Words

“It’s only words, and words are all I have…”

I have always had a great love of, interest in and affinity for words. I love language. I love the music of language. I love the individual words of the English language. Even profane language has a certain musicality about it when the vituperation is strung together with the requisite amount of heat when used to punctuate anger or the right amount of wit to invoke humor.  Richard Pryor, we sorely miss you.

People are always either amused or angered by my vocabulary. It’s never made me popular at work.

My own mother hated me all her life because I was a reader and I had an affinity with words. She always told me I was acting white or that I was not smart, and when she thought she wasn’t beating me down enough with her constant assaults to my self esteem, she talked about me abusively to anyone and everyone who would listen. My mother was my most vociferous hater. After her, all others paled. And there were others. Many others.

People have said things to me, to my face, that it would never, ever even  occur to me to say out loud or maybe perhaps think to contemplate or even utter to myself, alone in the dark, under my breath about anyone I have ever met. I must be the biggest asshole I have ever known in my life or I really am Job, only without the three false friends. Even three false friends I would welcome at this point.

I love the English language. It is about big words because our small ones don’t always covey emotion. They just make you seem like you’re going with the flow. Like Elizabeth Hasselback.

The English language is not romantic like Spanish or Italian or French. It’s not necessarily meant to convey feelings or nuance. We have film for that.  It’s utilitarian. It’s cerebral. It’s meant to convey ones thought processes. Its sole purpose is to establish meaning.  In America, it’s all about making meaning, making sense, making the point, being UNDERSTOOD.

Maybe in France and Italy it’s more about expressing feelings, emotions, evoking the past; it’s playful. Here in America, it’s all business all the time.  It’s about not being misunderstood.

Language is serious, especially now in our “it’s my way or the highway” group-think, be different just like everybody else society. You will never see a fiction writer or non-fiction writer appear as a guest on Jay Leno, or sit with Matt and Meredith, or Regis and Kelly and the ladies of The View.

Nobody’s talking about books, or ballet, or opera. Nobody plays the accordion or the harp, or sings songs with intelligent, meaningful lyrics without vocal gymnastics. If they talk about a book, it’s probably written by some celebrity who thinks we “need to understand” their mental health issue, or their divorce, or their list of lovers, or their addictions. Boor..ring!

Seems the only place you can hear about books and words is on NPR or The Daily Show or The Colbert Report or the NYTimes Book Review.

Do we really need another self-help book, or celebrity “cathartic,” tell-all expose, or someone’s false-seeming memoir, or yet another book book about how to get, attract, keep, meet or marry a man? Or get a job, write a resume or network?

Do we?

smile an ever lasting smile

a smile can bring you near to me

don’t ever let me find you gone

’cause that would bring a tear to me

this world has lost its glory

let’s start a brand new story

now my love

you think that I don’t even mean

a single word I say

 

it’s only words

and words are all I have

to take your heart away

 

talk in ever lasting words

and dedicate them all to me

and I will give you all my life

i’m here if you should call to me

you think that I don’t even mean

a single word I say

 

it’s only words

and words are all I have

to take your heart away

 

it’s only words

and words are all I have

to take your heart away

 

da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da

da da da da da da da da da da

 

this world has lost its glory

let’s start a brand new story

now my love

you think that I don’t even mean

a single word I say

 

it’s only words

and words are all I have

to take your heart away

The World Is Closed

I’m a very private person. I don’t put too much out there about myself. It’s easy to talk about feelings or to react to current events, or the arts and entertainment, politics, The View. But for the most part my life’s experience has taught me to be on my guard. Anne Frank wrote while hiding with her family in an attic during the Holocaust that she believed people are basically good at heart. I think she’s right: People are basically good at heart but the caveat to that is they are mean as well.

I’m discovering daily over the past twenty years I am just angry. I have cognition around my anger so I pray about it, I cogitate over it, I devise coping strategies and try very hard to act on these. I smile, I try to be nice, I’m effusive, helpful, knowledgeable, funny, ( I’ve read the bible from Genesis to Revelation), but mean people are not invested in me, my success or my future. It’s their mission in life to rid the world of people like me; to expose me as the fraud that I am. I am an angry person trying to look like I’m just like everybody else.

