Tomorrow night is Halloween.
My old roommate and I used to throw the most rockin' Halloween parties in all of Southern California, complete with jewel-toned jello shooters, handcuffs and a killer sushi bar. It's true. One year there was even a hood ornament. The police loved us. Our neighbors wrote letters to the city mayor and tried to get us evicted. Unfortunately for them, the mayor was usually at our party, totally hammered and making out with the local news anchor in the hall closet.
What primeaval urge makes adults dress up in really odd things to go out on Halloween? When you're a kid, it's pretty simple -- pirate, princess, witch, Godzilla, skeleton. Then we get older and things get a lot weirder. Giant chickens, tumbleweeds, partly cloudy with a chance of rain, sushi, Mickey & Minnie Mouse (trust me, nothing is weirder than a grown man dressed as Mickey Mouse). And of course the slut-o-rama. Don't laugh, you've all done it. The french maid, the naughty schoolgirl, the dominatrix. I have a friend who used to come to the party every year and handcuff herself to the hottest guy. It usually worked. Pissed the rest of us off, let me tell you. Only because we hadn't thought of it first.
I did the slut thing one year. In what was clearly a career-limiting move, I went as a Freudian Slip (an outrageously revealing black negligee from Vicky's Secret with phrases like "oral fixation;" "Oedipus complex," etc. pinned all over it) the year that I worked as a project manager for an IT consulting firm. As I recall, all of my employees came to the party. (As well as my boss..) Hmmm....lets see...IT guys, jello shots, and my usually buttoned-up assets on serious display. Yeah...great idea. Thank god it was pre-YouTube.
Of course my favorite part of the evening was coming out early on in my costume to answer the door to a handful of stunned trick-or-treaters. I think those dads came back three or four times that night, just in case they were imagining things.
In comparison, my current Halloweens are oceans of tranquility, taking place as they do in this hill town that time forgot. If I really want to shake things up, maybe I can dig that little slip out and make my husband take the kids trick-or-treating. I wonder if I have time to make some jello shots?
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Envy
I was going to do a post on adversity this evening, but then I stumbled on to some completely random blogs and wasted at least 2 hours. There are people out there who are exponentially more creative than I am. And funny. I hate that.
I'll have to work on my book instead while I recover. More wine, please...
I'll have to work on my book instead while I recover. More wine, please...
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Just Another Day
The end of October is a big time in my family. My brother was dragged into his 40th year yesterday, I eased into 43 today, and my youngest is thrilled to be 2 tomorrow. I usually don't have an issue with my birthdays - my fortieth was barely a blip on my emotional radar - though it has crossed my mind that maybe all of this recent angst is some kind of delayed midlife crisis. Except that I had one of those at 25, so I feel like I'll be over my quota if I try for another. Really, it's not fair to those who haven't had a turn yet.
So in case I'm turning into some kind of maudlin cliche, I thought I'd celebrate my birthday by looking at all the things I'm happy about/grateful for tonight:
So in case I'm turning into some kind of maudlin cliche, I thought I'd celebrate my birthday by looking at all the things I'm happy about/grateful for tonight:
- Good health -- something we all take for granted, but I'm very, very blessed in this;
- My family -- not to brag or anything, but it goes without saying that I, of course, have the most beautiful, gifted, talented children on the planet (who have not hit puberty yet);
- Resort spas, and men who have chosen massage as a career path -- I had an 80 minute massage today, and I'm very grateful for the fact that even if I'm not having sex, I can at least have this;
- Getting fit - stepping on the scale for the first time today in god knows how long and seeing that I am within 2 lbs of pre-baby weight (hallelujah);
- Running - who'd a thunk it? A way to manage mood swings and plot developments without Prozac;
- Books -- what would I do without my one obsessive-compulsive behavior?
- A quick mind, a sympathetic ear, and the most enjoyable voice -- thank you for ALL of the conversation and understanding lately, it means the world to me;
- A good challenge -- whatever it looks like, really, it's what keeps me going;
- Really, really good wine -- snaps to Patz & Hall, Elyse, Fantesca, Blackbird, and a few other favorites who illuminate my evenings and probably make me a better person in the long run; and
- Writing -- what might be the whole reason I exist; I feel like I've finally hit my stride this year, despite (or perhaps due to) the upheaval in the rest of my life.
