Speaking of being mad, I bet when this woman woke up from sedation she was pretty darn mad at what she’d done. Ironically, now, she can yell again–if she needs to.
Archive for the ‘Articles’ Category
Recently I saw a couple of very interesting documentaries concerning the North Korean crisis. At Starbucks this morning I noticed the Wall Street Journal Headline with regards to the recent attack. Here is an interesting NPR article. Also, below are the two documentaries, which are available on netflix. The second one gives a chronological historical outline, which is very helpful in understanding the North Korean crisis and its inception.
As of late, this blog’s narrative has kind of taken a deviation of sorts. I guess I’ve had some random thoughts/references (all of course relating to the idea of happiness and my search for it). I think one can “be happy,” while at the same time searching for it too. This is simply because: happiness is an ever-evolving process, and it is not finite. Throughout our lives, and subsequent experiences, happiness means different things, but the search for it is always there; however, sometimes dormant (probably a state closest to depression).
Thinking about happiness and it’s effect on social interactions has been on my mind as of late. What happens when what you’ve been seeking is achieved? How does this affect the individual, are you all the sudden a happy person? Is this noticed among those you interact with? Do you change as an individual?
I think you do and I think people notice, obviously. For example,
Four years ago I was in a state of what I would consider “dormant happiness.” I was probably encroaching on that territory I spoke of earlier . But I still wanted “things” for myself, for my child, for my life. I knew that much. I remember thinking that while I was staring at the blinds.
Now, here I am four years later. Some of those things I wanted then have been achieved, some have not, and new things have been added. I would consider myself acutely active in my endeavors now, especially those concerning my own happiness. I’ve evolved.
But what really interests me, today, is that those things I hoped for, desired, really wanted they’ve been achieved in ways I never could have imagined at the time. They aren’t EXACT duplicates of what I wanted, some are, but most aren’t. They are renditions. My point is, we think we know what we want, but it doesn’t always turn out that way, exactly. Sometimes, that’s okay because what we get might be even better, or more importantly even better for us.
We should all remember, during this time of Thanksgiving, that the exactness of our wants and their achievement may vary, but we can still be happy and fulfilled in what is given.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone.
Oh, the frustration. Sometimes I feel like I’m navigating my way through a corn maze, turning this way and that, never reaching an endpoint, an escape.
I can remember being twelve and waiting for the day when I could go out with friends, drive my own car, and go on a real date. Ha. Been there done that, and at twenty-six I’m beginning to wonder what fourteen years of dating (with a few intermissions) does to the soul and the brain.
So, I got to thinking, what has changed? Well, certainly the dating process. When I was sixteen boys, I emphasize boys, picked me up from my house, in their cars, and met my parents. Okay–there’s a process, a gentlemanly one, I could do without the adolescent parental meeting but the offer of a pickup would be nice. I’d probably deny, given my current safety measures, but again it would be gentlemanly.
Then we’d go on the date, probably drive to restaurant or a movie, after which we’d return home. He’d drop me off.
Huh. Well, at twenty-six, I’m getting offers for coffee (which I don’t even drink for pleasure) and/ or a cocktail, really? I’m going to be pretty hungry– but highly caffeinated or a bit intoxicated, that’ll do.
Um, why am I dating again? I’ve decided it’s a political game–the politics of the heart, gender, and mind.
Or maybe it’s all just one big sex conspiracy. I’ll have to meditate on that one.
a dating whit.
It’s quite odd, during the Holocaust many struggled with the idea of being, well, “too Jewish,” or rather Jewish at all. Lives were literally lost over Jewishness, whether you looked it, acted it, etc.
Well, now there seems to be a new crisis. Now, we’re dealing with the issue of being “not Jewish enough,” put quite simply.
Check this out.
This post is dedicated to all of those who experienced, survived, or were lost in the horrific Holocaust. If this is a historical event that interests you I highly recommend the two part comic narrative Maus.
It seems to me that after you experience divorce, that is, become a divorcee, you also become a magnet for those seeking “friendly” relationship advice. Since my divorce, I have never had so many married friends approach me expressing their own personal marital woes. Can we say smoke and mirrors?
So, what do you say to these helpless worshippers? Their eyes pining upwards toward yours, in dismay, you (well I) certainly cannot leave them hanging.
So, I tell them what my mother told me almost four years ago–
“It’s time to evaluate. There are thirty days in a month and if over half of those thirty days are spent in argument/fighting/retribution, then you seriously need to consider your life.”
