Role Model

A friend of mine just became my hero.

She was in love with a man for a long time.  At times, he seemed to love her, too.  I suppose that says it all, doesn't it - both the joy and the heartbreak of it.

They finally parted ways and she's now with a new man.  It's new and tentative, but promising.

But she found out just the other day that her former lover (still someone she's more than a bit in love with - because after all, when it's real, love doesn't just turn off, like a faucet) is back with his ex and that the former "ex" is now expecting his child.

What's worse?  They all work together at the same company.

What did my friend do?

She called her former lover to congratulate him, and she sent flowers to the mother-to-be.

And then she drank a bottle of vodka.


My friend, when it seemed impossible to be, was GRACIOUS.  And that is when it's most necessary, isn't it - precisely when it's most difficult.

I strive for graciousness, but I still haven't quite gotten the hang of it.  When it's most difficult, I don't take the high road.

Kudos to the new man in her life, as well.  She called him and in the middle of a work day, he dropped everything that came to her office to rescue her and anesthetize her with hugs.

He didn't act out in jealousy and insecurity.  He was simply there for her, and he was kind and generous when it couldn't have been easy for him to comfort his woman crying over another man.

It's given me much to think about, something to aspire to, something to look for.

Enough Already

Dear stalker,

LEAVE ME ALONE.

Cheers,

C-Belle

So Very Good

"When you’re sad you need to hear your sorrow structured into sound." — Susanna Kaysen

On Balance

Rolled out the yoga mat this morning and things proceeded relatively smoothly until the balance poses.  I kept toppling over even during "tree."   Am now considering taking up Aikido since my body apparently can't do anything but roll around on the floor.  Might as well play up to apparent strengths, yes?

SK and I were talking about hobbies - specifically, that we (or perhaps just I?)  might need a new one. 

Gay SW and I have decided to write an illustrated book for adults.  Which I know sounds like porn.  But that's not what we're thinking.  We are thinking of a book on "dating" with illustrations a la Edward Gorey.  Since we don't want to be tied to splitting any potential revenues with the illustrator (we are being highly optimistic), our plan is to hire some young budding artist (Gay SW is convinced he can find one easily) and pay him/her in beer and pizza to do our drawings for us, with no mention of a book.  We'll simply pass ourselves off as a crazy couple who just want bizarre pictures of ourselves for our own unspecified use. 

This should not be a difficult role for us to play.

I like this idea.  And I adore Gay SW, so this will be a fun excuse to talk/email/visit frequently as we enable each other in our shared delusion that this will make us both wealthy.

And yet, I'm still considering a hobby that would leverage my new rolling-on-the-floor talent...

Never Forgiving The Unforgivable

In a valiant attempt to procrastinate packing for a business trip, I've been reading through my blog this morning - specifically, the entries from January 2008.

Over 3 years later, I am chagrined to note that not much has changed - I am still musing on topic of forgiveness. But maybe there has been some change... I reread this post from January 4th, 2008 (see below) and I realized that I had missed something very important from my reading of A Thousand Acres. True, Rose had stayed strong in not forgiving the unforgivable, but look at her life. She died alone and unhappy, and in her own words: "a failure." Forgiveness is not a gift we grant to others, but to ourselves. Trite, I know. But it's often all too easy to get lost in the maze of our own rationalizations to remember the fundamentals.

More Than Words Can Wield The Matter

As far as New Year's resolutions go, on the top of my list is to floss everyday. I also toyed around with the idea of forgiveness - forgiving myself and others.

Then I remember Jane Smiley's A Thousand Acres. When Rose is dying, she tells her older sister Ginny, that by any measure, she (Rose) is the failure of the family - dying, widowed, despised, in debt. But that despite all those outward signs of failure, she did succeed at something very important - she succeeded at staying strong and never forgiving the unforgivable.

I have a strong appreciation for the myriad shades of gray and I believe that truth remains truth even when altered by differing perspectives. I draw my lines in the sand and am happy to rub them away and re-draw them based on new understandings and sympathies.

But sometimes, you have to carve those lines into stone, and never waver. Because what's on the other side is simply not acceptable.

Forgiveness

"To forgive is divine."

So they say.

But how does one do it?

Does it require an apology first? The apology makes things easier, certainly. But it's not just that apology makes it "easier" to forgive: the apology, sincerely given, demonstrates an ability to exercise empathy, an ability to feel remorse, a capacity for self-examination, and also a not-insignificant level of bravery because, after all, forgiveness isn't always guaranteed.