I think my only fear about getting older is in not wanting to miss any opportunities. I spent a good portion of my early years being afraid of doing anything remotely risky (a legacy from my parents), plus I'm a late starter in general, so I often feel like I'm trying to make up for lost time in multiple areas. The fact that I'm an insatiable reader probably doesn't help in this case, as I'm always reading something that makes me think, "oh, I wish I could do THAT" or "damn, I wish I'd written that!" So, while I don't have a burning desire to overcome world hunger or win the Nobel Peace Prize, there are a few things I'd like to accomplish before I leave the station:
- A house in Italy -- yes, Frances Mayes, this is entirely your fault;
- A best seller -- doesn't have to be the magnitude of Harry Potter, but it would be nice to know I made the NY Times list for a couple of weeks;
- Be a stakeholder in a successful startup company (high tech, biotech, whatever) - I've always wanted to exercise my options;
- Be fluent in at least two languages (besides English) - I'm thinking French and Italian, but Chinese might be more practical;
- Take an entire year off, travel, and write about it; and
- Be happy with the choices I've made.
I've always believed (simplistically, perhaps) that there is a reason for everything that happens. Sometimes it's just difficult to see the big picture from where we are currently standing, and even more challenging to pick out the right path from the thousands of starting points that lie in front of us. Maybe next year at this time, I'll look back and hindsight will make it easy for me to see what choices I should have made and the direction I should have gone. For now, I may not be content, but I'm willing to keep an open mind and keep moving forward.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Be Careful What You Wish For
Curiosity killed the cat...
Lifelong learning is an ideal that most of us aspire to, I think. At least in my life, my motto has always been that when you stop learning, you stagnate, and when you stagnate, ultimately you die. But is there such a thing as too much curiosity?
What if you have such a hunger to learn and/or experience new things that you're never satisfied with what you actually have? It has occured to me, as I've been working through all of these ...issues, for lack of a better word, that perhaps I'm asking too much of the universe.
I've always been the kind of person who actively sought out the next goal, challenge, project, idea, etc. For the most part, I think this has been a positive aspect of my personality; however, maybe this intellectual hunger has carried over into my emotional life. I sometimes wonder if a fear of "settling" and an overly competitive nature makes me unwilling to stay happy with a person/place/situation for the long haul.
Sometimes I think maybe I was just born in the wrong era. I should have been one of the settlers who went West after the Louisiana Purchase! If I'd been with the wagons that rolled into Oregon and California and saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time, maybe I would have been content.
On the other hand, every time I start to worry that I have a limited amount of time and a lot of material to get through (or life experience, or projects, or places to see, or love), I think about my great-aunt, one of my role-models: who went to Berkeley while the rest of her generation had babies, who never married, who traveled alone to China and Egypt when she was in her 70's, who took up roller-blading the year she turned 90. And that renews my faith in my own courage and resiliency.
It isn't what you've got, or what you've done, or who you're with that matters in the end. I think it's how you approach life and define who you are -- so what if my thirst for experience, or learning, or whatever you want to call it, occasionally makes me dissatisfied with where I currently am? The fact that I want, I need to keep moving forward in some way, let's me know that I'm still very much alive -- and that I'm not going to spend the next 50 years as a passive observer, on the couch of life, watching TV.
Where are those damn rollerblades anyway?
Lifelong learning is an ideal that most of us aspire to, I think. At least in my life, my motto has always been that when you stop learning, you stagnate, and when you stagnate, ultimately you die. But is there such a thing as too much curiosity?
What if you have such a hunger to learn and/or experience new things that you're never satisfied with what you actually have? It has occured to me, as I've been working through all of these ...issues, for lack of a better word, that perhaps I'm asking too much of the universe.
