well, crap

Had a good session with the counselor on Tuesday, a rather nice mini-break with the family in Wisconsin (boy, do I have a photo essay for you!), and a spontaneous side trip to visit other relatives. Nothing too bad happened and I guess my marriage isn't ending right now. I should be happy, but I'm not.

I woke up in the middle of the night with stomach cramps and nausea (convinced it was something I ate whilst travelling) and have had a sour stomach all day. I've been tired from the weekend, but none of that is the Big Thing. The Big Thing is that today was a special day for my church in the sense that we had a special conference and a walk-through of a building that might become the home for our congregation. For thirty years we have rented halls and never owned a church building (long story short: it was cult policy not to own land if Christ was returning soon). The big talk was about all the new types of outreach ministry and community evangelism and all I could think about was that at the very best I'm a terribly nominal Christian (I got to church, that's it) and at the worst I might even be an atheist. I don't even know anymore. It's hard for me to be all gung ho for a church building when I'm considering not going to church at all anymore. I've spent thirty years playing church and I do it well. I can convince the most die-hard, true Christian that I am devout and repentant and God-fearing and, and, and... but it all feels stupid right now. My Christian friends right now are going to tell me that I should pray for a re-ignition from God that He can bring me back into the fold--but my response is (at the moment at least) that my "coming back into the fold" would be exactly as much self-fulfilling prophecy as me swearing that the Tarot reader did indeed predict my future. I would believe that God affected me only because I believed God could affect me. I would believe that a Tarot reader predicted my future only because I believed that the reader could predict my future. I looked for the fulfillment, so I saw it. Thank you John Edward.

This sheds a whole new light on the future of my marriage. If I were to trot upstairs and tell She-who-must-not-be-named that I don't believe in God and I'm not going to church anymore, she might well try to save me then--if that fails--consider divorcing me. Who could blame her? It was my "zeal" that brought her to "God" to begin with. Ironic isn't it?

Fuck.

chicken with my head cut off

I have a marriage counseling appt this afternoon. (I hope we can get some money things agreed on and talk about semantics more.) I have a big Web site facelift due today. Plus, I'm leaving for vacation in Wisconsin Dells tomorrow through Saturday.

I haven't got time to write much, and probably won't get to the Internet in the Dells unless there are public terminals. (It's a tourist trap, so it's possible.) So this may be my last blog till Sunday. So much I want to talk about, but no time to write it. I'll be taking my $30 laptop on the trip, so I'll probably blog off-line and post a slew of stuff on Sunday.

Be faithful, constant reader, and I shall reward.

In the meantime Alex's site is back up (the writer I mentioned earlier) and worth the time to read.

Oh, oh, oh! One more thing! Here's a clip [200 k MP3] from Shooglenifty. Shooglenifty is a Scottish band I just learned about that I can only describe as a celtic Tangerine Dream on severe caffiene. More bitchen Shooglenifty clips can be found at their Web site. Truly bitchen.

you can help!

Don't let Tony quit! If you've ever been to tonypierce.com and liked it (or just went there and liked it) link him! He says he's going to take down his blog if he doesn't get linked by 100 sites by July 9th! How Oral Roberts of him... .

God knows if he's serious (everything he says could be fiction), but it would truly be a crime against the Web if his unique style of blogging combined with photo essays were to go away.

Plus, he'll link you back. I'll bet he gets a bunch of traffic...

wow.

The days of a Writer chronicles the life of a late-20's woman who left her job April 8, 2001 to become a writer. The journal starts on April 8th with her decision to quit.

I've decided to read it in chronological order (the navigation to do this is easy) and I'm only up to May 2002, but man, what a good writer and a compelling story. Her story is an inspiration. I feel I can learn from her trials on my path to becoming a writer myself.

The site is self-coded and very, very well laid out. She even inserts text as graphics sometimes with incredible effectiveness.

Do yourself a favor.

[6/24/02 am: This site appears to be gone, but it seems to be a problem with her host. Check back later.]
[6/24/02 pm: This site is back!]

limerence story alert!

I love limerence stories!

Edie details how she "very nearly had an epic summer fling" in the Mediterranean on her blog, Adventures in Dating. She's on my link list already, but this is worth the special trip.

P.S. There's a new link to Sar on my list. It's her LiveJournal and she's (predictably) wondering how she'll survive the summer without contact from the object her nearly-year-long crush.

wal-mart postscript

I went back later last night and noticed that, next to the remote-controlled air conditioners, they had remote-controlled fans...

the end of civilization



I saw this at Wal-Mart tonight. One question:

What kind of neandrathal sloth are you if you need an air conditioner with a REMOTE CONTROL?!?

