I've been having fun reading the information collected by SiteMeter for this journal. I've had a lot of visits from strange and far-away places, as a result of Google (and other search engine) hits.
The search arg that got a lot of hits the other day was "InfoStealer". Seems like for about two days, about the same time I discovered it on my system, a lot of people were looking for information on it, and dropping in on my post (#747, below). Significantly, those searches seem to have dropped off.
Now, today, I'm getting hits on "800-503-7001". Six already today. That post (#750, below) has been out there two days, and today people are looking for information on that phone number. How strange. I wish more of them would leave comments - "what kind of call did YOU get?" One guy says he gets calls from that number in response to business ads he places in magazines. But he didn't say what kind of calls. I guess they must be odd, if he's Googling the number....
Gee. Too bad my posts don't contain information of much use to anyone. It feels like back when I was working, when people would stick their heads in my door and ask a question. I always tried to find an answer. Now I feel like all these people are asking, and I'm letting them down.
In reference to that strange phone call, on the off chance that someone wants the "(Hidden)" name, Roman strongly recommended that I register the domain. So I went to NetworkSolutions.com this morning, and took care of it. There's now a dummy www.(Hidden).com "Under Construction" site out there, set up by NetworkSolutions, and full of drum-related advertising. Bleck! But I'm not ready to find a host yet, so I guess I'll have to put up with that. At least the name's mine now for the next three years.
Roman called as I was heading out the door to take the van in for service. We had a very nice conversation. He said he seemed to remember a recall for my van, similar to my "it just quit!" problem. Told me where to look it up online.
Mr. T., the first-choice mechanic, figured it was the same bad sensor (the notorious O2 sensor) as before, so he tested it immediately. He came out to the waiting area and said, "It's the mumble mumble sensor [I didn't catch the mumble, because I was too hung up on what he said next, but it wasn't O2]. The sensor appears to be ok, but it doesn't know where your engine is. [Huh?] Could be engine, could be wiring, could be computer. Leave it here. We'll look at it Monday. Go next door and rent a car."
Gak!
Rent-a-Wreck is next door to Mr. T., but they didn't have anything available. So I called Enterprise, across the river. Things got interesting.
I asked for a compact or sub compact. They didn't have any available, but offered me a 4-door pickup truck, at $84.99 a day. Gak! I might be driving this thing a week or more!
"Um, do you have any mid-size cars available?"
"Yes."
"How much for a mid-size?"
"$69.99"
"That's $15 less a day. I'll take the mid-size. Um, why didn't you offer me the mid-size first? Why the pickup?"
"Because the mid-size won't be available until 5 pm. The pickup's available now."
(It was then 3:15 pm. Since their man has to come and get me and take me there, I couldn't get there in less than 45 minutes anyway.)
"I'll wait."
Sheesh. For $15 a day, I can wait an hour and a half.
So I went to the diner next to Mr. T.'s and ate (yummy Greek spinach pie) and the Enterprise guy picked me up at 4:30. When we got to the Enterprise office, a sub-compact had just come in, and I got it for significantly less, minus a discount as a 'The Company' retiree. Whoop whoop!
Good things come to those who wait.
Friday, June 23, 2006
754 Bits - Phone call, Passivity, etc
Contributions, as to where the strange phone call may have come from. It could be a pre-paid calling card. It could be an international call. It could be through the internet. It could have been made by dialing *67 first, to block Caller-id. No way to tell. I am at an impasse.
Roman says it could not be "her", because he's sure she has never heard of [Deleted], and besides, even if she had, "she'd never consider doing something like that." (An implied criticism that I would. I certainly would NOT have called, but you bet your booty I'd have looked it up on the internet!)
He attributes it to niceness. I attributed it to passivity.
I've been reading up on PPS, and it may explain the passivity. The polio virus damages the dopamine-producing cells in the brain, and a shortage of dopamine contributes to pain due to mental fatigue, memory problems, and cognitive problems. Polio also damages the brain stem, or the recticular activity system (RAS), which is "responsible for keeping the brain awake." So. She's got a lot on her plate, and some things just aren't worth the effort. Trusting him made it easy to not pay attention. You don't expend energy where it's not necessary.
I'll kick him next time I see him for taking advantage of that.
I also read a bit on the psychology of the syndrome. Survivors have worked hard all their lives to overcome physical challenges, and they find it difficult to admit that they now have to "admit deficiencies", and change their lifestyles to accomodate the fatigue. They have to eat a lot of protein, and to keep the muscles from atrophying, they have to do exercises that deplete the limited store of energy they have every day, but if they don't do the exercises, the energy supply will grow progressively smaller.
If he lived with her, he'd probably nag her to do what she has to do. She probably doesn't want that just yet.
Roman says it could not be "her", because he's sure she has never heard of [Deleted], and besides, even if she had, "she'd never consider doing something like that." (An implied criticism that I would. I certainly would NOT have called, but you bet your booty I'd have looked it up on the internet!)
He attributes it to niceness. I attributed it to passivity.
I've been reading up on PPS, and it may explain the passivity. The polio virus damages the dopamine-producing cells in the brain, and a shortage of dopamine contributes to pain due to mental fatigue, memory problems, and cognitive problems. Polio also damages the brain stem, or the recticular activity system (RAS), which is "responsible for keeping the brain awake." So. She's got a lot on her plate, and some things just aren't worth the effort. Trusting him made it easy to not pay attention. You don't expend energy where it's not necessary.
I'll kick him next time I see him for taking advantage of that.
I also read a bit on the psychology of the syndrome. Survivors have worked hard all their lives to overcome physical challenges, and they find it difficult to admit that they now have to "admit deficiencies", and change their lifestyles to accomodate the fatigue. They have to eat a lot of protein, and to keep the muscles from atrophying, they have to do exercises that deplete the limited store of energy they have every day, but if they don't do the exercises, the energy supply will grow progressively smaller.
If he lived with her, he'd probably nag her to do what she has to do. She probably doesn't want that just yet.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
753 The Van - Check Engine Again
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Y'all might remember when I had trouble with the check engine light. Second-choice garage decided it was the sensor, nothing wrong with the engine, and they replaced the sensor. Two months later the light went on again. First-choice garage decided it was the sensor, nothing wrong with the engine. Much fuss and furor over who was going to replace it, and for how much. Second-choice garage finally caved and replaced it for free. That was maybe two or three months ago.
Last night, on my way home from the talk with Roman, I stopped at the grocery store and ran into first-choice mechanic. He asked how the van was doing, and I said that the sensor got replaced free, and it's fine now.
Ten minutes later!!!!, as I made the turn into my street, the van quit. It just turned off. No steering power, no brakes, no dashboard lights, no air conditioning, nothing. The only sign of life was the headlights, and the "oil pressure" light. Little red oil can sitting there on the bad-news-panel.
I sat there for a minute, grateful that there had been no one behind me, and I was safely off the highway, and then I tried restarting it. It started ok, but the oil can stayed lit. I limped home, and decided to check the oil today, when it was light.
Naturally, I forgot. This evening I made a salad run to the deli around the corner. The oil can was not lit, so I had no reminder. Just before I turned into the deli, the van hesitated, sorta like that slight hesitation when an automatic transmission is shifting, y'know? It hesitated twice in rapid succession, and then ... and then ...
... the check engine light went on.
I may cry.
Y'all might remember when I had trouble with the check engine light. Second-choice garage decided it was the sensor, nothing wrong with the engine, and they replaced the sensor. Two months later the light went on again. First-choice garage decided it was the sensor, nothing wrong with the engine. Much fuss and furor over who was going to replace it, and for how much. Second-choice garage finally caved and replaced it for free. That was maybe two or three months ago.
Last night, on my way home from the talk with Roman, I stopped at the grocery store and ran into first-choice mechanic. He asked how the van was doing, and I said that the sensor got replaced free, and it's fine now.
Ten minutes later!!!!, as I made the turn into my street, the van quit. It just turned off. No steering power, no brakes, no dashboard lights, no air conditioning, nothing. The only sign of life was the headlights, and the "oil pressure" light. Little red oil can sitting there on the bad-news-panel.
I sat there for a minute, grateful that there had been no one behind me, and I was safely off the highway, and then I tried restarting it. It started ok, but the oil can stayed lit. I limped home, and decided to check the oil today, when it was light.
Naturally, I forgot. This evening I made a salad run to the deli around the corner. The oil can was not lit, so I had no reminder. Just before I turned into the deli, the van hesitated, sorta like that slight hesitation when an automatic transmission is shifting, y'know? It hesitated twice in rapid succession, and then ... and then ...
... the check engine light went on.
I may cry.
752 The Talk
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Roman and I met in the parking lot last evening, ate in the diner (which was too noisy for talking) and then he drove us to one of the river mansions, where we sat on a bench on the grounds and talked for several hours.
He was more open than he has ever been, and I understand a lot more now about him, her, their relationship, us. Not everything, but enough.
Until now, I was convinced that she did not love him, that she was stringing him along and using him. Because I do love him, I found that maddening. Like even if I didn't end up with him, he had to get away from her. That he could never be happy with her. She was tearing him up and wasting his time. I couldn't understand why he was so fascinated with her, and why, if he had such strong feelings for her, why was he messing with me.
I keep saying that all I want is for him to be happy, and it's true, even if no one believes it.
Now, I know what the situation is. I know what the connection is, and a little about why she is holding him off. I know that even if he isn't, and may never be, completely happy with her, he would be more unhappy without her, even if she is the one who breaks it off.
So, ok, I'll change what I want. All I want is for him to be less unhappy. I'll do whatever I can to help.
He says all she knows about me is that I exist, that I used to work with him. Nothing else. The woman has no curiosity. She didn't even ask how long it had been going on, or whether he'd slept with me. She asks no questions. I had thought it was because she didn't care, but now I think it's just her personality. He didn't use the word, but I believe she is extremely passive.
He did tell her that it wasn't a Boston RG he went to last month, that he went to Pennsylvania with me. She asked if the March RG was real, and he said yes, that one was real. But she didn't ask, and he didn't tell her, that he went with me.
Passive.
He apparently likes passive. Where he and I have butted heads to the point of making him angry is that I am nowhere near passive. I want to understand everything, and I will do whatever I need to do to get the information I need. That frightens him in two ways - he's afraid of his own anger, and, not that he's trying to hide anything, but it bothers him that he can't predict me. I need him to be open, but he's simply not introspective enough to be comfortable with that. I want him to tell me what he feels, and half the time he doesn't know what he feels. Therefore, she, with her passive acceptance, is much more comfortable for him. Calming.
I see that. Her upbringing and mine were very different.
She had polio when she was three years old, and has been protected and coddled all her life. I escaped an extremely abusive family only to be used and abused by others.
She has faith that she will be safe. There's a wonderful calmness inside with that. I know the only way I can be safe is to be vigilant, to be aware of all threats and be armed against them.
She is used to being taken care of. I know that in the end, only I can take care of me.
And now she has a debilitating illness that is threatening her. Roman finally told me how she is affected. He does do a lot for her. She needs him. I don't.
He thinks that because of the personality conflicts, he and I would probably never last in a long-term intense relationship anyway. I think it could work if I didn't feel threatened, but as long as she's alive, I'd feel threatened. And whatever else, he'd always be on guard, afraid of my probing.
So, ok, I accept that. He isn't the first man I've loved that I ultimately realized I couldn't live with. It doesn't change the love, but it changes the expectations.
I think they will be alright. He has saddened and disappointed her, he says she's still angry, but I suspect she will forgive him. She let him stay over from Saturday night 'til Tuesday morning - so it can't be too bad. I doubt, from what I've heard of her personality, that she will "snipe" at him for long, if at all, so it will probably soon blow over.
We're going to try being friends. I don't know how that will work out.
Friends with occasional benefits.
I need once more, soon, just to erase the Glen as the last time. The Glen is too important to me, and I need to replace that memory with another.
He said maybe a lot more. (Damn his mixed messages!) I guess neither of us want to give it up entirely.
I said not again for a while. Maybe a long while.
I need to internalize my new knowledge, to be able to defend myself against mixed messages. Otherwise we'd just fall back into the old patterns.
He said yeah, can't have you hoping again.
Sigh.
Roman and I met in the parking lot last evening, ate in the diner (which was too noisy for talking) and then he drove us to one of the river mansions, where we sat on a bench on the grounds and talked for several hours.
He was more open than he has ever been, and I understand a lot more now about him, her, their relationship, us. Not everything, but enough.
Until now, I was convinced that she did not love him, that she was stringing him along and using him. Because I do love him, I found that maddening. Like even if I didn't end up with him, he had to get away from her. That he could never be happy with her. She was tearing him up and wasting his time. I couldn't understand why he was so fascinated with her, and why, if he had such strong feelings for her, why was he messing with me.
I keep saying that all I want is for him to be happy, and it's true, even if no one believes it.
Now, I know what the situation is. I know what the connection is, and a little about why she is holding him off. I know that even if he isn't, and may never be, completely happy with her, he would be more unhappy without her, even if she is the one who breaks it off.
So, ok, I'll change what I want. All I want is for him to be less unhappy. I'll do whatever I can to help.
He says all she knows about me is that I exist, that I used to work with him. Nothing else. The woman has no curiosity. She didn't even ask how long it had been going on, or whether he'd slept with me. She asks no questions. I had thought it was because she didn't care, but now I think it's just her personality. He didn't use the word, but I believe she is extremely passive.
He did tell her that it wasn't a Boston RG he went to last month, that he went to Pennsylvania with me. She asked if the March RG was real, and he said yes, that one was real. But she didn't ask, and he didn't tell her, that he went with me.
Passive.
He apparently likes passive. Where he and I have butted heads to the point of making him angry is that I am nowhere near passive. I want to understand everything, and I will do whatever I need to do to get the information I need. That frightens him in two ways - he's afraid of his own anger, and, not that he's trying to hide anything, but it bothers him that he can't predict me. I need him to be open, but he's simply not introspective enough to be comfortable with that. I want him to tell me what he feels, and half the time he doesn't know what he feels. Therefore, she, with her passive acceptance, is much more comfortable for him. Calming.
I see that. Her upbringing and mine were very different.
She had polio when she was three years old, and has been protected and coddled all her life. I escaped an extremely abusive family only to be used and abused by others.
She has faith that she will be safe. There's a wonderful calmness inside with that. I know the only way I can be safe is to be vigilant, to be aware of all threats and be armed against them.
She is used to being taken care of. I know that in the end, only I can take care of me.
And now she has a debilitating illness that is threatening her. Roman finally told me how she is affected. He does do a lot for her. She needs him. I don't.
He thinks that because of the personality conflicts, he and I would probably never last in a long-term intense relationship anyway. I think it could work if I didn't feel threatened, but as long as she's alive, I'd feel threatened. And whatever else, he'd always be on guard, afraid of my probing.
So, ok, I accept that. He isn't the first man I've loved that I ultimately realized I couldn't live with. It doesn't change the love, but it changes the expectations.
I think they will be alright. He has saddened and disappointed her, he says she's still angry, but I suspect she will forgive him. She let him stay over from Saturday night 'til Tuesday morning - so it can't be too bad. I doubt, from what I've heard of her personality, that she will "snipe" at him for long, if at all, so it will probably soon blow over.
We're going to try being friends. I don't know how that will work out.
Friends with occasional benefits.
I need once more, soon, just to erase the Glen as the last time. The Glen is too important to me, and I need to replace that memory with another.
He said maybe a lot more. (Damn his mixed messages!) I guess neither of us want to give it up entirely.
I said not again for a while. Maybe a long while.
I need to internalize my new knowledge, to be able to defend myself against mixed messages. Otherwise we'd just fall back into the old patterns.
He said yeah, can't have you hoping again.
Sigh.
751 A Thought on Dates....
In the US, the standard date format is (m)m/(d)d/(yy)yy, as in November 2, 2003 = 11/2/03 or 11/02/2003.
In other parts of the world, it might be (d)d/(m)m/(yy)yy, as in 02/11/03.
Neither has ever made much sense to me.
In many applications, it is customary to put the global set first, then the first subset, then the subset of that subset, and so on. Makes for easier sorting.
Note that the format for time is that way - hh:mm:ss
And ordinary numbers - Thousands hundreds tens ones
In my opinion, now that much of the world is computerized, everyone ought to be using yyyy/mm/dd, or even do away with the superfluous slashes altogether and just write yyyymmdd.
When I label set of files that I might eventually want to sort by date, like photographs or a series of text files, I use yymmdd in the file name. They sort nicely.