I've always been the kind of person who actively sought out the next goal, challenge, project, idea, etc. For the most part, I think this has been a positive aspect of my personality; however, maybe this intellectual hunger has carried over into my emotional life. I sometimes wonder if a fear of "settling" and an overly competitive nature makes me unwilling to stay happy with a person/place/situation for the long haul.
Sometimes I think maybe I was just born in the wrong era. I should have been one of the settlers who went West after the Louisiana Purchase! If I'd been with the wagons that rolled into Oregon and California and saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time, maybe I would have been content.
On the other hand, every time I start to worry that I have a limited amount of time and a lot of material to get through (or life experience, or projects, or places to see, or love), I think about my great-aunt, one of my role-models: who went to Berkeley while the rest of her generation had babies, who never married, who traveled alone to China and Egypt when she was in her 70's, who took up roller-blading the year she turned 90. And that renews my faith in my own courage and resiliency.
It isn't what you've got, or what you've done, or who you're with that matters in the end. I think it's how you approach life and define who you are -- so what if my thirst for experience, or learning, or whatever you want to call it, occasionally makes me dissatisfied with where I currently am? The fact that I want, I need to keep moving forward in some way, let's me know that I'm still very much alive -- and that I'm not going to spend the next 50 years as a passive observer, on the couch of life, watching TV.
Where are those damn rollerblades anyway?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
How much for the women?
Enough of this heavy serious stuff for now - I'm thinking about good old-fashioned friendship tonight. A shout out to the people who bring us laughter, emotional support, stories, commiseration, and generally make our lives more enjoyable just by being themselves.
Having been an introvert for most of my life, I've been fairly selective in my close friends. There are a few from college, a handful left from high school, and at least one or two from as far back as grammar school. But there is the Family.
I've been planning the 40th birthday recently of a very good girlfriend - she and I and two other girlfriends have celebrated at least twenty years together. We've lived through five husbands (yes, do the math), seven kids, jobs/volunteer work/stay-at-home choices, multiple camping and ski trips, hundreds of concerts, too many bottles of Grand Marnier to count, and the fact that we're all Scorpios. We know things about each other that we will never reveal (or at least not for less than six figures). Years ago, we became Family - not by necessity but by active choice.
I am not a girl's girl, and I don't trust groups of women in general. But more than anyone else in my life, these women would challenge, support, defend, encourage, and love me in the face of any adversity -- and I'd do the same for them. It's hard to believe that we're all in our 40s now - it can't possibly have been that many years. On the other hand, I know we'll be saying that another 20 years from now when we're planning our 60th birthdays (in Italy, at the villa on Lake Como one of us will have purchased from George Clooney's estate...)
I think I'm also lucky enough to have this kind of friendship with a handful of men as well. Not that we're planning trips together - that might be taken the wrong way by the significant others in our lives, unfortunately. (But hey, you're all invited to my villa when we're 60, to hell with it...) I don't always agree with the quote from When Harry Met Sally that men and women can't be friends because sex always gets in the way -- sometimes it does, absolutely; sometimes friendship just isn't enough, and that can be difficult and depressing. But sometimes conversation, an alternate viewpoint, a sense of humor and the knowledge that someone from the other team is on your side is quite good enough. And greatly valued.
I love my friends - may we all celebrate an infinite number of future years together. Even those of you who aren't Scorpios.
Having been an introvert for most of my life, I've been fairly selective in my close friends. There are a few from college, a handful left from high school, and at least one or two from as far back as grammar school. But there is the Family.
I've been planning the 40th birthday recently of a very good girlfriend - she and I and two other girlfriends have celebrated at least twenty years together. We've lived through five husbands (yes, do the math), seven kids, jobs/volunteer work/stay-at-home choices, multiple camping and ski trips, hundreds of concerts, too many bottles of Grand Marnier to count, and the fact that we're all Scorpios. We know things about each other that we will never reveal (or at least not for less than six figures). Years ago, we became Family - not by necessity but by active choice.