Jeez.

question for liberals

Despite my bumper sticker, I really am very tolerant and even sympathetic to many liberal causes. I listen to NPR more and Rush a lot less, so don't crucify me. I really want to ask you all (Mary T, Nancy?) if this article about how a Santa Monica elementary school has banned the game of tag illustrates a sentiment that is shared by the left.

The bottom line is, this stuff really busts my buttons. Outlawing tag because it may affect self-esteem? That is so Fahrenheit 451 ("We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal...then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower"). Is this a typical left-wing view, or do you consider it extreme also?

I'm not looking for an argument or fight or to lose any friends over this. I just would really like a liberal perspective on this.

revision-correction-update-upgrade

I talked with She-who-must-not-be-named about the issues I addressed in "so much to tell" below. My theory--which I incorrectly stated as fact--that it was my statement to the counselor on Thursday that I wanted a divorce that shocked her into rethinking her semantic approach. This is incorrect. It was my friend's suicide scare on Friday that shocked her. She said the reason was two-fold:

The whole thing [suicide scare] made me realize that there was a lot I had to live for and a lot of things I wanted to do in my life. And I realized that I want to do then with you. Also, I saw your concern and distress over it and I realized that you are a very caring person, and the yelling isn't you, it's just yelling, and you're working on that.

That's not an exact quote, but it's more accurate than a paraphrase. It was a very kind statement. We are going on vacation as a family next week. I honestly don't see it as stressful. She's already planning to pack enough food so we don't have to eat out if we don't want to cut costs.

my first 9-11 related post ever

World Trade Center Steel to Travel Cross Country from Transport News details the eleven-day, eighteen-state journey that sixteen tons of WTC steel and an FDNY fire truck will take next week from NYC to California. California will spend nine million dollars fabricating it into a memorial as a gift to New York. Check the article for dates and times near you.

john edward

Salon has a nice article written in layman's terms of how John Edward and other psychics do what they do. Read it with an open mind.

the times they are a-changing

It's just not Jarts, is it now? How are you supposed to skewer the neighbor kids with these?

so much to tell

I've got so much to say I may have to come back and put a table of contents on this.

grateful
Let me fill in a gap. When my friend sent his ultimate email, I traced the mail back to the terminal cluster he was at in a public library (oh yes, we Internet guys can do that), and I called him. The librarian said he was still sitting there and she got him on the phone. The conversation was about ten words long and he said "bye" and hung up, leaving me even more worried. By the time I'd called the library back, he'd left. Many other things happened after that, but that's pretty much where my involvement ended. I spoke with my friend on Saturday and with his wife yesterday. While neither of them explicitly said so, I sensed deep gratitude from my quick thinking. They both told me in round about ways that I may have saved his life. Sometimes you just have to do what you can. Sometimes it's really nice to have the power of the Internet on your side.

intent
I discussed the uncharacteristic (to say the least) behavior of my wife with her last night. It turns out her benevolence was intentional and completed with great concentration and effort. The only way she'd put forth that kind of effort was if she felt she needed to change and it wasn't all my imagination. That's a very cool sign. Tonight was as satisfying.

an admission -or- why my marriage nearly failed
Attention perusers, skimmers and concerned citizens! This is it. This is the bitchen! blog's version of the answer to life, the universe and everything. I am going to make an admission. It's something I've known but buried deep out of resentment. The key that unlocks the door to saving my marriage. The key that I've known about, but disregarded. One that I threw down into the linty corner of the suitcase that is my subconscious. Ready?

The core problem with my marriage has nothing to do with attitudes.

Regardless of what I've written and admittedly skewed here, my wife doesn't think she is better than me. She doesn't treat me like a kid, and she doesn't reject my opinions.

Huh? That's right. If you stood in my house you'd think that she did all of those things. She doesn't. It just sounds like she does. I can sum up the number one problem with my marriage in one word. Ready?

Semantics.

As you might guess, I'm a literal person. I take all things literally. I write the conversations down in my blog literally. I intend you to read them literally. I think literally. It's the way I'm wired. She's not. Her foundational premise in speaking the English language is "forget what I said, you know what I mean."

Okay, let's cast off the basic logical fact that I couldn't possibly know what she means all the time unless she tells me. Even if I know what she means, the samurai semantic slash of the tongue she inherited from her mother eventually shreds me. I can only hear "You should do it this way" and hear it as "I would do it this way if it were me" so many times before I start hearing "You are an idiot if you don't do it this way."

I fell in love with who she was and still is deep down. In love (in deep limerence) it's easy, nay a joy, to reinterpret everything your lover says as positive. It's the blindness of love working in our favor in this situation. At some point we started being human beings that had to live together, work together as parents and love each other without the icing of limerence on our daily crumb cake. It became harder and harder to overlook how she said things. Let me tell you that fifteen years is right about the "full" point of this kind of poor semantics.