So, I did the addition and I recommend it to my pleading friends as well. If you’re in the negative then…
I guess this doesn’t necessarily mean divorce, it didn’t for me, marriage counseling can always be the next step but most I find have already given that a fair shot. So, then I move to my next bit of advice.
It isn’t easy (divorce that is). So, consider wisely. This isn’t a life and death situation, in any sense of physicality, but it may be with regard to the soul, your soul. If he doesn’t pick up his dirty underwear, empty the dishwasher, or clean off the toilet seat–you may want to hire a maid and get a good job with long work hours, instead. No, but seriously, divorce isn’t easy and making that jump will most certainly change you in every way possible, good and bad. It will also present a little addition to your life. Something I like to call the “what if factor.”
What if he had been different?
What if I had been different?
What if the timing had been different?
What if that whore from the Nordstrom shoe department had never been working that Wednesday afternoon when my husband, on a whim, decided to go peruse for a new pair of penny loafers?
You’ll always wonder, what might have been? What dreams might have come AND could things have worked? This is what you sacrifice when you choose divorce. You sacrifice ever knowing. However, consider this, whose to say things wouldn’t have been different anyway because with every circumstance, every change, there comes a differing outcome. So, maybe the Nordstrom girl wasn’t there that Wednesday, instead, five years later your hubby gets run over by a truck crossing the street–either way, you’re alone with accompanying heartache. It’s all a matter of relativity and the passage of time, leading you this way and that, all dependent on varying occurences. I think Robert Frost put it nicely, “And both [roads] that morning equally lay / In leaves no step had trodden black / Yet knowing how way leads on to way / I doubted if I should ever come back.”
So, finally when I have exhausted all the aforementioned then I end with this, “secure your finances before ever mentioning the word divorce.” Trust me, it’s not being deceitful…it’s being smart. If you have to, stick it out, until you have what you need to leave. I’ve encountered many friends, with young children, no assets, no education, their husband(s) owning everything; having reduced them to the life of: housewife. Just make sure you leave when the time is ripe, oops, I mean right. 😉 It never hurts to get a little legal advice prior.
A good friend from back when I was married emailed me the other day concerning a matter similar to this post’s topic. I thought it funny, she, after all these years, my divorce from her husband’s friend, had returned to me for some semblance of hope. My final words to her, “I’ll be praying for you and your little family.”
That’s how my advice column will always end, always.
A divorced whit.
I thought I would change things up a bit for today and provide you with an excerpt of text. This one is from Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses, which also means that this post won’t show up on several internet servers due to banning (not that anyone from the middle east reads my blog anyway). For those of you seeing this, enjoy:
“Question: What is the opposite of faith?”
“Not disbelief. Too final, certain, closed. Itself a kind of belief.”
“The human condition, but what of the angelic. Halfway between Allahgod and homsap, did they ever doubt?”
“…O God, he cries out, O allgood allahgod.”
Rushdie likes to use puns throughout his writing, created words, in this instance “allahgod” and “homosap” but these are just two of many examples, and they don’t come without intended meaning. Suggestive of the word allahgod, through the combination of the Muslim Allah and the traditional Christian God is the creation of another dimension, a third space. A place where, perhaps, god and allah are one and the same, or they represent a new type of god (perhaps any other god worshipped). He also combines the words “all” and “good” adding emphasis to the fact that “allahgod” is “allgood,” and all encompassing. Then what are we? “homosap.” This shortened version of our species describes us as “homo,” supposedly knowing; however, with the ending shortened to “sap” indicates a sort of foolishness. So perhaps Rushdie is suggesting that we, humans, lack an open perspective/judgment concerning god and his universal nature, his allgood, allpowerful, allknowing, presence.
Just something to chew on.
I recently stumbled upon this blog post, which I found to be slightly disturbing but not for the reason you might be inclined to think.
Our society has transitioned into a new wave of discrimination and this time the target seems gender related. Since the beginning of time, and even currently, differing cultural groups, religious groups, varying ethnicities, have been the product of discriminatory practices but now we’re venturing into a whole new sphere. I think the important thing to remember is this is nothing new. As many of you know, my educational background is focused in the area of literature. Throughout the years I have explored a variety of texts, poetry, fiction, essays, etc, where gender/sexuality issues exist.
Yes, there were homosexuals in the fifteenth century. Big shocker.
However, gender and sexuality, in the past, were presented mostly through allusions, satirical jest, etc. We’re entering a new era and in this one people are opening up. Finally, individuals are facing the blatant reality that gender is not so easily defined nor is sexuality. How wonderful that we are transitioning towards this way of life, writing, living the obvious, the real, why hinder such?