I am not a girl's girl, and I don't trust groups of women in general. But more than anyone else in my life, these women would challenge, support, defend, encourage, and love me in the face of any adversity -- and I'd do the same for them. It's hard to believe that we're all in our 40s now - it can't possibly have been that many years. On the other hand, I know we'll be saying that another 20 years from now when we're planning our 60th birthdays (in Italy, at the villa on Lake Como one of us will have purchased from George Clooney's estate...)
I think I'm also lucky enough to have this kind of friendship with a handful of men as well. Not that we're planning trips together - that might be taken the wrong way by the significant others in our lives, unfortunately. (But hey, you're all invited to my villa when we're 60, to hell with it...) I don't always agree with the quote from When Harry Met Sally that men and women can't be friends because sex always gets in the way -- sometimes it does, absolutely; sometimes friendship just isn't enough, and that can be difficult and depressing. But sometimes conversation, an alternate viewpoint, a sense of humor and the knowledge that someone from the other team is on your side is quite good enough. And greatly valued.
I love my friends - may we all celebrate an infinite number of future years together. Even those of you who aren't Scorpios.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
The L Word
And now for something completely different...
Love.
Which might even be more complicated, confusing, and ultimately irritating than its predecessor. I hesitate even to tackle this topic that poets and philosophers have attempted to define centuries before my DNA was even a mote in my parents' eyes. On the other hand, this one stupid emotion, along with its partner-in-crime (sex), has caused so much upheaval in my short life that I probably ought to consider myself an expert and shove my opinions toward center stage.
What is love? A divine emotion; a jumble of hormones; a many-splendored thing; something we can't live without? Do we fall or grow into it? Do we fall in love with those we're sexually attracted to, or are we sexually attracted to the ones we love? Can/should love be separate from sex? (A question women in general have a hard time with.) Do you only get one love of your life? Why DO we fall in love, and what makes love last? And finally, if your love dies, can you bring it back?
I certainly can't presume to speak for anyone but myself on this topic. If I look back on the course of my life, I think romantic love represented a tapping in to certain qualities that I lacked in myself. In my twenties and early thirties, I was most attracted to and fell in love with men who were type-A, hard charging over-achievers: attractive men who could tell a good story, command a room, direct a team, get things done. I'm sure my mother's generation would have looked at them as "a good provider," and certainly it was reassuring to know there was someone in my life who could handle just about anything. But as I got older, I also found that the qualities that attracted me to these men did not really respond well to change, which made it very hard for me to grow and develop. They didn't want to hear my stories - they had their own. They didn't want me to develop a plan for our future -they already had one, thank you very much. They did not want me to assume a starring role in my life -- they were already occupying center stage, and it got a bit crowded with two of us up there.
As I wrestled with these issues, I also struggled with the nature of love, and what we all do to make love "work" within the context of our daily lives. Often we fall in love based on an initial physical attraction, which might be bolstered by the commonality of shared experiences (think of high-school sweethearts, college students, or work colleagues). As relationships progress, how many of us have adapted or given up pieces of who we are in order to make everything go smoother -- habits, past-times, beliefs, friends, convictions, whatever it might be? At the same time, we're focused on benchmarking the relationship in accordance to whatever context we're comfortable with - are we going on the right dates, does he drive the right car, is she hot enough, are we moving at the right pace, are we planning the right wedding, will we live in the right neighborhood, will we be the right kind of parents, etc? By the time we get most of the way down this path, it's too late to take a step back and realize that maybe the questions we should have been asking were, "Who am I? What makes me tick, and what kind of life do I ultimately want? How do I want to define love?"
I think many of us instinctively know the qualities that a lasting love should have: respect, integrity, honesty, open communication, attraction, caring, honor, joy -- continue as you wish. So why is it so incredibly hard to find the real thing? Possibly because human beings have very little patience - we want what we want when we want it (especially my generation). The idea of "love at first sight" has screwed up a lot of otherwise rational people. I think also the idea that there's only one soul-mate for everyone has screwed us up too -- what if this is The One and I let him/her get away? What if I never get another chance? Most of us don't pause to reflect on what matters most to us, what qualities or characteristics from another person might enhance our lives -- instead, we rush to lock in the loan without considering the terms and the fact that the interest rate is going to quadruple at some point in the future. If it's a bad deal, it's a bad deal, and no amount of money, or the right diamond, or a killer promotion, or a house in the best neighborhood is going to make up for the fact that you've committed yourself to something that doesn't work for you. Eventually, what you thought was love is going to go out the window.