But at a minimum, an apology demonstrates that the person offering it sees at least certain things the same way you do. For example, the person who loses their temper and over-reacts.... without an apology, can you be sure that they actually realize that perhaps they crossed a line? They may not; they might actually believe they were justified because, hell, they were angry!

And what does that mean, if you draw it out to its logical conclusion? It pretty much ensures that the "mistake" will be repeated. We all do things regularly that we know we "shouldn't", and some of us end up apologizing again and again. So the apology is certainly not the end-all-and-be-all. But without even the recognition that something was "wrong" in the first place... Isn't that a GUARANTEE that it will be repeated? And repeatedly?

The apology might be yet another tool, not that dissimilar from gossip, to establish and confirm certain social norms. As a society, we gossip about the latest socialite who shoplifts or racks up DUIs because in today's scattered world, these are the people we all have in common, and in our bitchy commentary about her, we're drawing or reaffirming the lines between what is socially acceptable, and what it not.

I think apology does the same thing of drawing that line and affirming the placement of that line. This is acceptable, this is not.

But unlike gossip (unless YOU happen to be the socialite in question), apology is highly personal, and therefore more risky and difficult. It's something very few of us do well. We offer lame apologies that only aggravate the situation: "sorry if you were bothered by that" or "sorry but what you did to me was worse" or "sorry but I was actually justified." And some of us, even when truly sorry, find it impossible to ever say the words at all.

Actually, I wonder about that last bit. IS that true? Can a person feel remorse yet find it impossible to articulate it? I feel that it must be possible. But given the general lack of telepathy, how do we know if the silence hides an unspoken remorse (and affirmation of certain shared norms) or reveals a lack of it? And just taking it on faith that remorse and acknowledgment of a mistake does exist, seems foolish. Because there are people (I'd like to think, a minority) who do define "right" and "wrong" based on their own feelings and convenience and therefore, rarely, if ever, acknowledge their own mistakes. I should know, I've dated many of them.

Here's another cliche: "Actions speak louder than words." True enough. It's a cliched saying for a reason. Ultimately, modified actions and behavior say MUCH more than apologies, especially if the apologies just need to be repeated time and time again because the same mistakes are repeated time and time again. But ideally, it's both, right?

But this post isn't about apologies, it's about forgiveness.

Forgiveness is easier to give in the abstract, at a distance. For example, do I "forgive" the sociopathic alcoholic stalker? Sure. I don't much think of him, but I don't wish him ill, I no longer carry any anger or annoyance towards him, I hope he gets his life together one day. I forgive him. But again, that's an easy thing to say after so much time and distance. It's easier to say AT a distance. Do I forgive him enough to want to be his friend? Hell no. Thankfully, other than the random email a few times a year that I ignore, he leaves me alone, and I can abstractly say that I forgive.

There are different degrees of forgiveness. It's the forgiveness that is up-close and personal that I am talking about here.

I suppose it's decision we all have to make for ourselves, on a case by case basis. We take our "emotional temperatures" and decide what we want, or can do. And no matter what we find, not beat ourselves up for it.

All The World's A Stage

We all play certain roles in our lives.  We figure out what our parts are and what the requirements are for playing those roles successfully.   I think this happens in almost every aspect of our lives, but especially  in our professional lives, because those of us for whom our work is important, spend more of our waking hours working than doing anything else.

For example, the person deeply afraid of public speaking can learn to become good at it, with enough focused effort.  The shy person can learn to put on a different persona in order to be effective in the spotlight and can become better and better at it.    And different circumstances and different audiences can require assuming different roles with different "rules of interaction."  We play a certain role with customers, yet another with employees, yet another with employers, etc.    Even in our personal lives, there might be certain kinds of relationships in which the specific rules of interaction are clear in our minds - especially in those relationships where compartmentalization is easy, maybe even preferred.   And of course, it helps when the respective roles and appropriate rules of interaction are equally understood and accepted by everyone involved - then there's less room for misunderstanding and confusion and becomes almost like reading from the same clearly defined script.

But then there are some circumstances and interactions that involve emotional vulnerability.   This is a different beast altogether.  Because in that context, there is no "role" to assume.  There are no clearly defined "rules of interaction" to follow when we are emotionally naked in front of another person.  Some of us are simply horrible at this, or we have been too hurt to trust, so we revert to what we are accustomed to and we try to impose compartmentalization anyway, or we try to apply a certain set of rules of interaction even though it isn't appropriate in that context, or is a set of rules that the other person doesn't understand or doesn't want to accept.

