Archive for the ‘WTF’ category

NONONONONO!

March 7, 2009
ist2_2655048-darkness

This is how I feel when we speak on the phone.

I am not sure if what is happening is a search gone bad kind of thing or a simple personality clash, irrelevant of the search. I imagine the relationship/non-relationship must be a large part of this clash. I can’t manage to get a sentence out without being interrupted with some sort of challenge, as if I am uttering some untruth. I can say “it’s raining” and get “NO, it’s not” in that sort of jumping (as in, on me), snappy tone, as if I have been caught in some lie.

ist2_4251023-depression

I cannot even handle a phone call these days. I want to scream NO, I am NOT lying, it IS raining here.

Everything I say is suspect. Most often the challenge comes as a result of misunderstanding or not listening to what I am saying. As in, “the mailman, who is a friend of Jane, told her that he has a pink poodle…” which is then interrupted with “WHY would the mailman tell YOU he has a pink poodle? There is NO SUCH THING as a pink poodle.” She comes at me with all caps, bold and italic, accusatory and loaded with contempt. Everything begins with NO…  NO, it is not raining. NO, that is not how your ____ is, NO, you did not do that, and so on. NONONONONO. It’s a tiresome refrain. (more…)

Advertisements

A Convoluted Badge of Something

January 8, 2009

A Greek Tragedy for a Convolute?

ist2_1085349-snow-globeThe psychic looks at my left palm; the one which depicts where I have been, which bears little resemblance to my right palm, which is where I am, and am going.  He says, “Can I be frank?” I nod in an of course manner and consciously decline to utilize the obvious, “I thought your name was Henry?” joke, because I do not much ROFL over recycled humor. Cerebral humor is more my style; a mind-chuckle being more enjoyable than the mind [rhymes-with-part-of-the-word-chuck(le)] that was my childhood.

He says, “Your childhood was really convoluted.” Finally! The most succinct poetic ode to my childhood. A tidy one word summary. It is such the perfect word. I still have it. And it works. And, as long as we are being succint, if I had to sum myself up in one word I’d say I was an italic. And that my life has been in constant pursuit of the appropriate life-saving em dash. Maybe I am a Convolute.

I sometimes hesitantly suspect that I might be a dangling particle. But in reality, I am not entirely positive just what a dangling participle is and cannot immediately identify one. I mean I know, but I am not 100% certain, therefor I am one, because that would explain my confusion about who I am, in a metaphorically grammatical way.

ist2_5290011-who-s-that-manI think about such things all the time because I am very confused. I was raised by one family; I have another family now and I am getting to know them. But I wonder how much they are getting to know me. I don’t think either family really knows me. I think both families have tried to shape me. Why are we not all merely seen for who we are and not for what me might be? My bmom does not listen. I can hear her thinking of what she is going to say next rather than simply listening. Mostly in our conversations I just listen. I hear. I don’t really think much that she hears what I am saying but rather, hears what she wants. Hence The Guilt Trip.

I keep thinking of the whole journey as akin to the myth of Pandora’s Box, which was really a jar and only became known as a box due to a mistranslation of the Greek Pithos for “jar”, which became “box” when translated into Latin.  Pithos sounds like pathos, and is one of the three modes of persuasion, in Aristotle’s philosophies in rhetoric so it’s all Greek to me, and all tied together and convoluted.

ist2_3223613-entrance-hall-of-brussels-courthouseEvents of Pathos, or, Pathetic events, in a plot “are also not to be confused with tragic events. In a tragedy, the character brings about his or her own demise, whereas those invoking pathos often occur to innocent characters, invoking unmerited grief.” – wikipedia

Interesting, that jar/box thing – a mistranslation or mis-communication that changes the meaning of a thing forever. Pandora opened that jar out of curiosity and when she saw what was in it (more…)

Rants and Fancypants

December 30, 2008

ist2_1407030-blooming-dandelionI realize than ranting about relations with my bmom will possibly not endear me to bmoms out there wishing for a relationship of any sort at all with their bkids. But maybe it is useful information. Maybe it is helpful to know how it can feel as a middle-aged (btw, since we don’t know how long we are going to live, how can we know when we hit the middle of it?) person trying to delicately navigate a relationship with a stranger.

But I have no delusions of grandeur or perfection and I approach life and its inhabitants with the utmost of respect, humility and empathy, carefully examining situations from all sides of things; inside-out, outside-in, vertically and horizontally, upside down and rightside up, and perhaps I just wish for some of that from the other side. I just want to be who I am and never allow myself to be affected by the wants of another for that is not being true.

Truth is the most precious gift, to be handled with care and packed in bubble wrap at all times.  And my rant below is truthfully about the unnecessary cancer of a guilt that was imposed on me for a crime I had never, and would never, commit. No one among us should ever distort the facts as a means of alleviating other, perhaps hardly related or deeply rooted guilts, for doing so is to risk irrevocably damaging a precious relationship. I am not Ms. Righteous FancyPants. I do not judge. I merely react. I try too hard and offer too much respect to be slapped with guilt.

All that you have is your soul.

Guilt trips always get me down

December 28, 2008

Rainy days and Mondays are, however, fine.

IT’S A PARKING LOT WITHOUT LINES

ist2_4356889-coal-for-youOh, the holidays. What loaded fun. What complicated, charged, bloated, booby-trapped, commercial, expensive, meaningful, non-meaningful, joy! Good thing the big one is only once a year. This is not to say that I am against holidays or don’t like them but rather an acknowledgment of the emotional brew bubbling beneath the surface. No matter how I might try, if I do what I want – what is comfortable and meaningful, and peaceful and happy for me – I get in trouble. I am starting to resent that. And I refuse to continue to always put myself second to others, which is be a huge shift from the last few decades of subservient merry-making and everyday life.

Since beginning my search I have spent a lot of time thinking. Thinking and thinking all day long. Some times in all capital letters, sometimes in italics, often cluttered with colons and semi colons, brackets, asterisks and pound signs. Especially asterisks. I am an Asterisk. Actually, I am a Spasterisk. To illustrate that I am making the quotation mark sign in spastically rapid motions as I say “Spasterisk” as if I am paraphrasing myself. I should have named this blog My Life as a Spasterisk. Shit, always the best ideas are a day late, a dollar short, and then freely offered up for the next person to use. If I see a blog named that I am going to scream. today is a very rare anger day for me. It’s been brewing.

ist2_6547957-country-highwayI had thought and thought about the impact my search might have on my birth mother and for years was unwilling to take that risk, to possibly disrupt her life in a painful or negative way. Since meeting her I have tried to use what my friends determine is my immense capacity for empathy to weigh her feelings and possible perspective into my decisions and quite often made decisions to do things that I’d not wanted to do; to spend more time together than I was as of yet comfortable with. I have always tried to meet in the middle give or take a few miles, but the middle can start to shift farther and farther away till I need binoculars to see from whence I came.

So, for Christmas I had made plans to go visit friends, childhood friends, a few hours away. (more…)

Polling, unsuccessful. Life, not yet determined.

December 18, 2008

I would like to take a minute to thank me for participating in my poll. Eleven times. I have won a small Buddha figurine and a special letter of commemoration signed by Me.

For my next trick I am going to make a secret post and see if anyone can figure it out.