Day 271: Go Ahead, be an Angry Asshole

So you’re pissed off, I get it. You don’t have to be an asshole . . . or maybe you do. Is there actually a way to have healthily expressed anger? Don’t get me wrong, I think anger itself is healthy to a degree, but it’s impossible to express it in a way that doesn’t piss someone else off or offend them. The very nature of anger includes loss of control and to some degree, rational behavior. You can get mad without losing it, but in my mind true anger is not complete without some sort of outburst.

I’m not naming names or judging, but it’s probably you. You are a bitch, or a dick, or an asshole and while I may not like it, you’re pissed off so you have a right. We hear all the time that we’re supposed to control our anger, but what if we did ALL THE TIME? We’d be a bunch of raving lunatics with neurotic tics and odd behaviors. I have given this deep contemplation over the past five minutes and this is clearly the only possible outcome. I mean seriously, can you suppress your anger forever? To do so would leave every one of us incapable of normal interactions because we’d have so much pent up tension and hostility. Admit it, slamming a door feels good. Telling someone to fuck off gives you an adrenaline rush and don’t even get me started on the sheer giddiness that can momentarily overwhelm you when you break something.

As adults we do learn to manage our anger to a degree and this is what I believe to be a healthy response. I don’t break things anymore, or randomly go off on someone and despite a few fantasies to the contrary, I’ve never actually hit anyone. I do slam doors, however, and use my biting sarcasm to level an opponent and on occasion I’ll sink to name calling. The important distinction is that I get it out and while it’s true I might be an asshole for the moment, I am able to purge those destructive feelings, ask for forgiveness and move forward. I don’t stay an asshole forever. I also don’t believe that someone else’s momentary temper tantrum is an excuse to react poorly.

Just because I might be angry does not mean that you shouldn’t attempt to control your temper. Anger is generally sudden, not something we plan so I can forgive the asshole that’s just tired of talking about the minute details of buying a new car and suddenly snaps . . . not that I know anyone that fits that situational description. Er, anyway, someone snaps and takes it out on you and you can either recognize they are just angry and cut them some slack or jump down their throat. You have a choice to make and while you can’t always prevent a sudden attack of asshole, we can recognize the warning signs of another’s behavior and not play into it.

Day 270: What if Your Case of the Uglies is Permanent?

You know how when you hear your recorded voice it never sounds the same to you as you hear it in your head? Well, I don’t know what the auditory science is behind that little mystery, but like it or not, that is your actual voice and the way everyone else hears it. Well, what if it’s the same thing with how you look in photographs. Some people are just naturally photogenic and they always look their best on film. Then there are the people like me who seem eternally doomed to looking their absolute worst whenever a camera captures their image. What most worries me, is that perhaps I don’t just look bad on film, maybe that’s actually how I look and I never realized it.

There are those days when, despite my best efforts, I cannot shake my case of the uglies. My nose is ridiculous, my skin oily enough to fry food on, and my hair so limp it more closely resembles fringe than a hairstyle. This is how I look in most photographs and it’s been that way since I hit puberty. It’s not always bad though in person. Some days when I look in the mirror I even impress myself. Whose eyes are those, shimmering with intelligence from their teasing and mysterious depths? My goodness, that complexion and how the hair shines and bounces! On these occasions I love everything reflected back at me in the mirror, well not my nose, that is a absurd projectile stuck to my face.

Every now and again, there develops a photo that looks the way I think of myself, but the overwhelming majority is not so great. So what if, that unfortunate girl staring out from the photograph is truly what I look like? Could it be that’s who everyone else sees when they look at me? My self-esteem is on shaky enough ground. The only thing I really have is those good days and few miraculous photographs in which my perception and reality seem to meet. If it turns out, that like my voice on tape I do look the way I appear on film, I’m screwed. I know it’s not all about looks and personality counts, but I’m not saying I’m a beauty queen. I just want to look as good as I feel and when I see those pictures I feel like crap too. Beauty may only be skin deep, but then again so is my self-worth.

Day 269: What I've Learned

Self-evaluation, or rather self re-evaluation occupies my mind of late. I am nearing the end of my year-long experiment with this blog and I am wondering if I have actually achieved my goals. Initially, I began writing in a public forum to hold myself accountable for things that too much solitude enabled me to ignore. That solitude, which left me a little lost initially, is also what has saved me. Sometimes the only way to truly see who we are, where we are going and even where we’ve been, is to submerge ourselves in our own consciousness. I may not now be fixed, but I can’t say I don’t know who I am.