I realize it sounds like I'm the biggest cynic on the planet (sex is screwed up, love is worse...) - but I really believe that we just need to slow down and pay attention. When I realized that I'm typically attracted to the show horse, the kind of guy who needs to be on center stage all the time, I was also forced to confront the fact that because of that pattern, I was giving up far too much control over my own decisions, activities, friendships, and personality. I resented those men for being themselves - it was my own fault, only I had never taken the time to analyze and articulate what was important to me, or develop the emotional fortitude to stick to my guns. Now I know I want someone who listens as well as they talk; who has curiousity and a great thirst for new experiences; who has a sense of humor and adventure; who wants a partnership as instead of a dictatorship; who isn't afraid to lay the hard stuff out at the beginning and see who is still standing when the dust clears. Oh, and the physical attraction thing too -- I'm still interested in that.
Love.
Which might even be more complicated, confusing, and ultimately irritating than its predecessor. I hesitate even to tackle this topic that poets and philosophers have attempted to define centuries before my DNA was even a mote in my parents' eyes. On the other hand, this one stupid emotion, along with its partner-in-crime (sex), has caused so much upheaval in my short life that I probably ought to consider myself an expert and shove my opinions toward center stage.
What is love? A divine emotion; a jumble of hormones; a many-splendored thing; something we can't live without? Do we fall or grow into it? Do we fall in love with those we're sexually attracted to, or are we sexually attracted to the ones we love? Can/should love be separate from sex? (A question women in general have a hard time with.) Do you only get one love of your life? Why DO we fall in love, and what makes love last? And finally, if your love dies, can you bring it back?
I certainly can't presume to speak for anyone but myself on this topic. If I look back on the course of my life, I think romantic love represented a tapping in to certain qualities that I lacked in myself. In my twenties and early thirties, I was most attracted to and fell in love with men who were type-A, hard charging over-achievers: attractive men who could tell a good story, command a room, direct a team, get things done. I'm sure my mother's generation would have looked at them as "a good provider," and certainly it was reassuring to know there was someone in my life who could handle just about anything. But as I got older, I also found that the qualities that attracted me to these men did not really respond well to change, which made it very hard for me to grow and develop. They didn't want to hear my stories - they had their own. They didn't want me to develop a plan for our future -they already had one, thank you very much. They did not want me to assume a starring role in my life -- they were already occupying center stage, and it got a bit crowded with two of us up there.
As I wrestled with these issues, I also struggled with the nature of love, and what we all do to make love "work" within the context of our daily lives. Often we fall in love based on an initial physical attraction, which might be bolstered by the commonality of shared experiences (think of high-school sweethearts, college students, or work colleagues). As relationships progress, how many of us have adapted or given up pieces of who we are in order to make everything go smoother -- habits, past-times, beliefs, friends, convictions, whatever it might be? At the same time, we're focused on benchmarking the relationship in accordance to whatever context we're comfortable with - are we going on the right dates, does he drive the right car, is she hot enough, are we moving at the right pace, are we planning the right wedding, will we live in the right neighborhood, will we be the right kind of parents, etc? By the time we get most of the way down this path, it's too late to take a step back and realize that maybe the questions we should have been asking were, "Who am I? What makes me tick, and what kind of life do I ultimately want? How do I want to define love?"
