TuchMyBlog

I nearly got my eyes scratched out last summer in Mysore by a woman who for whatever reason believed that I was making the moves on her husband (who was a friend of mine before Mysore), which was the last thing that was on my mind. I have always assumed that it is perfectly reasonable to act as though people around me are sane, and behave as though they are regular, grown up people who are not threatened by or otherwise misinterpret a social interaction for something more devious. Since I have nearly had my eyes scratched out again by another woman for talking to her husband, the only solution I can come up with is to assume that behind every man there is an insanely jealous woman waiting with a gun. So now I am actually kind of afraid to talk to guys. It's not as though my boobs are hanging out and I'm slobbering all over people. I just talk to people and I'm interested in people, and I don't have "ulterior motives." I have also found out on many ocassions that some male person I was talking to got the wrong idea and thought that I wanted to date them, when I was just having an innocent conversation.

So what happened was that I couldn't talk to my friend in Mysore anymore because I wanted to avoid going blind and he was embarassed. The whole thing bummed me out.

So are there just a lot of psycho chicks out there? Cause I'm not Elle McPherson or Ivana Trump or anything. I'm kind of a nerd, actually, and now I am avoiding talking to guys because apparently a lot of them have either some demented, insecure psycho spouse behind them, or I am throwing off booty signals left and right without knowing it.

I want to think that maybe I'm much more awesome than I am, but probably it has to do with people's fragile vews of themselves rather than my devastatingly beautiful presence. So for now I am going to avoid men until further notice.

Here are some basic rules I will outline at the beginning of any conversation with a guy:

1. If I laugh at your joke, it does not mean "I want to have sex with you."

2. If I say "Hey, how are you" it means just that and not "I want to have sex with you."

3. If we exchange more than two or three sentences, it does not mean "I want to have sex with you."

4. If I want to have sex with you, I will say "I want to have sex with you."

And for the women:

4. If I smile at your boyfriend, it does not mean "I want to have sex with your boyfriend."

5. If I want to take your boyfriend or husband away from you, and he willingly goes with me, then he was gone before I got there.

Here's another one. (For those of you concerned about Ashtanga yoga, all events here happen around Ashtanga. The people involved all practice Ashtanga, or did at the time, and still might. I do.)

I had a really good friend "Mary" who was one of my closest friends for about three years or so. She was married to a guy who was also a good friend. Both were high-achieving professionals, and both of them do, or did, Ashtanga. We lived in nearby cities, and we saw each other frequently. They wanted to have a baby, and asked me to be the Godmother, but they lost the baby and went on to have another one full term who is presumably now about two years old. I wouldn't know because I have been cut off since then. Before they got pregnant, Mary started confiding in me about a guy she was really interested in and who was also pressuring her to have an affair with him. Both she and the other guy were married, and I told her I thought hew sounded like a creep which she agreed, but she couldn't help herself, she said. Her husband was soooo boring and she didn't understand her change of heart at all. She wanted to leave her husband and even asked me if she could stay with me. "What should I do?" She asked. She had made a big mistake and knew that she couldn't stay married to her husband who had become suddenly boring and un-sexy. She kept seeing this guy and started messing around with him in weird places, like behind trees in parks, in supermarket aisles, and in restaurant bathrooms. I was kind of weirded out by it and tried to change the subject after the first few conversations since it was clear that she was seeking my approval rather than my opinion. It was weird because her husband was also a good friend of mine, and I actually saw him (at yoga) more than I saw her.

Eventually she stopped seeing the creep, and she and her husband became pregnant. They asked me to be the Godmother, and then they lost the baby early on. A few months later, they became pregnant again. and Mary started acting like a psycho unit. Emotional, moody to the extreme, sick, whiney - all not entirely unexpected especially after she lost the first one. Then, she called me up and told me that she was having trouble with her friendship with me and needed a break. She said she was under too much pressure to spend time with me and felt that her schedule was too full. I was not totally surprised since she had always been rather fickle, making plans and cancelling them constantly. I knew she was having problems, but I didn't know how I could have contributed to them. Although I felt slighted, it simply never occurred to me to tell her husband about the affair.