But it’s happening, people are impeding this miraculous feat and, yet again, lives are being lost, ruined, and hurt because of differences.
A professor once said,
“gender is a performance, a fabrication.”
You could think of it like this, each one of us is playing a role in a play, acting the part, being the person that very role assigns. Unfortunately, life, sexuality, gender, is far more complicated than a role so strictly designated. Individuals may choose different performances or they may be living a biological performance different from that of yours or mine. That doesn’t make their performance any less real or vital; however, your assumption or judgment of it may be detrimental to their life. If we continue with the theatrical allegory, the world of theatre, is quite obviously designed and encouraging of creativity, why not then in our own societal structures as well?
Individuals, children, adults, PEOPLE, should be allowed to live their lives. They should be allowed to perform the way they choose and most importantly our children need to know that those choices are okay because inevitably they will grow up and act a part of their own.
The holocaust, the chinese exclusion act, black slavery, native american discrimination, and the list goes on and on. All of these historical events have one thing in common–injustice. People being forced into roles they were never meant to inhabit.
So, play your part the way you want to. Don’t try to perform the role necessarily assigned to you by socially constructed gender terms. Little Boo played his part (the one he chose) and I think he did a great job of it.
Today I found myself at the schoolyard amidst all those hobblyknob youngsters except this time I wasn’t one of them. This time, I was one elusive parent huddled among the classroom four corners. Little e was all jitters for this glorious occasion, and I managed to hold it together until the very end then I almost cried. Suddenly, it occurred to me that e has been attending “school” for three years, why was this any different? How could I be near tears with such a usual and customary occasion? We had done this two or three times already throughout his daycare/preschool career. I thought about it long and hard before I picked him up two hours after dropping him off.
I was probably the only single parent in the classroom of mom and dad couples. This was in no way a downer for me, but the toddles of those littler siblings was a bit dampering. I want one.
Since losing my job I have discovered something that I wasn’t fully appreciative of in the past, always attentive, but at a much stealthier pace, disallowing the full realization of it. My left-brain whispered to me, “He’s only four once Ms. whit.” That shocked me. Reality is, there are so many things in this life that we can recreate, reproduce, rethink, re-do, but our children’s childhood, that is not one of them. We may spend all the time in the world attempting to capture our dreams, provide, plentify life, but what is all worth if we miss out on a morning bike ride filled with laughter and hill climbing, or the colloquial phrase such as little e’s term “manajerky,” (referencing a turkey/mayonnaise sandwich). These were all the things I thought about while I waited to retrieve little e. The things I haven’t had much time to reflect on as of late. I thought about the times of my own youth, spent with my mother, who quit her other “assignment” to stay home with my sister and I. I know this time is fleeting, unemployed and out of school for the summer, but soon the hectic days will resume. I wish not to forget this moment, and the joy it has brought me. I guess today’s posting is less about happiness and more about the gratitude that fills me. Five. Six. Seven, Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven and into infinity and beyond he will go. I can’t stop the mechanisms of time (oh how I wish I could stay twenty-five forever and he four).
As I was bathing e tonight, in a sea of bubbly, his face full of laughter, “like my bubble beard mom?” “Oh, how I love it, just love it.” There will come a day when bubble beards are a thing of the past, so I plopped down next to the tub and there I smeared some lather across my own face afterward we conversed about tomorrow night’s soccer practice, his love of Coldplay (the band), and the weirdness of so many things his little eyes notice. It was truly joyful.
There’s this little white blank church I would pass everyday on my way to work. I’d find myself wondering, who worships here, who fills this place every Sunday? What are their thoughts, hopes, desires, and pains? That happened every morning for a few months. I was so tempted to return on a Sunday, the place was so lonely, but I knew there was a time of infusion. The worshippers would come and breathe vitality into this place.
In your life there comes an instant where you really have to sit and evaluate who you are and what you’re living for. This moment isn’t the same for everyone. For some it comes by a breath of happiness, others tragedy, some change. I can remember the day I got married. I thought this was my juncture. Here I would ask, “Who are you? Who loves you? And then, you are going to have this beautiful life with this beautiful person—you are defined.” But these moments aren’t so easily recognized, and oftentimes they happen without us even noticing it. This is how it happened to me. I did get married, I remember pieces of that day so vividly, and I hold them in my heart, mostly so I can share them with little e. I recall the pink cake, and how the train on my dress ripped unexpectedly, I remember sitting on a bench, surrounded by white, staring out through the etched windows of the church. Uniquely, I remember doing all of these things by myself (this is quite anomalous for someone’s wedding day). I don’t ever remember being scared, or worried, or even unsure. I felt blank. This was not my moment.