In other parts of the world, it might be (d)d/(m)m/(yy)yy, as in 02/11/03.
Neither has ever made much sense to me.
In many applications, it is customary to put the global set first, then the first subset, then the subset of that subset, and so on. Makes for easier sorting.
Note that the format for time is that way - hh:mm:ss
And ordinary numbers - Thousands hundreds tens ones
In my opinion, now that much of the world is computerized, everyone ought to be using yyyy/mm/dd, or even do away with the superfluous slashes altogether and just write yyyymmdd.
When I label set of files that I might eventually want to sort by date, like photographs or a series of text files, I use yymmdd in the file name. They sort nicely.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
750 Mysteriouser and Mysteriouser
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Brilliant flash this morning. I don't have Caller-id, but I do have *69! And that "Silk En Drum" call was the last incoming on the house phone. So I tried *69. The call came from 1-800-503-7001, at 2:53 pm on June 20.
The phone company message said that I could reach that number by dialing "1", so I did, and got the message that "this number cannot be reached by this method".
So I dialed it myself.
I got a fast-busy signal. I shrugged and pressed the "Busy Redial" button on my phone. Normally, what happens is that the phone will redial the number on speakerphone every few minutes, listen for a few seconds, and if it's still busy (5 beeps worth), will hang up and try again. This time, on the first try, it dialed, got the same beeps I had gotten, but it didn't drop. Instead, the phone added its own higher beep, and hung on until an operator message about "all circuits are busy" came on. It never dropped the connection to retry. I had to break the connection myself. This is strange. It's not what Busy Redial usually does.
Since sometimes you can't call an 800 number if it's local, and my cell phone thinks it lives in a different area code, so while the house phone was doing its thing, I tried the number on the cell phone. The result was even stranger. The cell attempted the connection for exactly 3 seconds of silence, then dropped the attempt. Several times. No indication of anything.
Next, I went to Reversephonedirectory.com. I typed in only the 800 part, and Reversephonedirectory suggested the 503-7001 itself! Huh? So I said ok, search, and I got a blank search results screen. Not even a "can't find it". Several other searches, like in the internet toll-free directory, and others suggested by Dogpile.com got no hits.
Ok. Anybody out there recognise the number?
Anybody better at research than I?
Has my link list kicked off a secret gommunt investigation?
Should I get a big dog?
Brilliant flash this morning. I don't have Caller-id, but I do have *69! And that "Silk En Drum" call was the last incoming on the house phone. So I tried *69. The call came from 1-800-503-7001, at 2:53 pm on June 20.
The phone company message said that I could reach that number by dialing "1", so I did, and got the message that "this number cannot be reached by this method".
So I dialed it myself.
I got a fast-busy signal. I shrugged and pressed the "Busy Redial" button on my phone. Normally, what happens is that the phone will redial the number on speakerphone every few minutes, listen for a few seconds, and if it's still busy (5 beeps worth), will hang up and try again. This time, on the first try, it dialed, got the same beeps I had gotten, but it didn't drop. Instead, the phone added its own higher beep, and hung on until an operator message about "all circuits are busy" came on. It never dropped the connection to retry. I had to break the connection myself. This is strange. It's not what Busy Redial usually does.
Since sometimes you can't call an 800 number if it's local, and my cell phone thinks it lives in a different area code, so while the house phone was doing its thing, I tried the number on the cell phone. The result was even stranger. The cell attempted the connection for exactly 3 seconds of silence, then dropped the attempt. Several times. No indication of anything.
Next, I went to Reversephonedirectory.com. I typed in only the 800 part, and Reversephonedirectory suggested the 503-7001 itself! Huh? So I said ok, search, and I got a blank search results screen. Not even a "can't find it". Several other searches, like in the internet toll-free directory, and others suggested by Dogpile.com got no hits.
Ok. Anybody out there recognise the number?
Anybody better at research than I?
Has my link list kicked off a secret gommunt investigation?
Should I get a big dog?
749 The "Edited" Call
Late Tuesday evening, June 20, 2006
(10/24/2015 - I have edited out the operative word here because I may have a nasty stalker who knows me only by that id. I would prefer he does not find this blog by Googling my id.)
There are only a very few local people who know this journal exists, perhaps five. Of those, I'm certain that two have long forgotten about it, even before it moved from AOL to Blogger. Of the remaining three, one never reads it, one occasionally reads, and one reads often, and those three are trusted friends. So I can safely say that of all the local people who know me personally, almost no one knows about this blog.
"EditedOut" is slightly better known. It has a legal existence, it's my id on several obscure specialized services, including the local Mensa group, on a few online auction services, and other online milieus. My alter ego, so to speak. If you Google "EditedOut", you'll find this journal. But there's no particular reason for anyone to want to search for "EditedOut" in the first place. (10/24/2015 - unless I piss them off.) And you will not find my phone number connected with it anywhere, with the sole possible exception of eBay, and then only if you've sold me something sometime in the past. I haven't been active on eBay in over a year.
So, how did "EditedOut" (pronounced by the caller in three careful pieces, like Ed-dedi-tout) get connected to my phone number this afternoon?
The local friend who does read this journal says she's on the edge of her seat, and finds the phone call I mentioned ominous. Yeah. It's bothering me, too. Phone calls seem to figure heavily in the development of issues lately.
Ok, what are the possibilities?
I mentioned a legal factor. The records are public, and it's possible someone has an interest in acquiring the name to use for a business, and it's possible that my phone number is on the records (but I don't think so). But there are two problems with that. First, the woman pronounced it as if she had heard it, but had not seen it written. Second, I doubt that anyone who wanted to acquire the name would have taken so long to speak, then have asked if I was Ed-dedi-tout and then hung up as soon as I said yes.
Another possibility: an eBay seller I had done business with is checking her records for old customers. Again, there's the pronunciation problem, an email would be more productive, and - there's no reason for her to hang up abruptly.
Perhaps it's a friend who already has my number, found this journal by accident, put two and two together, and decided to ask. Again, why hang up? And why the artificially high voice and the fake-sounding accent? Shouldn't there be some gloating?
It could be some reader of this journal, a relative stranger with extraordinary research talents, who set out to find me. That's a possibility. It's happened before to other people. But I doubt it. I don't think I've interested or offended anyone enough to earn that much effort. But if it WAS one of you, 'fess up in a comment. And if any of you would like to take up the challenge, send me my phone number in a comment. I review all comments before they're posted, so I'll just not post that one. But I'll mention it!
Daughter and (if I know her taste at all) her friends are too mature for that kind of "fun".
The last possibility is the worrisome one. That "she" found my phone number in Roman's land line phone bill or on his cell phone, and that he had somehow sometime mentioned EditedOut, and she put two and two together, and called to confirm that they went together. I asked him, and he says he has never mentioned EditedOut. But there are several things he has said to me that he later doesn't remember saying, or actively denies saying. The fact that she could, from the phone number, find my real name and address doesn't bother me.
This is ridiculous. Unbelievable even. Unbelievable if it weren't for the fact that I had contemplated a similar call to her. One small question and hang up.
For the next few weeks, I'm taping calls.
Now if it was her, and if she has any brains or curiosity at all, she could easily find this journal.
There's nothing here that isn't truth (as far as I know it). I can hold my head up. What worries me is that:
I don't care. Let the cards fall.... Whatever happens is meant to happen.
See me continuing to write here? I dare fate!
(10/24/2015 - I have edited out the operative word here because I may have a nasty stalker who knows me only by that id. I would prefer he does not find this blog by Googling my id.)
There are only a very few local people who know this journal exists, perhaps five. Of those, I'm certain that two have long forgotten about it, even before it moved from AOL to Blogger. Of the remaining three, one never reads it, one occasionally reads, and one reads often, and those three are trusted friends. So I can safely say that of all the local people who know me personally, almost no one knows about this blog.
"EditedOut" is slightly better known. It has a legal existence, it's my id on several obscure specialized services, including the local Mensa group, on a few online auction services, and other online milieus. My alter ego, so to speak. If you Google "EditedOut", you'll find this journal. But there's no particular reason for anyone to want to search for "EditedOut" in the first place. (10/24/2015 - unless I piss them off.) And you will not find my phone number connected with it anywhere, with the sole possible exception of eBay, and then only if you've sold me something sometime in the past. I haven't been active on eBay in over a year.
So, how did "EditedOut" (pronounced by the caller in three careful pieces, like Ed-dedi-tout) get connected to my phone number this afternoon?
The local friend who does read this journal says she's on the edge of her seat, and finds the phone call I mentioned ominous. Yeah. It's bothering me, too. Phone calls seem to figure heavily in the development of issues lately.
Ok, what are the possibilities?
I mentioned a legal factor. The records are public, and it's possible someone has an interest in acquiring the name to use for a business, and it's possible that my phone number is on the records (but I don't think so). But there are two problems with that. First, the woman pronounced it as if she had heard it, but had not seen it written. Second, I doubt that anyone who wanted to acquire the name would have taken so long to speak, then have asked if I was Ed-dedi-tout and then hung up as soon as I said yes.
Another possibility: an eBay seller I had done business with is checking her records for old customers. Again, there's the pronunciation problem, an email would be more productive, and - there's no reason for her to hang up abruptly.
Perhaps it's a friend who already has my number, found this journal by accident, put two and two together, and decided to ask. Again, why hang up? And why the artificially high voice and the fake-sounding accent? Shouldn't there be some gloating?
It could be some reader of this journal, a relative stranger with extraordinary research talents, who set out to find me. That's a possibility. It's happened before to other people. But I doubt it. I don't think I've interested or offended anyone enough to earn that much effort. But if it WAS one of you, 'fess up in a comment. And if any of you would like to take up the challenge, send me my phone number in a comment. I review all comments before they're posted, so I'll just not post that one. But I'll mention it!
Daughter and (if I know her taste at all) her friends are too mature for that kind of "fun".
The last possibility is the worrisome one. That "she" found my phone number in Roman's land line phone bill or on his cell phone, and that he had somehow sometime mentioned EditedOut, and she put two and two together, and called to confirm that they went together. I asked him, and he says he has never mentioned EditedOut. But there are several things he has said to me that he later doesn't remember saying, or actively denies saying. The fact that she could, from the phone number, find my real name and address doesn't bother me.
This is ridiculous. Unbelievable even. Unbelievable if it weren't for the fact that I had contemplated a similar call to her. One small question and hang up.
For the next few weeks, I'm taping calls.
Now if it was her, and if she has any brains or curiosity at all, she could easily find this journal.
There's nothing here that isn't truth (as far as I know it). I can hold my head up. What worries me is that:
- maybe she will find it, and it will blow Roman out of the water completely if he hasn't come completely clean with her, and he'll never forgive me.
- maybe she will find it, but never let on to him, and hold onto him, but harden her heart against him. For years and years and years.
- maybe she won't find it. Yet. Swords hanging by threads. Please, get it over with already!
I don't care. Let the cards fall.... Whatever happens is meant to happen.
See me continuing to write here? I dare fate!
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
739 The Crisis - "Someone Should Tell Her"
Ok. This post is out of sequence for a reason. There's been something (not so very) mysterious going on. Here it is - the hitherto unpublished events of the past ten days. It's long. It's boring. It shouldn't even be here, but I'm angry and I don't care. Many of the thoughts and feelings have changed since they were written, but here's the full progression.
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Written Thursday afternoon, June 15, 2006, about events the previous Saturday and Sunday:
The title of this journal is "I Don't Understand". Because mainly I don't.
Like, why are so many of my supposed friends so eager to tell me that Roman is involved with another woman? What I didn't know until last Saturday night is that so many of them had met her. Apparently, before he got involved with me, he had taken her to Mensa events [later edit - only two, both at NJ's], and everyone "knew" that he was living with her.
Saturday night, Moonlight Madness. A bunch of women in NJ's kitchen. All very eager to tell me all about her and all about him, that they have been living together for years, that they vacation in Arizona, that.... I listened until I got pissed because they had so much wrong, and then I corrected their misconceptions. No, he is NOT living with her. He has his own place, and goes over to her place on Friday nights through Monday morning. She won't let him move in with her. No, all his furniture is not in her house. She probably wouldn't ALLOW any of his stuff in her house. His furniture is at his place, and some is stored in her garage, the dining room set he's trying to sell. She has a daughter in Arizona. And yes, he lies to her because he knows he can get away with it, and she's either not swift enough or doesn't care enough to figure it out.
I told them a bit about what's true, and what's REALLY been going on. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I'm not sorry I did.
They were thoroughly shocked that I knew about her.
They were even more shocked, and upset, that she DIDN'T know about me.
The consensus was that he's pond scum, I'm a fool (which they kept telling me over and over), if there's me "there are probably others", after me "there will definitely be others", and most of all, repeated several times to general nods and acclaim, "Someone should tell her!"
Someone should tell her.
Of course, no one was willing to be the one to tell her.
They tried to convince me I should tell her. I said I couldn't, but if anyone else wanted to, be my guest. When they asked why I couldn't tell her, I said it was because I'd promised Roman I wouldn't. They asked what a promise to him was worth. "He's scum. He's not worth wasting a promise on."
They asked why, knowing what I know, why do I continue? I said because I fell in love with him. I appreciate all the good things about him, and understand the bad. And because he's absolutely terrific in bed. Best ever, and I've been around enough to know. (I've been around enough to know that it's not individual skill that pushes it into the spectacular zone - it's the combination. And together, we are terrific. We match perfectly in so many ways.) I can't give him up. I've tried, and I am trying, but when he smiles I want him. All of him. And they don't understand what's going on. He's really a nice guy, just very confused.
"He can be very charming."
"Yeah. But he's scum."
Now, here's what I don't understand, what's been tearing me up for the past four days:
Why is everyone so anxious to tell me? Is it because they do like me and want to "save" me, or because they don't like me and don't mind hurting me?
And why is their reaction "Someone should tell her!" (not just that night, but on two earlier occasions, too, different people), and yet no one will? Is it because they like her and don't want to hurt her, or that they don't want to get involved (then why are they so eager to tell me?), or that they don't like either of them and think they deserve each other?
She's using him the same as he uses me. She's playing him, like he plays me. She likes having a handyman and lover and social escort on the weekends. Single women don't get invited out much by couples, and she likes her social life. Her ex-husband has moved on, and she likely would be embarrassed to go to family functions alone. Her excuses for not allowing him into her life fully are exactly that - excuses! If she really loved him, she'd want him there with her. If she really loved him, she'd had offered back in December, when his housemate moved out and it looked like his rental house would be sold. And deep down, Roman knows all of that, and that's why he messed with me. But he stays with her because he keeps hoping she will love him. He told me once that he attempted to break up with me in January because I was forcing him to look at things he didn't want to see. Isn't denial a wonderful thing?
Sitting here thinking about it, I just realized something else the kitchen women probably misunderstood. I didn't know about her at first. He told me at first that he "had been seeing someone" for about two and a half years, but that "the relationship had changed, it wasn't good anymore". He asked me several times over the course of the next few months, "Please don't change." He allowed me to believe it was over with her until November, when I put two and two together and figured out that he was still seeing her. I tried to break up with him then, but couldn't. I tried again in January, and couldn't. In late February he asked me to "wait for him", he said that I might be "the woman I spend the rest of my life with". In March I complained that she gets 60 hours a week with him, and I'm lucky to get 12, and his response was "I'm working on that." Just lately he's been exploring Ulster job opportunities - which happen to be more convenient to my house.
So they may think she's the "Wronged Woman", and I'm the "Little Homewrecker", and that's why they're willing to hurt me but not her....?
On second thought, no. They were truly surprised that I knew about her. They really thought he was playing me. Ok, back to "don't understand" mode.
I know my feelings for him are (were?) pure and true. I suspect her feelings are not. I think I have been more wronged! By her, by her hanging on to him when she doesn't really want him. Just to have somebody when it's convenient. She is doing him wrong, and he's doing the same to me, and lying to her in the process.
I asked him once what she would do if she found out about me, and he said "Oh, she'd be mad, but she wouldn't throw me out." Cocky SOB, isn't he.... But then, I didn't throw him out either. He can be very charming.
So Sunday, I went to the computer show with Roman, and told him about the previous evening. I was very upset. I told him I felt like a fool, and that I was the laughingstock of Mensa. His response was that we need to quit. No more romance. He felt really bad that I was having such a hard time with other's perceptions, but his greatest fear seems to be that she will find out. The "Someone should tell her" scared him. And then he snuggled me during our goodbyes in the parking lot. Very loving. Very tight. Kisses. I tried to deflect him with my purse and parcels between us, but finally I set them down. Sigh. I get mixed signals from him. I know he has feelings for me. I know he loves me in a way, "but not enough, not the way you want me to". I know he wants to be able to love me, but there's something wrong, something in the way.