My anger has been reflecting back at me by my recent experiences at the dog park of all places. Before I got ThatOne, I could go whole weekends without parting my lips to utter a single sound. On Friday after work, I’d drive back to wherever I was living, shit, shower and shave and lie in bed where I remained until Monday morning. I have no friends. If I suddenly died tomorrow, no one would care or notice or come to my funeral. Now, I enjoy whole conversations with people who actually touch me, hug me, laugh with me and who call me by my name.

For Christmas 2008,  I saved $200.00 to entertain my son and his girlfriend. I invited them here where I planned for us to relax in the hot tub out back, swim in the pool out back, have breakfast at the Buffet at the casino a minutes drive from here and to show them around the Inland Empire.

It is really quite beautiful here, surrounded by black, craggy mountains with snow capped mountains off further in the distance, the historic old town, the ducks, the lake, the fountains, the ducks. Only it rained buckets Christmas day which was a Thursday, so out of concern for my son I suggested they come Friday instead.  I waited and waited and waited and waited. No one ever came. No one ever called. Part of the reason I hoped I would give birth to a boy 25 years ago was because I believed then that they’re more loyal to their mothers.

Finally I texted my son and told him I was disappointed. He acknowledged in his response that he should have called but that he just didn’t. I told him I was a big girl and that I would get over it. What do you think?

He came here for the first time this past Saturday. He said he was going to celebrate our not seeing each other in over three months by treating himself to a big meal. I took him to the dog park. He met Sharon, and Nancy and That’s doggie friends. Then we went to Claim Jumper. I had the gigantic chocolate cake and milk. He had top round and lobster tail and the crab cake appetizer, cheesy garlic bread and a mixed greens salad.

I recalled how in November I begged him to lend me $130.00 so I could pay my rent. He couldn’t help me. But he and his girlfriend took a trip to Puerto Rico and in April, (the same week as my #52), they’re going to New York.

All of these things and the crushing sadness I feel daily over my unemployment has made me more verbal than usual about my present circumstances. I have been telling everyone that will listen that I am unemployed and passing out my resume to any and all takers. So you can imagine my elation when I got an email response from a lovely woman I met at the dog park suggesting there may be a place in her office for me. But my experience did not leave me totally gullible. This was too good to be true and it was.

You see, it turns out this woman is trying to organize a team under an MLM opportunity called 5Links (http://www.5linx.com/opportunity/index.html). My heart broke in a strange way. I know now what Virginia Woolf, Ernest Hemingway, Sylvia Plath , Ray Combs, David Foster Wallace, Spalding Gray, Vincent Van Gogh, Jean Seberg, Donny Hathaway, Marilyn Monroe, Phyllis Hyman, Kurt Cobain knew at crisis time. They all knew just like I know now: Your arm’s too short to box with God.

“…But if it is from God, you will not be able to overthrow them, otherwise you may perhaps be found fighters actually against God.” Acts 5:39

If  this  pain and decades long misfortune is in fact from God, I may not escape this destiny. The lifelong struggle to escape will only make matters worse as I  become then a fighter against God. Clearly that’s a battle I cannot win or even hope to enjoy a modicum of success at during the brief, fruitless struggle. I’m a fighter against God. How can anything I ever do succeed?

The world is closed. I’ll never work again. I cannot publish a video resume. The world is closed. Like Zack Mayo said in An Officer and a Gentleman: “I got nowhere else to go! I got nowhere else to g… I got nothin’ else …”

“I’ve always taken ‘The Wizard of Oz’ very seriously, you know. I believe in the idea of the rainbow. And I’ve spent my entire life trying to get over it.”
Over The Rainbow | Judy Garland

“And now you know… the rest of the story.” Paul Harvey

The world is closed.

The Needs Of The Many

If your dog has mange, please do not take him/her to a public dog park or a public, organized specialized breed dog meet up.