I think many of us instinctively know the qualities that a lasting love should have: respect, integrity, honesty, open communication, attraction, caring, honor, joy -- continue as you wish. So why is it so incredibly hard to find the real thing? Possibly because human beings have very little patience - we want what we want when we want it (especially my generation). The idea of "love at first sight" has screwed up a lot of otherwise rational people. I think also the idea that there's only one soul-mate for everyone has screwed us up too -- what if this is The One and I let him/her get away? What if I never get another chance? Most of us don't pause to reflect on what matters most to us, what qualities or characteristics from another person might enhance our lives -- instead, we rush to lock in the loan without considering the terms and the fact that the interest rate is going to quadruple at some point in the future. If it's a bad deal, it's a bad deal, and no amount of money, or the right diamond, or a killer promotion, or a house in the best neighborhood is going to make up for the fact that you've committed yourself to something that doesn't work for you. Eventually, what you thought was love is going to go out the window.
I realize it sounds like I'm the biggest cynic on the planet (sex is screwed up, love is worse...) - but I really believe that we just need to slow down and pay attention. When I realized that I'm typically attracted to the show horse, the kind of guy who needs to be on center stage all the time, I was also forced to confront the fact that because of that pattern, I was giving up far too much control over my own decisions, activities, friendships, and personality. I resented those men for being themselves - it was my own fault, only I had never taken the time to analyze and articulate what was important to me, or develop the emotional fortitude to stick to my guns. Now I know I want someone who listens as well as they talk; who has curiousity and a great thirst for new experiences; who has a sense of humor and adventure; who wants a partnership as instead of a dictatorship; who isn't afraid to lay the hard stuff out at the beginning and see who is still standing when the dust clears. Oh, and the physical attraction thing too -- I'm still interested in that.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
It's Complicated
Sex.
Was there ever a word, thought, impulse, deed that was so fraught with conflicting emotions? From adolescence on, the moment we figure out what feels good and what our minds and bodies are capable of, we are sucked (or thrust - even the verbs are evocative) into the maelstrom.
At 12, when most of my peers were reading Nancy Drew or Teen magazine, I swiped Fear of Flying off my mom's bedside table (and Wifey a few weeks later), and entered a world of adult fantasies and emotions that probably warped my sensitive little mind and formed the individual I am today. Or else it merely jumpstarted my erotic life and caused me to get off about 5-6 years earlier than the rest of my friends - but hey, he who dies with the most orgasms wins, right? But I do have cause to wonder if my appetite might be a little more...healthy...than most women I know, and if the cause is heredity or environment.
When I was in high school, I wanted to be a courtesan. Not a wife, not a woman with a traditional career, and certainly not a whore, but a highly-educated, intelligent woman who negotiated a contract with her sexual partners according to their wealth, intelligence and position in society. Today I find this curious -- what was it that I, as a 16-year-old, found intriguing about this situation? The sex, of course -- but I think it was also the independence, the control, and the fact that there were other elements (the intellectual discourse, the witty repartee?) involved. Marriage sounded so boring, but a courtesan, THIS was fascinating.
Fast forward twenty years to when I had my first child, and every woman's/parenting magazine I read talked about how to get your sex drive back, how to lose those last 10 lbs and look sexy for your husband, how to know if you were ready for him to touch you again (and how to tell him you weren't without making him feel bad). It was enought to make me scream. Where were the articles, I thought, that told you what to do if you were ready to get down but your husband wasn't? What if there wasn't any baby weight and I still looked good? What if I wanted it three times a week but he wanted it three times a year? What then?
Despite Sex and the City, in my experience, real women (or perhaps just real married women) don't talk about sex openly or freely. None of my friends felt the way I did -- they were all siding with the women in the magazines! When I revisited the whole courtesan idea they looked at me as if I'd suddenly grown another head and perhaps a couple pair of horns as an added bonus. It was enough to make me wonder what the heck was wrong with me. Which still makes me mad -- why wasn't I wondering what was wrong with THEM?
Was there ever a word, thought, impulse, deed that was so fraught with conflicting emotions? From adolescence on, the moment we figure out what feels good and what our minds and bodies are capable of, we are sucked (or thrust - even the verbs are evocative) into the maelstrom.
At 12, when most of my peers were reading Nancy Drew or Teen magazine, I swiped Fear of Flying off my mom's bedside table (and Wifey a few weeks later), and entered a world of adult fantasies and emotions that probably warped my sensitive little mind and formed the individual I am today. Or else it merely jumpstarted my erotic life and caused me to get off about 5-6 years earlier than the rest of my friends - but hey, he who dies with the most orgasms wins, right? But I do have cause to wonder if my appetite might be a little more...healthy...than most women I know, and if the cause is heredity or environment.