He almost never tells me he loves me. He says he doesn't want to mislead me. The previous Tuesday he had been here setting up the DVD player, and then Wednesday we had a long and very nice phone conversation, at the end of which he said "Love you." No qualifications included. He said it softly, he breathed it, like he hoped I didn't hear it. I didn't react, just passed it off, because I figured he was used to saying that to her at the end of phone calls, and I figured that he had just slipped, and that it wasn't really meant for me. So on Sunday, in the parking lot, after he had told me we were over, I told him that, that I had heard it but I didn't react because etc. He got a really funny look on his face, and said, "No, it was meant for you. I really did mean it for you." He didn't have to say that. Saying it only made things worse for him.
It only makes things worse.
So.
Somebody should tell her? Who will? Will anyone?
You would have to put hot irons to my feet to get her name and phone number out of me, but, hey! My right foot is numb between the index and middle toes, remember?
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Written later Thursday night, 6/15 -
I wrote the above this afternoon because I knew I'd be seeing him at the Third Thursday Mensa dinner tonight, and I wanted to get my head straight before I saw him. I didn't post it then because I wanted to see if anything had changed since Sunday.
It did.
I had called him on his (brand new) cell phone Monday night, about 10:30 pm. I "knew" two things - he was teaching a class that ended at 9:30 and would probably get home just before 10:30, and secondly that he didn't see her on Mondays (she doesn't allow weekday visits unless she needs him for something). I wanted to ask about his mother.
He answered the phone.
He was with the other woman. At her house, or in a car, I don't know.
She thought that she was the only person who had his cell number. Note that he had told me I could call him any time, even on weekends.
He did a whole bunch of things wrong - this is how I know he's not used to cheating. The poor man doesn't have a clue. I told him tonight that what you're SUPPOSED to do is a) when you're with her, put it on vibrate, or turn it off, and b) if you do screw up and answer, and it's me, say "He's not at this number, you have the wrong number", and then call me back as soon as you can. He said he thought it WAS on vibrate.
Instead, it rang, and he panicked. He said he couldn't hear me, bad connection (it wasn't), so naturally, what did I do? I yelled louder. Which ensured that she heard me. I told him to call me back "later, when you get home". I figured he was on the road, going home from class. Yeah, I said "love you" at the end.
She wanted to know who I was, and why I had his number and was calling so late, and I know him well enough to know exactly what happened. He got the thunder face and shut down, and refused to discuss it. He says she hasn't spoken to him since.
He looked really bad tonight. He is suffering. He doesn't know what to do. He told me it's over with us on Sunday, that he's choosing her, and the very next night ....
He said he was going to have to tell her about me, but he didn't know what to say, or how much. I told him that she probably suspected something was going on before this. And if there is any chance whatsoever that someone else told her or will tell her anything, he damn well better tell the truth. All of it. "You don't know how much she already knows."
I also overstepped again, and told him what I thought of her, that if she loved him, she'd ... blah blah. You don't refuse to speak to someone you love. You don't withhold yourself from someone you love. You want to be with someone you love, you don't push them away all the time. Blah blah. He knows. He said he knows. I know he knows it's all wrong with her, but there's something about her that fascinates him. He looked like he was about to cry when he said "But it was starting to change. It was starting to get better."
He's in even worse denial than I ever was.
The sad thing is that I just want him to be happy. If I thought he could be happy with her, if I thought she loved him, I'd have a lot less difficulty letting him go. But I can't stand the thought of giving him up to a woman who merely likes him, but doesn't fully appreciate him, and who is just keeping him on the string because she knows she can, and he's useful.
We hugged a lot in the parking lot. The last was so tight I thought he'd break me.
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Written Friday evening, 6/16 -
He called to update me on his parent's status. He knows I'm concerned about them. We talked. The other woman has agreed to talk with him on Saturday evening. He will let me know how it goes.
I warned him not to lie, and not to allow her to believe untruths by not correcting wrong impressions. "Every time you allow her to believe something that's not true, you've planted a land mine." I reminded him that she seems to be in total control of their relationship, but HE should be in control of his life.
On the one hand, I want him to be happy. On the other hand, I hope she kicks him out. He keeps hoping that she will make him happy some day, but I don't believe he can be fully himself with her. I told him that one day, maybe in a few years, he will tell me what it is that he finds so fascinating about her. Right now, I don't understand anything.
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Written Saturday, 6/17 -
Long talk with Piper. I wanted to talk with him because he is so perceptive, and he knows a lot of what's been going on, and he knows and likes Roman. I don't need advice - there's nothing I can do - but I just needed to talk with someone.
I told Piper the whole story, all of it. Everything that has happened in the past year.
Piper doesn't understand what's going on with Roman either. He says there's something missing in the guy. Something missing, that makes it difficult for him to decide what he wants. However, in contrast to everyone else who knows, Piper believes that Roman is doing the best he can, and that there is no intent to hurt anyone. He believes that Roman is honest, and does care for me, but - there's something missing, something wrong with him.
Or there's a missing part to the story. Something important that I don't know.
Piper also explained why the kitchen women were so eager to tell me what was going on, but not willing to tell her. Because they KNOW me, I am one of them. They may have met her, but they don't know her. So although they all say "someone should tell her", they don't really care whether she knows or not. That's all.
It can go any one of four ways tonight.
If she takes him back weekends-only, same conditions as before, the price will be that he can have no contact with me, and possibly with Mensa, and it could go on that way forever! He'll still be unhappy. I'll be sad. This is a very bad denouement, but unfortunately the most likely.
If she takes him back and lets him move in with her, well, I almost hope that's what happens, because either it will work and he will be happy, and I can live with that, or it won't work and after a time whatever hold she has on him will dissipate and he'll leave her and turn back to me. Either way is ok. I can handle that. Unless by the time he realizes he's unhappy, her condition (she has PPS) has deteriorated to the point where he can't leave her. This is very bad.
If she throws him out completely, maybe he will turn to me, but I don't know if I should accept him that way, because I'll forever be afraid that she'll crook her finger, and he'll go back to her. This is actually a likely scenario, and it scares me. Because if she does throw him out, and if he does then turn to me, I'll take him in. I'm that big a fool. The kitchen women were right.
The last possibility is that in their discussion tonight, he realizes that she doesn't love him, and he decides he can't live under her rules and conditions, and she doesn't need him as much he thought she did, and he gives her up. This is the least likely to happen, and probably just fanciful thinking on my part, but it is my only hope.
Oh, Piper did offer another hope. She has Post-Polio Syndrome, brace on one leg, fatigue, etc. Piper said that people with PPS don't live long once the later symptoms start to appear. I could just wait, you know.... I gave Piper the fish-eye - I don't want to hope for that, or even think about it. (Actually, that prognosis isn't strictly true. There's no way to predict the course of the illness. She works full time now, as far as I know, and she has a full and active social life, so she can't be too bad. But it's there, and there's no predicting what will happen. Besides, being "post-polio", and having been diagnosed with Post-Polio Syndrome at two very different things.)
I'm sure Roman is aware of it, too. Her future may not be bright. Maybe that's why he can't leave her, and why he's so afraid of hurting her. Maybe that's the fascination. He did say once that there was a moral and ethical reason for his staying with her that overrode his own happiness, although at that time he wouldn't go into what it was, and it was before I knew about the PPS. He really is very loyal. Under all this crap.
So, tonight, two people are talking about me, and in deciding their future, they are deciding mine.
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Sunday evening, 6/18/06
I had dinner this evening with NJ. It was in her kitchen that I was attacked by all those women, and actually, it was NJ that started it. We sat on the patio of a restaurant around the corner from her house, and we talked for four hours. I told her everything. Of course, all she got was my side, and there's so much I don't know.
She didn't make me feel any better, but at least she now understands and sympathizes. She says that she told me about the other woman because she didn't like to see me hurt by Roman. She, and everyone else, thought he was just playing me. Now, after our talk, she thinks that Roman has been sincere, but that there is something more, some part we're missing, and that he's super confused and super messed up. And that there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.
I had assumed that the other woman had physical difficulties, but NJ says that the two times Roman had brought her to NJ's apartment (the second floor of a colonial-era house with high ceilings), she'd had no problem with the high steep stairs. That kind of hurt, because her physical dependency on him was one of the excuses I had assigned to him, to explain why he was having so much trouble deciding what to do. In my mind, I have given him so many excuses, and one by one they are falling away.
I had left my cell phone on, but got no calls. I got home about 11 pm, and there were no messages on the home phone. I am going crazy. I can't call him. I have to wait until he's ready to tell me what happened in their talk (and who knows what else) Saturday night, and until then I am sick to my stomach.
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Monday night, 6/19
He said he'd talk with her on Saturday evening. I asked him to call me and tell me how it went as soon as he could. He said he may not have any privacy on Sunday, but he'd call Monday for sure.
He didn't call on Sunday. That could mean she has taken him back and she allowed him to stay with her on Sunday. Or not. I don't know. But he didn't call today, either, and that worries me. He worked today, so I know he had opportunity to call. So either she has made him promise no contact with me, or he's not ready to talk to me yet. He HAS to know what I'm feeling. Sometimes I could hate him.
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Later Monday night, wee hours of Tuesday morning, 6/20
I broke down and called his home, no answers, finally left message(s). I know he's not there. I know he spent Saturday night, and Sunday day and night with her, and he's there tonight. That's why he hasn't called me. I also sent an "up" email about Firefox, and a "down" email telling him that I didn't want to talk to him on the phone, that I wanted him to find a time that we could get together to talk.
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Early afternoon, Tuesday, 6/20
He called. I didn't answer the phone. It didn't sound like he'd gotten any of my messages. He left a message which included that "things were better after their talk Saturday night" (I guess she's at least speaking to him now), but that he still didn't know where it was going. And that he had a class tonight, so he couldn't call tonight (why not?) but that he would call "sometime".
Not fifteen minutes after he hung up, the phone rang again. This time I picked it up just before the tape did. I said Hello, but no one spoke. I could hear breathing. I said Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? And a high-pitched female voice with a sing-song accent said "Is this [Deleted business name]?" She spaced it out exactly like that. I said "Well, yes, I guess so. Why?" And she hung up.
Scared me witless.
So I called Roman's home. He'd just called me, so I thought that's where he'd be, but no answer, so I left a message - Does "she" have an accent, or a friend or coworker with an accent? - And did he ever mention [Deleted] in connection with me?
Then I called his cell, and got him. Same questions, No, and No. We didn't talk much - I didn't want to. I did ask if he was spending tonight with her, and he said no. Nor tomorrow night. I said "So, you're together under the same conditions as before?" and he said "No, not quite." We didn't go into detail. I didn't want to on the phone.
It sounds exactly like my worst prediction.
We are to meet tomorrow at five, in a diner parking lot in Hyde park.
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Written Thursday afternoon, June 15, 2006, about events the previous Saturday and Sunday:
The title of this journal is "I Don't Understand". Because mainly I don't.
Like, why are so many of my supposed friends so eager to tell me that Roman is involved with another woman? What I didn't know until last Saturday night is that so many of them had met her. Apparently, before he got involved with me, he had taken her to Mensa events [later edit - only two, both at NJ's], and everyone "knew" that he was living with her.
Saturday night, Moonlight Madness. A bunch of women in NJ's kitchen. All very eager to tell me all about her and all about him, that they have been living together for years, that they vacation in Arizona, that.... I listened until I got pissed because they had so much wrong, and then I corrected their misconceptions. No, he is NOT living with her. He has his own place, and goes over to her place on Friday nights through Monday morning. She won't let him move in with her. No, all his furniture is not in her house. She probably wouldn't ALLOW any of his stuff in her house. His furniture is at his place, and some is stored in her garage, the dining room set he's trying to sell. She has a daughter in Arizona. And yes, he lies to her because he knows he can get away with it, and she's either not swift enough or doesn't care enough to figure it out.
I told them a bit about what's true, and what's REALLY been going on. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I'm not sorry I did.
They were thoroughly shocked that I knew about her.
They were even more shocked, and upset, that she DIDN'T know about me.
The consensus was that he's pond scum, I'm a fool (which they kept telling me over and over), if there's me "there are probably others", after me "there will definitely be others", and most of all, repeated several times to general nods and acclaim, "Someone should tell her!"
Someone should tell her.
Of course, no one was willing to be the one to tell her.
They tried to convince me I should tell her. I said I couldn't, but if anyone else wanted to, be my guest. When they asked why I couldn't tell her, I said it was because I'd promised Roman I wouldn't. They asked what a promise to him was worth. "He's scum. He's not worth wasting a promise on."
They asked why, knowing what I know, why do I continue? I said because I fell in love with him. I appreciate all the good things about him, and understand the bad. And because he's absolutely terrific in bed. Best ever, and I've been around enough to know. (I've been around enough to know that it's not individual skill that pushes it into the spectacular zone - it's the combination. And together, we are terrific. We match perfectly in so many ways.) I can't give him up. I've tried, and I am trying, but when he smiles I want him. All of him. And they don't understand what's going on. He's really a nice guy, just very confused.
"He can be very charming."
"Yeah. But he's scum."
Now, here's what I don't understand, what's been tearing me up for the past four days:
Why is everyone so anxious to tell me? Is it because they do like me and want to "save" me, or because they don't like me and don't mind hurting me?
And why is their reaction "Someone should tell her!" (not just that night, but on two earlier occasions, too, different people), and yet no one will? Is it because they like her and don't want to hurt her, or that they don't want to get involved (then why are they so eager to tell me?), or that they don't like either of them and think they deserve each other?
She's using him the same as he uses me. She's playing him, like he plays me. She likes having a handyman and lover and social escort on the weekends. Single women don't get invited out much by couples, and she likes her social life. Her ex-husband has moved on, and she likely would be embarrassed to go to family functions alone. Her excuses for not allowing him into her life fully are exactly that - excuses! If she really loved him, she'd want him there with her. If she really loved him, she'd had offered back in December, when his housemate moved out and it looked like his rental house would be sold. And deep down, Roman knows all of that, and that's why he messed with me. But he stays with her because he keeps hoping she will love him. He told me once that he attempted to break up with me in January because I was forcing him to look at things he didn't want to see. Isn't denial a wonderful thing?
Sitting here thinking about it, I just realized something else the kitchen women probably misunderstood. I didn't know about her at first. He told me at first that he "had been seeing someone" for about two and a half years, but that "the relationship had changed, it wasn't good anymore". He asked me several times over the course of the next few months, "Please don't change." He allowed me to believe it was over with her until November, when I put two and two together and figured out that he was still seeing her. I tried to break up with him then, but couldn't. I tried again in January, and couldn't. In late February he asked me to "wait for him", he said that I might be "the woman I spend the rest of my life with". In March I complained that she gets 60 hours a week with him, and I'm lucky to get 12, and his response was "I'm working on that." Just lately he's been exploring Ulster job opportunities - which happen to be more convenient to my house.
So they may think she's the "Wronged Woman", and I'm the "Little Homewrecker", and that's why they're willing to hurt me but not her....?
On second thought, no. They were truly surprised that I knew about her. They really thought he was playing me. Ok, back to "don't understand" mode.
I know my feelings for him are (were?) pure and true. I suspect her feelings are not. I think I have been more wronged! By her, by her hanging on to him when she doesn't really want him. Just to have somebody when it's convenient. She is doing him wrong, and he's doing the same to me, and lying to her in the process.
I asked him once what she would do if she found out about me, and he said "Oh, she'd be mad, but she wouldn't throw me out." Cocky SOB, isn't he.... But then, I didn't throw him out either. He can be very charming.
So Sunday, I went to the computer show with Roman, and told him about the previous evening. I was very upset. I told him I felt like a fool, and that I was the laughingstock of Mensa. His response was that we need to quit. No more romance. He felt really bad that I was having such a hard time with other's perceptions, but his greatest fear seems to be that she will find out. The "Someone should tell her" scared him. And then he snuggled me during our goodbyes in the parking lot. Very loving. Very tight. Kisses. I tried to deflect him with my purse and parcels between us, but finally I set them down. Sigh. I get mixed signals from him. I know he has feelings for me. I know he loves me in a way, "but not enough, not the way you want me to". I know he wants to be able to love me, but there's something wrong, something in the way.