I think this explains how some people can be highly inconsistent across the different aspects of their lives - how someone who might be good at being a friend, might be horrible at being a romantic partner.  Or how some of us who are rockstars professionally, can be complete disasters when it comes to our personal lives.  Or how someone who is a great parent, might be a less than ideal spouse, etc.  We all make choices about which roles we are willing to work hard at until we succeed at playing them.  The context is critically important.   So it's actually impossible to say that we truly know another person, especially if we've only ever seen him/her in certain contexts, if we've only ever seen him/her playing certain roles.  Change the context, and you might be very surprised by that person you once thought you knew so well.

Old Age

Another birthday, another word momentarily "lost" if not for the help of google.

I forgot the word "autopsy" the other day. Given how addicted I am to crime shows such as NCIS and Bones, it is completely bewildering.

More bewildering, I remembered that "necropsy" refers to the post-mortem dissection of non-human bodies (animals, not aliens). I had a vague idea that the word I was trying to remember might rhyme with necropsy, but that didn't help. I had to turn to google.

Thank god for google. Something has to counteract the effects of amyloid plaque that is commonly thought to cause Alzheimer's.

Jeesh - when writing that above sentence, "amyloid plaque" leaped up easily and effortlessly from the murky mess that is my brain. Yet "Alzheimer's" required some concentration to catch.

*sigh*

Letters

Spring cleaning at my parent's house this weekend. I've bravely decided to tackle my own closet and my purging efforts have been stalled by a discovery:a box of old letters. There's no organization, just old letters that I must have just thrown into this box years and years and years ago.

I found this one dated August 19th, 1987:

Dear Clara,

Wow! Two letters in two days. When I wrote the letter yesterday I wanted to send you a few poems I wrote. If you like them maybe you can set one to music like we talked about a while ago. I can't wait to hear you play the piano in W* Hall again. That was real fun trying to fall asleep to your original works. Ha Ha. Please change any part of the poems if you'd like. Remember you promised to do this if I decided on (UNNAMED COLLEGE). I'll see you soon.

Love,

some kid from California

It took me a while, but I remember who "some kid from California" is... No specifics, because he's too easy to google. But the memory is sweet.

On to the next letter.

Lost and Found

When looking for something lost, the place to start the search is where you think you saw it last. My go-to repository for lost things is usually my fridge. Nine times out of ten, my remote control is found on the eye-level shelf, next to a jar of capers.

But what if you lost it so long ago that "where-did-I-see-it-last?" is not a viable search strategy? Then it's a no holds barred search. It's process of elimination. Not here, not here, not there, oh maybe - no, not there.

And what if what you lost is pretty big... such as, say, yourself?

What does process of elimination look like in this context?. I am not like this person. I am COMPLETELY different from her. And THAT person? Ugh. NOTHING in common. I would NEVER make the choices she made.

Not so long ago, I once wrote a post in this blog (in relation to the movie Lost in Translation):

"And I firmly believe it's demonstrable of a fundamental failing in one's character to see only what is alien on the surface instead of what is familiar beneath."

This is an apology sent up to cyberspace, for the discernible lack of generosity and graciousness on my part toward certain people who only peripherally walked in my world.

A Belated Answer

I was asked a question by someone who should have known me quite well - someone who, for a period of time, read my blog daily.

I was talking about the latest winner of the Newbury award (for young adult literature). For those of you not familiar with it, some of The Best Books Ever, have won the Newbury medal:

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle
From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg
The High King by Lloyd Alexander
Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien
The Grey King by Susan Cooper

I was talking about these beloved books and how my dream, one day, was to try to write one myself. Not an award winner, of course. Just a story, if only to please only myself.

And I was asked: "Oh. Are you a writer?"

This was no stranger who asked this.

I retreated into my glass of wine at the question. Almost frozen by the lack of seeing that the question revealed. I didn't answer at the time. But I will now. And I will WRITE it.

Yes. I am a writer.

I may not be published, I may never be. Hell, I may not even be any good. But anyone who knows me even the smallest, tiniest bit, anyone who has read this blog, anyone who has ever listened to me for any length of time, should know the answer to that question.

Yes, I am a writer.

Counterpoint

There are some things you only see and hear clearly in those moments when you are alone. And only recently have I had enough solitude to look and listen. And the result? After many many months of silence, I feel as though I have something to write again in my terribly neglected blog.

