Mixed up in Verbosity...

I had to write a professional competence exam this week and have never encountered such a poorly presented course.  I cannot help but wonder why human beings have the tendency to complicate matters unnecessarily.  Are we testing competence on a matter or are we testing the ability of candidates to discern between essential information, peripheral data and absolute bullshit.

These days bullshit detection is a skill that seems to be in high demand on a daily basis. 

And which, incidentally, seems to be something that the average adult even seems to be struggling with...

I mean really, I piqued the interest of a married man this week.  The problem was, I simply couldn't get past the idea that some men actually think they are so special that a woman should be flattered when they get ‘come-on’ by them; men, married, as they are.  Like so here’s the offer:  I have a wife and kids but I will find an hour or two a week to come and spend it with you to relieve myself. 

Wow!  Is that supposed to be flattering?  Because to me; it is not.  Not at all. 

What makes you think you are that special?  What makes you think I would allow you to use me like that?  What makes you think that I also cannot get a man for everyday of the week if I so wanted to? 

Incidentally there is a guy I know who says the majority of men cheat and he figures about 10% of women cheat.  Unless the majority of men are cheating with men...(me thinks), - he failed mathematics...      
  
Since he is so sure his wife is not among them, I didn’t have the heart to correct him... moron. 

And so we work very hard to package what we want to believe.  We end up making things very complicated unnecessarily, perhaps even to deceive ourselves.  We live in a world whereby we would like to be so different from one another, exclusive, special and so in addition to the usual excuses for discrimination like race, gender, language, etc., we have added yet another; verbosity. 

What the hell is verbosity?  You wonder.  And no, I did not make that word up.  It actually means long-winded and wordiness.  Essentially the ability to make things more complicated than necessary.  And I think it is a trend that seems to be growing. 

You see these days we have MBA graduates who still do not understand that in order to become wealthy, there needs to be more money coming in than going out.  I mean this is a concept that can actually be taught to a five year old.  But it would seem that governments and experts alike seem to be struggling with the same principle.

We try everyday to tell ourselves that we can make it alone.  But anyone who’s ever made it, had some help along the way.  Perhaps it was parents who paid for schools, a friend who opened a door, a scholarship, someone who saw potential and invested...

We have convinced ourselves that love uses people to get what it wants.  ‘Love bites, it bleeds’.  Love hurts sometimes.

And that’s the kind of bullshit I am talking about.

Love does nothing of the sort. If love is real: love does two things I am sure of. 

Loves gives and love shows up when needed.   

Its time to stop buying so much bullshit... 

 

 

Icon Escapism

My friends and I went to see a soap opera actor once when he was in town.  It was a long time ago in high school.  It was supposed to be very exciting.  Truth be told, it was my friends who were big on this.  I was the tag along.  I wasn’t even sure who he was; I just knew he acted on the soap opera ‘All My Children’ which I was not allowed to watch.  I am not dissing his acting or anything, I just had limited access to that sort of information and wasn’t interested in seeking it out.  So we went and got our picture taken and got the autograph, of which I still have neither.  It went into file thirteen.  (My ex’s contribution and that is a whole other blog)  But that’s besides the point, we went with a group of friends when we teenagers.  It was fun and it was an evening out.  

But that was sort of old school.  These days, you can stalk people up close and personal in cyberspace and they ‘answer’.  My daughter and her friend were quite excited that her celebrity crush answered their ‘happy birthday’ message back (well someone did anyway).

Which I told her and she was like, “Ahhh... Mom, why do you gotta kill my joy”.

To which I replied:  “Someone has to do it”.     

I find it interesting that in cyberspace, people read and seem to comment based on stereotypes or even follow people that they think they know and so actors and singers hold some of the largest following.  Funny how people who are paid to pretend they are someone they are not carry some of the most influence in society today.  I somehow find that amusing, somewhat worrisome and definitely ironic.    

The entertainment industry has an influence on media space and the growing disconnect in society’s relationships as a result of increased individualism are feeding an icon fascination much of which is hyped, staged and fabricated.  But who cares, it makes money and creates a high level of dissatisfaction which in turn makes people spend more money to make themselves feel better.  It’s a brilliant business model.

In any case, it would appear that the cyber-community seems to have a strong desire to follow someone that they know something about and can recognise, regardless of whether the other party would recognise them back in return.  And so it has been somewhat interesting to note that the distance between ‘followers’ and ‘the followed’ feels closer than in generations past and yet is in actuality further, given that there is no real relationship present.

So someone we think we know, who doesn’t know us, we can follow.  Someone whose ideas we identify with, but we cannot recognise, we engage with, from a safe distance. 

The question is why. 