He almost never tells me he loves me. He says he doesn't want to mislead me. The previous Tuesday he had been here setting up the DVD player, and then Wednesday we had a long and very nice phone conversation, at the end of which he said "Love you." No qualifications included. He said it softly, he breathed it, like he hoped I didn't hear it. I didn't react, just passed it off, because I figured he was used to saying that to her at the end of phone calls, and I figured that he had just slipped, and that it wasn't really meant for me. So on Sunday, in the parking lot, after he had told me we were over, I told him that, that I had heard it but I didn't react because etc. He got a really funny look on his face, and said, "No, it was meant for you. I really did mean it for you." He didn't have to say that. Saying it only made things worse for him.
It only makes things worse.
So.
Somebody should tell her? Who will? Will anyone?
You would have to put hot irons to my feet to get her name and phone number out of me, but, hey! My right foot is numb between the index and middle toes, remember?
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Written later Thursday night, 6/15 -
I wrote the above this afternoon because I knew I'd be seeing him at the Third Thursday Mensa dinner tonight, and I wanted to get my head straight before I saw him. I didn't post it then because I wanted to see if anything had changed since Sunday.
It did.
I had called him on his (brand new) cell phone Monday night, about 10:30 pm. I "knew" two things - he was teaching a class that ended at 9:30 and would probably get home just before 10:30, and secondly that he didn't see her on Mondays (she doesn't allow weekday visits unless she needs him for something). I wanted to ask about his mother.
He answered the phone.
He was with the other woman. At her house, or in a car, I don't know.
She thought that she was the only person who had his cell number. Note that he had told me I could call him any time, even on weekends.
He did a whole bunch of things wrong - this is how I know he's not used to cheating. The poor man doesn't have a clue. I told him tonight that what you're SUPPOSED to do is a) when you're with her, put it on vibrate, or turn it off, and b) if you do screw up and answer, and it's me, say "He's not at this number, you have the wrong number", and then call me back as soon as you can. He said he thought it WAS on vibrate.
Instead, it rang, and he panicked. He said he couldn't hear me, bad connection (it wasn't), so naturally, what did I do? I yelled louder. Which ensured that she heard me. I told him to call me back "later, when you get home". I figured he was on the road, going home from class. Yeah, I said "love you" at the end.
She wanted to know who I was, and why I had his number and was calling so late, and I know him well enough to know exactly what happened. He got the thunder face and shut down, and refused to discuss it. He says she hasn't spoken to him since.
He looked really bad tonight. He is suffering. He doesn't know what to do. He told me it's over with us on Sunday, that he's choosing her, and the very next night ....
He said he was going to have to tell her about me, but he didn't know what to say, or how much. I told him that she probably suspected something was going on before this. And if there is any chance whatsoever that someone else told her or will tell her anything, he damn well better tell the truth. All of it. "You don't know how much she already knows."
I also overstepped again, and told him what I thought of her, that if she loved him, she'd ... blah blah. You don't refuse to speak to someone you love. You don't withhold yourself from someone you love. You want to be with someone you love, you don't push them away all the time. Blah blah. He knows. He said he knows. I know he knows it's all wrong with her, but there's something about her that fascinates him. He looked like he was about to cry when he said "But it was starting to change. It was starting to get better."
He's in even worse denial than I ever was.
The sad thing is that I just want him to be happy. If I thought he could be happy with her, if I thought she loved him, I'd have a lot less difficulty letting him go. But I can't stand the thought of giving him up to a woman who merely likes him, but doesn't fully appreciate him, and who is just keeping him on the string because she knows she can, and he's useful.
We hugged a lot in the parking lot. The last was so tight I thought he'd break me.
-------------------------------------------
Written Friday evening, 6/16 -
He called to update me on his parent's status. He knows I'm concerned about them. We talked. The other woman has agreed to talk with him on Saturday evening. He will let me know how it goes.
I warned him not to lie, and not to allow her to believe untruths by not correcting wrong impressions. "Every time you allow her to believe something that's not true, you've planted a land mine." I reminded him that she seems to be in total control of their relationship, but HE should be in control of his life.
On the one hand, I want him to be happy. On the other hand, I hope she kicks him out. He keeps hoping that she will make him happy some day, but I don't believe he can be fully himself with her. I told him that one day, maybe in a few years, he will tell me what it is that he finds so fascinating about her. Right now, I don't understand anything.
----------------------------
Written Saturday, 6/17 -
Long talk with Piper. I wanted to talk with him because he is so perceptive, and he knows a lot of what's been going on, and he knows and likes Roman. I don't need advice - there's nothing I can do - but I just needed to talk with someone.
I told Piper the whole story, all of it. Everything that has happened in the past year.
Piper doesn't understand what's going on with Roman either. He says there's something missing in the guy. Something missing, that makes it difficult for him to decide what he wants. However, in contrast to everyone else who knows, Piper believes that Roman is doing the best he can, and that there is no intent to hurt anyone. He believes that Roman is honest, and does care for me, but - there's something missing, something wrong with him.
Or there's a missing part to the story. Something important that I don't know.
Piper also explained why the kitchen women were so eager to tell me what was going on, but not willing to tell her. Because they KNOW me, I am one of them. They may have met her, but they don't know her. So although they all say "someone should tell her", they don't really care whether she knows or not. That's all.
It can go any one of four ways tonight.
If she takes him back weekends-only, same conditions as before, the price will be that he can have no contact with me, and possibly with Mensa, and it could go on that way forever! He'll still be unhappy. I'll be sad. This is a very bad denouement, but unfortunately the most likely.
If she takes him back and lets him move in with her, well, I almost hope that's what happens, because either it will work and he will be happy, and I can live with that, or it won't work and after a time whatever hold she has on him will dissipate and he'll leave her and turn back to me. Either way is ok. I can handle that. Unless by the time he realizes he's unhappy, her condition (she has PPS) has deteriorated to the point where he can't leave her. This is very bad.
If she throws him out completely, maybe he will turn to me, but I don't know if I should accept him that way, because I'll forever be afraid that she'll crook her finger, and he'll go back to her. This is actually a likely scenario, and it scares me. Because if she does throw him out, and if he does then turn to me, I'll take him in. I'm that big a fool. The kitchen women were right.
The last possibility is that in their discussion tonight, he realizes that she doesn't love him, and he decides he can't live under her rules and conditions, and she doesn't need him as much he thought she did, and he gives her up. This is the least likely to happen, and probably just fanciful thinking on my part, but it is my only hope.
Oh, Piper did offer another hope. She has Post-Polio Syndrome, brace on one leg, fatigue, etc. Piper said that people with PPS don't live long once the later symptoms start to appear. I could just wait, you know.... I gave Piper the fish-eye - I don't want to hope for that, or even think about it. (Actually, that prognosis isn't strictly true. There's no way to predict the course of the illness. She works full time now, as far as I know, and she has a full and active social life, so she can't be too bad. But it's there, and there's no predicting what will happen. Besides, being "post-polio", and having been diagnosed with Post-Polio Syndrome at two very different things.)
I'm sure Roman is aware of it, too. Her future may not be bright. Maybe that's why he can't leave her, and why he's so afraid of hurting her. Maybe that's the fascination. He did say once that there was a moral and ethical reason for his staying with her that overrode his own happiness, although at that time he wouldn't go into what it was, and it was before I knew about the PPS. He really is very loyal. Under all this crap.
So, tonight, two people are talking about me, and in deciding their future, they are deciding mine.
------------------------------------------
Sunday evening, 6/18/06
I had dinner this evening with NJ. It was in her kitchen that I was attacked by all those women, and actually, it was NJ that started it. We sat on the patio of a restaurant around the corner from her house, and we talked for four hours. I told her everything. Of course, all she got was my side, and there's so much I don't know.
She didn't make me feel any better, but at least she now understands and sympathizes. She says that she told me about the other woman because she didn't like to see me hurt by Roman. She, and everyone else, thought he was just playing me. Now, after our talk, she thinks that Roman has been sincere, but that there is something more, some part we're missing, and that he's super confused and super messed up. And that there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.
I had assumed that the other woman had physical difficulties, but NJ says that the two times Roman had brought her to NJ's apartment (the second floor of a colonial-era house with high ceilings), she'd had no problem with the high steep stairs. That kind of hurt, because her physical dependency on him was one of the excuses I had assigned to him, to explain why he was having so much trouble deciding what to do. In my mind, I have given him so many excuses, and one by one they are falling away.
I had left my cell phone on, but got no calls. I got home about 11 pm, and there were no messages on the home phone. I am going crazy. I can't call him. I have to wait until he's ready to tell me what happened in their talk (and who knows what else) Saturday night, and until then I am sick to my stomach.
------------------------------------
Monday night, 6/19
He said he'd talk with her on Saturday evening. I asked him to call me and tell me how it went as soon as he could. He said he may not have any privacy on Sunday, but he'd call Monday for sure.
He didn't call on Sunday. That could mean she has taken him back and she allowed him to stay with her on Sunday. Or not. I don't know. But he didn't call today, either, and that worries me. He worked today, so I know he had opportunity to call. So either she has made him promise no contact with me, or he's not ready to talk to me yet. He HAS to know what I'm feeling. Sometimes I could hate him.
---------------------------------------
Later Monday night, wee hours of Tuesday morning, 6/20
I broke down and called his home, no answers, finally left message(s). I know he's not there. I know he spent Saturday night, and Sunday day and night with her, and he's there tonight. That's why he hasn't called me. I also sent an "up" email about Firefox, and a "down" email telling him that I didn't want to talk to him on the phone, that I wanted him to find a time that we could get together to talk.
----------------------------------------
Early afternoon, Tuesday, 6/20
He called. I didn't answer the phone. It didn't sound like he'd gotten any of my messages. He left a message which included that "things were better after their talk Saturday night" (I guess she's at least speaking to him now), but that he still didn't know where it was going. And that he had a class tonight, so he couldn't call tonight (why not?) but that he would call "sometime".
Not fifteen minutes after he hung up, the phone rang again. This time I picked it up just before the tape did. I said Hello, but no one spoke. I could hear breathing. I said Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? And a high-pitched female voice with a sing-song accent said "Is this [Deleted business name]?" She spaced it out exactly like that. I said "Well, yes, I guess so. Why?" And she hung up.
Scared me witless.
So I called Roman's home. He'd just called me, so I thought that's where he'd be, but no answer, so I left a message - Does "she" have an accent, or a friend or coworker with an accent? - And did he ever mention [Deleted] in connection with me?
Then I called his cell, and got him. Same questions, No, and No. We didn't talk much - I didn't want to. I did ask if he was spending tonight with her, and he said no. Nor tomorrow night. I said "So, you're together under the same conditions as before?" and he said "No, not quite." We didn't go into detail. I didn't want to on the phone.
It sounds exactly like my worst prediction.
We are to meet tomorrow at five, in a diner parking lot in Hyde park.
748 Mozilla Firefox
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
After my last post, Herlock Sholmes suggested that I look into SiteAdvisor, so I did. SiteAdvisor requires Firefox. I've got Netscape.
I shrugged, and installed Firefox, and SiteAdvisor.
I am amazed at all that the combination offers, and it's faster than Netscape 7.2! Firefox also imported all my Netscape bookmarks and history, too, so I didn't lose anything. (I haven't checked stored passwords yet....)
I have only one complaint. Because I have such a slow dial-up connection, I'm in the habit of clicking on a link, and while that page is loading, I go back to the original site and continue reading, or to another. I multitask because there's always the next page slowly loading in the background. Also, if I link to a site that looks like it has heavy download time, like for video, fancy design, or sometimes music, I'll just close it before it drags down my whole system. There's nothing out there that's so very important.
Firefox won't let me do that. It often (but not always) insists on staying right on a page until it has finished loading. I can't get the "close" tag on the upper right "X" and can't close a page or move to somewhere else until Firefox thinks it's time. Which time seems a bit arbitrary.
But it's so much faster than Netscape that in this first blush of new love, I'll accept the quirks.
After my last post, Herlock Sholmes suggested that I look into SiteAdvisor, so I did. SiteAdvisor requires Firefox. I've got Netscape.
I shrugged, and installed Firefox, and SiteAdvisor.
I am amazed at all that the combination offers, and it's faster than Netscape 7.2! Firefox also imported all my Netscape bookmarks and history, too, so I didn't lose anything. (I haven't checked stored passwords yet....)
I have only one complaint. Because I have such a slow dial-up connection, I'm in the habit of clicking on a link, and while that page is loading, I go back to the original site and continue reading, or to another. I multitask because there's always the next page slowly loading in the background. Also, if I link to a site that looks like it has heavy download time, like for video, fancy design, or sometimes music, I'll just close it before it drags down my whole system. There's nothing out there that's so very important.
Firefox won't let me do that. It often (but not always) insists on staying right on a page until it has finished loading. I can't get the "close" tag on the upper right "X" and can't close a page or move to somewhere else until Firefox thinks it's time. Which time seems a bit arbitrary.
But it's so much faster than Netscape that in this first blush of new love, I'll accept the quirks.
747 Spyware, Site Meter
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
[Later edit - info on site meter view times, at bottom.]
I got a bit of a shock. I was just about to shut down and go to bed, when a window popped up, from the AOL Spyware detection program, saying that it had found a Trojan horse on my system, something called "InfoStealer". Hmmmm. That might explain why the system has been so very slow lately. It takes forever to IPL now - like 20 minutes. I had assumed it was because my hard disk is a mess, and defragmenting no longer works.
AOL offered to "block" the spyware for me, with the warning that if it does so, some functions may no longer work. Ouch!
I Googled "InfoStealer", and there are apparently several versions. One arrives in Yahoo mail (I do have a Yahoo mail account"), and it hijacks your Yahoo account. Big deal. My account is free anyway, so I'm not sure how it hurts. Another version is nastier, I guess. It steals your passwords to sites like PayPal and banking sites. A third has something to do with a Seal online game.
My biggest problem is that all the information I was able to find to remove it assumes that you use Symantec for virus protection. I don't. I used to, but the last time I tried to download a new version, it broke in the middle of the download, and even though the subscription I had paid for said I could download again at any time, it wouldn't let me. So when AOL offered McAfee for free, I had changed over to that.
So I don't know how to remove it, and I'm not sure I trust AOL to do it.
I gave up. I told the AOL spyware detector to go ahead and "block" it. I'm still here, but if I disappear tomorrow, that's why.
-----------------------------
Second topic, I added a site meter to this blog (you'll find the itty-bitty button at the very bottom). It's interesting where I get hits from. Besides those I know about, there was someone from Australia? Japan?? Romania??? Whoa! And I thought there only six people reading this thing. Well, maybe they're not reading it. Duration of visit is "0.00". "Suicide" is a popular search arg, and I think that's what's doing it.
[Later - I read the Help for SiteMeter, and "duration of visit 0:00" doesn't mean they visited only a few seconds. Since my last 40 or so posts are all on one page, a visitor is not likely to go to another page. SiteMeter counts the time only when a visitor goes to another page. To quote: "If they only look at a single page and then leave, we don't know how long they looked at the page. If they looked at two pages and left we would know they at least were on the site during the time of the first page view and the second page view. The difference between those two times would be the length of the visit." It's screwy. Meaningless to me.]
[Later edit - info on site meter view times, at bottom.]
I got a bit of a shock. I was just about to shut down and go to bed, when a window popped up, from the AOL Spyware detection program, saying that it had found a Trojan horse on my system, something called "InfoStealer". Hmmmm. That might explain why the system has been so very slow lately. It takes forever to IPL now - like 20 minutes. I had assumed it was because my hard disk is a mess, and defragmenting no longer works.
AOL offered to "block" the spyware for me, with the warning that if it does so, some functions may no longer work. Ouch!
I Googled "InfoStealer", and there are apparently several versions. One arrives in Yahoo mail (I do have a Yahoo mail account"), and it hijacks your Yahoo account. Big deal. My account is free anyway, so I'm not sure how it hurts. Another version is nastier, I guess. It steals your passwords to sites like PayPal and banking sites. A third has something to do with a Seal online game.
My biggest problem is that all the information I was able to find to remove it assumes that you use Symantec for virus protection. I don't. I used to, but the last time I tried to download a new version, it broke in the middle of the download, and even though the subscription I had paid for said I could download again at any time, it wouldn't let me. So when AOL offered McAfee for free, I had changed over to that.
So I don't know how to remove it, and I'm not sure I trust AOL to do it.