Mange is highly contagious; an unsightly and painful condition caused by burrowing mange mites.  Mange is contagious and is spread by contact from infested to non-infested animals.  Mange can occur in man, dogs, cats, horses, sheep, cattle and other animals.

When contracted by humans, it often manifests as yeast. It causes excessive peeling of the skin, excessive itchiness, (and particularly on Black skin) unsightly dark, scaly rashes, and will only go away with topical antifungal treatments that can easily be bought over the counter: lotrimin and clortrimazol.  Washing the affected areas with dandruff shampoo also helps.

ThatOne and I eagerly attended a bulldog meetup in North County. The meetup was scheduled to begin at 3pm. We left our home in the Inland Empire at 2:10pm. Dog parks are often hard to find. They’re usually in a secluded part of a neighborhood that really does not want the immediate public to know there is a dog park there, so the signage is virtually next to non-existent.

If you are going to the dog park for the first time, the entrance sign may be so unobvious you may drive past several times. We did not find the park, despite my being more than familiar with the area until about 3:45pm.

The meetup was poorly organized and even more poorly attended. All went well, however, until about 4:15 when a woman showed up with her female, who was not spayed, who was in heat and who had the worst case of mange I had ever seen in over twenty years.  Pets should not be permitted to mingle with mangy animals or contact premises occupied by them since individual contact is the most important method of transmission.

I was stunned. I turned to another attendee and asked “Does that dog have mange?” I then immediately asked the owner if her dog had mange. She admitted the dog had mange, but with the caveat that hers was non-contagious, which I found hard to believe. She was uncertain about what type of mange the dog had, and when pressed, volunteered her dog had Sarcoptic mange, but I could tell she had no idea on earth what type the dog had.  I am not even confident this dog is under the care and supervision of a vet.   But it doesn’t matter: Mange is HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS. PERIOD.

The other attendee with her husband and d0g, Pork Chop immediately left, and I was hot on their heels. I was livid, and frightened and concerned for ThatOne. This was the second meetup where someone brought their dog out with mange. This dog’s mange was not localized and appeared on her face, head and all over her upper body. To add insult to injury, the dog was not spayed and was in heat.

Like me, you may be unemployed. Alone. Seeking companionship or occasional association for your bullie. Like me, you may love your bulldog. But in spite of all that, you may not, YOU MAY NOT bring your unhealthy dog to a public dog park  and expose it to healthy dogs. YOU MAY NOT do that! YOU MAY NOT do that!

I have washed my steering wheel, my car, my hands and shoes with a bleach solution. Bleach kills the mites.

I have all the fellow feeling and empathy in the world for you, but I am also a responsible pet owner and I expect–  no, I demand the same from all of you.  Please, Please, Please don’t bring your unhealthy, un-spayed, un-neutered adult dog around healthy, spayed and neutered dogs whose owners have taken their responsibilities seriously and can, upon demand, produce current immunization records.  It’s thoughtless, unloving, inconsiderate and especially unkind to dog owners with puppies.

You love your bullie, and so do we, responsible pet owners.   But, in the immortal words of  Star Trek’s  Mr. Spock  “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

 http://www.ask.com/web?o=sb&l=zr&q=is+mange+contagious

Two American Kids

Two American kids doin the best they can…

Oprah, and Tyra and Larry and Matt and Meredith and Ann and Al (love ya, Al!)— Everybody’s talking about Rihanna and Chris Brown. Everybody’s talkin’ loud and sayin’ nothin’,  spoutin’ the same-sounding, redundant   Stepford-wife speak in unison.

You know the stake has been rammed securely into the heart of cognitive journalism when Robin Givens, the ghost of celebrity past, is resurrected from career-dead to appear on Larry King to speak about her experience with her “abuser,” ex-husband Mike Tyson. Um, Humm… ‘Nuf said.

All this media speculation casting Rihanna as the poor, defenseless, poor helpless, poor pity inspiring woman-Victim and Chris Brown is the big, mean, psychologically damaged-victim man-ABUSER.