I sent her a card and said I hoped everything worked out for her and that I was sorry she was having problems, and that if she ever wanted to talk to me to just call anytime. I never heard from her again. I was bummed and really didn't get it, but obviously she was having troubles. After a year or so of thinking that I had somehow contributed to the "break-up" by behaving badly or something, it occurred to me that she had to cut me off because she told me about her weird "affair" and my presence caused her too much anxiety. Now that she was having a baby with her husband, and knowing that he would absolutely leave in a heartbeat if he knew what she had done (he absolutely would, although I had no plans of ever discussing the affair thing since I couldn't even be sure it was true nevermind the fact that it was none of my business and I wished she had never told me in the first place) she had to remove me from the picture. Completely. I knew that her husband would simply say goodbye if he knew about the affair. Mary had armed me with information that could wipe out the house that Mary built - totally goodbye that's the end see ya later. A weapon that I did not ask for, a weapon that I did not even want. I had unwittingly become a persistent threat to her security simply because she had confided in me about something that could potantially ruin her life - one which she didn't seem to care too much about a few months earlier, suddenly became essential to hold on to. It was clearly more important to her than keeping me as a friend. After all, it seems that she only needed me around to use me anyway.

So needless to say, it all made sense, and I had more information that I could use to be certain that I wouldn't want to be around someone like that anyway. I felt used and very sorry for her. So I suppose that the moral of the story is never assume what people's motives are. Usually the motives have nothing to do with you or anything you can, would or could do. And although I believe the world revolves around me most of the time, things like this remind me that I'm just not so important as I think I am, especially in the drama of other people's lives - which is actually a tremendous relief. It seems that so many people are deep down lonely and afraid, and their motives are rooted in this pool of fear and uncertainty. Often, they don't even realize how much it colors their relationships and behaviours. And I do not exclude myself from this tenedency, I am just aware that this is part of human nature - to have our basic needs met and to act self-centerdly in a vain attempt to achieve this goal.

So I have decided that I just cannot alter my behaviour to accomodate other people's presumed neurosis or insecurities and live assuming that everyone is a potential mental patient. I will behave as though they are healthy, confident people, and the worst thing that can happen is perhaps they will start acting that way. I just can't let the crazies define my world, or define my behavior. I will talk to nice people, male or female, and I will tell them to shut up if they start telling me uncomfortable secrets that are none of my business. I'm just going to wear sunglasses and turtlenecks when I do it.

I finally posted my Mysore entries from last summer which were on a different site - which you can get to by clicking the "India" category if you are at all interested. I had a hard time adjusting to India and had some really weird things happen which is actually not so weird since it is, after all, India. I have not figured out how to make things appear only in seperate categories and not all on the main page here. I had to go back and re-date the entries so they wouldn't appear at the top of this blog thus obscuring recent posts. I suppose that is what I will have to do. I clumped a months worth of original entries in each new entry in the India category, but they are all dated respectively.

Soon I will put pictures up too.
Soon I will figure out how to work this blog thing.

Question. Does age matter?

Imagine that.

So I got some interesting answers from some of my bloggy friends about does age matter. I posted a couple of the responses, and a lot of them were just on my email, but the overwhelming concensus is no it doesn't, which is funny since almost nobody asked what it mattered or didn't matter for... It seems only to matter in the mind of the beholder, or rather things such as this matter less to others than one might think. This is a question I have been asking for a pretty long time in all areas in my life since at a fairly young age I had a very responsible job, (meaning I was responsible for lots of the client's money) yet since I looked so young they still assumed I was the intern or secretary and sent me for coffee. At first it pissed me off and I'd get all resentful, but then after a while I started to just offer everyone coffee before they could ask me and it became a moot point. And it was more fun and it's just good to be nice to people.

God always seems to provide me with experiences that can teach me exactly what I need to learn, if I can be open to it and willing to take the lesson. But it's always good. Like Guruji says, "do your practice and all is coming." it is that simple. I used to try and figure stuff out. But now I like to just practice and go along for the ride. Sometimes the last thing I want to do is practice, but I have never practiced and regretted it. Sometimes it's frustrating to hear that the answer is to just keep practicing or keep praying because I want something specific or, I don't know what I want, actually. But that's just it. It's a faith thing.