I gave up. I told the AOL spyware detector to go ahead and "block" it. I'm still here, but if I disappear tomorrow, that's why.
-----------------------------
Second topic, I added a site meter to this blog (you'll find the itty-bitty button at the very bottom). It's interesting where I get hits from. Besides those I know about, there was someone from Australia? Japan?? Romania??? Whoa! And I thought there only six people reading this thing. Well, maybe they're not reading it. Duration of visit is "0.00". "Suicide" is a popular search arg, and I think that's what's doing it.
[Later - I read the Help for SiteMeter, and "duration of visit 0:00" doesn't mean they visited only a few seconds. Since my last 40 or so posts are all on one page, a visitor is not likely to go to another page. SiteMeter counts the time only when a visitor goes to another page. To quote: "If they only look at a single page and then leave, we don't know how long they looked at the page. If they looked at two pages and left we would know they at least were on the site during the time of the first page view and the second page view. The difference between those two times would be the length of the visit." It's screwy. Meaningless to me.]
Monday, June 19, 2006
746 Walking the Rail Trail
We met in the trail parking lot at 6:30 pm. There was Tom, Michael?, Michelle, Angela, Deborah, and me. When I arrived, it was raining, and they were all standing there under umbrellas. We waited until 6:45 for Eve, who was supposed to come but never did, and then we set off down the trail - with umbrellas. Give us credit for determination, if not brains. (Michelle decided not to walk. Her allergies were acting up. She went home.)
Tom said that at three miles per hour we should be able to make it to "the gorge" and back before sunset. The gorge turned out to be a high bridge over a creek, with a wonderful view across farmland to the cliffs and stone tower at Mohonk, with the sun setting over the mountains.
I think we walked a little slower than 3 mph, because 3 mph is a fast walk for my short legs, and I didn't feel rushed at all. An advantage of rail trails is that they are wide and smooth, and you can easily avoid the poison ivy. Also, wild strawberries seem to be endemic to railroad beds. The disadvantage is that they are so straight. You can see the trail going on and on before you. I like a little more variety.
We saw lots of birds, geese and ducks, rabbits, groundhogs, fish in the creek, and a muskrat in a slough beside the trail.
Afterward, Michael? and Tom and I went to Bacchus for drinks (I had iced tea) and nibbles. We sat outside on the deck, and it rained again, but we had a huge table umbrella, and it was nice, watching the people on the street. New Paltz is getting to be a lot like Woodstock was 25 years ago.
I really like Tom. He's a nice guy. He and his girlfriend, AND his ex-wife(!), will be going to the world gathering in Orlando in August, and I am very happy about that. I won't be completely alone. There will be someone there I already know and like, that I can hang out with.
Driving home, again my mind was in overdrive, and again I missed my exit, had to go all the way up and then back down again.
When I got home about 10:30 pm, there was a message on my machine. It was from Daughter, which was nice. There was no message from the one I had hoped would call.
My stomach hurts again. But I used the word "nice" a lot up there. I'm trying.
Tom said that at three miles per hour we should be able to make it to "the gorge" and back before sunset. The gorge turned out to be a high bridge over a creek, with a wonderful view across farmland to the cliffs and stone tower at Mohonk, with the sun setting over the mountains.
I think we walked a little slower than 3 mph, because 3 mph is a fast walk for my short legs, and I didn't feel rushed at all. An advantage of rail trails is that they are wide and smooth, and you can easily avoid the poison ivy. Also, wild strawberries seem to be endemic to railroad beds. The disadvantage is that they are so straight. You can see the trail going on and on before you. I like a little more variety.
We saw lots of birds, geese and ducks, rabbits, groundhogs, fish in the creek, and a muskrat in a slough beside the trail.
Afterward, Michael? and Tom and I went to Bacchus for drinks (I had iced tea) and nibbles. We sat outside on the deck, and it rained again, but we had a huge table umbrella, and it was nice, watching the people on the street. New Paltz is getting to be a lot like Woodstock was 25 years ago.
I really like Tom. He's a nice guy. He and his girlfriend, AND his ex-wife(!), will be going to the world gathering in Orlando in August, and I am very happy about that. I won't be completely alone. There will be someone there I already know and like, that I can hang out with.
Driving home, again my mind was in overdrive, and again I missed my exit, had to go all the way up and then back down again.
When I got home about 10:30 pm, there was a message on my machine. It was from Daughter, which was nice. There was no message from the one I had hoped would call.
My stomach hurts again. But I used the word "nice" a lot up there. I'm trying.
745 Dinner with NJ
Monday, June 19, 2006
I didn't go to the Clearwater festival yesterday. I slept late, and then NJ called and we arranged to meet for dinner at 6 pm. I had called her last Friday and asked if we could get together some time soon. The festival was pretty far down the river, a long drive, getting back by 6 might be hard, and given my emotional state lately, I'd really rather talk with NJ.
We sat at a table on the patio, and ate, drank, and talked for four hours.
I nursed one Cosmopolitan for the whole four hours, with a full dinner, but when I pulled out of the parking lot, somehow I headed up the road on the wrong side. My mind was simply not working. The road has wide shoulders there, and somehow I decided the left shoulder was the left lane, and the center line was the line marking the right shoulder. A car came over the hill, and I whipped right and avoided a head-on collision by quite literally inches. I'm surprised I didn't roll the van.
This evening I'm going to walk the Wallkill Rail Trail with some Mensans. I don't particularly want to, but I committed to the organizer a few weeks ago. It may rain, and if it does, we'll just go hang out somewhere in New Paltz.
I'm kinda hoping it rains.
I didn't go to the Clearwater festival yesterday. I slept late, and then NJ called and we arranged to meet for dinner at 6 pm. I had called her last Friday and asked if we could get together some time soon. The festival was pretty far down the river, a long drive, getting back by 6 might be hard, and given my emotional state lately, I'd really rather talk with NJ.
We sat at a table on the patio, and ate, drank, and talked for four hours.
I nursed one Cosmopolitan for the whole four hours, with a full dinner, but when I pulled out of the parking lot, somehow I headed up the road on the wrong side. My mind was simply not working. The road has wide shoulders there, and somehow I decided the left shoulder was the left lane, and the center line was the line marking the right shoulder. A car came over the hill, and I whipped right and avoided a head-on collision by quite literally inches. I'm surprised I didn't roll the van.
This evening I'm going to walk the Wallkill Rail Trail with some Mensans. I don't particularly want to, but I committed to the organizer a few weeks ago. It may rain, and if it does, we'll just go hang out somewhere in New Paltz.
I'm kinda hoping it rains.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
744 Bad Bad Substitute Magazine
I have a subscription to Budget Living magazine. It's chock full of ideas for living your life and decorating your home without spending a lot of money.
Yesterday, I received in the mail a copy of House Beautiful magazine, with a letter attached that says that Budget Living has ceased publication, so "special arrangements have been made" to fill out the remainder of my subscription with House Beautiful.
Duh?
Whatever possessed someone to deduce that a person who subscribes to a magazine that shows you how to beautify a $5 garage-sale table would therefore be interested in a magazine that presents 150 pages of thinly disguised ads for things like $2,250 "Moroccan inspired" 6x9 rugs? A package of 50 "calling cards" for $150? A magazine that salivates over interiors that "took 300 craftsmen 3 1/2 years to complete"?
What idiot was in charge of this arrangement?
Is it possible that Budget Living failed because they didn't understand their target audience?
Yesterday, I received in the mail a copy of House Beautiful magazine, with a letter attached that says that Budget Living has ceased publication, so "special arrangements have been made" to fill out the remainder of my subscription with House Beautiful.
Duh?
Whatever possessed someone to deduce that a person who subscribes to a magazine that shows you how to beautify a $5 garage-sale table would therefore be interested in a magazine that presents 150 pages of thinly disguised ads for things like $2,250 "Moroccan inspired" 6x9 rugs? A package of 50 "calling cards" for $150? A magazine that salivates over interiors that "took 300 craftsmen 3 1/2 years to complete"?
What idiot was in charge of this arrangement?
Is it possible that Budget Living failed because they didn't understand their target audience?
743 Suicide
Saturday night, 6/17/06
I went to the dance show this evening, and it was very good. Afterward, I had a few drinks and nibbles at Bacchus, in New Paltz, with some folks - some of the dancers and their friends. (We decided we should sneak into a certain dancer's house and burn her skirt.)
Driving home up the Thruway I completely missed my exit - not easy because you go through woods and darkness, and when you come to the exit it's all lit up with businesses and all - but my mind was running in circles again and I didn't even know I'd missed it until I saw the signs for the next exit up.
There was a half-moon low in the sky, and it was red and orange. My mother used to call that "blood on the moon", and it was a bad omen. I did an entry on that a while back, about how in the Welsh mining villages, blood on the moon meant death, because it indicated dust in the air, and miners with black lung were more likely to die when there was blood on the moon. Anyway, It was directly ahead of me as I crossed the bridge, and I wondered who it was for.
Not for me, I hope.
When I got home, the bloody moon was directly visible looking out my front door.
Bad omen. Death.
There was no message on my phone. There was virtually no chance there would be, but I had hope. Dashed.
People say that when people commit suicide, they are being selfish, that they are thinking only of their own pain, and not of how they hurt the people they leave behind. Well, I've never agreed with that. Sometimes pain for those left behind is exactly what the suicide wants to accomplish!
Now, before anyone gets excited, I am extremely unlikely to commit suicide for any reason. In fact, at one of the lowest periods of my life, when I was in therapy, my psychiatrist actually laughed at me when I expressed suicidal thoughts. It's something I might think about, and toy with in an "I'll show you!" way, but not something I'd actually do. When I get depressed, it's not that bad. I usually pull myself out of it by getting mad. And then I get even. I'm quite seriously more likely to murder someone else than to murder myself. That is a possibility....
But it is therapeutic, for me, anyway, to think about suicide sometimes.
I thought about it last Monday. About how if I did off myself, everyone would know why, and who was responsible, and the accumulated guilt, anger, hate, and blame heaped from every direction would revenge me. Very bad vibes. Bad karma on you. "That'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget!" All in all, a very satisfying thought.
But of course it's all completely impossible. I couldn't figure out how to do it neatly. Seems like every way acceptable to me either isn't sure, or is very messy. And I wouldn't want it to be a long time before I'm found, so I'd have to arrange somehow to be found quickly, but that could be suspicious, or mis-timed, and lead to intervention. So the whole thing is impossible. Besides, I can't do it until my house is clean and neat, and my file cabinet makes sense. But if it were possible, wouldn't the aftermath be fun?
That was Monday. By today, I was into murder mode. I couldn't be implicated in any way in anyone's mind. I'd have to hire someone. That's not the hard part, oddly enough. I know people who know people. The hard part is that it would have to look like an accident, and I couldn't think of any plausible accidents that would be sure to get the proper result. Simple severe injury would be worse than nothing at all. Plus I'd have to arrange payment in an untraceable way, and I couldn't figure that out either.
So. It looks like I'm beginning to recover.
(Man - I hope this blog never ends up in court!)
I went to the dance show this evening, and it was very good. Afterward, I had a few drinks and nibbles at Bacchus, in New Paltz, with some folks - some of the dancers and their friends. (We decided we should sneak into a certain dancer's house and burn her skirt.)
Driving home up the Thruway I completely missed my exit - not easy because you go through woods and darkness, and when you come to the exit it's all lit up with businesses and all - but my mind was running in circles again and I didn't even know I'd missed it until I saw the signs for the next exit up.
There was a half-moon low in the sky, and it was red and orange. My mother used to call that "blood on the moon", and it was a bad omen. I did an entry on that a while back, about how in the Welsh mining villages, blood on the moon meant death, because it indicated dust in the air, and miners with black lung were more likely to die when there was blood on the moon. Anyway, It was directly ahead of me as I crossed the bridge, and I wondered who it was for.
Not for me, I hope.
When I got home, the bloody moon was directly visible looking out my front door.
Bad omen. Death.
There was no message on my phone. There was virtually no chance there would be, but I had hope. Dashed.
People say that when people commit suicide, they are being selfish, that they are thinking only of their own pain, and not of how they hurt the people they leave behind. Well, I've never agreed with that. Sometimes pain for those left behind is exactly what the suicide wants to accomplish!
Now, before anyone gets excited, I am extremely unlikely to commit suicide for any reason. In fact, at one of the lowest periods of my life, when I was in therapy, my psychiatrist actually laughed at me when I expressed suicidal thoughts. It's something I might think about, and toy with in an "I'll show you!" way, but not something I'd actually do. When I get depressed, it's not that bad. I usually pull myself out of it by getting mad. And then I get even. I'm quite seriously more likely to murder someone else than to murder myself. That is a possibility....
But it is therapeutic, for me, anyway, to think about suicide sometimes.
I thought about it last Monday. About how if I did off myself, everyone would know why, and who was responsible, and the accumulated guilt, anger, hate, and blame heaped from every direction would revenge me. Very bad vibes. Bad karma on you. "That'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget!" All in all, a very satisfying thought.
But of course it's all completely impossible. I couldn't figure out how to do it neatly. Seems like every way acceptable to me either isn't sure, or is very messy. And I wouldn't want it to be a long time before I'm found, so I'd have to arrange somehow to be found quickly, but that could be suspicious, or mis-timed, and lead to intervention. So the whole thing is impossible. Besides, I can't do it until my house is clean and neat, and my file cabinet makes sense. But if it were possible, wouldn't the aftermath be fun?
That was Monday. By today, I was into murder mode. I couldn't be implicated in any way in anyone's mind. I'd have to hire someone. That's not the hard part, oddly enough. I know people who know people. The hard part is that it would have to look like an accident, and I couldn't think of any plausible accidents that would be sure to get the proper result. Simple severe injury would be worse than nothing at all. Plus I'd have to arrange payment in an untraceable way, and I couldn't figure that out either.
So. It looks like I'm beginning to recover.
(Man - I hope this blog never ends up in court!)
Saturday, June 17, 2006
742 Talk With Piper
I talked with Piper for over two hours today. I needed to talk with someone, and he was a good choice. He has an incredible grasp of people, and from him I could get a male point of view.
He helped me to feel better. He almost convinced me that whatever happens, it will be the best for me.
Almost. I'm still trembling.
He helped me to feel better. He almost convinced me that whatever happens, it will be the best for me.
Almost. I'm still trembling.
Friday, June 16, 2006
741 Friday, Tired
I am very tired today. I did 45 minutes on the treadmill, but that's not why - mostly it's the emotional treadmill I've been on. My body feels like there's a vibrator in my chest, my hands tremble. I've been losing weight slowly, about 5 pounds a month, and I seemed to be at a plateau recently, but since last Saturday I've lost five fast ones. I think all the trembling has been burning up calories. That plus the fact that I don't feel like eating (But don't worry, I do. Just what I've forced myself to eat this week has been all "good stuff". No yummies.)
I'll go into why someday, probably, but not yet. There's a "situation" going on, and I don't want to mention it until it seems resolved. It's nothing terrible in the great scheme of things, nothing to worry about. Daughter might even be happy about it. Damn her.
It's now 7:30 pm-ish, and I think I might go to bed.
Tomorrow I'll have "coffee" (tea for me) with Piper (mostly a social meeting), and in the evening I plan to go to a dance show in New Paltz (I'll see the Gypsy there, and possibly the Pixie, I hope). Sunday I might go to the Clearwater Festival (http://www.clearwater.org/festival.html). Maybe. If I think it's worth the effort.
Blah.
I'll go into why someday, probably, but not yet. There's a "situation" going on, and I don't want to mention it until it seems resolved. It's nothing terrible in the great scheme of things, nothing to worry about. Daughter might even be happy about it. Damn her.
It's now 7:30 pm-ish, and I think I might go to bed.
Tomorrow I'll have "coffee" (tea for me) with Piper (mostly a social meeting), and in the evening I plan to go to a dance show in New Paltz (I'll see the Gypsy there, and possibly the Pixie, I hope). Sunday I might go to the Clearwater Festival (http://www.clearwater.org/festival.html). Maybe. If I think it's worth the effort.
Blah.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
740 Highway Sign
Post #739 has been skipped. I spent much time composing the post this afternoon, then I went to the Third Thursday dinner, and sat next to Roman. We talked after dinner, and much has happened. Shit has hit fans. Blogger doesn't have a facility to make posts private, so it will have to live as a draft for now, until I know where this is going.
In the meantime, folks on AOL and especially those who left AOL will appreciate this:
In the meantime, folks on AOL and especially those who left AOL will appreciate this:
738 Left Hip
Thursday, 06/15/06
Ignore. This is just a note to myself, so if a doctor asks "When did it start?" I can look it up and answer.
