Day 83: It's Amazing What You Learn When You Start Listening

I feel myself changing. How often can you say that about yourself? There are days when I actively pursue a path that is unfamiliar to me for the sole purpose of doing something different. Other days, it just happens. While my core might remain the same, the person I have become on the outside changes with circumstance, relationships, and decisions. Some people have an easier path and some of us seem to struggle a bit more to find our way to happiness. What I’ve been doing has not brought me the life I’d hoped for, so I’m learning to change to some things. I’m learning to change me.

Most of these changes are in how I listen. Yes, those who know me, will agree that I am a very opinionated woman and sometimes that means I talk more than I listen. I am also guilty of dismissing the opinions of others if they don’t agree with me. I heard a group of people talking on the subway one day, people that looked like me and I enjoyed listening to them talk, thinking that I was one of them. Then I heard something that surprised me, one of them said, “Educated people always think other educated people think like them.” This struck me as a radical thought because it was true.

How many times have I met people who were part of the Christian Right, or hunters, or anti-choice and I naturally just assume that they are somehow less enlightened. So it occurred to me recently as I was listening to yet another hunting enthusiast making his argument, that maybe I should shut up and start listening. My husband has made a similar argument for hunting as this hunter and while I can see the logic, I still detest the act. Then I started listening and allowing myself to understand the other side – the enemy’s side and I discovered that maybe I could be wrong. If I am wrong about that, what else might I have been ignoring while I was trying so hard to be right?

So armed with this knowledge of my own ignorance, I found myself defending hunting to my brother last weekend. Tommy, that’s my bro, is an animal rights activist and made me watch Whale Wars and several other Animal Planet shows while I was home. Turns out, I learned so well from listening to someone else, that I was actually able to make a convincing argument to my brother. That same weekend, I went to mass and while I hated it, I realized that the believers surrounding me weren’t stupid or blind, they were just different in what they choose to believe.

I have a new outlook on some things, and while this does not mean I am suddenly going to be a conservative or listen to Rush or Ann Coulter without wanting to hurl the radio out the window, it does mean that I am going to actively pursue a few things I never would have done before. I am going to learn to shoot a gun. I still plan to lobby for stricter handgun regulations and I will always say that the second amendment was written in a time of war on our own soil and therefore possibly a little outdated, but I’m going to learn to shoot. I may even go hunting.

I think the definition of education isn’t so much about how many degrees you have, it’s about how much of life you’ve learned and absorbed. I still have a lot to learn, but at least now I know my mind is open. I may still disagree and I’ll likely never go to church again, but at least now I know how to listen and that’s a lesson I hope I’ll never forget.

Day 82: Divorces Should Be Scripted and Have a Musical Score

If all is fair in love and war, then what about break-ups? Is it okay to play dirty or should there be a code that we follow to keep us from intensifying the hurt we inflict on one another? To some, it seems that a break-up should be more like the flash and awe of a war tactic. You hit them hard and fast and then back out quick before the other side has time to figure out what happened. Then again, if you loved one another at one time shouldn’t respect and amicability reign supreme? Is a break-up a battle or an agreement and who gets to set the rules?

I recently heard about a friend’s divorce which took one of the spouse’s by complete surprise. Here’s the basic scenario: Spouse A is out of town staying in the couple’s vacation home with a friend. When Spouse A calls Spouse B and asks “Whatcha doing?” Spouse B replies, “Packing.” What do you mean packing?” “Well, I’m packing my things, because I’m filing for divorce. You should just stay there and we can work out the details long distance.” Spouse A of course hops the first flight home to discover a half empty house and no spouse.

There is also no explanation, no casting of blame, no arguments, no anything to hint at what caused this sudden break-up. Of course, any rational person realizes that it is not as sudden as it might seem. Spouse B clearly spent time planning and making decisions, it’s just that none of this was conveyed to Spouse A until the deed was done – or in this case, in the process of being done. This type of break-up is especially shocking to me in that it is even more selfish than a simple affair, argument, abuse situation. In fact, in some ways this is similar to having a family member go missing. There is no explanation, no trail of evidence, no negotiations, someone simply vanishes and it is the not knowing that is the killer.

I think every break-up, outside of those precipitated by physical abuse, deserves a discussion or at the very least an argument complete with the throwing of breakables against a wall. Who are these people that get so tangled up in their own emotional distress that they think it is somehow acceptable to run away from their life, like a thief robbing your house while you are away and leaving no trace, only what’s missing.