What makes us buy the perception that we really have a relationship with Celebs?    

Is it because we know more of their business then our own? 

And could that be a coping strategy? 

Escapism perhaps?   

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Valentines Cynicism

So, you know things are bad on the relationship front when the most exciting thing you have planned on Valentines Day is to change into your old clothes after arriving home from work and going to mow the lawn.  

I know, the best I could do for Valentines flowers was to cut them out of the garden.   

Yep, that was it.  My evening on Valentines.  A bit sad, eh?  It could be, I guess, but I suppose it really just depends on how you look at it. 

Yeah, I know, none of you have ever experienced that.   

If you measure success by the presence of a relationship then I suppose I am terribly unsuccessful and that is terribly sad.  If you measure your value by the presence of a significant other then I suppose I am not so valuable either and that would be even worse. 
 
But to me it is neither.  My current status is simply a part of life's journey which provides me with time and opportunity to focus on other things.  Relationships with significant others do demand an enormous amount of time investment.  In economic terms, they can sometimes be a huge opportunity cost.  I think in my life to date, my largest opportunity cost was my marriage.  That's probably a highly politically incorrect statement but I think for many women it is probably true, even though we don't say it out loud.          

So while enjoying the evening air and the view of my garden, I have come to the conclusion that there are a few things that I have decided I totally do not miss that are frequent occurrences on the relationship front. 

The first one I refer to as the butterfly syndrome.  I have had enough relationship drama in my life time to know that often a 'significant other' is more interested in what they stand to gain by having you in their life than simply an interest in sharing their life with you and vice versa.  And so there is so much effort put into the chase and catch which is soon followed up by the 'lock them up' and put them on show when other people are watching.

You know the desire to catch a butterfly and place it in a jar.  The jar soon becomes the place that causes them to loose their lustre because they have lost their ability to fly free.
 
Yes I know, that has never actually happened to any of you.  You all speak your minds when you are not happy with something.  The problem only arises when you begin to withdraw your voice from the circumstances and that eventually will also cost you your power.

The second is those who see you as the clay from which they can create their ideal partner or as close to it as they figure they can get.  And after all the pruning, one day you look in the mirror and you wonder who the hell that is, looking back at you.   I know, that has never happened to any of you either.   

My experiences have taught me that there are very few people who have the courage to love the person they're with and see and appreciate them for who they are.  In order to do that we need to first love ourselves. 

For once, I would like to share my time with someone who sees and values me not what they hope to get out of me, even when I am in my overalls and covered with paint or experimenting with power tools,

Perhaps that is the largest case of wishful thinking there is.

In this day and age, I am beginning to wonder if there are people out there who can still do that?  

So that is my little contribution to Valentines Day cynicism, but since there are so few of you who identify, let's leave it there and hope next year will be better... 

So here's to the flowers, teddy bears (no, the damn bear needs to go), chocolates and other trinkets on Valentines Day.  

Having someone make you feel special will never get old.



   

Man's Best Friend is also Man's Best Replacement

The balancing act between what can be said, what should be said and that which should be left unsaid seems to be where the boundaries of etiquette are shrouded in fog; discernible only by those who have high levels of EQ (emotional intelligence). 

The art of ‘come ons’ seem to be positioned right about in the middle.  The most savvy are those with dual interpretation which allow for a duplicity of meaning.  This way there is an avenue of retreat, should the response of the party to which it is directed, be less than favourable.

Armed with a lighter and offering to ‘light someone’s fire’ at a braai (BBQ), has a definite double meaning and you will likely get away with it.  Albeit, you would be pushing your luck.  Saying that in the workplace, probably less than easily ‘back-peddlable’.   

I suppose those who regularly push those boundaries become exceedingly practiced in which case gives rise to yet another phenomena; heightened levels of charm and lowered levels of substance.  The problem with charm is that it is generally a reflection of an inner need to be seen and noticed which contributes substantially toward that same charm being readily and freely available to anyone with the slightest indication of interest. 

In lay-mans terms: ‘a player.’

And since I encountered one this week, up close and personal, the only conclusion I was forced to come to is that 29 is definitely too old for ‘that shit’.               

The good news is that 29 is not too old to be ‘come on to’.  So it was a little flattering.    

The bad news is that the quality of the selection of men, as time passes by, seems to deteriorate.  The good ones get taken.  So, I know it’s not a politically correct thing to say but; I have almost concluded that I should be looking for a man with a dead wife. 

And not just any dead wife because that too can be risky.  These days, even the circumstances around the death need careful consideration.  One that died in an accident.  And not any ‘accident’ either; you know what I mean.  Consider Oscar.  ‘Accidents’ involving bullets don’t count.    