We have fought about her insulting way of saying things to me for years. Her response has always been "you're too literal and/or too sensitive." She was perfectly justified in communicating however she wanted to, it was my fault for listening to how she said things. That's the way it was until Thursday.

the watershed
Do you know how I finally got the point across? If you're a faithful reader you already know--I told a therapist that I couldn't live with it anymore and I wanted a divorce. It nearly kills me that it took that. I didn't say it as manipulation. On Thursday I really did want a divorce. The reality of it shocked her into finally hearing that her words were killing me. But I'm glad something worked. We still have so much to work out with the therapist now--semantics, budget, housecleaning, child rearing--but it's all fixable.

lexicon
And finally, a translation guide for the misled reader (and me):

"I'm better than you" actually means "I have more social grace than you. But you're better at a ton of other things."

I agree with her one hundred percent.

this is true

David Ray Hill, 44, of Great Falls, Mont., was released six years into his 10-year sentence for felony drunk driving. Five days later, employees at a mini mart called police saying a drunk man drove to the store to buy alcohol. Hill was arrested. If found guilty, officers say, it will be Hill's 11th DUI conviction. "I hope it was a good five days for him," a police spokesman said. (Great Falls Tribune)

from the This is True newsletter. I still highly recommend a subscription.

red letter day

This was the first day in recent memory (hell all memory) that my wife wasn't condescending, didn't take my opinion for granted, didn't spend money frivolously, in short, showed me respect.

Maybe she does get it.

a long, stressful, period

It's been the biggest roller coaster of the year. Perhaps of my life. After stewing over the counseling session on Thursday, She-who and I had a tense conversation wherein she stated she wanted to work on it, but demonstrated a complete lack of grasp of the "better than" issue. She's being very nice and loving but still making daily comments that come across as a parent talking to a child.She's starting to realize that she's going to have to bend if this is going to work. That's a start.

Friday morning at 11:15 I receive and e-mail from a very close friend who lives over an hour away that simply said "Good bye." I sensed it was a suicide note and it turned out it was. Skipping a world of details, just suffice to say that he came home and was admitted to a hospital and seems to be doing much better.

In the interim (between getting the e-mail and finding out he was safe) I did a lot of agonizing. I called my wife to tell her about the situation and in the course of the conversation offered even more flexibility and asked me to make another counseling appointment.

Imagine the stress level of nearing divorce coupled with the attempted/threatened suicide of a very close friend and you'll understand why my stomach was tied in knots (such that I couldn't get out of bed) until I finally spoke with said friend at 9:00 Saturday evening.

Sorry this is chronologically disjointed, but Friday night, the wife and I had a short, terse (due to my stress) conversation where she was inadvertently motherly and made overly simplistic suggestions to save our marriage ("We need to date more.", "We should get a couples devotional bible and read together daily."). Good suggestions, but barely band-aids at this point. But it shows she wants to try. Forgive me, but at this point I don't see how she'll ever see the "superiority" issue (she changes the subject when I bring it up, because she doesn't know what I mean.) let alone fix it. But I'm willing to give the therapist a shot at fixing it.

Perhaps the number one thing is showing respect for my feelings half as much as she shows respect for the girls' feelings. She never asks me how I feel about things, just say how and what we are going to do. She blamed me Thursday night for not putting my foot down more. Not putting my foot down more is the "meeting half-way" that the therapist said needs to happen. I've been meeting her half-way (or "all the way," if you look at it mathematically) for 13 years. Bending to her will to avoid arguments. The therapist said "if only one is meeting half-way, they'll end up resenting it." Guess what? I'm there now. I'm tired of being the one to make things work. She's going to have to show me something--some bending, some effort to show respect before I have any notion that this will ever right itself.

I've said it before, I'll say it again, I owe it to the kids if there's even a 2% chance of it getting fixed. I'd put the odds about 3% right now that she'll actually change enough that I can feel like my own person again, but I have to take the odds for now.

Tonight was a perfectly wonderful Father's Day gift night. As my kids get more articulate, they write such incredible cards to me. I've never seen so much love expressed to me as in the hand-made cards they gave me. It really outweighed the resentment I was feeling earlier Saturday when I discovered that we'd somehow acquired the Jerry McGuire DVD in the last two days. (We probably own 90 DVDs. At an average of $15 per, that's $1300 worth of DVDs. How many have I picked out and bought? Eight. Maybe. "Go ask your father why we can't afford to send you to camp." I'm so tempted to tell them, but I'll never poison them against their mom. That's my daily battle.)

This is probably the most rambling and shuffled post ever, as my head is a little bump-and-rattly from the stress. Sorry about that.

i'm so old

I have an original 1979 Breaking Away movie poster on the always-open door to my office. The 20-yr-old intern just came in to ask me something and, in lieu of knocking, tapped on the poster with his pencil to get my attention.