Usually when I write a typical blog entry, it involves some issue or another that either rubs against the nap or just generally, sometimes momentarily, outrages me. Sometimes, I get outraged for longer than just a moment, but usually the initial intensity passes after I write about it and maybe mouth off to a few friends who are accustomed to my flights of fancy and episodes of magical thinking (of which I am fond). Sometimes all I need is something good to eat and a nap to rewire me. And I am not saying that I still don't harbor a resentment against the American Psychiatric Association, because I do. And I will always be baffled by what actually constitutes a booty signal. I still don't get that and hope to one day so I can improve my communication skills and be able to send clear messages that are not subject to interpretation, or more precisely as in my case, mis-interpretation. It would also be nice if I could send booty fly if I want to, and even learn some subtle control over variations on the message. I just don't want to be forced into making written instructions as I have recently had to do (for lack of a functional non-verbal approach which was efforted and then lost on the intended.) This is mainly because I would really like to avoid a paper trail. But written messages unfortunately prove to be the most effective and, well.. evident? I am also hopeless at poker because of my deficiency in non-verbal communication skills. Maybe it's my Irish background. We are not a subtle people and have made a legacy of putting desires and intentions to the page.

I was, after all, the note writing expert in fifth and sixth grade, often recruited by classmates to pen their love notes and design the required pre-love-note research surveys (The survery being the necessary research tool used to determine the probablity of a statistically significant positive outcome.) For example, "Do you like Julie? Check 'yes', 'no' or 'maybe'" or "If Krista liked you, would you like her back? Check 'yes,' 'no,' or 'maybe.'" or "If you could like someone, would it be Donna? Check 'totally,' 'never,' or 'maybe," or "On a scale of one to ten, would you kiss Robert Pagones?" Circle the number you want..." etc. Having sucessfully sparked more than several pre-adolescent love connections while sadly remaining invisible to the opposite sex myself, I had a certain satisfaction knowing that secretly, it was me that all the boys were in love with and not the Julies, Kristas and Donna's who merely served as stand-in recipients of the passions inspired by my pen.

On Wednesday I had lunch with my mother and did a little shopping at the mall where I had the opportunity to participate in some retail marketing fun. For a short while after college I worked in advertising and found the whole business creepy, from the schmaltzy marketing "package development" to the 4pm gin and tonic "creative meetings" that took place in my agency on a daily basis. After a couple of days sitting through the meetings it became pleasantly clear to me that there was little "creative" happening and a lot more "gin and tonic" happening, which was fine with me. And I was one of the most productive employees. The difference between me and them was the fact that I knew we were there for the gin and not the creative and stopped pretending, while the partners were firmly committed (did I spell that right I hope so because I can't think of another word to use) to maintaining the pretense of "business" while everyone secretly knew that the gin and tonic part of the meeting was clearly the draw and in my opinion far, far more valuable than the "creative" exchange. Here is what a typical exchange looked like:

Don (partner one): So has anyone been in touch with Bob?
Ken (partner two): He was out with that hooker we set him up with last week.
Don: the ****, ****, brunette one with the ****;s?
Ron: (art director) Do the guys at Purity know it's on their account? They'll fuckin shit if they find out. (general laughter)

**I have finished gin and tonic #1**

Don: It was their idea. (more laughter)
Ron: family values my ass! (more louder laughter)
Ken: Bob's the one who always has ass.
Me: I wonder if he leaves his bow tie on and those little round glasses? (strange looks all around)

** I have finished gin and tonic #2

Ron: He's a fucking pervert.
Don: That's why we love him.
Ken: Is he booked for the Thanksgiving turkey shoot next month?
Me: Bob or the turkey? (quiet. strange looks)

**I have started gin now and lime, no tonic**

Me: So are we shooting Bob shooting the turkey, or just Bob shooting? (I laugh)
Ken: So whats happening with those circulars?
Ron: So check this out - I heard Larry (soundman) left the tape running when Bob was in the john the other day. You know, the wireless mike. Bob never remembers to turn the fuckin' thing off right? It's fucking hysterical. He's got the whole soundtrack to Bob's evacuation party in the port-o-san plus the stuff on break, you know aboutn the wardrobe girl? It's fuckin' brilliant I'm tellin' ya. We're gonna cut a :30 spot with that as the voiceover and send it to John when he gets back from Bermuda for the Christmas party.. He'll fucking die when he hears it.
Don: Was it that conversation... when he was you know, talking to me?
Ron: Yup.
Don Oh shit.
Me: We could sell a lot of turkeys with that. (silence)

**straight gin, ice, many limes, pretending to be a martini of some kind**

Ken: Here. Look. Idea. How about the turkey fades in full frame after we see Bob standing at the head of the table there carving it up for the family, camera POV like God, coming in from above, you know the wide shot of Bob with the bow tie and the kids. We have the red tie still right? We have that fucking tie, right? Yup OK. The Ron this is for you, we super "Purity Supreme for your family value Thanksgiving turkey" blah blah blah then cut away to the weekly specials, price per pound with Supreme Saver points, Purity music over and out, turkey points and stamps, all that shit... fade out family image to blue and red fast fade with the super still up?
Ron: Awesome. Great copy, really. Great copy.
Don: Yeah. Are there any more limes? Kelly, did you use all the limes?