So why is it that when we fall in love it is all about sharing, respect, and communication and then when we break-up we suddenly decide that it’s alright to behave like an unethical psychopath? Can we really hate someone we once loved so vehemently as to take their dog along with most of the furniture? If we have vows that we follow when getting into a marriage, why not have vows regulating how we get out? I’m not talking about the divorce settlement, I mean more a code of behavior that makes it wrong to simply abandon your spouse and then to have the nerve and killer instinct to refuse to explain why you left in the first place. Shouldn’t that be your right? The right to know what you did to provoke such a selfish plot or even an amicable, “Hey this isn’t working out.” I think an explanation is due, but maybe I’m just not as cutthroat as Spouse B.

I have experienced a few break-ups in my life and not all of them were my idea, but I will say that all of them ended fairly well. I have been able to maintain communication with almost all of them and I hold a healthy respect for anyone that ever tolerated me on an extended basis. I did once break into an old flames house and rearrange all of his furniture and hide a few things, but I didn’t take anything out of the house and he really was an jackass anyway. I guess in the end, you cannot regulate human behavior, no prenuptial agreement or divorce settlement can force you to behave respectfully when exiting a relationship. Although, I tend to like the showdowns of life and have never backed away from a potential confrontation. Think of all the zingers my sarcasm could generate and the tears my propensity for the dramatic could influence. It’s like a scene in a great movie . . . I can even hear the music I’d use in the background. Spouse B really blew the big moment. What a waste.

Day 81: I Have a Headache so Shut the Hell Up

Why do some people get headaches and others get nothing? Or if they do get headaches, they get the kind that go away as soon as an OTC painkiller is ingested. Not me, I get nagging, last all day (sometimes two or three) migraines, tension and hangover headaches. I don’t think I’ve ever taken an aspirin in my life that actually made a dent in the pain without ice packs, muscle relaxers, prescription drugs, and as many hours of sleep as I can stand.

The headache started yesterday, but it came and went, today it finally came on full force and I am in about hour ten of what will likely be an all day migraine tomorrow. I am just beginning to feel the nausea that accompanies the bad ones, so hopefully the meds will kick in shortly and I will sleep through some of it. Headaches make me grouchy. I frequently get angry at Jeff for asking what he can do to help or conversely, angry at him for not offering to help. Pain brings out the best in people.

This year I have been on my own with the pain since Jeff is in Iraq, but don’t think I’ve cut him any slack. Oh no, each headache I have had since he’s been gone has prompted me to feel irrational anger at him for not being here to get me ice or rub my neck. By the time he finally does come home I will have a year’s worth of headache anger to rain down on him.

I’ve said it before, he’s a lucky, lucky man. I’m a real keeper.

Day 80: RIP Clever Cruelty, Hello Maturity

Some days I’m just all fired up. Today is one of those days. Well, that’s not entirely true, I was normal (for me) most of the day, but tonight is a different story. I got myself worked up after going through old files, old writings, and old emails. Now I have so many different thoughts and tangents swirling through my brain that I can hardly focus. I have started no fewer than three separate blogs for today’s posting and I am still unsettled on what to write.

After dredging through random letters I kept for reasons currently unclear to me, I discovered a pattern I find both amusing and annoying: my writing skills are at their sharpest when I am angry at the intended recipient of said letter or email. Perhaps it is that my naturally rapier sharp sarcasm has no need to be tempered by common decency. I can be as cutting and clever as my injured wit will allow and usually that is pretty good if I do say so myself. I am never funnier than when arguing and often, in the midst of a screaming match with my first real relationship of my early 20’s I would stop mid-fight to beg for an acknowledgement that though incredibly cruel my last comment was witty. Turns out, this is not a good tactic to employ if you are hoping for a quick reconciliation to your argument. Oh well, live and learn.

These days I do not fight so much. The husband and I get along well and when we do disagree it is a short-lived affair and I do not have the desire of my youth to insult and berate my loved one – even if he deserves it. Isn’t maturity wonderful? Tonight, what I found was a series of biting statements buried within the bodies of letters clearly written under duress. So now that I am a happier, more positive woman will I lose my wit? What happens when I no longer have the cynical chops necessary to craft a statement that weaves an insult about a person’s poor grammar, unattractive lover, redneck lifestyle, and questionable dental hygiene all into one cleverly biting sentence? Will I even be able to respect myself when I constantly choose the high road?

Being positive is a lot more work than I thought it would be and if my written and verbal parrying is going to suffer I’m not sure I am up for it. How does one defend oneself in this increasingly complex world without a bit of wittily worded sarcasm intended to ward off the blows of his or her adversary? For that matter, do people not have adversaries anymore? I must say that I am in danger of getting along with everyone I currently know. Perhaps I need to get out there and acquaint myself with people to whom I will inevitably dislike or want to offend or maybe I’m just so soft and easy-going that such people no longer exist for me. I am quite sure that Ann Coulter and I would have no trouble sparring, but short of that maniacally evil, extremist bitch (in my opinion), perhaps there is no one left for me to deftly castrate emotionally with my words.