What was my response?

"Careful with the poster, son, it's older than you are."

Shoot me now.

light bulb moment

I just had an epiphany. I don't know where to start. The bottom line is that I'm cursed in my marriage with the same thing that cursed me in high school. Everyone in high school treated me like crap because of the loser I was in jr. high and early high school. Round about my junior year, I really came into my own. I started being me and being more "normal" or "cool" or whatever. But by the 11th grade, everyone already had this picture of me whom they all knew they were better than. Everyone in high school thought they were better than me. I knew I was "okay" by the time I graduated, but no one else cared. When I got into college, I was suddenly not only accepted but looked up to--in my very first semester. Now I didn't change that much over the summer, I changed the people I hung around.

Now She-who-must-not-be-named has a perception of me of who I was when we were married. She had been "on her own" for a while (a couple of years). She had other sex partners. She had to keep her own budget. I, on the other hand, moved from my parent's to her apartment, never had to keep my own budget and never had any other sex partners. In her mind she was more "worldly and experienced" than I. (by about 2 years, ooo!).

She brought this up in counseling today (except the sex part, I brought that up to fill in the picture.) As if to say "this is a reason I'm better than him." (She told the therapist that she thought she was better than me.) What burns my ass is that it's like the last thirteen years of experience and maturation has no bearing on who I am. Because I never lived on my own and kept my own budget, I clearly don't know how to so it now.

The epiphany was that she will never change that perception of me. Divorce would be like graduating from high school and getting away from the losers that thought they were all better than me. College did so much for my self-esteem. To know I was worth having as a friend. That I was an adult.

A friend of mine summed it up this afternoon: "She's the adult." That is, it is her perception that she's the adult one and I'm a child. And it has so much to do with all that I mentioned above.

She told the therapist she was willing to work. I can't honestly see anything that's going to change. I just don't know...

marriage counseling

We had a session today.
Perhaps the only session.
Separation is imminent. (I said that before in haiku, I know.)
Divorce is probable.

I'll blog more later, when I grasp it all myself.

heh

Can I make up a phrase?

pot purim - n - A hodge-podge of things commemorating the deliverance of the Jews from massacre by Haman.

Thought I'd share.

limerence (sort of) alert

my dating world is a clever blog about dating in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. An entertaining read, and you guys can certainly give her some good comments/advice. Stop by. Tell her I sent ya!

about last night...

I'm currently hiding in an upstairs conference room with my $30 eBay laptop in an effort to get one contiguous hour of lunch. Such is the nature of my job. I've left instructions with the receptionist to tell no one I'm even in the building. We need to talk. Let me tell you about last night.

6:55 pm
Arrive at Sienna Counseling. Park in front as instructed by Mr. Sienna.

6:57 pm
Go around the back of the building to the wife-beater's entrance. Get stopped by a rent-a-cop. "Did you park up front?" "Yes," says I. "You'll need to move your car around back--" "But Mr. Sienna said to park up front this time." "Well, okay, if Mr. Sienna said so."

Buzz in on video intercom. I must not look dangerous (I did, after all, leave my Swiss Army Knife in the car) and they buzz me in. After signing a mutual confidentiality agreement, I sit in a room by myself while Mr. Fredman and the receptionist talk about why "this guy" is sitting in his session.

7:02 pm
Invited into group session in a room meant to hold eight with about eight other gentleman, plus Mr. Fredman and another Sienna staff member. Watch poorly-made video of a skit illustrating closed thinking (summary: "Nobody can tell me what to do. I don't know why I'm even in this class.") likely in an effort to defuse any ticking time bomb just starting the class tonight. After waiting interminably for the convicts to answer mind-numbingly simple questions, I (in proper Hermione Granger style) raise my hand and answer them. We are also treated to the details of the crimes that put half the guys into this room to begin with.

7:30 pm
Watch another poorly-made video of another poorly-acted (read:unbelievable) skit of victim stance (summary: "It's not my fault I got arrested/beat my wife/came to this class, it's the judge/cop/wife/society's fault.") apparently in an effort to combat an attitude readily apparent in my room-mates.

7:55 pm
Volunteer the information that I could blame my Father for me yelling at the kids, but I don't. They take the bait and explain that when yelling doesn't work and I beat the crap out of my kids, I'll eventually get arrested and have to come to this class. Thank you.

8:00 pm
Sweet release. Let me be perfectly honest. The two principles discussed (in spite of their trite presentation and ham-handed discussion) are very helpful ones to me. Closed Thinking and Victim Stance easily play a part in any argument. I love the idea of Behavior Modification (the goal of the class) and want to learn these principles, but I feel like I got ten minutes of content in fifty-five minutes. (Kinda like an episode of "Knight Rider.") I'd like to find a way to do this one-on-one with an anger management therapist to get the principles more efficiently so I can begin to apply them right now. We'll see. I'll bring it up in marriage counseling tomorrow.