I am, in the tradition of all self-absorbed individuals, obsessed with my own identity. Why have I made the choices in my life that led me to this place and would I make the same ones over again? How do others in the world, both now and in my past, view me? I admire those carefree individuals who seem not at all aware of themselves and bounce about life on rainbows and unicorn magic, but I would not want to be one of them. If this past year has taught me anything, it’s that I cannot escape from the self, whatever that may be and it is assuredly different in each of us. So nine months in and what I know is that I’m stuck with this person that 37 years, countless relationships, heartbreaks, successes and disappointments has created.

It’s not every day that I like myself entirely, but I recognize that I am still a work in progress and that despite saying goodbye to a few friendships that I miss, I’m happy with my path. I may be an iconoclast, but I am true to myself and I don’t pretend to think or be any other way than what is natural to me. True, this doesn’t often win popularity contests for me, but I am trying to get back to a life lived with integrity. As much as I’d like to please everyone in my life, I can only be me, and that woman is flawed and human. I do not endeavor to hurt or mistreat those in my life or that I may come into contact with, but at the end of the day I’m walking out with the same core principle I had when I started: it’s my life and I am not accountable for the judgment levied on me by another.

Day 268: On Your 89th Birthday, Grams is an Original

Today is my only living grandparent’s 89^th birthday and I totally forgot. Well, I didn’t forget, forget, I just never write this shit down and so I didn’t mail her card on time. Grams is 89 and she’s been talking about dying the last 20 years. In the end, I’ve no doubt she will outlast me all while putting down a remarkably large meal and telling anyone who’ll listen that she doesn’t know what else Jesus has planned for her and she’s ready to go any time. Old people are odd and while I give them respect by virtue of the fact that they’ve been kicking for so long and have life experiences I couldn’t possibly fathom at this stage in my life, they kind of mystify me.

I can write this because Grams has never been online and I don’t have any other readers of the geriatric set. Also, I’m just bold enough to outrage anyone who might be reading and not agree. I’ve heard tales of seniors who live to be 80, 90 or beyond and remain spry, working in their gardens, doing things for themselves and even exercising. Then there are wizened souls who offer wisdom with their wrinkles and can tell enthralling stories from their lives. There are even those storybook grandmas who knit everything and run around with aprons on and delicious aromas wafting from their kitchens. These are mentors of future cooks, bakers and knitters. My Grams is . . . well, she’s a strong woman who really is none of these.

I don’t know what to make of Grams, but I know she isn’t the Nana my Mom loved or that my Aunts have turned out to be. No, Grams is a different breed and while she loves her grandkids and great-grands, she never was one to read you a story or bake you cookies. Truth be told, she’s not the Grandmother I always wanted, but in my maturing wisdom I think that may be because I was holding her to an unfair standard. Grams lived through a lot of hardship in her life and looking back, I don’t think she was every really meant to be the mothering type. My Grams was a feminist and none of us, not even her, ever realized it.

She was a socialite. She didn’t like to work, except in that it gave her a certain freedom that being a wife and mother did not provide. She liked looking nice and being seen and while I’m sure she loved all her children, I think she liked the idea more than the reality. Grams was not a feminist in the way that we commonly define it. She certainly did not march for women’s rights, but neither did she want to be tied down to her household dominion. Grams liked men and social engagements and looking nice. She still likes all those things. I think she’s been misjudged because she never truly had that warm, comforting feel to her that children expect from a mother. In a different time, I’m not sure she would have chosen to have kids, but that’s not a crime.

On Grams’ 89^th birthday I think I might just be at the point that I understand her. She has a good heart and a strong love of her family, but she will never be the Grandmother that smells of lilacs and cookies. Maybe I’m more like her than I knew. I could be the modern day equivalent, the one without kids, that lives life according to my terms and never fails to flirt with a nearby looker or take advantage of a self-promoting opportunity. It’s just possible that this woman has been living a life that she felt more forced into than innately drawn to and that’s a shame. I’m glad that she’s mine and that if nothing else, she’s an example to me of why we all need to live the life that suits us and not the one everyone else has. Happy Birthday Grams, I love you.

Day 267: Memories of Me Seem So Much Better Than the Actual Me

My memory is often faulty, though I don’t like to admit it. I have a great long-term memory from childhood or teenage years, but it can be a little shady after that. I am in the process of applying for grad school and the one thing I felt certain of, was my undergrad performance. True, I took several classes I didn’t need just because they were interesting and that sometimes led to less than an A, but I remember being brilliant and sadly, my transcript says otherwise. They say hindsight is 20/20 and I suppose that is the culprit here, but it’s more than that. I know I’m smart, I know I could have gotten straight A’s, had I not been working two or three jobs the entire time I was in school. This sudden revelation that I was not the student I believed myself to be is jolting. So when reality doesn’t live up to memory who does mean we are?