Some days I miss who I used to be, but I guess I will always have the letters and emails to look back fondly on the sarcastic girl who could render an opponent speechless from sheer sarcastic genius. Also, I would just like to add that in recent years it has become less fun to be wittily cruel as the man I am most likely to turn my verbal or written weapon on is Jeff and as my Grams recently pointed out, he is such a great guy. Sometimes though Grams, it sucks to be with a saint, because when you find yourself talking smack instead of the self-congratulatory feeling I used to get at being so clever, I understand feel guilty because I know I’m just a bitch and he’s still great. Being an adult takes a lot of fun out of life sometimes.

Day 79: Will Being a Cat Killer Give Me Street Cred?

I think I might be a cat killer. After being a cat owner to Jeremy and Sylvia for 15 and 13 years respectively, Jeremy kicked last month and today Sylvia is suddenly wheezing and croaking out noises like she is knocking on death’s door. Two cats in one month will really be too much for me to handle. Now if they were parrots and turtles, which for some reason I have a bloodthirst to shoot, it would be a different and much more fun story, but these are my babies and apparently I am a killer without realizing it. It’s cool to have a superpower, but I always thought I’d be more the hero type a la Storm in the X-Men comics, not a super villain.

So here’s the deal, I went away for a handful of days and when I got home, the remaining cat that I have not yet killed was slow to greet me. When she did emerge she seemed noticeably different. She is a big shredder, but tonight she had handful after handful of fur coming off her akin to the post affects of a chemo patient only her fur never thinned, just an incessant shedding. Her purring noises were deep and guttural and kind of freaked me out, and her meow sounded a lot like that creepy little kid who croaked out “red rum” in the original “The Shining.” Also, she doesn’t appear to have eaten much in the days I’ve been gone, which is not her style. This cat loves to eat and I’d like her to restart if for no other reason than for her nickname of “Fat Girl” to make sense.

So what does it all mean? Am I a cat killer? I have killed every single houseplant I’ve ever had including a few cacti and some bamboo. Maybe I’m transcending vegetation murder and morphing into a mammalian murderer? It is disconcerting to have a pet sick. It is hard to know if they are sick enough to see the vet or if it is something a homeopathic remedy can cure. Jeremy was truly ill and I knew it and took him to the vet twice in three weeks, it just wasn’t enough. For the Fat Girl, though, I am just unsure. Besides the Tribble-like furballs she is shedding at an alarming rate and the vocal issues, she appears to be normal. If irritatingly insistent and loud are normal feline traits.

I think my inability to keep plants or pets alive is testament to the wisdom of my current infertile state, but then again children can tell you they are hungry or hurt, so maybe I’d be better at that. Hmmm . . . maybe my next pet will be a child to see if I’m ready for the big step of a dog. They can’t be that much more difficult to take care of and since children can talk and tell you what they perceive their needs to be that should make them easier than dogs in a way . . . is that not right? For now, I guess I’ll take Sylvie to the vet tomorrow to make sure it’s just a case of cat laryngitis and not feline death syndrome or something. I don’t even take myself to the doctor, animals are kind of demanding for creatures that drink out of toilets and poop in a box.

Day 78: Getting Down to my Soft, Gooey Center

Today's blog will be short, because I am sans internet and writing from my iPhone, which already puts me at a disadvantage because I'm just not that tech savvy.

I reconnected with another old friend tonight. It has been ten years since we really hung out and I was nervous about it. She is one of those magnificently open people who just exudes warmth and positivity. In other words, completely opposite from how I come across. We talked a lot, drank some, and reminisced throughout the night. What struck me most, however, was our discussion about the core of a person. I am pretty aware of the fact that my personality was set somewhere around age two. I am who I am and while I often find myself doubting the impression I made on new people, I still recognize who I am and what is natural for me. I tend to quote a Wallflowers song (don't judge me) that says "I haven't changed, but I know I'm not the same" to sort of describe being the same at the core, despite natural growth and personality tweaks.
My friend helped me realize that it is our core, that innermost part of our personality -- call it a soul or spirit if you prefer -- that connects most strongly with other people. It is not simply a matter of liking this person, it was always more about a part of me craving who she is at her core. That kind of connection is not something you can fake or work at, it either happens or it doesn't and when it does, ten years can pass and yet you are still friends, still connected. We all find ourselves periodically drawn to a particular person, be it friendship or love, just as we often work diligently at creating relationships only to realize later, that a real bond just cannot be forged.
What I learned tonight, is that I never really had a choice. I did not choose to like this woman or to be friends with her. There was just something within me that recognized something within her. I need to be her friend because that part of myself that defines who I am wants her to be a part of it. If only all things in life were this simple and clear cut, maybe then I'd actually have my act together.