Blah blah blah blah blah gin gin gin gin blah blah.

So I purchased a shirt on sale at a j crew and had an uneventful yet pleasant experience, as is the forte of j crew. Aside from virtually commandeering customers into dressing rooms, they have a relatively low-key sales approach which appeals to their understated, preppy customer base. Then we went into Lucky jeans where they have ridiculously overpriced but great t shirts and a more "fun and games" approach to marketing and sales. I bought a shirt for forty bucks which I never do because I get freaked by the agressive sales teenagers. I handed my purchase to the hipster sales clerk and he rang me up. When the total appeared on the LED, he looked me straight in the eye and said and I quote, "Your Lucky number is "forty-three-sixty-five,"

Then I wandered into American Eagle and was greeted at the door by a super duper nice fellow who announced with a big smile and inappropriate enthusiasm that today is "American Eagle swipe your stripe Tuesday, open an American Eagle charge account and swipe your stripe for an extra ten percent off our already low marked down sale items!" It sounded like some kind of super duper fun like a spinny carnival ride that fucks up your inner ear so much you can't walk straight for the rest of the day without hurling your deep-fried twinkie. I was like "OK, cool" and just left. I hate that shit man. It's so full of crapola. What is up with that? I can't go in malls without the right attitude and a sense of humor because if I was in a grumpy mood it would all just be too much for me. Do people fall for that stuff? Doesn't anyone just tell them to just cut the shit and let them shop? And ad people get paid big bucks to come up with that stuff. Are they laughing too? How much are they charging the client? Ad agencies have a lot of attitude and generally think of their clients as dumb children, especially after a few creative gin and tonics. I really like my new shirts though.

So I have tried to write several blog entries this past week and have published none of them which is just as well since I have been fit to be tied. I feel like running, I feel like a lot of things. Some of them good, some of them bad.

I am making a sweater for my sister's baby who is now six months old, but at the moment the arms are different lengths and the baby's arms are both the same length, lucky for him. They are coming down in a couple of weeks, so I plan on finishing the sweater and fixing the arm lengths without getting carried away and ending up with six foot long arms. You know how you try and try to make things even and end up either cutting it all off or just not stopping until you've done ten times more than necessary? Both ways destroy the sweater. Just take this string and walk away... Bum dee dum dum. Or don't. I would prefer you didn't walk away. If you do you can't take my sweater. But maybe I can give it to you and you would like to receive it. I believe I would like to if you will still be interested in it.

love
k.

The following are copies of a series of emails between my friends cat and her family regarding her great offense at having been left out of the family Christmas card portrait. I feel truly sorry for her and in a strage way even identify with her emotional turmoil. Cats, like people, have deep feelings and a complicated inner emotional life that must be tended to, nurtured and developed...

On Dec 28, 2005, at 11:41 AM, Kelly Doyle wrote:

Dear Family,
I am writing regarding an issue that has come to my attention by way of a true cat-lover, and I am sorry to say that what has been revealed to me has hurt my precious feelings considerably. I have considered taking the dog's bed, refusing food, shedding great clumps of fur, and pissing on carpets and furniture, bat I already do those things so they will not create the kind of impact I am looking for. Instead I have decided to write this letter and reveal the shocking truth that I can actually read and write. I am also fully capable of using a computer and sending and receiving email. In fact, if I had a credit card, I could very easily charge a few things up shopping on the internet. Which is something I plan to do given these recent sad circumstances.

Given my considerable talents and value to you and the rest of society, I am truly offended that I was not included in the family Christmas portrait. It saddens me greatly and also that I have apparently been living under the false impression that I am in fact part of your family. Well now I see that this is not true. I am now aware that I am considered not so much as a loved family pet, but as a nuisance and even an object of family shame. I will not be a secret any longer. It is not fair to me, and it is not fair to you. I demand that you take me public and make a public apology for leaving me out of the Christmas card. If you cannot promise this, I will walk out with the next person that visits you that pays me the least bit of the kind attention I deserve. You can also consider lavishing me with the kind of luxuries and attention that I deserve until I feel that I have been restored to my rightful place as head of the family.