Is it the most interesting topic? Probably not. But what I am grateful for is that I can finally listen to myself again, and instead of hearing only inchoate noise, I can hear an actual idea, and for the first time in a long time, I feel the desire to explore it.

I have been thinking of baroque music, specifically, of counterpoint.

Most generally, counterpoint is multiple lines of music each of which are different and independent but sound "good" when played together.

When music students study "species counterpoint", there are myriad rules to follow - specifics of how melodies are resolved and so forth. It's an exercise involving highly defined structures. And one of the most overarching "rules" is that the focus is on the individual melodies and the interaction among them rather than on the harmonies produced when played simultaneously.

But when independent melodies are played at the same time, it's inevitable that multiple notes will sound simultaneously. And those are chords, vertical elements - harmony. It's impossible to write simultaneous lines without producing harmony; it's impossible to write harmonies without producing a horizontal "melody." Finding a good balance between the two dimensions (vertical and horizontal) is one of the hardest things to do when writing counterpoint.

Put it this way, it's hard enough to write ONE beautiful melody. Now imagine writing multiple beautiful melodies that all sound good when played altogether.

This is one of the many reasons Bach is so brilliant. His counterpoint doesn't merely find a good balance between the harmonies and the melodies - it is a profound synthesis of the two dimensions. The individual melodic lines remain beautiful and complex and fascinating, and yet all together, the harmonics are rich and produce a beautiful "line" in and of themselves.

I can't help but think of how this could be applied to personal relationships. It's all too easy for one melody to dominate, and the other melody to get simplified to the point where it becomes mere harmonic "back up". And that can be beautiful too. But it's not counterpoint. The beauty of counterpoint lies in the interaction of independent melodies, each beautiful and worthy in its own right. Counterpoint requires discipline, adherence to a myriad of complicated rules, and... grace. But I hope, not the genius of Bach.

The Garden, by Louise Gluck

I couldn't do it again,
I can hardly bear to look at it -

in the garden, in light rain
the young couple planting
a row of peas, as though
no one has ever done this before,
the great difficulties have never as yet
been faced and solved -

They cannot see themselves,
in fresh dirt, starting up
without perspective,
the hills behind them pale green, clouded with flowers-

She wants to stop;
he wants to get to the end,
to stay with the thing -

Look at her, touching his cheek
to make a truce, her fingers
cool with spring rain;
in thin grass, bursts of purple crocus-

even here, even at the beginning of love,
her hand leaving his face makes
an image of departure

and they think
they are free to overlook
this sadness.

Hills and Boulders

I feel like Sisyphus. It's deeply wearying to constantly go uphill.

Farewell

Yesterday was shocking - both Farrah Fawcett AND Michael Jackson?

Death makes us look back. So here's something from 1985...



I'd write more, but MomVee already did it, and better than I could.


Exit stage left, moon walking.

Nouveau Cabaret

The Last Cigarette (me, SK and the fabulous FM) will perform again at Veloce Club on Thursday, July 9th. Sorry folks, it's already sold out.

But why Deep Purple's "Smoke On The Water", you ask?

Simple. FT, who owns Veloce Club, has requested it. Mostly I think for the sheer hilarity of watching us try to sing it.

Now try to imagine a breathy sex kitten version of it. OR, to compound the ridiculousness, a cappella? I know. Who WOULDN'T want to see that?!?

Press

Our first "press" mention - in Makeup Loves Me. Obviously, I think she is brilliant and insightful.

If you haven't bought a Luxe Now gift card for someone in NYC (such as ME, for example), hurry up and do so.

Genius

Mirrors

There has been discussion buzzing around the girl-talk circles.

We all value certain things about ourselves. Sometimes those things are not even necessarily "positive." And we all want to be valued for those things.

"A" values her independence, her force of will, her biting wit, and her formidable strength.

"B" values her "evil brain," her ridiculousness, and her inability to conform even when she is trying really hard to.

"C" values her beauty and sophistication, her unwavering ambition, and her commitment to following through.

"D" values her discipline and talent, demonstrated in the various things she has worked hard to do well.

So what happens when they perceive that they are valued by others for entirely different things... or for things that only represent the tiniest bit of what they are? Or for illusions? Or for traits that almost ANY other woman can embody?

There's a question I can't stand when asked in the context of relationships: "WHY do you love me?" I wholeheartedly dislike being asked that. And I rarely ask it. Seems to me that's the sort of thing that is best volunteered, not solicited.