8:05 pm
Arrive at LilFluffy's house two blocks away and talk for an hour about the right way to get divorced. (Agree on everything and bring a lawyer in at the end.)

9:00 pm
Call She-who-must-not-be-named and tell her where we are and that we'd talked about divorce.
"sigh"
"What's the sigh for?"
"Well you keep talking about how you want to make it work, now you're planning a divorce."
"No, we're just talking about divorce in general, should it come to that. You said on Sunday that you were resigned to it."
"Well, I'm not a quitter. I'm going to try."
"Good. I'm hoping the counseling works."
"So do I."

So, when faced with the reality that we may actually divorce she performs an elegant about-face. Boggle.

So I tell her I'm meeting a guy about playing guitar on a recording of the song I just finished, and she tells me to have a good time. And she means it.

9:18 pm
Meet former co-worker at trendy coffee shop on open mic night to talk about him playing guitar for me. He's cool with it. So we sit and look at the largest gathering of gorgeous women in the tri-state area. I find myself thinking about divorce in a different light. Then I stop myself and go home about 10:00.

10:30 pm till 12:30 am
Sit in my basement recording a rough MP3 of the guitar part (WaveLab is the sucky instrumentalist's friend. Bad note? Clip that right out!) to send to my drummer and guitarist. I really hope this comes together. It's a very cool song.

skipping

I skip. I skip, holding my daughters' hands going from the car into Wal-mart. Everybody smiles at us. It's uncanny. I'm a nut. Ask anyone.

Tonight is my first (trial) anger-management class.

Examine the above two paragraphs. Then recall from earlier that the guy said I could sit in to see if it was "for me." I'm not prejudging it, but I'm already thinking it's not for me.

The Dog is for me.

e-communicado

I coined this term a few years back to mean: I'm really busy, don't call me or come into my office univited, I'm trying to concentrate. If you want to tell/ask me something, use e-mail."

Using e-mail takes us fromthe realm of synchronus communication to asynchronus communication, which means that I can answer when I want to rather than when you ask me.

In my office today I am e-communicado which also means I really won't be blogging today. Sorry.

On a happy note, I wrote a song yesterday. The first complete song since I was married 13 years ago. What does that mean?

say what?

AH FOR THE GOOD OLD DAYS, WHEN "PC" MEANT "POLICE CONSTABLE": As John Denham, the British Home Office Minister for Police and Crime Reduction, addressed a gathering of police constables, he used the term "nitty gritty." There was a "chorus" of objections from the audience; the word is "banned" from police use, he was told. "If I used 'nitty gritty' I would face a disciplinary charge," PC Chris Jefford said. The Metropolitan Police says the term "is thought" to originate from the 18th century slave trade. The phrase "good egg" is also banned by the department, officers told Denham, because it's "closely associated" with "egg and spoon" which in Cockney rhyming slang means "coon" which is a racial epithet. A Met spokesman said there's not a list of banned words per se, but PCs are required to "make sure the language they use would not cause offence." (The Guardian)

from the This is True newsletter. I highly recommend a subscription.

some news is no news

We were in the Explorer, crusing to Meijer to get a card and cash for Becklyn's graduation party, when we had the most enlightening conversation. I guess I should have predicted the whole conversation if I weren't in denial or so damned optimistic:

I broke the silence: "I want to ask you a question..."

"What?"

"We've had a pretty peaceful time this week. Do you think it's because we're just avoiding the things we fight about? Or at least that that's the big reason, plus The Dog?"

"No, I guess I'm just at peace because I've already resigned myself to the fact we're getting a divorce."

So her peace is akin to that of a suicidal person who suddenly becomes happy once they've made the decision to "jump."

Scary.

I'm still open to the notion that we might be fixable. I'm not, however, about to bring any critical issues up before we see the counselor on Thursday. (That should be interesting.)

For the record, I nearly had an aneurysm tonight entering her debit receipts into Quicken. I could scan a page full of receipts tonight to bitch about, but I've played that tune already. I don't want to give the impression that money is the only issue or even the main issue. Just lather, rinse and repeat with the $25 hair care products from Ulta a few posts back and you'll be up to speed.