So the long and short of it is simply this.  By the time you reach ‘29’, the pickings are thin. 

But despite that, what I do know is that the right man is still important and that life has taught me that it’s better to get a dog, than have the wrong man around. 

I mean dogs are great.  They are always happy to see you when you get home.  They know when you have had a bad day, understand that they must simply listen and not try and fix the problem and would lay down their lives to protect you.  

They will happily keep you warm and are content to simply curl up at your feet. 

Many a man could learn something...  

 

            

The Power of Voice

It used to be that you went to the salon / saloon when things got tough.  It sort of depended on which was more socially acceptable at the time.  The chat and support was free (over a beer or under your curlers) and so you would emerge a few hours’ later feeling better (in theory, on a good day anyways).  A casual 'go over' of trauma with the intention of moving on. 

And because we developed or regressed (depending on who you ask) as a society and no longer had a collection of friends to talk to when things got bad, we created an industry and called it therapy.  A Rent a Friend for an hour and a fee.  Also known as ‘Psychologists’.  We even trained them in the art of friend like activities; active listening, issued them with a code of confidentiality and forbid them to take advantage of anyone during that state of mind and sometimes, just sometimes, we were offered ‘professional’ advice. ‘Professional advice’ based on the reading of a textbook of cases most likely never experienced first hand.  A now formalised rehash of trauma in the effort to move on. 

That being subject of course (the moving on) to just how much the same psychologist wanted to keep you coming back, for ‘your own well-being’ of course.

It used to be somewhat ‘okay’ to be in therapy.  A little more accepted where I came from than it is here.  You know a pat on the back and a ‘muttered under the breath out of intended hearing;’ “thank God, it’s about time that crazy chic went to therapy”.  You know, generally supportive.  Well, in public anyways. 

Here, they simply tell you, you have issues and that the issues themselves do not set you apart from anyone else; and so just what makes you think you’re so damn special.  A whole country with trauma (not the only one mind you, but that is whole other blog).  And so therapy would only suggest that you have economic means to elevate yourself as part of a more privileged class than the average person on the street.     

And thus I do believe, we have evolved one step further, and are now in the era of an editor.  First of all it sounds a little more ‘classy’.

 “No, I won’t make it.  I’m off to see my editor.  Busy with the final rewrite.” 

I figure, if one needs to go through the whole process of giving the pain you experienced a voice, you might as well go for the full Monty, do commercial and write a book.   

It is a written rework of trauma and trust me, by the time the process is finished the experience will have been felt, re-felt, cried over, rehashed, revisited, gone over, examined, analysed, rewritten, evaluated, scrutinized, etc.  You’ll be so tired of the whole thing, you’ll simply move on.        

But despite that, there is one thing life has definitely taught me; pain is one thing that does not bottle well. It has a way of coming out and if you won’t give it a voice, it lays claim to the well-being of the other areas of your life; your health, your relationships, your finances, etc.    

And so, I recommend giving yourself a voice because if anyone is going to reap the silver lining from the ups and downs of life’s journey, it might as well be you. 

That voice may not be in the form of a book, but allowing your pain to speak will at least free you to live a life having grown and moved on from your hurts.     

 

Friends, Friends and More Friends

Contrary to popular opinion, facebook friends are most probably not friends. 

I was talking to a friend of mine (first clue, you actually talk to friends) and he was saying that ‘he cleans-up his friends regularly’.  Now there is something that is inherently wrong about that statement.  Now I have had a few friends over the years and truth be told have never been 'cleaned-up’ by them.  If you have a really nasty ‘friend’ they might clean you out, but generally not clean you up. 

Thankfully he was referring to facebook or it was going to seriously affect the status of our relationship.

Now I suppose I will eventually need to put my name on this blog and open myself up to the world of cyber stalking.  You know all those people from your past that at some level, you wish would simply remain there; folk that are interested in your business but not actually interested in you. 

And so the stalking behaviour of choice in the new millennium is Google.  It used to be binoculars.  Whatever happened to the good old days of sneaking around in people’s bushes?  Now you simply type in a name from the shadows and skeletons of your past and see what they are up to.  The object of the game is simple.  Check and see what they are doing, not how they are doing.    

These days it has become a norm to meet someone and ‘do a background check.’  I am not sure what people talk about on their first dates anymore.  By the time that happens, people have thoroughly studied each other’s facebook profiles and know all of your favourites already, where you went to school, how many siblings you have... etc. 