Everybody’s talkin’ ’bout the rumor that the couple has produced a track together. Could it be they’re just fulfilling a prior contractual obligation?

Will she break the mold and speak articulately, clearly and truthfully about what really happened to her? What happened to them that fateful night and why has she decided to continue to maintain a relationship with him afterward?

Rihanna and Chris are not married. They have no children together. Conventional wisdom says they should just go their separate ways, then, right? Is that why no one is talkin’ ’bout Hilary Clinton, who chose to remain in an emotionally, sexually, and perhaps even psychologically tormented relationship with her husband Bill?

Rihanna knows she is not a victim. Chris Brown knows he is not the star of  OJ, The Prequel. These are two people who were, by all accounts, in a committed, monogamous relationship and then got into an argument on Grammy night that got out of hand. Had this happened before—but without the violent escalation?

Was Rhianna a jealous person? Had she been jealously acting out throughout the course of their relationship? Was she accustomed to demeaning him? Hitting him? Was physical violence a recurring dynamic of their relationship?

 Was Chris Brown less than faithful to the relationship? Did he subliminally enjoy her jealous outbursts thinking it was perhaps “cute,” even a boost to his ego? Was her jealousy and his tolerance of it, even physical violence, a recurring dynamic of their relationship?

Rihanna and Chris have the answers to these questions. It would really be brave and refreshing for them to intelligently and publicly, together, articulate this not often discussed relationship dynamic. You see, I don’t believe all women are “abused.” Relationships are like fingerprints: Every one is unique and different.

We seem to be living in a tabloid dominated society where everyone has to think alike or else suffer the painful consequences. If you don’t think and sound and believe like a herd of sheep then  prepare to be slaughtered, maligned, ridiculed or worse (gasp)– shunned.  

If the talking heads say you’re un-American, or you don’t support the troops, or you’re an abuse victim and here are all the benchmarks that clearly identify you as an abuse victim, then count on Oprah, and Dr. Phil, and Dr. Drew and Dr. Laura, Matt, Meredith, Ann and Al and anyone else who has a ratings stake in promulgating their “expert” opinion or their past experience to keep whipping up the redundant media conflagration designed not to inform, but rather influence the court of public opinion.

Well, I’m here to tell you: All women who are “abused,” are not helpless, shrinking, passive, uncooperative, milquetoast  ”Victims.” Nor are their “abusers” always monsters, percolating murderers, socio/psychopaths who “will beat you again.” Relationships are like fingerprints: Every one is unique and different. There is no such thing as a “one size fits all” panty for relationships.

I admire Hilary Clinton for staying with her husband, despite the media talking heads whipping a judgemental public into a frenzy calling for her to leave him.

Hilary knew things about her husband of over twenty years that Oprah and the public did not know then (or now) and neither would they ever know. She valued things about her husband that Oprah and the public did not value nor would they ever value or even ever know.

Hilary may have been hurt by Bill. She may have experienced humiliation because of his behavior and the resulting publicity. She may have hated him with every fiber of her being for a good long time but she bravely chose to love, honor and respect  herself more.  Yes, he may have been a lousy, cheatin’, wife-abusin’, ignorant, jack ass son-of-a-bitch, but you know what? He was HER lousy, cheatin’, wife-abusin’, ignorant, jack ass son-of-a-bitch!

She enjoyed an intellectual compatibility with him she was smart enough to realize was better than even great sex. She decided she was going to stand by her man because the intellectual compatibility they shared was bigger than his wandering penis. I don’t think for a minute she’s regretted that decision. I don’t think he has, either.

Chris, you did wrong, and you know it. And you were S-T-U-P-I-D! You didn’t think about your career or the public’s perception (after all, perception is reality), or your young fans, or the things you yourself have said to the press, or Oprah, (who has never conceived an original idea or has been presented with someone else’s she would not shamelessly exploit for her own gain) or your contractual obligations or your family or your sponsors. Chris, sure you’re 19. But Chris, there are plenty of 19 year olds in relationships with women who don’t beat them up or cause their lips to swell or threaten to kill them.