bitchen! poll

Take my poll! Make your visits more rewarding. I don't want you to be bored when you come here, so let me know. (I won't stop posting what I want, but what I want to post might change. :-)

grammarical rules to live By
something for a Friday afternoon

1. Verbs HAS to agree with their subjects.
2. Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.
3. And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.
4. It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.
5. Avoid cliches like the plague. (They're old hat)
6. Also, always avoid annoying alliteration.
7. Be more or less specific.
8. Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are (usually) unnecessary.
9. Also too, never, ever use repetitive redundancies.
10. No sentence fragments.
11. Contractions aren't necessary and shouldn't be used.
12. Foreign words and phrases are not apropos.
13. Do not be redundant; do not use more words than necessary; it's highly superfluous.
14. One should NEVER generalize.
15. Comparisons are as bad as cliches.
16. Don't use no double negatives.
17. Eschew ampersands & abbreviations, etc.
18. One-word sentences? Eliminate.
19. Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.
20. The passive voice is to be ignored.
21. Eliminate commas, that are, not necessary. Parenthetical words however should be enclosed in commas.
22. Never use a big word when a diminutive one would suffice.
23. Kill all exclamation points!!!
24. Use words correctly, irregardless of how others use them.
25. Understatement is always the absolute best way to put forth earth shaking ideas.
26. Use the apostrophe in it's proper place and omit it when its not needed.
27. Eliminate quotations. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."
28. If you've heard it once, you've heard it a thousand times: Resist hyperbole; not one writer in a million can use it correctly.
29. Puns are for children, not groan readers.
30. Go around the barn at high noon to avoid colloquialisms.
31. Even IF a mixed metaphor sings, it should be derailed.
32. Who needs rhetorical questions?
33. Exaggeration is a billion times worse than understatement.


And finally...


34. Proofread carefully to see if you any words out.

from here.

is your city dying?

Nancy Nall pointed out this article (and the book that it's about) in Salon. It's about how cities need to attract creative types to survive. How Detroit and Pittsburg are dying because of their anglo-saxon nine-to-five mentality, and how Austin and San Francisco are thriving due to their multi-cultural tolerance, accepeting attitudes of many lifestyles, and strong arts scenes.

Well worth the read.

marshal blathers

In honor of Eminem's new album, I post this clever parody MP3 of "Slim Shady" created by some national countdown radio show somewhere. Will the Real Slim Shady Please Shut Up?

I've put it on the left menu if you want to point your friends to it.

ULTA-mately baffled

Tell me something:

Is this stuff really good enough that it could be considered a "necessity?" Can any hair care product be that good? What does this do that Neutrogena T-Gel doesn't? (And we already get that at cost from Johnson & Johnson.)

Do you really think she can't answer the question why we can't afford to send the kids to camp? The funny thing is, she really can't answer it.

And did we really need an olive oil bottle/dispenser from Bed, Bath and Beyond? Does the Olive Oil bottle that it comes in not pour it well enough? How many different ways can I say that whenever wants become needs, our standard of living increases?

I'm currently blue in the face.

the other method

I mentioned a couple of posts below that there was another method of anger management I was working with that I'd describe when relevant. It's relevant now.

My boss used to have a real anger problem. It affected the whole company. We were all on pins and needles when he was in a bad mood. He's cured now. The thing that cured him was The Dog. The Dog is a two-sided laminated color picture. On one side is a headshot of a happy, lappy Doberman; on the other is a snarling, foaming-at-the-mouth Doberman. (I'll post a picture of it soon.) It was pinned to a bulletin board in a high-traffic area. When he was in a good mood, the happy Doberman would show; when in a foul mood the angry Doberman would show. The catch was, he couldn't touch it. Only the rest of us could. It would serve two purposes:

1. A warning to everyone when he was on the warpath.
2. An indication to him of our perception of his mood.

It didn't take too many turns of the dog for him to understand how much his moods were noticed by and affecting us. After a month or two, we never had to turn the dog again. Last week, he bequeathed it to me. I pinned The Dog up in my home on Sunday. Only the kids and my wife are allowed to turn it. It merely being present on the wall has really helped me keep my moodiness in check.

This morning was the first time it'd needed to be turned to the snarling dog, and that's because I growled at my daughter that "she'd better turn the dog" because I was near rage. I learned tons about what set me into the state just by reflecting this morning on why the dog had to be turned. I know that it wasn't my kids behavior that caused it, only what triggered it. They were being less than forthcoming about messes they'd made (lying out of omission, rather than commission) and I flew off the handle. But that's not the whole story. I'd been up late last night finishing the organization of the three pounds of unopened mail I found last month (see the archives) and I was very tired. Then in reaching for the coffee, I knocked a heavy plastic Coca-Cola toothpick dispenser onto the floor. The noise startled me (which set the adrenalin flowing in a "fight-or-flight" way) and the toothpicks flew (which made me mad in a Rain Man sort of way) and I was well on my way to supreme frustration. Once I'd set it back in the cupboard, I promptly knocked it down again eliciting the same--yet more severe--response. It was only after I was in this state that I was confronted with the kids omitting facts, and became furious.