The way we think of ourselves goes a long way toward how we interact in society. There are days when I could not feel uglier and it shows in the way I carry myself. Likewise, when I think I look good, I feel good and it is noticeable to those around me. So if we’re living under the impression that we liked school and were even good at school only to find out we were just kind of average in all subjects that weren’t favorites does that mean we’re not smart?

Now that I’m facing an even more uphill battle to get into grad school I’m wondering what grades tell us anyway. I still do not doubt my own intelligence. I’d say I’m lazy and easily preoccupied with life more so than stupid, but then again it’s pretty dumb to not do well in college, especially when you’re paying for it yourself. It makes me wonder how much of what I think I remember is real or just the coloring of first-hand experience. Memories are subjective, which means that so much of how we live subsequent moments in our life is based on what may be faulty information. So I wasn’t the brain academically that I believed myself to be, but that doesn’t mean I’m not smart, it just means the person I am today is has to be based on real experiences and not false memories. Unfortunately, I am a lot cooler in my memories.

Day 266: Bad TV Makes Me Feel Better About Myself

I have a confession to make. This is my dirty little secret du jour and as much as I want to deny its truth, I cannot keep it to myself any longer: I am watching this season’s “The Bachelor” television show. I can feel your judgment from here and I know I deserve it. This show and those like it are the equivalent of mental play-doh. There is no substance or plot or purpose, it’s just a mental vacation from all the concerns of day-to-day living. I read serious books, I read the news, involve myself in political issues, follow humanitarian concerns and appreciate intellectual discourse. I also watch shamefully bad TV in the form of the “The Whores” . . . I mean, “The Bachelor.”

I have lots of friends who watch shows like this and none of them are bad people, but I’m a snob and it’s difficult to maintain my intellectual superiority when I’m bottom feeding on entertainment’s weakest offerings. Since I am watching however, this is the perfect place to lodge a complaint against said TV vomit. Reality shows are appealing to networks because they’re cheap. People love to be on camera and if they think they have a shot at getting their fifteen minutes of fame they’re willing to do almost anything. Twenty-five singles go on a television show to vie for the attentions of one bachelor or bachelorette. Pathetic, sad, fame-hungry idiots and I’m sucking it all up religiously on Monday nights.

I excuse my inclination toward bad TV and the occasional awful teen type movie (I admit, I went to see the horrifically stupid remake of Fame) because I follow the life and death issues happening in the real world. Rationalization is my specialty. What gets me, is the people that go on these stupid shows. Let’s analyze the Bachelor. The bachelor himself is a handsome and successful commercial airline pilot. From watching the show I would say he’s got a good head on his shoulders and should have no trouble finding women to date or marry. Marriage, in fact, is what he says he wants. This guy claims to be ready for the big commitment; he’s only on the show to find serious women who want to be in love and spend their life with him. Jackass.

I’m not doubting the possibility that the guy believes he wants love and marriage, but when faced with twenty-five women ranging in age from 22 to somewhere in their early 30’s, Mr. Serious narrows down his choices to the youngest of the bunch. No offense to my just-out-of-college sisters, but 22 and 23-year-old women aren’t exactly the best match for lifetime commitments, especially for a guy who is ten years older. If you are serious about love and marriage, maybe weeding out all the women with common experiences from the last decade isn’t the best idea. If she’s fresh from the frat house kegger, maybe you’re making the wrong choice.

The only conclusion I can draw from my bad TV experiment is that the reason people watch is because it makes you feel smarter. I’m not watching because I care about the guy or his 25 wannabe wives, I’m watching because it gives me something close to enjoyment to watch this train wreck in the making. Perhaps we watch because life is full of unpleasant surprises, complications and work. Bad TV is the mental vacation we need and the feeling of superiority watching idiots behaving idiotically gives us is the pat on the back and ego boost we all need. It also doesn’t hurt that everyone is pretty to look at and take their shirts off regularly.

Day 265: I Saw a Little Inspiration While I Was Running Past

Can you ever truly outlive your mistakes? We can work to make up for them or try to learn from them, but no matter what we do we can never erase them. Poor judgment is a factor in all of our lives at some point; no one is perfect and life throws a lot of curves and heartache our way. How we react is supposed to be the measure of our character, but if we all make mistakes does that mean we’re all bad people? I think the fact that everyone takes a turn at the screw-up booth means we’re human and while we may not be able to completely forget our mistakes, we can outrun them.