Don’t go the Michael Phelps route and blame it on youth. Be a Man! You lost your temper and your perspective and your self-control and you punched her. Then things went on and on and escalated. Then you opened your mouth and frogs leaped forth and fell with resounding thuds. These are  in her statement to the police.

You were not having an out-of-body experience, Chris. Someone or something else did not take over your psyche. You were angry. You allowed the rage to engulf you. You chose not to rely on any of your usual, reliable defenses: your memory of your witnessing the spousal abuse between your parents, reflecting on scripture, paying attention to the inner voice, your conscience, screaming for you to stop– No. You allowed yourself to be carried away with your rage.  You lost your self-control.

Rihanna, when he told you not to worry about the text message or phone message or whatever it was that set you off– why didn’t you just take a chill pill or did you kinda sorta rely on his usual response to your “cute” jealous ragings? Did you knock him upside his head? Did you call him a name (and you know what I’m talkin’ about). Did you do that repetitive slapping on the arm thing, perhaps even while he was  driving?  

In the past he would just smile that sly, sexy smile and and tell you how cute you were being or even just ignore you, but on this night you chose not to rely on any of your usual, reliable defenses:  your soft spoken modesty, good conscience and self-control.  What went wrong this night?

Don’t go the Michael Phelps route and blame it on youth. Be a Woman! You lost your temper and your perspective and your usual self control and you punched him. Then things went on on and on and the thing just escalated. Tell us why you didn’t call the police, or phone a friend or get out of the car or use your head and diffuse the situation enough so you could get out of the car.

It’s good that you want to protect your privacy, your dignity and perhaps even Chris, but you both need to sit down with Michele Norris of NPR radio and clearly, articulately, with humility and truth, with soberness of spirit  (be prepared!), with no references to God, with no pregnant pauses, no “ums” and “you knows,” tell what happened that night and then explain why you have decided to remain together. Rihanna, you are not a Victim! And Chris, you are not a Monster!

It is true: Things got out of hand.  You lost your self control.  Chris, you should not have hit Rihanna. Period. End of story.

Do not go to The Today Show, Good Morning America, The CBS network, Larry or Barbra Walters. For God’s sake, don’t appear on The View. Don’t go to People magazine. Go to NPR radio, go to Essence, sit down with the Managing Editor;  go to Vanity Fair. That’s it. Don’t go on Entertainment Tonight, Extra, Access Hollywood, MTV, VH-1, or E! Although it may be tempting, please, please, please don’t appear on Larry King! Don’t go on Jay Leno or any of the late night venues. 

Go to NPR radio, go to Essence, sit down with the Managing Editor; go to Vanity Fair. That’s it.  

Michele Norris, NPR.  Vanity Fair.  Essence.   That’s all and that’s it. Respect yourselves!  Maintain your dignity. 

With all the mainstream media encouraging a sort of goose-step, collective group think promoting the contention that men beat women because they themselves are bad or damaged or suffer from some level of psychopathy and need help and that women who allow themselves to be abused are weak, defenseless, innocent, unwitting, non-participating, weaker vessels,  you can still tell the truth about the mercurial nature of  your relationship.

It’s not always as easy as characterizing someone in terms of black and white. We, none of us, are all one way all the time. Chris Brown beat up Rihanna, but he may also be a nice guy who lost his temper and did a bad thing one time. I don’t believe he will beat her again.  He needs to manage his anger and GET that he lives in a fish bowl.  Nothing he ever says or does will escape the glare of celebrity.

Rihanna is not taking an abuser back who will snap in a future circumstance and beat her again. She probably loves this guy, recognizes her own culpability in the unfortunate circumstance and its even more unfortunate outcome, does not desire to see him ruined and wants to believe they may have a future together. What’s so dangerous and unbalanced about two American Kids doin’…

…the best they can?

Oh yeah life goes on
Long after the thrill of livin is gone
Oh yeah life goes on
Long after the thrill of livin is gone

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