As I write this, I realize that the kids were probably trying to escape my wrath by not 'fessing up to the messes they'd made. They must have sensed the frustration (via tiredness and toothpicks) in my demeanor and had already turned The Dog in their own minds. That would make perfect sense. I used to do that with my father--not admit fault if he seemed in a particularly bad mood. Ironically, had they been honest and simply cleaned up their messes I would have not been mad, but they couldn't have predicted that. I shouldn't have expected them to act any differently.

By the time I left, The Dog had magically been restored to happiness as had I. My happiness came with the understanding of my rage, and the forgiveness of my children.

And as contradictory to all I've whined about for two weeks as this seems, I think I might just buy them a little something on the way home. Not instead of telling them I love them, but to acknowledge that I know what happened and that I'm no longer blind to it.

from the 'I shouldn't have to make a rule about this' dept.

Last night, The Rooster was covering up the part in her hair with her hands after her shower and looking mischievously at me. I looked under her hands and there was a multi-colored marker-drawn line running down her scalp.

"Who did that?"

She told me it was my oldest daughter who'd colored it. I mused and forgot it.

This morning after a brief conflict over why there were markers on the sink in the guest bathroom, I was telling their mom about the markers.

"Yeah, she colored in Roo's part yesterday. I don't want them doing that."

So I walked into the bedroom where the color-culprit was dressing for school.

"Honey? This is kinda from the 'I shouldn't have to make a rule about this' department, but please don't color your sister's head."

"Okay, dad."

*shaking head*

Jimformation documents and extremely ugly case of zero-tolerace meets airline security. The upshot of his take is that our airport security should be looking for terrorists not weapons.

perspective

A lot of people, both publicly and privately, have sided with me in this arena. Most feedback I get now (as opposed to a few weeks ago) expresses the opinion that my marriage is doomed. And it may well be. Keep in mind that my story here is only one side and probably skewed in it's perspective. Pretend you're my best friend (some of you are). I will tell you two things about me. One you don't know and one you should already know.

what you don't know
What you don't know is that I do yell a lot at home. Mostly at the kids. People who don't live with me will never see that side of me. It's not a side I'm proud of, but it's something that I never realized was that wrong until I started blogging. I know now that just because my dad did it doesn't make it right. Do I need to sit in a class with felony batterers? Maybe not. But do I still need behavior modification? Absolutely. I'm actually pursuing a couple of solutions. Details will come when relevant.

what you surely must know about me
I am indefatigably optimistic. I know that signing up for the anger class will prompt She-who-must-not-be-named into going to regular marriage therapy. If she is convinced that I am trying to fix what she perceives is wrong, she will make some attempt to fix whatever I think is wrong. She is sensible that way sometimes. Maybe our problems aren't fixable, but I feel that we should do what lawyers and stock brokers call "due diligence," that is, we should make completely sure that things aren't fixable before bailing out.

I owe it to my kids.

Thank you all for coming and sticking by me. I can tell you it has probably saved me from deep depression and abysmal despair. It means so much to me, like a birthday or a pretty view....

so i made the appointment

I called the folks about anger management.

"Are you calling about substance abuse or violence abatement?"
"Er. Um, anger management."
"I'll send you to Mr. Sienna's voice mail"

He calls back

"This is Mr. George Sienna III of Sienna Counseling. How may I help you?"
"I'm interested in anger management."
"You're interested in our class on violence abatement?"
"Yeah, I guess. They say I yell a lot."
"Has there been any battery?"
"Uh... not specifically?"
"Son, there's no such thing as half-pregnant here. Was there battery or not?"
"I'm sorry, but that sounds like a specific term, I'm not sure."
"Has there been any emotional, physical or...or verbal abuse?"
"Verbal, I guess. I yell a lot."
"Are there charges pending?"
"No sir."
"So, you have not hit your wife?"
"No sir. Just some yelling."
"Why don't you come in next Tuesday and sit through one of our classes to see if it's for you."
"Okay."
"How about six o'clock? Wait. You haven't hit anyone? Okay lets do Mr. Fredman at seven then."
"Okay. How many sessions is typical?"
"Well usually twenty-nine..."
Twenty-nine?
"...but since it's only verbal, probably ten to fifteen."
etc.

Call to wife

"I got signed up for the anger management thing."
"Good!" cheerfully.
[Insert retelling of above Pythonesque conversation.]
"I think you shoud go through the whole twenty-nine, just to be sure our marriage will survive."
"Well, we'll see. If I take twelve, that's three months. I think we'll be able to tell from the marriage counselor whether the other sessions are necessary to pursue after three months."

Once again, the only problem with our marriage is that I yell too much.

One day at a time.

the most relevant link post ever
it's about my blog!

How often do you get to link to an article written in the conventional press about your blog? If you're me, probably only once. Online diaries daring, delicious is an article from my hometown paper. It's what I was interviewed about last Wednesday.