Six years have passed since that occasion. Now, I find myself meditating on who I’ve become and what that experience did to my life. I realize that I’m angry. I’m so mad at the person who betrayed me–he let me down. I direct that anger, not at him, but at people I’ve dated since him. It may be something they do, something they say, it reminds me, and then suddenly I see a reflection of his face staring back at me. While this is happening, I let him do whatever he wants. I never show disappointment, or rage, for him I am still blank. Once he told me, after everything was done, he was about to remarry, “I am so sorry for ruining you.” I responded with a quick, “thanks?” That was my first evaluation session (some people have more than one). I was no one, a ruined individual that was it. Well, you know what they say, “ruin is the road to transformation.” I gave myself a few months and began taking that seriously. Then with the start of this project there came my second moment. I write it out and I begin to see who I am and what my dreams are. I’ve accomplished. I’ve lived. I don’t feel ruined anymore, but I have to stop being angry or I’ll never capture what I am truly living for, happiness.
So, I asked myself last night, what good has come from the end of that marriage? Immediately I thought, the people I have met. I think about all of them.
Steve, his wife died of cancer and now he’s a single dad with two beautiful girls. Chloe, his miracle baby. She was delivered premature so that Bridget (Steve’s wife) could undergo chemo. Then there’s Grace. Steve once told me that while driving in the car Grace noticed the leaves outside falling, blowing away. She said something like, “Daddy, that’s like mommy right? The leaves come and go.” He loved that moment because his little girl understood life and death. Steve taught that there is beauty in tragedy, and hope.
Karen, when I met her she was weak but at a distance I have seen her grow into someone of strength and courage. Her family lives in Hawaii and she raises her son on her own.
Jason, his wife also died of cancer. He graduated law school, top of his class, and got a job with one of the best firms in Nevada. He bought a new home and then six months ago sold it after being laid off. His daughter McKenna is beautiful and has a stitched pillow on her bed with a picture of her Mom holding her. I met him right after my divorce and he taught how to move on.
Wayne. I wonder about this one. I spent a year crying that we weren’t together but then one day I realized, that’s a good thing, now you know what it feels like to love someone. I never felt blank with him.
Dr. S, our custody evaluator. I spent numerous trips to San Diego for sessions with this fellow. He reassured me of all my parental intentions. He never said, “you’re a great mom,” instead he said something much deeper, “you have a spectacular child, one who is very loved, I thoroughly enjoy little e.” He restored my worth as a mother.
Joey. A Mormon that taught me Mormons are good when I stopped believing they were.
Jerry. He gave me my first job after my divorce. When I started working for him I was timid. I didn’t even know how to say, “I WANT THIS.” After leaving his office I worked for a law firm (that should give you a good idea of my progression). I ran into him at the grocery store about two months ago, he said, “I can just see how you’re different. You’ve got life in you. You’re in a great place.” He was a stepping stone. I had to start somewhere and he gave me that opportunity.
The countless men I’ve dated. They’ve taught me how to date, how to pray, how to recognize a wanker, how to listen, cultural awareness, money management, passion.
Glen. He’s my attorney friend who always has good advice. He’s also always on IM chat and easily accessible. We’ve been friends for three years now.
Scott. A single Dad who loves taking me to concerts and being my “wingman.” He’s always willing to take one for the team.
Chloe. I just met her, but she reminds me of all my college girlfriends. Chloe laughs with me and it gives me a sense of “times gone by.” She’s great.
James. He taught me about addiction, what it’s like to live in the shadow of it. I pray for him. Memories of James helped me through some tough family times. I needed to meet him.
Toby. He sold me an Anthropologie rug off craigslist. A cute aussie who has since moved back to Melbourne. In a late night conversation he was able to get through to me. He also taught me the word “wankers,” which I love.
Jonathon. He started out as the perfect date. He’s an English professor who loves literature. I learned from him that I may be able to get a job when I someday finish school.
Professor Ochoa. She told me that someday I’ll write a book.
I look at all these people and cannot help but smile. They’ve given me so much life, they are all so beautiful, and have attributed to the transformation currently underway. I am like the white church, the blank lonely church, and all of my friends they are the worshippers. They come into my life, at their moments, and they infuse me. I am going to stop being angry, and self-conscious, and closed. I am going to let more people in. I said before that life is defined by moments, but I retract that statement. Instead, life is defined by the moments you share with others.