These days I stick to the little mess-ups in life. My natural sense of “this is what I feel/want/think at this moment and I will say or do whatever I want because of it” tends to be slightly obnoxious. I have currently had a headache for five days. The husband was here for the weekend (we have a commuter marriage) and despite him almost cutting his earlobe off Friday, being tired from working 18 hour days and having to drive six hours roundtrip for two days together, I bitched about my own ailment. Whatever that thing is that some people possess making them generous, unselfish souls . . . well, I think I kind of missed it on some levels.

I have a cousin who has suffered her own hardships and trials in life, but she is the most positive and giving person you can imagine. She could be in the midst of having her arm ripped off by a rabid dog and she would ask how you are and why you look a bit blue. I joke about Denise’s perpetual cheer and optimism, but really, where would the world be without people like Bernie (D’s nickname)? She has made mistakes in her life and she deals with them by continually striving to be better and to improve the lives of others. She is constantly aware of those around her and she would never force her husband to rub her shoulders incessantly because she feels crappy. In fact, you’d never even know she felt bad to begin with.

As much as I want to be a more positive person who makes less mistakes in my life and relationships, I know I’ll never be like Bernie. I can only be me, so I hope that I’ve learned enough to keep me from making too many more bad decisions, and that when I do screw up I can run fast enough to get away from their pull. Negativity seems to breed more of the same. If I cannot completely avoid my bad behavior or make it not exist, maybe I can put enough distance between that girl and the one I’d like to be. I’m still going to make mistakes, but I’m also going to take the time to notice the good examples in my life while I’m running past.

Day 264: Love Isn't Your Prize for Looking Nice

We don’t have to love anyone. No one owes you unconditional love. You don’t belong to anyone. We are all free and the choices we make reflect back on us as individuals, not on who we are as a couple. I was thinking tonight, when I realized my makeup was sliding off my face and my hair was wild, that it was okay, Jeff had to love me. Then I realized the truth, no he doesn’t. We make a choice to love and while we all hope that should we suffer a debilitating illness, gain or lose weight due to pregnancy or sickness, or just have a random ugly day our partner will not desert us, the fact of the matter is that we have no guarantees.

I recognize that I am a fairly shallow person when it comes to certain things and while I definitely have my ugly, fat, and bad hair days, overall I try to keep myself in good shape and reasonably pulled together. The husband does the same and we excuse each other’s small flaws because of our love. Still, it is not uncommon to see couples in which one partner has changed in a fairly dramatic way either due to weight gain, sloppy dress, deteriorating personal hygiene or some other superficial way. It is those people that enter into a committed relationship and at some point think to themselves, “now I can stop trying so hard,” They’re missing the point. We shouldn’t be so obsessively concerned with catching a mate that we convince ourselves the only reason to take care of ourselves or to try to look nice is to garner the attention of a possible suitor.

Our life is OURS and taking care of oneself should be a gift we give to our own self-esteem. This is not to say that we all need to be 120 pounds and ornately made-up, if you lean to the heavy side so what, dress well, do your hair, put on some make-up. If you are skinny that doesn’t mean you should stop all other efforts shy of deodorant. No one owes us love and it’s not about “catching” a mate. We look nice because we are a social society and that is our norm, not because we’re trying to win some prize in life. There are, of course the exceptions. There are some couples that both decide it’s okay to let it all hang out and to them I tip my hat, then there are others who both continue to work on themselves simply because that’s who they are, again perfectly fine. It’s the couples that have opposite goals in mind that rock the boat.

You cannot have one partner cramming twinkies so they have an excuse to wear their XXXL sweat pants, foregoing most grooming maintenance and avoiding mirrors or fashion of any kind paired up with someone who believes you need to keep yourself together as a personal objective. Those couples do not work, ever, ever, EVER. Loving yourself means you want to be good to yourself, you want to look nice. I have friends and family of all sizes, sexual preferences and races and I always admire that be they thick or thin they care about their appearance. Some female friends/relatives choose not to wear make-up, but they still dress nicely and practice good grooming. It’s not rocket science and it’s not a game to see who can win a partner and then stop trying.

I’m ranting in a rather long-winded fashion over a simple truth. No one owes you love, that is a gift. As much as we don’t want someone to stop loving us because we aren’t looking or feeling our best, we also don’t want that someone to give up on themselves. We all deserve a partner who cares enough to try. Loving someone does not mean we belong to one another, we’re always choosing it and hoping they continue to choose it as well. Prettying up the package never hurts and usually will make you feel better about who you are in the process. So if you find yourself feeling down and out, put on a brighter color lip gloss, shave, wash your hair or buy new shoes. It’s not about making an effort for someone else, the point is to know you deserve it for you.