. something that may be or is chosen; choice.
3. the act of choosing.

Ideally, when faced with looking at options, one will stand out as the “best”; one that has little to no cons associated with it. But what happens if all your choices, all your options, are equally bad?

Indecision is an option.  Stalling is another.  These are two options that I have difficulty getting behind.  Make a choice and move forward. If it’s a bad choice, well then improvise, adapt and overcome. Reassess your options again. But don’t stand still waiting for good option to pop into your lap; it might never come.

I have to think that this is why I’m so hung up on the topic right now. I’m sorry for that.

So, what to do when all your options are equally bad? Equally racked with guilt? Equally emotionally draining?

I’m hoping that one of them has more pros. I’m hoping that the optimistic side of me will influence my decision because I’m tired of the pessimistic voice being so strong. I’m hoping that my vote for #1 lines up with someone else’s vote…

Expressing yourself poetically is a talent.  And it’s not a talent that I possess. Which is why I love song lyrics. I have always been a sucker for choreographed word choices – especially when I like the tune of the music that accompanies them.  I have attempted in years past to share chunks of lyrics from a song with those who I thought would appreciate them.  Those I thought of when I heard those words.  However, songs or emails with lyrics would go totally unanswered. No response or acknowledgment from the recipient.

Only until recently did I find someone that shared my love of lyrics. And the replies I receive fill my heart.

Sounds pretty benign.  After all, they are just words to a song.  But what it’s done is revive in me a love of music. I used to play the guitar. It was something I enjoyed doing to pass the time, and express my thoughts. I wasn’t good at it, but I enjoyed it none the less. But it was something that died when it wasn’t appreciated.

And now I wonder… after ten years, where is my guitar?

It seems to me that music is key to my psyche.  The thing that gets me started.  I’m sure there are other things out there, but nothing really opens the door to my mind like music.

I recently had the opportunity to share some of my musical pleasures.  It’s nice to share that.

The other day I was listening to music and one of my favorite songs rotated into play on the iPod.  I have to say – the music is OK, but the lyrics are something very wonderful.  I don’t really understand how musicians can use random words and phrases to create completely unique messages that seem to make sense.  I guess it’s a talent I lack, but not one I’m terribly worried about.

So, this song.  It’s called “A Thousand Days”.  I have always liked it, but it seems to have more significance now.  Let’s give it a read, shall we?

I can’t remember, the way you carried your name.
I had a snapshot that I discarded out of pride or shame.
“Time to talk it out, turn the thing about,” So I’ve been told.
I’ve taken such advice, at first it sounded nice, but now its getting old.

I called you at your lover’s home today, I felt that I should try.
That’s the voice it takes to stay my faith, somewhere inside.
How I wonder, how I wonder sometimes.

I can’t remember, which one of us was to blame.
The years surrender, to one September with a thousand days.
“Keep your chin up son, your day is sure to come,” these weary words.
Emptying my glass, I wait for it to pass as the picture blurs.

I drove by your family’s home today, and saw your child cry.
Held in our embrace, you dried his face, tight by your side.
How I wonder, How I wonder what you are.

Take the time to talk, Give it one more shot, or so I hear.
I’m not certain that I’m right,
but I’ve been putting up this fight for too many years.

I call you at your family’s home at night and sometimes wonder why,
I can’t seem to break this senseless faith in something gone by.
How I wonder, How I wonder sometimes.

How soon will we be alone again?
I’ll take you, take you for everything.
Don’t shout, the children are sleeping still.
We’ll wake together I know we will.
How I wonder, How I wonder sometimes.

So, I used to think it’s a song about love gone sour.  A break-up from long ago – a person yearning to get it back.  Now, I’m not so sure.

I’ve always been fond of the following passage:

I drove by your family’s home today, and saw your child cry.
Held in our embrace, you dried his face, tight by your side.
How I wonder, How I wonder what you are.

It seems like something that has happened.  Like the author has experienced pain and heartbreak.  Like a love long lost.  It seems very meaningful.

But then I began to think more and more about some of the other words.

How soon will we be alone again?
I’ll take you, take you for everything.
Don’t shout, the children are sleeping still.
We’ll wake together I know we will.
How I wonder, How I wonder sometimes.

So, it is about love lost, or an affair – forbidden love?  “How soon will we be alone again?”  As if an intense love burns brightly within, but has no escape.  No way to be shown.  A love that should be shown.

“We’ll wake together I know we will.”  A choice.  The choice of believing that things will work out.  The choice of knowing that although now she might be holding her child in a tight embrace, that some day she might be holding someone else.  That the sun will dawn with her near.  That the tight embrace can comfort more than a small child.  That you will know how she is.  That you help her be well.  That you are well because she is near.

And there are more song – songs from the same band.  Here are a few short passages that I find interesting in this context.

Tomorrow I will be waking
I feel the pleasure of pleasing recede
I watch my hands begin shaking

I know I’ll go when you call
I wish I could resist the fall

I’ll go when you call me.
We know that we both belong here.
I trust there’s nothing wrong,
Your conscience clear
Your conscience clear

The guilt of an affair?  Seems so.