Left hip has been waking me early since Monday morning. No pain during the day, no pain sitting, standing, walking, or when I first lie down, but enough pain in the morning to wake me. This is the hip that was dislocated throughout my twenties. (Oddly, it's also the one that gets scanned during bone density tests, and no one ever mentioned any signs of arthritis.)
Ignore. This is just a note to myself, so if a doctor asks "When did it start?" I can look it up and answer.
Left hip has been waking me early since Monday morning. No pain during the day, no pain sitting, standing, walking, or when I first lie down, but enough pain in the morning to wake me. This is the hip that was dislocated throughout my twenties. (Oddly, it's also the one that gets scanned during bone density tests, and no one ever mentioned any signs of arthritis.)
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
737 Wednesday, 06/14/06
Next week's TV Guide arrived today, and Daniel Dae Kim of "Lost" is on the cover. He finally made their "sexiest men" list. Back when I was watching "Lost", I was annoyed that the rags raved about the other guys on that show, but not Kim. I have always thought he was the sexiest. ('Cept he has a major flaw - he's not furry.)
Today:
Today:
- Feeling better in the body. Only major pain left is a knot in my back below the shoulder blades - next to where I had the ruptured disk. Probably from slumping the past few days. I really HAVE to sit and stand straight or my back attacks me!
- A new concern, however, the base of the index and middle toes on my right foot are numb. Noticed it this morning in the shower. Probably a pinched nerve.
- Went to grocery store for water, bought $85 worth of stuff, but forgot the water.
- Did 1/2 hour on the treadmill (1.4 miles - yeah, that's slow, but I'm not after aerobics. For burning calories, distance, not speed, matters), stopped because I didn't want to stress the questionable foot.
- Went to my favorite clothing store for a "private" 50% off sale. I really don't want to buy more clothes, but I'm running out of pants because what I had been wearing are size large or medium, and I'm into size small now. The mediums look baggy, and the large won't even stay up any more. Naturally, nothing that fit me was on sale, but I bought some size small pants anyway.
- Trying on pants from the closet this evening, getting rid of the too big ones, making trash/sell/donate/keep piles. The "sell" pile is the biggest. Would you believe some of the pants in there date from the 70s? And fully half of what I'm throwing away I sewed, as opposed to bought.
- Planning to go to bed early.
736 Paris Is Full of Frenchmen for a Reason
Read this: http://herlocksholmes.blogspot.com/2006/06/blogging-from-paris.html, from Herlock Sholmes. Funny, with too much sad truth.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
735 Tuesday, 6/13
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Brief memory booster - ignore.
Brief memory booster - ignore.
- Tore apart the desk and kitchen, and the file cabinet in the den, frantically searching for the estimated tax forms, due 6/15. They weren't in the folder they were supposed to be in ("To Pay"). I finally found them in the "2006 Taxes" folder (Duh), which at this point is supposed to contain only receipts and check stubs
- Tried on more clothes, packed up some things that are too large
- Ironed bits of yesterday's laundry
- Worked at the Maritime Museum, 4 hours plus travel, locating and scanning paid supporter ads for their yearly money-maker brochure
- Read some blogs
- Wanted to do treadmill and machines, but I hurt. I really hurt. It started Sunday, with my knees. Yesterday I felt like I'd done an uphill marathon, and then was badly beaten at the end. You know how your arm hurts after a flu shot? That's what it feels like, mostly all over my thighs and upper arms, and the "belt" of muscle around my waist. They are actually tender. (No, I take no prescription meds, so it's not a drug reaction.) I'm walking all bent over, like an ancient crone. My stomach is queasy. Saturday night I had fallen asleep reading and woke an hour later with a crick in my neck, and a terrible headache. I took aspirin but couldn't get back to sleep, so I got one hour's sleep that night. It's entirely possible that all this pain is from a pinched/confused nerve in my neck. Or maybe fibromyalgia is tied to the emotions?
- Worked some crossword puzzles
- Weighed me. I am now at 134, down from 172 last August. Slow loss. Oh, well, gives the skin time to shrink. Don't want a saggy baggy look. Current goal is 120. If I ever get there, I might drop it to 115, depending on what I look like. Don't want to get stringy.
734 Monday, 6/12
Monday, June 12, 2006
Brief memory booster - ignore.
Brief memory booster - ignore.
- Paid bills
- Washed dishes
- Read a bunch of blogs
- Laundry, 6 loads - washer is now making a funny whooshing noise when it spins, and dryer takes forever to dry stuff. I wonder if there's a bird nest in the exhaust tube again
- Bank run, deposit checks, get cash
- $53 worth of gas in van
- Grocery store for water
- Undertook major search for Dannon coffee yogurt - sold out everywhere
- Mailed bills and some stuff to daughter
Monday, June 12, 2006
733 Mystery at the Mall
[Later edit - by "the Kingston mall" I mean the big mall near Kingston, i.e., the Hudson Valley Mall, not the "Kingston Mall". I forgot there's actually a strip mall with that name on the other side of town.]
There was a murder at the Kingston mall about a week ago. A woman was killed in the kitchen of a restaurant, where she was working alone. Or something. I'm not up on the details. Murderer still at large, but the police say they have leads.
Saturday night I passed the mall on my way home, a little before midnight. There were police cars with flashing lights all alone the street, and more patrol cars blocking all the entrances and exits. They were not allowing cars in, and were stopping cars coming out, looking inside them with flashlights. (I didn't think Ulster had that many police cars!) The mall closed at about 9 pm, I think, so the cars must have been coming out from the last show at the theater.
I'm curious. I knew there would be nothing in the Sunday paper, so I was waiting for today's paper to find out what was going on.
No mention. Nothing. Anybody else know anything?
There was a murder at the Kingston mall about a week ago. A woman was killed in the kitchen of a restaurant, where she was working alone. Or something. I'm not up on the details. Murderer still at large, but the police say they have leads.
Saturday night I passed the mall on my way home, a little before midnight. There were police cars with flashing lights all alone the street, and more patrol cars blocking all the entrances and exits. They were not allowing cars in, and were stopping cars coming out, looking inside them with flashlights. (I didn't think Ulster had that many police cars!) The mall closed at about 9 pm, I think, so the cars must have been coming out from the last show at the theater.
I'm curious. I knew there would be nothing in the Sunday paper, so I was waiting for today's paper to find out what was going on.
No mention. Nothing. Anybody else know anything?
Sunday, June 11, 2006
732 Moonlight Madness
I went to NJKC's Moonlight Madness last night. May was there. Festivities were supposed to start at 7:30 pm. May arrived at 7:30 am. She got am and pm mixed up. As expected, everyone made fun of her when she wasn't in the room.
When it got late, I was concerned about her driving home. She has no night vision, and she'd been drinking champagne all evening. As expected, everyone else was totally unconcerned. "Well, if she's all over the road, the cops will stop her. Besides, she won't accept help."
I was emotionally drained from a discussion on a different topic earlier in the evening, and wanted to leave early, but I stayed another two hours until May was ready to go, and then I followed her home, and peeled off when she got to her street.
I went to a computer show with Roman early this afternoon, and we talked. Really talked. For once he was completely honest with me. I am doubly emotionally drained now.
I'm going to take a hiatus from journaling for a while. Or maybe I'll just post the briefest list of "this is what I did today", for reminder purposes. I have a lot of work to do and a few things to think about, and, like May, I "won't accept help".
The kimono has closed.
When it got late, I was concerned about her driving home. She has no night vision, and she'd been drinking champagne all evening. As expected, everyone else was totally unconcerned. "Well, if she's all over the road, the cops will stop her. Besides, she won't accept help."
I was emotionally drained from a discussion on a different topic earlier in the evening, and wanted to leave early, but I stayed another two hours until May was ready to go, and then I followed her home, and peeled off when she got to her street.
I went to a computer show with Roman early this afternoon, and we talked. Really talked. For once he was completely honest with me. I am doubly emotionally drained now.
I'm going to take a hiatus from journaling for a while. Or maybe I'll just post the briefest list of "this is what I did today", for reminder purposes. I have a lot of work to do and a few things to think about, and, like May, I "won't accept help".
The kimono has closed.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
731 Football Frenzy
Saturday, June 10, 2006
I almost never willingly watch team sports. Unless I personally know some of the players, I find team sports incredibly boring.
Ten minutes of soccer has captured me. Believe it or not, until this morning, I had never in my life seen a soccer ball in motion.
Wow! This is good! I understand the excitement. Those guys MOVE! Run, run, run. The ball is all over the place. This is FOOTBALL. That American game should more properly be called muscleball, or bullball, or plodball. It's the difference between young goats and old cows. Moooo.
I'm enjoying it and I don't even know the rules. It looks sorta like civilized hockey, I guess. I had assumed that soccer players didn't throw each other around, but they seem to collide a lot, and the one on the receiving end of the collision gets thrown several feet like a rag doll, so it doesn't look like simple tripping, and the announcer uses the word "tackle", so I'll have to find out what the "tackle" rules are. And do the players end up with headaches from getting their necks jammed hitting the ball? That looks dangerous.
One problem I have is that there seem to be white birds flying over the field, or moths close to the camera, and at first I confused them with the ball. Sure made for a lot more activity....
It's very high energy, and not just on the field. I can see how and why the spectators get so het up. It's not simply passion for their teams. Watching the game energizes the watchers. The tension builds. I understand why there are riots after the game, even when "their" team wins. The spring has been wound too tightly and not released.
The organizers should take a cue from concert planners. Responsible concert program planners know that you start out with crowd favorites, move into a mix of new material, slowly build the excitement to a crescendo, and then, and this is the responsible part, you slow things down again. The last few minutes of the concert should be love and nostalgia. If you can get the audience hugging and swaying together and singing along, so much the better. Then you can let them go in peace.
That's why there were riots after the early rap concerts. The concert whipped the audience into a frenzy, didn't bring them back down, and then turned them loose at the height of their explosive potential. I don't know why people were surprised when the crowd exploded when they hit the street. The program planners were directly responsible, and they should have known better. It's not a mystery.
So I see why there may be riots after soccer, no matter who wins. The game builds energy in even the spectators, and whips it to the top in the last few minutes, and then it turns them loose on the streets and on each other. There's a lot of energy that needs to be released.
Maybe they should take a break in the middle of the game and require the spectators to have milk and cookies and take a nap. And then again a few minutes before the end. Or maybe the spectators should be required to link arms and sing and sway to "We Are the World" for a half hour before they can leave. Hand out teddy bears and balloons at the exits.
Purple teddy bears.
I almost never willingly watch team sports. Unless I personally know some of the players, I find team sports incredibly boring.
Ten minutes of soccer has captured me. Believe it or not, until this morning, I had never in my life seen a soccer ball in motion.
Wow! This is good! I understand the excitement. Those guys MOVE! Run, run, run. The ball is all over the place. This is FOOTBALL. That American game should more properly be called muscleball, or bullball, or plodball. It's the difference between young goats and old cows. Moooo.
I'm enjoying it and I don't even know the rules. It looks sorta like civilized hockey, I guess. I had assumed that soccer players didn't throw each other around, but they seem to collide a lot, and the one on the receiving end of the collision gets thrown several feet like a rag doll, so it doesn't look like simple tripping, and the announcer uses the word "tackle", so I'll have to find out what the "tackle" rules are. And do the players end up with headaches from getting their necks jammed hitting the ball? That looks dangerous.
One problem I have is that there seem to be white birds flying over the field, or moths close to the camera, and at first I confused them with the ball. Sure made for a lot more activity....
It's very high energy, and not just on the field. I can see how and why the spectators get so het up. It's not simply passion for their teams. Watching the game energizes the watchers. The tension builds. I understand why there are riots after the game, even when "their" team wins. The spring has been wound too tightly and not released.
The organizers should take a cue from concert planners. Responsible concert program planners know that you start out with crowd favorites, move into a mix of new material, slowly build the excitement to a crescendo, and then, and this is the responsible part, you slow things down again. The last few minutes of the concert should be love and nostalgia. If you can get the audience hugging and swaying together and singing along, so much the better. Then you can let them go in peace.
That's why there were riots after the early rap concerts. The concert whipped the audience into a frenzy, didn't bring them back down, and then turned them loose at the height of their explosive potential. I don't know why people were surprised when the crowd exploded when they hit the street. The program planners were directly responsible, and they should have known better. It's not a mystery.
So I see why there may be riots after soccer, no matter who wins. The game builds energy in even the spectators, and whips it to the top in the last few minutes, and then it turns them loose on the streets and on each other. There's a lot of energy that needs to be released.
Maybe they should take a break in the middle of the game and require the spectators to have milk and cookies and take a nap. And then again a few minutes before the end. Or maybe the spectators should be required to link arms and sing and sway to "We Are the World" for a half hour before they can leave. Hand out teddy bears and balloons at the exits.
Purple teddy bears.
Friday, June 09, 2006
730 May's Fading Roses
Friday, June 9, 2006
I talked with May Wednesday evening. She called me with a problem she had, wanting advice.
In the course of discussing her problem (what to do about a young family member of hers who she thinks is in trouble), I told her about my youngest sister, and how guilty I felt when she died. She was in serious trouble, and I knew it, and I tried to help, but she wouldn't accept any help. I was waiting for her to "hit bottom", but she up and died first. For years after, I felt so very guilty that I didn't just kidnap her and force help on her. That I didn't recognize that she WAS at bottom, and maybe all I had to do was insist. I was her big sister. I felt responsible.
That's all true, and I do still feel guilty, but the purpose of my telling May this was to get her to tell me how it wasn't my fault, and how if my sister wouldn't accept my help, there was nothing I could do, which she of course did. My purpose was to help May realize for herself that she could offer, but if the offer was rejected, she shouldn't feel guilty. People have their own fates to work out. Sometimes it's not so bad if you go into it with that thought. You do all you can. That's all you can do. You can't feel guilty if it's not enough.
And here I am in the situation again.
May's chief activity the past year and a half, since she finally settled her late husband's estate, has been planning the dispersal of her own (very large!) estate. They had no children, and she has been estranged from most of her siblings. When her husband was alive, they rarely socialized, rarely even left the house. Now she's all alone there, and except for legal and medical appointments, I doubt that she ever leaves the house or sees anyone other than the lawn people and the cleaning lady. She's a recluse.
I have invited her out a number of times, but she refuses. I've tried to suggest that she get involved in something - political action or support, something artsy-fartsy, philanthropy, volunteering, something to feel connected, but she tells me she doesn't need connecting. She has some amazing stories of life in the upper levels of The Company, and I have suggested that she write them down, maybe even write a book. But, she's not interested.
Wednesday evening, her voice was very slow and halting. She didn't sound good at all. Those of us who were her friends suspect that she drinks too much. She didn't seem drunk - didn't get maudlin as she does when she's had a bit too much. But I almost hope she was drunk when she called, because if she wasn't, that's even more worrisome. Like her clock is winding down.
Her old friends have pretty much stopped calling her, because, well, we don't know her drinking schedule. She calls them (us) sometimes, but the last few times her name came up at social events lately, I've been disturbed by the way they talk about her now. "Did she call you about...?" "Oh, God, yes. I couldn't get her off the phone!" "The same stories over and over...." "She called me at 3 am ..." I mention that I'm worried about her, and they say yes, but what can you do. And then they laugh, because her catchphrase is "Well, what can I say", and then she proceeds to say it, in --- a --- very --- slow --- halting --- voice. And she'll say the same thing several times.
I'm troubled because Wednesday evening, when I said I wanted to get her out into the world again, she responded that "The world would be better off if I stepped in front of a bus tomorrow." And during the hour conversation, she said several other things like that. I told her she needed something to make her feel useful, to grab her interest and use her talents, and she said she didn't want to feel useful.
I want to do something, but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do that won't piss her off. She sees a doctor regularly, and if he doesn't recognize a depression, or doesn't think it needs treating, she won't hear it from me.
I guess I have to just keep telling myself, "if the offer is rejected, you shouldn't feel guilty. People have their own fates to work out. You do all you can. That's all you can do. You can't feel guilty if it's not enough", and hope it sinks in this time.
Incidentally, May is only three years older than I am. Her talking as if her life is over scares me, on several levels.
I talked with May Wednesday evening. She called me with a problem she had, wanting advice.