It's thrilling, yet scary.

she-who-must-not-be-named superiority checklist

Find out if you are better than someone else. Use this simple checklist.

Do I piss fewer people off on a regular basis
     than the person I'm comparing myself to?

Do I know more about fashion and understand the
     importance of name-brand merchandise?

Do I swear less and argue more quietly?

Am I more "normal?"

Is my family more "normal?"

Am I comfortable believing that "common sense" is all
     you need and possesing intelligence and logic
     just makes you not as "normal?"

If you checked any or all of the above boxes, congratulations! You are superior!

the film at eleven

DATELINE THURSDAY:
"You obviously don't care about your wife and children."
"Why?"
"Because you won't even try for that job that pays a lot more."
"I'm not even going to try to explain salaried professional prostitution to you again, because you obviously don't get it."
"What's wrong with wanting your family to have better?"
"Nothing."
"They ask me why they can't go to camp and I tell them to talk to their father because I can't explain to them why we can't afford it."
"It's a matter of priorities."
"When the kids want to be popular and wear the name brand clothes, I want to be able to give them that. When they need gymnastics so they can do cheerleading we need to afford that. And you want us to shop Goodwill?"
"I'd rather shop Goodwill and take fewer vacations if it means sending them to camp and saving for their college. Have you ever even heard of a savings account?"
She smirk-squints at me. "You're a real piece of work."
"What? Look at it this way: you grew up with all of that. With the color TV in your bedroom and the popularity and the name-brands and the extra-curricular activities and I grew up with none of that. I was a geek and an outcast and did nothing extra curricular and never wore name brands. Now sitting here at 35 years old, there's really not that much difference between us."
"Pffft!"
"What does 'pffft' mean? Does that mean you don't think were equals?"
Blank "isn't it obvious" stare.
"Oh, it means that I'm better than you?"
"Think whatever you want, honey."
"Oh! It means you're better than me?"
"You're damned right I'm better than you!"
"See? That's the whole problem! You think you're better than me, you've always thought you were better than me, and you always will! It comes across in everything condescending thing you say!"
She fumes.
"So you're saying if I made twice as much money, it would save our marriage?"
"Probably. It'd be a good start."

additional footage

"The guidance counselor told me that our daughter told her that you yell too much. She said that when she was in that situation, she got the hell out of there."
"Great."
"You are like Jekyll and Hyde. My therapist gave me the names of a couple of anger therapy groups."
"Okay. I'll admit I have an anger management problem. I yell too much. I'll take one of those classes. Will that help?"
"If I see a real change in you I might change."
Of course not your equation that money equals love.

Later (after the conversation in the first part of this entry):
Me: "So it's obvious there's some things about me you think are wrong with me that I don't and won't change and vice versa. Sounds like we got some differences we'll never work out."
"I guess so."
"Ironically, I'm glad we shut off the TV and had this conversation, even though we didn't resolve anything."
"Oh, I think we resolved something."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. So, what if I go through the anger management course?"
"Great! It'll help your relationship with the girls, but it won't solve ours."
No shit.

update

I had a lot of conversations with a lot of friends. I've had a pretty sane weekend at home, despite the fact she told some friends we were definitely getting divorced and it was just a matter of time till we could sell the house. (This was news to me, did we decide this?)

Where we stand now is we're staying together and I will go to anger management and she will ask her current therapist (originally recommended as a marriage counselor) to counsel us instead of her solo sessions. (I don't think they were being productive from what she said.) My first question will be whether she thinks we should separate to gain perspective. A conversation with my psycho-tarot- reader last night revealed the apparently obvious fact that we fight over such little stuff that we are obviously to deep in it together to dig out.

I'm not totally optimistic because of her skewed interpretation that my yelling is the only problem in our marriage, as exemplified by this conversation last night:

"Today has been a great day. You didn't yell and you were a total joy to be with. Why can't you be like this all the time instead of Jekyll and Hyde?"

"I'm going to try, but it's still not going to solve our other issues--like a complete paradigm difference in money management, and the other problem I won't even bring up or we'll fight again." Referring to the "better than you" attitude.

In the past couple of days, I've wondered if she married me as a project. That maybe she thought she could change what she didn't like. I don't know.

I can tell you one thing: our parents have taught us to be a poor match. My father taught me that losing your temper and yelling is okay if you feel like it's warranted. Her parents taught her that the best way to say I love you is not with words, but with color TVs and name-brand clothes and everything else the Joneses have-- even if it means thousands of dollars in credit card debt. And finally, they taught us that all-important coping fact:

Depression is the best escape.

[Editor's Note: I didn't mean to suggest that depression is learned. I have no idea how much is hereditary, learned or simply is. But I do know that my father and her mother often suffer from depression as do we. Seems too coincidental.]