When I was in high school, I wanted to be a courtesan. Not a wife, not a woman with a traditional career, and certainly not a whore, but a highly-educated, intelligent woman who negotiated a contract with her sexual partners according to their wealth, intelligence and position in society. Today I find this curious -- what was it that I, as a 16-year-old, found intriguing about this situation? The sex, of course -- but I think it was also the independence, the control, and the fact that there were other elements (the intellectual discourse, the witty repartee?) involved. Marriage sounded so boring, but a courtesan, THIS was fascinating.
Fast forward twenty years to when I had my first child, and every woman's/parenting magazine I read talked about how to get your sex drive back, how to lose those last 10 lbs and look sexy for your husband, how to know if you were ready for him to touch you again (and how to tell him you weren't without making him feel bad). It was enought to make me scream. Where were the articles, I thought, that told you what to do if you were ready to get down but your husband wasn't? What if there wasn't any baby weight and I still looked good? What if I wanted it three times a week but he wanted it three times a year? What then?
Despite Sex and the City, in my experience, real women (or perhaps just real married women) don't talk about sex openly or freely. None of my friends felt the way I did -- they were all siding with the women in the magazines! When I revisited the whole courtesan idea they looked at me as if I'd suddenly grown another head and perhaps a couple pair of horns as an added bonus. It was enough to make me wonder what the heck was wrong with me. Which still makes me mad -- why wasn't I wondering what was wrong with THEM?
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Like-Minded Souls
I've been pondering lately about life, attraction, and the concept of soul-mates. What is it that attracts, connects, attaches us to the people around us? What is it that makes you think "aha!" with certain individuals, and struggle to find a shred of commonality with others? What are we looking for, why is it so important, and in all the craziness of modern daily life, is it even realistic to think we can find it, or having found it, hold on to it? We all crave the company of a like-minded soul - someone who understands and accepts us, celebrates our individuality, allows us to be more, do more, think more, create more than we would by ourselves. So why are we apparently so bad at finding that companionship?
I observe my friends, my co-workers, my neighbors, seemingly my entire generation -- all of them in some form or another are struggling with the significant relationship in their lives. Myself included. For the vast majority, we are not people who married for money or bowed to the family pressure of an arranged marriage; we are individuals who believed we had found "the one" (or "the next one") and chose our spouse or partner for love. Now we're being pulled apart by conflict over finances, raising children, not being able to have children, lack of sex, sex with other people, unemployment, too much time spent at work -- the pendulum seems to swing in either direction and the writing in the sand reveals emotional exhaustion. And these are not long-term relationships: 3, 5, 10 years - has modern life become so complex that it's only a matter of time (and not that much of it) before forces beyond our control break us apart? A cheery thought. Or is it us? Do we need to reconsider what we demand from life? How would that affect the choices we make about how to live and who we want to surround ourselves with and commit ourselves to?
More on this later...I think I need a glass of wine.
I observe my friends, my co-workers, my neighbors, seemingly my entire generation -- all of them in some form or another are struggling with the significant relationship in their lives. Myself included. For the vast majority, we are not people who married for money or bowed to the family pressure of an arranged marriage; we are individuals who believed we had found "the one" (or "the next one") and chose our spouse or partner for love. Now we're being pulled apart by conflict over finances, raising children, not being able to have children, lack of sex, sex with other people, unemployment, too much time spent at work -- the pendulum seems to swing in either direction and the writing in the sand reveals emotional exhaustion. And these are not long-term relationships: 3, 5, 10 years - has modern life become so complex that it's only a matter of time (and not that much of it) before forces beyond our control break us apart? A cheery thought. Or is it us? Do we need to reconsider what we demand from life? How would that affect the choices we make about how to live and who we want to surround ourselves with and commit ourselves to?
More on this later...I think I need a glass of wine.
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