In the course of discussing her problem (what to do about a young family member of hers who she thinks is in trouble), I told her about my youngest sister, and how guilty I felt when she died. She was in serious trouble, and I knew it, and I tried to help, but she wouldn't accept any help. I was waiting for her to "hit bottom", but she up and died first. For years after, I felt so very guilty that I didn't just kidnap her and force help on her. That I didn't recognize that she WAS at bottom, and maybe all I had to do was insist. I was her big sister. I felt responsible.
That's all true, and I do still feel guilty, but the purpose of my telling May this was to get her to tell me how it wasn't my fault, and how if my sister wouldn't accept my help, there was nothing I could do, which she of course did. My purpose was to help May realize for herself that she could offer, but if the offer was rejected, she shouldn't feel guilty. People have their own fates to work out. Sometimes it's not so bad if you go into it with that thought. You do all you can. That's all you can do. You can't feel guilty if it's not enough.
And here I am in the situation again.
May's chief activity the past year and a half, since she finally settled her late husband's estate, has been planning the dispersal of her own (very large!) estate. They had no children, and she has been estranged from most of her siblings. When her husband was alive, they rarely socialized, rarely even left the house. Now she's all alone there, and except for legal and medical appointments, I doubt that she ever leaves the house or sees anyone other than the lawn people and the cleaning lady. She's a recluse.
I have invited her out a number of times, but she refuses. I've tried to suggest that she get involved in something - political action or support, something artsy-fartsy, philanthropy, volunteering, something to feel connected, but she tells me she doesn't need connecting. She has some amazing stories of life in the upper levels of The Company, and I have suggested that she write them down, maybe even write a book. But, she's not interested.
Wednesday evening, her voice was very slow and halting. She didn't sound good at all. Those of us who were her friends suspect that she drinks too much. She didn't seem drunk - didn't get maudlin as she does when she's had a bit too much. But I almost hope she was drunk when she called, because if she wasn't, that's even more worrisome. Like her clock is winding down.
Her old friends have pretty much stopped calling her, because, well, we don't know her drinking schedule. She calls them (us) sometimes, but the last few times her name came up at social events lately, I've been disturbed by the way they talk about her now. "Did she call you about...?" "Oh, God, yes. I couldn't get her off the phone!" "The same stories over and over...." "She called me at 3 am ..." I mention that I'm worried about her, and they say yes, but what can you do. And then they laugh, because her catchphrase is "Well, what can I say", and then she proceeds to say it, in --- a --- very --- slow --- halting --- voice. And she'll say the same thing several times.
I'm troubled because Wednesday evening, when I said I wanted to get her out into the world again, she responded that "The world would be better off if I stepped in front of a bus tomorrow." And during the hour conversation, she said several other things like that. I told her she needed something to make her feel useful, to grab her interest and use her talents, and she said she didn't want to feel useful.
I want to do something, but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do that won't piss her off. She sees a doctor regularly, and if he doesn't recognize a depression, or doesn't think it needs treating, she won't hear it from me.
I guess I have to just keep telling myself, "if the offer is rejected, you shouldn't feel guilty. People have their own fates to work out. You do all you can. That's all you can do. You can't feel guilty if it's not enough", and hope it sinks in this time.
Incidentally, May is only three years older than I am. Her talking as if her life is over scares me, on several levels.
729 Warriors
Friday, June 9, 2006
I watched Once Were Warriors today. I found it a very powerful movie.
I don't much comment on movies. When I used to go to "message" movies with friends, they always wanted to discuss it afterward, over dinner or drinks. I'd mostly remain silent. If a movie had any meaning to me at all, I'd want to think about it for a while before expressing an opinion. If it had no meaning at all, why discuss it.
I also seldom recommend movies to friends, because I don't think what you get out of a viewing is necessarily universal. Meaning doesn't come from the movie - it comes from what you bring to it. A good movie will pull something out of you, force you to look at what is inside you in perhaps a different way. So my opinion would probably mean nothing to anyone else. (Beyond "Yeah, it's a good story/exciting/romantic/funny.")
"Once Were Warriors" affected me because of the subject matter. It was more powerful even than it should have been because the woman looked a lot like my mother. But my mother wasn't strong. She sacrificed us. Sometimes I don't know whether to love her, hate her, or feel sorry for her, and this movie didn't help with that confusion. She wasn't strong enough, but can I blame her for that?
The movie also reminded me of how much abuse the human body can take, and still keep ticking. You don't have to do much. It just fixes itself. The skin closes, the bruises fade, the bones knit. You learn to compensate for what doesn't work right any more.
The heart and mind, however, are much more fragile. Breaks sometimes never close, and you can't ignore the scars.
I watched Once Were Warriors today. I found it a very powerful movie.
I don't much comment on movies. When I used to go to "message" movies with friends, they always wanted to discuss it afterward, over dinner or drinks. I'd mostly remain silent. If a movie had any meaning to me at all, I'd want to think about it for a while before expressing an opinion. If it had no meaning at all, why discuss it.
I also seldom recommend movies to friends, because I don't think what you get out of a viewing is necessarily universal. Meaning doesn't come from the movie - it comes from what you bring to it. A good movie will pull something out of you, force you to look at what is inside you in perhaps a different way. So my opinion would probably mean nothing to anyone else. (Beyond "Yeah, it's a good story/exciting/romantic/funny.")
"Once Were Warriors" affected me because of the subject matter. It was more powerful even than it should have been because the woman looked a lot like my mother. But my mother wasn't strong. She sacrificed us. Sometimes I don't know whether to love her, hate her, or feel sorry for her, and this movie didn't help with that confusion. She wasn't strong enough, but can I blame her for that?
The movie also reminded me of how much abuse the human body can take, and still keep ticking. You don't have to do much. It just fixes itself. The skin closes, the bruises fade, the bones knit. You learn to compensate for what doesn't work right any more.
The heart and mind, however, are much more fragile. Breaks sometimes never close, and you can't ignore the scars.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
728 Kids Are Fun
Thursday, June 8, 2006
I'm on the volunteer group's SWAT team, which means they can call me in when they need emergency help. I got a call to "help out" at a picnic, held this morning and early afternoon at a riverfront park. One of the Kingston schools matches fourth graders with elderly pen pals, as a writing exercise, and for socialization. This picnic is for the kids and elders to finally meet (end of the school year, end of the exercise).
A few of the elderly pen pals were unable to attend the picnic, so I was asked to act as a substitute pen pal. Actually, when I was first called, I thought I'd be "working" there, like cooking hot dogs or organizing games or something. When I discovered I was going to be paired with a kid for the day, I wasn't all that enthusiastic.
Fifty fourth graders, and about as many senior adults (about a third with walkers). The "program" was mainly ecology. We were going to clean up the beach, and hike to a stream, and take and test water samples from the stream and the river.
My kid was a tall (taller than me) strawberry blond 10-year-old girl (who is going to be a heartbreaker in a few years), who was plainly disappointed that her real pen pal hadn't come, but eventually we got along just fine.
Well, it was high tide, so there wasn't much to do on the beach. Any crud was under water. I heard that at low tide they can collect everything from bits of plastic to truck tires.
We hiked up along the river a ways (fifty kids, the three ecology folks, the two teachers, a very few seniors, and me) 'til we got to the stream. Just upstream from where the path crossed on a little footbridge there was a 2-level waterfall, and sitting on the middle ledge was the biggest danged snapping turtle I've ever seen alive.
I was interested in the turtle, of course, but I was surprised at how much joy I took in watching the kids react to the turtle. It was great. They all crowded on the little bridge, leaning over the railing. Their comments were priceless. Not so much what they said, but the way they said it.
Later, on the beach, one of the boys found a huge dead eel. The kids all crowded around, and it was funny how a kid would push to the inner ring of the crowd, someone would poke the eel with a stick, and the kid would scream and push their way out. The crowd was roiling with kids pushing in, screaming, and pushing back out. Then a girl managed to get a sturdy stick under it and lift it up to toss it in the river, and the whole ring screamed and widened out.
The beach looked nice, all groomed sand and all, but none of the beaches along this section of the Hudson can be trod barefoot, because they are all full of water chestnut seed pods, which are pretty, but very nasty. The photo at the link (scroll down to it) shows the four sharp "horns", but what it doesn't show is that each of those four horns starts out tipped with a barbed spine. If one of those barbs sticks into you, it doesn't come out without cutting. I was amused that the kids called the nuts "cow's heads" (from the side, they do look bovine), "devil's heads", and the one I liked best, "devil's eggs".
There was an open grassy area where the kids played whiffle ball and kick ball, with a pole fence bordering a steep overgrown drop-off down to the river. They were playing kickball, and the ball sailed over the fence and down the bank. (If the ball went into the river, it would be gone forever.) Naturally, there was an immediate surge of kids to the fence, all of them, and a few of the boys went right over the fence and started down the bank. I happened to be the only adult there, and I yelled "Everybody this side of the fence! Now!" and I was absolutely amazed when the boys immediately reversed and came back. Good kids! The ecology guy (a college student) went down for the ball, which had been stopped at the edge of the water by a drift-log.
So, I had a good time. I'd forgotten how much fun a herd of good kids can be.
Going to play Trivia tonight with Tom.
I'm on the volunteer group's SWAT team, which means they can call me in when they need emergency help. I got a call to "help out" at a picnic, held this morning and early afternoon at a riverfront park. One of the Kingston schools matches fourth graders with elderly pen pals, as a writing exercise, and for socialization. This picnic is for the kids and elders to finally meet (end of the school year, end of the exercise).
A few of the elderly pen pals were unable to attend the picnic, so I was asked to act as a substitute pen pal. Actually, when I was first called, I thought I'd be "working" there, like cooking hot dogs or organizing games or something. When I discovered I was going to be paired with a kid for the day, I wasn't all that enthusiastic.
Fifty fourth graders, and about as many senior adults (about a third with walkers). The "program" was mainly ecology. We were going to clean up the beach, and hike to a stream, and take and test water samples from the stream and the river.
My kid was a tall (taller than me) strawberry blond 10-year-old girl (who is going to be a heartbreaker in a few years), who was plainly disappointed that her real pen pal hadn't come, but eventually we got along just fine.
Well, it was high tide, so there wasn't much to do on the beach. Any crud was under water. I heard that at low tide they can collect everything from bits of plastic to truck tires.
We hiked up along the river a ways (fifty kids, the three ecology folks, the two teachers, a very few seniors, and me) 'til we got to the stream. Just upstream from where the path crossed on a little footbridge there was a 2-level waterfall, and sitting on the middle ledge was the biggest danged snapping turtle I've ever seen alive.
I was interested in the turtle, of course, but I was surprised at how much joy I took in watching the kids react to the turtle. It was great. They all crowded on the little bridge, leaning over the railing. Their comments were priceless. Not so much what they said, but the way they said it.
Later, on the beach, one of the boys found a huge dead eel. The kids all crowded around, and it was funny how a kid would push to the inner ring of the crowd, someone would poke the eel with a stick, and the kid would scream and push their way out. The crowd was roiling with kids pushing in, screaming, and pushing back out. Then a girl managed to get a sturdy stick under it and lift it up to toss it in the river, and the whole ring screamed and widened out.
The beach looked nice, all groomed sand and all, but none of the beaches along this section of the Hudson can be trod barefoot, because they are all full of water chestnut seed pods, which are pretty, but very nasty. The photo at the link (scroll down to it) shows the four sharp "horns", but what it doesn't show is that each of those four horns starts out tipped with a barbed spine. If one of those barbs sticks into you, it doesn't come out without cutting. I was amused that the kids called the nuts "cow's heads" (from the side, they do look bovine), "devil's heads", and the one I liked best, "devil's eggs".
There was an open grassy area where the kids played whiffle ball and kick ball, with a pole fence bordering a steep overgrown drop-off down to the river. They were playing kickball, and the ball sailed over the fence and down the bank. (If the ball went into the river, it would be gone forever.) Naturally, there was an immediate surge of kids to the fence, all of them, and a few of the boys went right over the fence and started down the bank. I happened to be the only adult there, and I yelled "Everybody this side of the fence! Now!" and I was absolutely amazed when the boys immediately reversed and came back. Good kids! The ecology guy (a college student) went down for the ball, which had been stopped at the edge of the water by a drift-log.
So, I had a good time. I'd forgotten how much fun a herd of good kids can be.
Going to play Trivia tonight with Tom.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
727 And It's All His Fault!
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
[Later edit - I had to redo this because many of the links were wrong - Lance Link got into everything!]
I called Roman this afternoon and told him that he has ruined my life, destroyed my schedule, caused my bills to remain unpaid, and delayed the cleaning of my house. It's all his fault!
After he installed my DVD player and left last night, I handled some email and futzed around on the internet a bit, and then I started playing with the DVD player. I watched Stomp Out Loud, and then watched Koyaanisqatsi, which had been highly recommended by Roman and by RossoRaven (here).
I must confess I didn't get as much out of Koyaanisqatsi as either of them did, because I was sitting too close to a large screen, and parts of it made me seasick. Plus there are all these people running around in late 70's clothing and hair, and I REMEMBER! that - oh good lord, how ugly we were then. What were we thinking! Anyway, I was fascinated by that (younger folk won't have the same "oh my God, I actually WORE that!) But, even with all my distractions, I did get the point. Even more than some might, because I hate crowds, I hate hurrying and rushing, I want peace. I'll watch it again from a bit of a distance, once I'm over the fashion shock.
Anyway, all of a sudden it was 4 am. I got to sleep a little after 5 am. Piper woke me with a phone call at 11 am. Having told Piper my player was working, I then had to watch the movie Piper had been urging me to see, Under the Tuscan Sun, followed by The Bridge, which I remembered from 20 years ago and have been anxious to see again ever since I bought the DVD last year (do follow the Bridge link and read the online reviews at the bottom).
And that's when I called Roman and cursed him out. He laughed at me.
I've got several seasons of Lancelot Link and Red Dwarf, Whale Rider and Once Were Warriors, some bellydance performances, and the follow-on to Koyaanisqatsi, Powaqqatsi, and ... I may be in serious trouble here.
[Later edit - I had to redo this because many of the links were wrong - Lance Link got into everything!]
I called Roman this afternoon and told him that he has ruined my life, destroyed my schedule, caused my bills to remain unpaid, and delayed the cleaning of my house. It's all his fault!
After he installed my DVD player and left last night, I handled some email and futzed around on the internet a bit, and then I started playing with the DVD player. I watched Stomp Out Loud, and then watched Koyaanisqatsi, which had been highly recommended by Roman and by RossoRaven (here).
I must confess I didn't get as much out of Koyaanisqatsi as either of them did, because I was sitting too close to a large screen, and parts of it made me seasick. Plus there are all these people running around in late 70's clothing and hair, and I REMEMBER! that - oh good lord, how ugly we were then. What were we thinking! Anyway, I was fascinated by that (younger folk won't have the same "oh my God, I actually WORE that!) But, even with all my distractions, I did get the point. Even more than some might, because I hate crowds, I hate hurrying and rushing, I want peace. I'll watch it again from a bit of a distance, once I'm over the fashion shock.
Anyway, all of a sudden it was 4 am. I got to sleep a little after 5 am. Piper woke me with a phone call at 11 am. Having told Piper my player was working, I then had to watch the movie Piper had been urging me to see, Under the Tuscan Sun, followed by The Bridge, which I remembered from 20 years ago and have been anxious to see again ever since I bought the DVD last year (do follow the Bridge link and read the online reviews at the bottom).
And that's when I called Roman and cursed him out. He laughed at me.
I've got several seasons of Lancelot Link and Red Dwarf, Whale Rider and Once Were Warriors, some bellydance performances, and the follow-on to Koyaanisqatsi, Powaqqatsi, and ... I may be in serious trouble here.
726 Time to Move On, Folks
On the subject of the current rash of 9/11 movies, Israeli blogger Lisa (On The Face) says "Would it be hugely insensitive of me to ask Americans, nearly five years after 9/11, to please get over it already? Really, I think it's time. There have been many disasters all over the world - of both the natural and the terrorist variety - since then, and the ability to feel empathy is truly more admirable than perpetual navel gazing." [Italics mine - I really liked that part.]
I strongly agree.
It's a bit paranoid to think this, but I can't help wondering if there's a purpose to these movies coming out now beyond the simple "it's long enough ago that we can tell the story without hurting people" that we are offered. Frankly, that explanation doesn't hold water. I can't help wondering if there isn't another reason, like to keep the feelings alive, to remind us, to counteract growing anti-war sentiment, so the Bush administration can keep beating the drums of fear.
I strongly agree.