But sometimes you want to know if you are SEEN. And doubt, while it can dissipate over time, can also grow until it blocks all else. The Girls have all been recounting various relationships that have ended because this particular doubt couldn't be tamed. The sociopathic alcoholic stalker - well, that may not be the best example because he is a sociopathic alcoholic - claimed to love me. But what he "loved" was my appearance and my attention. Everything else was actually a flaw or value neutral in his perspective. All that I am (all that we ALL are), and what he valued was that he thought I was "pretty"? The Fabulous SL has doubts because her man's ex is someone for whom she has no respect. I know what you are thinking, why worry about his ex, for god's sake, get over it. Give him a break, haven't we all slummed at one point or another? But I understand how she feels, I get it. If he once valued this woman, what does that say about what he values, in general, and specifically, what does that say about what he sees and values in SL?

But then...

Sometimes it can't be articulated. Sometimes it's more about timing and "readiness" than about the specific personalities involved. And that's ok, isn't it? At the end of the day, love, like all emotion, is not always rational.

And I suppose that's one reason why we all need multiple people in our lives - whether ourselves, our friends, colleagues, family, lovers. Every person is a mirror of sorts and reflects back different things.

Maybe that's enough - that in the aggregate of the mirrors in your life, your reflection is complete.

Mental Masturbation

Earlier this year I was obsessed with opening lines of a novel. And since obsession, like misery, loves company, I dragged others into the abyss with the following email chain:

--------------------------------------------------

From: C-Belle
Subject: Favorite Opening Lines Of A Novel

Because this topic has been on my mind lately, I brought up the
subject at every meeting I had today. Who knew that salon owners were
so well-read?

This is what I got:

"Dr. Weiss, at forty, knew that her life had been ruined by
literature." (Anita Brookner)

"All children, except one, grow up." (Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie)

"All this happened, more or less." (The salon owner couldn't remember
the book, but I googled it right then and there - LOVE my new
blackberry: Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut)

My personal favorite:

"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-
ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate
to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta." (Lolita, Nabokov)

Yours?

--------------------------------------------------

From: SK
Subject: Favorite Opening Lines Of A Novel

"Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were." (Gone with the Wind - Margaret Mitchell)

"The beet is the most intense of vegetables." (Jitterbug Perfume - Tom Robbins)

"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel." (Neuromancer - William Gibson)

--------------------------------------------------

From: MM
Subject: Favorite Opening Lines Of A Novel

"I had a farm in Africa." (Out of Africa, Karen Blixen, aka Isaac Dinesen)

But I liked Lolita a lot, too.

Also "When you wet the bed, first it is warm, then it cold..." (Ulysses, James Joyce)

"I married for the first time at 37." (Sex and the Single Girl, Helen Gurley Brown)

It's a pain in the ass waiting around for someone to kill you." (Roger Zelazny, Sign of the Unicorn)

Not the most brilliant or literary sci-fi fantasy ever, but a great opening line.
Anyone for "Arma virumque cano...." ??????

--------------------------------------------------

From: Gorgeous Hunk O'Man (JF)
Subject: RE: Favorite Opening Lines Of A Novel

"The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed." (Stephen King, The Gunslinger).

Though typically not a fan of the writer of our nation's fast food version of horror, I find this book spare, compelling, and rather disturbing. Interestingly enough, he wrote it in his early days at the peak of his alcohol abuse, which may be another reason I like it so.


--------------------------------------------------

From: JR
Subject: RE: Favorite Opening Lines Of A Novel

"Call me Ishmael."

Given my company .... could it be another?

--------------------------------------------------

The email exchange then drifted to favorite closing lines, and novels with a "novel within a novel structure," etc. And since my every contribution involved Nabokov's Lolita in some way, MM finally asked me what my obsession with that book was.

I blame The Police and Mr. M, my 6th grade English teacher.

After crushing on Sting, and listening obsessively to "Don't Stand So Close To Me", I went up to Mr. M after class one day and asked him:

"that Police song has the lyric: 'just like that, old man in, that book by Nabokov.' What book?"

And Mr. M whipped out a copy of Lolita (he just happened to have one handy) and pressed it into my hands in a way that would have made me intensely uncomfortable had I already read it.

But it all makes sense now. No wonder I believe love affairs should be difficult, socially unacceptable, and result in someone dying.

Commercial Message

So I've been quiet on the blogging front of late.

IC and I have *finally* launched Luxe Now. Check it out to see what we have been toiling over the last many months. Also, if you are so inclined, go HERE, to our facebook page and become a fan! Do it for me. NOW. Oops, I meant, PLEASE. Rats, I always confuse those two words.