Day 77: Eat me. No, Seriously, Jesus Says it's Okay

A funny thing happened on my way to my brother’s house in Fort Wayne, IN. I went to church. For most, this might not be that unusual of an event, but for me, a long time agnostic, recent atheist, church is not a part of my weekly, yearly or even a ten-year routine. The last time I went to church was at my Mother’s funeral and that day I did not exactly go voluntarily. Religion and church just aren’t for me, but after visiting my Mother’s gravesite I passed the church and as it was ten minutes until Saturday night mass I just found myself turning in. I did not go there to criticize or poke fun, but a few things did cause me to hide a smile and a few others caused me something close to disgust. So let’s break it down.

First on my list of “no they din-it” is the obsession with eating flesh and drinking blood. I get that it’s a metaphor, I get that it dates back to a perceived miracle, I get that this is your belief and I’m cool with that, but can we tone down the cannibalistic overtones just a bit? Every reading, every song, and that day’s sermon was about feasting on the body of Christ. Could we at least use language a little more ambiguous than, “this is my body, take it and eat of it” or “taste and see the goodness of God”? Um, gross. I went into mass hungry and left nauseous. Is there no one else out there that thinks maybe this part of the religious legend might be a little . . . well, nasty?

Another thing that turned me off was two separate references to “the Jews” that painted them as ignorant. I should point out that neither reference was strictly directed at the biblical Jews, it is modern day people of the Jewish faith that were maligned both times. How can we preach kindness and do unto others when we only mean the “others” that accept our faith. You are Christian, I am not, and I don’t see a problem with that. Religious beliefs are a deeply personal set of beliefs and while I may debate it with you, I will never criticize you for them. So for a religious leader to openly disparage the beliefs of another is appalling to me.

I don’t mean to dwell on this, but just to point out the obvious, one hour-long stint in a Catholic church and an atheist is now offended on behalf of a religious group. That seems kind of weird, right? Then again, I didn’t bite into the flesh of another or drink his blood, so maybe I’m not fully getting the experience. I think maybe religions just don’t have enough of a sense of humor about themselves. I realize it is a deeply serious topic to many, but at the same time, are we to believe that humor cannot exist within the church, or that a man who walked the earth as a mortal managed to live almost three decades without ever cracking a smile or making a joke? Forgive me for being sacrilegious, but this Jesus guy sounds kind of like a drag.

My other favorite moment came during the en masse recitation of the “Our Father.” Admittedly, I am a Trekkie and the Borg scare the hell out of me (which is funny, since I’m pretty sure I’m destined for hell if God does exist), but I honestly was not thinking Star Trek when I entered the church. Anyway, so they are all saying the prayer at the same time and it suddenly dawned on me that it sounded exactly like the Borg collective. So I started thinking about that analogy and realized it actually does kind of make sense. Here were a large group of people, all buying into the exact same belief, and in many cases, following the leadership unquestioningly (notice I toned it down by not saying mindlessly following). This little Borgism freaked me the hell out and I was sort of desperately looking toward the exit and calculating the resulting disturbance if I suddenly made a run for it when I was stopped dead by the next event.

The priest began the communion rite and I don’t know if he lost his place, as he was very young and might still be reading the speech, but he suddenly began speaking in a sort of robotic staccato. This would be okay, odd but okay, if it weren’t for the fact that this happened exactly at the moment when he said, “take this and Eat . . .Of . . . It.” It was the slowest, most exaggeratingly correct pronunciation of the words you can imagine. So odd did it sound that I found myself looking around questioningly hoping to see passive acceptance on the frequent prayers’ faces, but instead found many of them also looking about with quizzical expressions. It was at this point that the hysterical laughter took over. I tried to stifle it, but I am only so strong and when he did the same thing on the drink my blood part I gave up any hope of containment. Luckily, just at my breaking point, the choir broke into song, the organ howled and no one could hear me. Some might have witness my contorted facial expressions, but I’m assuming they interpreted it as impassioned crying, rather than gleeful laughter.

Suffice it to say, church is not for me. I just don’t get it and long before atheism came my way, I still hated church and all forms of organized religion. I did used to like the songs back when I dreamed of being a singer and thought making the “pitch list” at school was akin to chartreuse glory. Man, did I love to belt out the hymnals back in the day, but back then I don’t recall ever joyfully singing about eating someone’s flesh. The only thing I plan to taste and see in the near future is a cocktail and a pizza, cannibalism – even in the name of the Lord – is just not my thing.