Yours truly,
Emma

December 28, 2005 4:16:45 PM EST Cheryl Lynn wrote:

Dear Emma,

How like you to try to turn the events of picture day into a saga all about you. I remember well trying to wake you from your "beauty sleep" in order to meet the photographer. After calling and calling (we know you heard us!) we eventually had to give up and leave you behind. I know full well where you were–behind the dresser in the guest room–sleeping off another night of prowling around the house, spying on the feral cats like a voyeur, watching their secret affairs through the living room window. I hear you indulging all night every night from your dish on top of the wash machine, so lazy that you insist on being picked up and put there to feed! Maybe you haven't seen yourself in the mirror lately, but a little exercise wouldn't be such a bad thing! Jumping up to eat might burn oh, maybe 10 or 15 calories. It's a start.

For almost two years now I have tried to be your friend. I have tried to share my ball, tried to play chase, even offered my stuffed pig for your entertainment. I have not only been rebuffed, but you have literally slapped me in the face I don't know how many times. And don't think I didn't notice on Christmas night when you received dinner out of a silver foil pouch, fine seafood with a delicious gravy, I believe, while I received the same old dried stuff out of the big Rubbermaid container. Oh and don't get me started about the bed! I see yours placed lovingly on the living room sofa where you while away hours and hours of every day as if you were holding court from a throne. And where is my bed? Tossed casually on the floor in a corner of the bedroom. Not to mention that while you're sleeping your life away in your cozy bed on the living room sofa, you snore like a freight train.

But, I digress. I am sure next year the family will once again attempt the Christmas card photo shoot. Perhaps you would be so kind as to rouse yourself from your busy schedule and join us. If this isn't good enough for you then go ahead and walk out with the next person that visits. God knows you need the exercise!

Sincerely,

Faye

On Wednesday March 29th, Kelly Doyle wrote:

Dear Family,
It has been several months since our initial communications transpired and I have finally recovered from the hurt and pain some of your words and actions have caused me regarding the Christmas family portrait situation. I have tried to focus on myself and vowed not take my anger and upset out on anyone until I could really see what my part in it was. Well, I have seen what my part in it was, and it was nil. Absolutely nil. Nil, nil, nil. (that means "nothing)

Now on to the issue at hand. As you may have noticed, there is now ANOTHER dog in our house. This is an offense in the highest order to me. It is big and orange and rather doltish (that means dumb.) No one consulted with me about this decision and once again I feel truly unappreciated and unvalued. Abused, even. Had someone even asked my opinion, I would have been glad to accept the new doltish orange dog (WHERE did it come from?) with an open familial attitude, but since this has not transpired I have taken certain steps to assure my righful place as queen of the house. I have usurped (that means taken) the big orange dog's bed, something I swore I would never do as it is a base and tawdry act typical of a canine (that means dog) breed and not a feline such as myself. But I have little choice in the matter. Also, I am not a "slut" as you sugggested I was to last night's guest who I might mention kindly offered her lap to me and provided me with much needed affection and comfort. Because I understand this comment came from an ugly place in you, one filled with jealousy and bitterness, I will look upon you with pity and not take it to heart. But I will tell you that until things change in that department, I will continue to lavish guests with the same misinterpreted shameless affection as I displayed last night to your lovely friend (she is gorgeous by the way...), and freely tell them about the abuses I suffer in the hands of my caretakers. If one of them can make an offer that stands better than the current situation I suffer and is dog-free, as I promised, I will gladly leave with them. This is not a threat. Only an effort to express to you my true hurt and sadness. Please remember, if I did not care for all of you as much as I do, it would not hurt as much as it does.

But I digress. I am pleasantly surprised to hear that you finally agree with me that Faye is a serious bitch, as I have been trying to tell you for so long. However I must comment on the improvement in Faye's sociability and maturity. The big doltish orange dog seems to have brought out some good in her. This makes my heart sing. Perhaps I have finally made an impression and this is the reason behind the acquisition of the new beast and I can hardly thank you enough. She seems to have been put in her place finally. I revel in the sight of the two silly animals tugging for hours on that long filthy braided thing. It is remarkable that they can derive so much pleasure from such a pointless act. Given my long-standing interest in anthropology, I am truly fascinated by this observation. It almost gives me leave to feel pity for the fools.

With great intensity,
Emma