And this:

Stephen hands her a comb and brush. She preens her hair.
Glancing sideways, she believes she’s suspended in mid air.

Do you love me? Yes, I love you like I’ll never love again.
Will you leave me? Yes, I’ll leave you to be loved by other men.

Please stand up. Please be good enough to turn around.
Keep your lips open, knees apart, eyes fixed on the ground.

Do you love me? Yes, I love you like the marks upon your skin.
Will you leave me? Yes, I’ll leave you in the hands of other men.

She never wants to say goodbye.
She tries, but she never wants to say goodbye.

And all at once it all starts spinning round her head.
Somehow, something seemed to be so clear.
She holds her breath now just because she thinks she can.
As if on this point she might make a stand.

What I find fascinating about these lyrics is the dichotomy.  Yes he loves her.  Yes he will leave her.  Perhaps the love of a father for his daugther? That he must let her go so she can know true love?  I don’t know.

It also has one of my most favorite quotes of all:

She holds her breath now just because she thinks she can.
As if on this point she might make a stand.

I don’t know what this has to do with the rest of the song, but I just like it.  She does it just because she can.

It seems to me the author is racked with quilt – guilt about an affair, guilt about letting love go, guilt about not capturing the most important moments of life.  Or regretting watching some of them pass by – right there in front of his eyes.

Perhaps my analysis of the words is not accurate.  Perhaps it means none of this.  But it doesn’t matter, because it means all those things to me.  Which brings me to my life lesson for today.  Having that which is forbidden.

There was a time when things were just black and white.  I’ve always been a clear, direct, and black and white person.  It has benefited me, and dogged me my entire life.  Over the last year I’ve come to realize that every situation is clouded by gray.  Even the most honest, concise, and patently obvious situations are marred by the unyielding conscience of human existence.  Humans you see, are non-deterministic.  They are random.  They are not predicable.

Some people exercise their randomness with acts of kindness and beauty.  Some don’t.  Some people can’t seem to tell the truth. Some people make sure the truth is farthest from the most important thing they are interested in.  But none of that is the point of this story.

The point is – what is really forbidden?  I used to think if a person has an affair, and then ends up with the person they had an affair with, would both of them wonder if it could happen again?  If you had an affair once, what’s to stop you from doing it again?  Would there always be that sense of caution and distrust – because you know what the other person is capable of.  Perhaps.

But, perhaps the affair happened for a reason.  Perhaps once it happens, you know what to look for.  The signs.  Perhaps when things go awry, it’s more noticeable and easier to mend?  Perhaps you know how to mend the situation – or admit more easily that it can’t be mended?

Perhaps the new relationship is more solid because of a shared experience.  The experience of a failed relationship?  Failure, it seems, may bond.  There is a common ground there, that without knowing of its existence, makes the current situation acceptable.  But once you know something is there – the situation becomes less tolerable.  Less acceptable.  It opens a desire to fix it – in which ever way makes most sense.

I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, but some how the knowledge that there is another side to every story; that people do things because it makes sense; because it may be better for everyone is some consolation.  It’s not rationalization – it is a perspective I have gained.  A new and unique perspective that has been filtering a lot of what I see and do these days.  It has had a positive impact on my life.  It has helped me understand more about human actions and behaviors than I have in the past.  It makes me appreciate the gray – perhaps one day I’ll embrace it.

All of this has made me wonder if I have been living a lie? Is staying together just to avoid hurting a child the right answer?  Can you avoid hurting a child and still do the right thing?  Is it unfair to everyone to continue avoiding the truth?  The things you both know are there, but don’t talk about?

It’s not about someone else; it does not matter how you’ve arrived at the understanding.

The truth is the truth.  It’s about you; it’s about me.  It’s not selfish or self-serving.  It seems selfish to me to continue without change.  It seems lazy.  It seems easy.  A cop out.

I fear the unknown.  Don’t fear the unknown.

It seems to me that happiness should not be forbidden.  But that’s not really what this is about.  It’s not about forbidden happiness.  Saying so is selfserving, because you may have found it and maybe she has not.

It’s about doing the right thing.  The first step is talking about it.

Talking about it….that is forbidden.

Ok, so I’m on vacation.  In the last hour I’ve been told that I drink too much, I sleep too much, and I use my phone too much.  That pisses me off.

I opened with “I’m on vacation” for a reason.  First, if I want to drink my fucking face off, I should be able to.  If I want to sleep to fucking noon, I should be able to.  If I want to stick my phone up my ass and breath electrons I should be able to.  Seriously.  If there is any time to just to relax and do what ever the fuck I want to, wouldn’t it be vacation?  I got up at 7:30 this morning, brought everyone freshly made donuts and freshly brewed coffee.  Not I can’t just relax and do what the fuck I want to do?

If it were some random Wednesday evening, with work staring at me tomorrow morning I could see a little restraint.  But fucking vacation – why the fuck not?

Come on – cut loose a little.  Just once.  For the love of God – just once enjoy yourself.  You say I’m a grumpy?  Well maybe I’m fucking grumpy because you’re constantly on my shit?  How about that?  Did you ever consider that?

Christ – it seems so simple. Just fucking relax and let go every once and a while.

Sheesh.

I’m going to get another drink now!

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