In my case, aside from the contributions of The Change Addict there is little information about me in cyberspace.  My Master’s Thesis, however, does come up (The Change Addict doesn’t link to my given name, yet).  So not so long ago I had a guy who was interested in me until he read my Master’s Thesis Online on women’s leadership.  So any relationship potential was over before it began.  Eighty pages of intellectual prowess intimidated the poor bloke.  If he was actually brave enough to have coffee with me and get to know me, he would not have known about that for sometime... 

People have different interests and sides.  And the picture created in cyberspace is probably a bit like the tip of an iceberg.  Only about 10% is visible above the water and the rest is hidden below unless of course you're a bright spark and posted nude pictures of yourself; In that case the percentages might be the other way around. 
          
I do believe cyberspace does at some false level feed the need in human beings for social interaction.  I just think that the pretences and the circumstances are very false.  And while you might have a sense that people actually do care about what breakfast you had this morning, try and phone them in the middle of the night in an emergency and see what happens. 

Cyber relationships are really great if you are socially challenged.  You can say what you want to on one site and find a new site tomorrow to hang out with.  But you’re actually hanging with sites not people.

Somehow, I still prefer the traditional cup-a-something and a good old-fashioned face-to-face chat with my friends.        

So the conclusion of the matter is that you generally do not need to cull your friends.  And so the need to cull on facebook would indicate that many ‘friends’ may not actually be friends.  I have heard of culling elephants or other species of wildlife, but not friends.  Life tends to do the culling of friends naturally for you over time. 

And most importantly friends check and see how you are doing not what you are doing, which leads me to conclude that perhaps facebook and cyberspace may not actually be the ‘caretakers of connectedness’ they claim to be. 

 

On Stuffed Toys...

As a twenty year old, (yes - nine years back – I believe they call that new maths), I once received a stuffed bear as a Christmas present from my current boyfriend and wasn’t all that impressed with the gift (translation: Politically correct for insulted, irritated and annoyed). 
  
For starters, I figured that stuffed bears were for children.  And what exactly did the stuffed bear mean anyway?  Did this man figure I was like a child?  Or was he looking for parent-child relationship not a partner?   But liking this man, led me to pretend that I liked the gift and the relationship continued... for a while...  A short while.  Not even long enough for him to become the ex-husband.

 The bear lasted a little longer however, and my daughter dragged it around by its purple bow tie when she was little.
 
I wonder, why do men give women stuffed toys?  Who came up with that idea anyway?  Am I the only woman who finds the stuffed toys a little inappropriate or gets irritated come time for Valentine’s Day with all the mugs and stuffed bears on public display?  Maybe I am.  It could be a case of misguided gender specific interests; after all I can spend more time in a hardware store looking at tools than shopping for clothes.  So I seriously doubt I speak for all women.

So, since I am not out to write the ten commandments of dating, I will concede that under some circumstances the gift of a plush beast can work; as a reminder of an occasion or event, as a...  No, that’s about all I can think of. 
      
In any case, I must concede that the stuffed toy did work really well for me once.  I was sent flowers for Valentine’s Day; a huge bouquet of roses and lilies with a stuffed bear.  Actually, I was sent two huge bouquets of roses and lilies with stuffed animals thanks to a mixed up internet transaction, not an overzealous stalker.  Yes, at the office.  Yes, a lot of comments.  I had more flowers sent to me that day than will grace my coffin someday; so at least I got to experience that when I was alive. 

Sorry..., mental distraction..., back to the working of the stuffed toys.  You see, they worked because the flowers were for me and the stuffed animals were for my daughter (who was nine at the time). 

That’s when the stuffed bear became classy. 


   

 

Good Parenting - Miniskirts and Varicose Veins

The key to good parenting (consider the source) is to know that it is of paramount importance that your children think you have at least one screw loose... and the others well on their way!

Let’s face it; parenting in today’s world is much more difficult than twenty years ago.  So in a crazy world, I say, bring out the crazy parent. 

There are arguments that I simply do not engage in at my house.  Dressing modestly is simply an expectation.  So the rule of thumb is this; “you may wear whatever you like, provided your mother can pick you up from high school wearing the same outfit”. 

There is no negotiation here.  It is simply a threat I am willing to carry out and embarrassment is a two way street.   

Let’s face it; no teenager wants their Mom showing up at school in hot pants and bare midriff.  It may be more socially acceptable on a teenager, but let’s face it, after gravity has been pulling on the backside for a while, stretch marks and cellulite ... well..., I am sure you get the picture. 

That being said, it brings a whole other level of excitement about becoming a grandmother!    

Imagine the kids addressing my future grandson.  “Hey... hey man.  Is that your Grandma wit’ a blue Mohawk?”   

So here’s to miniskirts on droopy bottoms, hot pants and varicose veins and a daughter who will probably threaten her children with Grandma someday.