It's a bit paranoid to think this, but I can't help wondering if there's a purpose to these movies coming out now beyond the simple "it's long enough ago that we can tell the story without hurting people" that we are offered. Frankly, that explanation doesn't hold water. I can't help wondering if there isn't another reason, like to keep the feelings alive, to remind us, to counteract growing anti-war sentiment, so the Bush administration can keep beating the drums of fear.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
725 06/06/06, a Nice Day
My take on "666" as "the number of the beast" is here, a post from last April.
Roman was teaching a class in Kingston last evening, so we had a diner dinner together before his class. He was going to come here on Wednesday to finish setting up my DVD player and "whatever else I needed him for", but he called early this afternoon - he wouldn't be able to make it Wednesday, so could he come today? In about an hour and a half?
Aaaagh! The house was a worse mess than the last time he was here because I've been pulling things out of closets, and I was filthy from lugging stuff down to the basement all morning, but I said ok. Quick shower, quick trip to the grocery store so I could feed him, clean clothes but no time for makeup, and he arrived about 4 pm during a phone call from Daughter.
I enlisted his help to pound stakes into the ground along the newly marked property line, and then he read to me from a book he had brought, while I was putting dinner together (and of course nothing came out right, sigh, I'll never master cooking...) and we talked about bunches of stuff, then he finished hooking up the DVD player and taught me how to use it, and left about 9:30ish.
It was nice.
I'm sorry, world, but I really do like him.
Roman was teaching a class in Kingston last evening, so we had a diner dinner together before his class. He was going to come here on Wednesday to finish setting up my DVD player and "whatever else I needed him for", but he called early this afternoon - he wouldn't be able to make it Wednesday, so could he come today? In about an hour and a half?
Aaaagh! The house was a worse mess than the last time he was here because I've been pulling things out of closets, and I was filthy from lugging stuff down to the basement all morning, but I said ok. Quick shower, quick trip to the grocery store so I could feed him, clean clothes but no time for makeup, and he arrived about 4 pm during a phone call from Daughter.
I enlisted his help to pound stakes into the ground along the newly marked property line, and then he read to me from a book he had brought, while I was putting dinner together (and of course nothing came out right, sigh, I'll never master cooking...) and we talked about bunches of stuff, then he finished hooking up the DVD player and taught me how to use it, and left about 9:30ish.
It was nice.
I'm sorry, world, but I really do like him.
724 Not The Cat - Phooey!
Well, it wasn't The Cat. Tsk. He had the same head shape, and accent, and did The Cat's celebratory pirouette perfectly - rocked back on the heels and everything - so perfectly that I heard The Cat's "eeeeeee-yow!" during it.
But it wasn't The Cat. In a comment on my post, RossoRaven said "The Cat is alive and well and still acting, but, he wasn't in Ocean's 11. His name is Danny John-Jules."
So I undertook a major search and located my Red Dwarf DVDs to verify that we were both talking about the same original Cat, and sure 'nuff The Cat was played by Danny John-Jules. Then I searched out 2001's Ocean's Eleven cast list, and Basher Tarr, the explosives expert, was played by Don Cheadle. (He was also the lead in Hotel Rwanda.)
Well, I'm disappointed, but I'm still happy that The Cat is alive and well and still acting.
But it wasn't The Cat. In a comment on my post, RossoRaven said "The Cat is alive and well and still acting, but, he wasn't in Ocean's 11. His name is Danny John-Jules."
So I undertook a major search and located my Red Dwarf DVDs to verify that we were both talking about the same original Cat, and sure 'nuff The Cat was played by Danny John-Jules. Then I searched out 2001's Ocean's Eleven cast list, and Basher Tarr, the explosives expert, was played by Don Cheadle. (He was also the lead in Hotel Rwanda.)
Well, I'm disappointed, but I'm still happy that The Cat is alive and well and still acting.
Monday, June 05, 2006
723 Intimi - Dating Redux
Well, I did watch the credits at the end of "Ocean's Eleven", and they listed the actors alphabetically, so I don't know if it was The Cat or not. But I'm pretty sure, and it pleases me to think so, so I shall.
I got a comment on 722 Intimi - Dating? that led me to see things more from the male point of view. The comment and my response:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
quiet and comfort, softness, no challenge. Someone who will say "Yes, Dear" all the time.
He's even said that, that he is "more comfortable" with the other woman than with me. I thought at the time that he was referring to the way I rake him over the coals every so often for his duplicity. I've told him that she's all sweetness and light because she doesn't know what's going on, and I'm thunder and lightning because I do, and it's unfair for him to compare us when she doesn't know.
But that isn't it at all.
He recently told me that she's "not a candidate for Mensa" (his words), that she's not too bright. This in response to my saying I didn't understand how she could accept his lies, how she hadn't already figured out something was going on, I mean there are clues everywhere.
So there it is. He prefers her because she's not too bright. That makes her "comfortable". No challenge.
The fool. He doesn't realize that all his complaints about his previous wife have to do with her stupidity and lack of common sense. He chooses stupid women because they are comfortable, and then when he lives with them, their stupidity eventually drives him crazy. Someday he'll see it for himself, but...
I can't wait that long.
Which is very sad, because we really are extremely well matched. I find him more intelligent than I, because he has attributes I lack, and the key is that I am smart enough to fully appreciate his intelligence, and will continue to do so. His usual choices in women eventually find him merely exacting, demanding, and annoying. Which I'm sure he's not yet with her, because he's still in the "comfortable" stage.
But just wait until she allows him to move in with her. And he gets bored and frustrated.
I can't wait that long.
Crap!
I got a comment on 722 Intimi - Dating? that led me to see things more from the male point of view. The comment and my response:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
quiet and comfort, softness, no challenge. Someone who will say "Yes, Dear" all the time.
He's even said that, that he is "more comfortable" with the other woman than with me. I thought at the time that he was referring to the way I rake him over the coals every so often for his duplicity. I've told him that she's all sweetness and light because she doesn't know what's going on, and I'm thunder and lightning because I do, and it's unfair for him to compare us when she doesn't know.
But that isn't it at all.
He recently told me that she's "not a candidate for Mensa" (his words), that she's not too bright. This in response to my saying I didn't understand how she could accept his lies, how she hadn't already figured out something was going on, I mean there are clues everywhere.
So there it is. He prefers her because she's not too bright. That makes her "comfortable". No challenge.
The fool. He doesn't realize that all his complaints about his previous wife have to do with her stupidity and lack of common sense. He chooses stupid women because they are comfortable, and then when he lives with them, their stupidity eventually drives him crazy. Someday he'll see it for himself, but...
I can't wait that long.
Which is very sad, because we really are extremely well matched. I find him more intelligent than I, because he has attributes I lack, and the key is that I am smart enough to fully appreciate his intelligence, and will continue to do so. His usual choices in women eventually find him merely exacting, demanding, and annoying. Which I'm sure he's not yet with her, because he's still in the "comfortable" stage.
But just wait until she allows him to move in with her. And he gets bored and frustrated.
I can't wait that long.
Crap!
Sunday, June 04, 2006
722 Is That The Cat?
The movie "Ocean's Eleven" is on TV right now. I happened to glance up, and I saw some men sitting against a wall, waiting for a vault door to blow open. The camera focused on a black guy - the explosives expert I suspect, and I thought "He looks familiar."
The vault door blew open, and the black guy walked up to it --- and did The Cat's pirouette! And then he spoke, and that sealed it. I recognized the voice. I think it's The Cat from "Red Dwarf"!
Of course he's a lot older now, and I'm not certain, but if it is him I'm glad to see he's well and doing well. I'll have to watch the credits and see if I can catch the name. (They run movie credits so tiny and so fast on TV - I find that annoying.)
The vault door blew open, and the black guy walked up to it --- and did The Cat's pirouette! And then he spoke, and that sealed it. I recognized the voice. I think it's The Cat from "Red Dwarf"!
Of course he's a lot older now, and I'm not certain, but if it is him I'm glad to see he's well and doing well. I'll have to watch the credits and see if I can catch the name. (They run movie credits so tiny and so fast on TV - I find that annoying.)
721 Intimi - Dating?
Sunday, June 04, 2006
I'm meeting men on the dating sites (more than I've mentioned here), and none of them are working out. There are some who were very interested in me, but I didn't want them. And there were a few that I found very interesting, but who found me ... intimidating.
That's not just a nice word for it - several of them came right out and used the word, or talked around it, but that's pretty much what they meant.
One exact quote, "You're smarter than I am, and that bothers me. I'll always wonder." That from a law school graduate. He said it in different ways several times that evening. I kept denying it, he was much better educated and experienced than I, but he seemed to get more and more depressed. At the end of the evening came the "intimidating".
Another said "You know, we've been together for four hours this evening, and you haven't once mentioned clothes shopping or celebrities."
Me: "Is that good or bad?"
He: "Bad. Everything you say seems to have meaning. I'm not used to that."
That evening he was eager for another date, but then he later cancelled. (By email, the day after a late night one-hour very enjoyable telephone call during which he told me he wanted my body, then apologized for being so forward. I laughed and said Iwas flattered. He said he felt stupid blurting like that.)
I've had two longterm male friends in the past six weeks come right out and admit I scare them. One said it's because I can see through him, he can't manage or manipulate me. The other wouldn't explain, but I suspect it's similar reasons.
(They should talk to Roman. He can manage and manipulate me. Maybe that's why I want him.)
I don't see how I come across as smart. Or "intimidating". I do score high on tests, but I'm not a brainiac. I have a memory like a sieve. I don't initiate conversations about literature, or philosophy, or current events. I don't spout facts. In fact, I don't know a whole lot about anything. If you've been reading this blog, you know that already. I don't tell men they're wrong, no matter what they say. If I don't agree I just ask them to explain it to me. I don't know how to talk about inane things. I don't understand social chitchat at all. I've watched and listened, but I just can't do it. I'm not very assertive, let alone aggressive, and certainly not on a first or second date. And of course I don't mention Mensa.
If I've got smarts, about the only way it might show is that I understand things quickly. I pick up on clues (if I'm relaxed enough to notice, that is). I understand relationships between ideas and between statements, and between ideas and statements. I'm not satisfied with the surface only, I want to see underneath, to understand not just what, but how and why.
The men I don't find interesting are perhaps unable to notice that about me, it blows right past them. And the men I do find interesting are aware enough to pick up on it, and it bothers them.
Why?
Do they find me too intense? Too much work? Boring???? (Can't be boring. We talk up storms, and they get really interested in the conversations.)
Is it that they're afraid of me? Afraid they can't control me? Afraid I'd be too difficult to satisfy?
At any rate, everytime I've dropped a man so far, it's been mainly because I don't find his mind, the way his mind works, fascinating.
And every man whom I have found interesting seems to have been put off by the way my mind works. (Back in the 60s and 70s, men often told me my mind was "too masculine". Right after they called me a sex kitten. Sigh.)
Very frustrating.
Just something else I don't understand.
I'm meeting men on the dating sites (more than I've mentioned here), and none of them are working out. There are some who were very interested in me, but I didn't want them. And there were a few that I found very interesting, but who found me ... intimidating.
That's not just a nice word for it - several of them came right out and used the word, or talked around it, but that's pretty much what they meant.
One exact quote, "You're smarter than I am, and that bothers me. I'll always wonder." That from a law school graduate. He said it in different ways several times that evening. I kept denying it, he was much better educated and experienced than I, but he seemed to get more and more depressed. At the end of the evening came the "intimidating".
Another said "You know, we've been together for four hours this evening, and you haven't once mentioned clothes shopping or celebrities."
Me: "Is that good or bad?"
He: "Bad. Everything you say seems to have meaning. I'm not used to that."
That evening he was eager for another date, but then he later cancelled. (By email, the day after a late night one-hour very enjoyable telephone call during which he told me he wanted my body, then apologized for being so forward. I laughed and said Iwas flattered. He said he felt stupid blurting like that.)
I've had two longterm male friends in the past six weeks come right out and admit I scare them. One said it's because I can see through him, he can't manage or manipulate me. The other wouldn't explain, but I suspect it's similar reasons.
(They should talk to Roman. He can manage and manipulate me. Maybe that's why I want him.)
I don't see how I come across as smart. Or "intimidating". I do score high on tests, but I'm not a brainiac. I have a memory like a sieve. I don't initiate conversations about literature, or philosophy, or current events. I don't spout facts. In fact, I don't know a whole lot about anything. If you've been reading this blog, you know that already. I don't tell men they're wrong, no matter what they say. If I don't agree I just ask them to explain it to me. I don't know how to talk about inane things. I don't understand social chitchat at all. I've watched and listened, but I just can't do it. I'm not very assertive, let alone aggressive, and certainly not on a first or second date. And of course I don't mention Mensa.
If I've got smarts, about the only way it might show is that I understand things quickly. I pick up on clues (if I'm relaxed enough to notice, that is). I understand relationships between ideas and between statements, and between ideas and statements. I'm not satisfied with the surface only, I want to see underneath, to understand not just what, but how and why.
The men I don't find interesting are perhaps unable to notice that about me, it blows right past them. And the men I do find interesting are aware enough to pick up on it, and it bothers them.
Why?
Do they find me too intense? Too much work? Boring???? (Can't be boring. We talk up storms, and they get really interested in the conversations.)
Is it that they're afraid of me? Afraid they can't control me? Afraid I'd be too difficult to satisfy?
At any rate, everytime I've dropped a man so far, it's been mainly because I don't find his mind, the way his mind works, fascinating.
And every man whom I have found interesting seems to have been put off by the way my mind works. (Back in the 60s and 70s, men often told me my mind was "too masculine". Right after they called me a sex kitten. Sigh.)
Very frustrating.
Just something else I don't understand.
720 French Poem Found!
Blogger "Herlock Sholmes" of Dubai ( The eternal silence of infinite spaces scares me ) has located the poem for me! Fantastic! I LOVE the internet, and I LOVE the blogging community!
Amours de Marie
1556
Ce vase plein de lait, ce panier plein de fleurs,
Afin que, vif et mort, ton corps ne soit que roses.
— Pierre Ronsard (1524-1585)
(Via http://abardel.free.fr/ )
A translation (although not strictly literal) by Michael E. Lloyd may be found at http://www.bewilderingstories.com/issue176/Ronsard.html.
How did this happen? Shortly after I posted my request, I read Roba's request for "a poem generally about the ephemeral nature of time and how much things may change". I left a comment on her blog that if anyone could find my poem, it might also fill her needs. Herlock Sholmes read her journal, saw my request, recognized the poem, and found it for me online. How cool is that?
Thank you Herlock, whoever you are!
Amours de Marie
1556
Comme on voit sur la branche, au mois de mai, la rose,
En sa belle jeunesse, en sa première fleur,
Rendre le ciel jaloux de sa vive couleur,
Quand l'aube, de ses pleurs, au point du jour l'arrose;
La Grâce dans sa feuille, et l'amour se repose,
Embaumant les jardins et les arbres d'odeur;
Mais, battue ou de pluie ou d'excessive ardeur,
Languissante, elle meurt, feuille à feuille déclose;
Ainsi, en ta première et jeune nouveauté,
Quand la terre et le ciel honoraient ta beauté,
La Parque t'a tuée, et cendre tu reposes.
Ce vase plein de lait, ce panier plein de fleurs,
Afin que, vif et mort, ton corps ne soit que roses.
— Pierre Ronsard (1524-1585)
(Via http://abardel.free.fr/ )
A translation (although not strictly literal) by Michael E. Lloyd may be found at http://www.bewilderingstories.com/issue176/Ronsard.html.
How did this happen? Shortly after I posted my request, I read Roba's request for "a poem generally about the ephemeral nature of time and how much things may change". I left a comment on her blog that if anyone could find my poem, it might also fill her needs. Herlock Sholmes read her journal, saw my request, recognized the poem, and found it for me online. How cool is that?
Thank you Herlock, whoever you are!
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"Bad. Everything you say seems to have meaning. I'm not used to that."
Hum... either a mentally retarded moron or he has been dating mentally retarded morons... what kind of talk is that?
If a woman is not smarter than me, why would I want to be with her?
Ah. Yes. But these are American men, who tend to be unsure of themselves to begin with, 58 to 63 years of age and beginning to feel it, who have been through a recent traumatic divorce, and who are probably therefore lacking in self-confidence. I think all they want now is quiet and comfort, softness, no challenge. Someone who will say "Yes, Dear" all the time.
I can provide all that. But I guess they can't see past the ... whatever it is I exude.