Persephone's Box

Secret Musings Found

2009-07-17T09:28:00.004-04:00

So I set up another blog so I could put all my boring self-absorbed relationships posts there. I find blogging catharsis, and don't really care if anyone reads that kind of crap. But I wanted a separate blog not just to improve the quality of this one, but to have a place to whine and gloat privately - specifically from my guy. I wanted a place to write about the feelings I'm having that aren't necessarily nice to share with him - like how giddy I am about it all. He's walking around weeping, and I'm thinking about life without crap everywhere and without a stupid dog.

But of course he found it. I really need my own computer - or a partner that doesn't obsessively check the history daily to see what I'm up to. And I knew he did, so I was deleting the history regularly, but this one time I forgot.

It reminds me of a couple I know. She had a diary she used to write crap typically whenever she was mad at her husband. Even in solid relationships, there's times people don't want to be touched by their partner, or can't stand they way they do x, y, or z. He found the diary, and instead of honouring her privacy, he read it. Of course the entire thing was full of bile, her darkest thoughts about their worst moments together. And of course he ended up crying his eyes out at her true feelings for him. And she said, "Good. He deserves feeling like crap right now. If he wants to see my darkest thoughts, there they are. There's a reason I tried to keep them private."

Exactly.

Yes I know it's different on a public blog, but I write publicly for two reasons: sometimes I get really insightful comments, and sometimes others tell me reading this makes them feel better about their own crap.

Whatever.

On Memory and Honour

2009-07-16T12:37:00.003-04:00

I've read two good books recently.

Bozo Sapiens explores how our brains work. It's a fun read. Most interesting to me is how memory works - or, in fact, doesn't really work very well at all. I've never really trusted my memory, or anyone else's, and now I know my instincts were on target. That's why I write compulsively. I like to immediately get down every little thing.

A Short History of Nearly Everything examines how scientists figure things out - from the cosmos to the atom. It's a fascinating read. What's really staying with me on this one is how many times throughout history people have taken credit for the work of others, and how often less-ruthless types get no credit for incredible discoveries and ideas, and they end up penniless while the liars live with fame and fortune. It makes me think of a situation at work.

I've been running an environmental group that's done amazing things this year. Another teacher wants to work with me next year. In the last few weeks of school, I heard over and over from people, "How come you don't want to run the group any more? Too tired? Lost energy?" He's telling people it's his group, and, knowing him, he's totally going to sap any credit he can for the strides we've made so far. I'm just a worker bee. I get stuff done, and I don't want to fight for kudos even though it's nice to be recognized. I just don't have the energy for the social engineering that's necessary to be heard above the crap. I stick to myself mainly, and he's out there with the people, so they'll believe what he says and ignore my efforts.

And that makes me think of this single idea a student bombarded my philosophy class with last year. Any time I'd talk about control vs receptive stances, or egalitarian vs hierarchical organizations, or Eisler's Parnership Way and the history of peaceful societies, or Jesus and Mother Theresa and Lao Tzu, - any time I'd get on the topic of a peaceful way to live starting with one person at a time, he'd jump up with this:

"But there's a reason we're not peaceful. The pacifists get invaded and taken over by the warriors. We can never have peaceful society again for any length of time, because others will take advantage of it as soon as they find out about it."

Peaceful types and hard-workers out to make the world a better place, get smashed by those out for fame or fortune.

But, in a few years or a few hundred years, nobody will remember any of this accurately anyway. "The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow. Do good anyway."*

It's all Plato's degeneration of the soul** (as it runs in tandem with the degeneration of the state - as is typical with him). We should be doing good for it's own sake. As soon as we do good for honour, we're starting down a very slippery slope towards becoming a "wild beast." Don't worry about money or status, just contemplate and act rightly.

And he said that a few hundred years before Jesus, yet who gets all the credit?

* Mother Theresa hung a version of the Paradoxical Commandments on her wall. Here it is in full because I find it very inspiring, although in my head I change the second last line to read "It's between you and your conscience." But that's just me.

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true friends;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world your best anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;
It was never between you and them anyway.

** The Republic, sections 544-576.

HP6 and Whatever Works

2009-07-15T18:12:00.005-04:00

I saw the new Harry Potter today, and it's well worth the crowds and 3 hours of film if you include excessive previews. It's a delight to watch! I particularly found it difficult to take my eyes off Malfoy. He went all out this time round. And whenever I see Maggie Smith (almost 75), I will always think of Miss Jean Brodie: "I'm past me prime gels," or, even better, "Six inches is perfectly adequate. More is vulgar!"

I don't, however, recommend this movie to a restless 5-year-old - not mine anyway. She loves all the movies, but only when she's watching them at home. For this, she was bored after about 20 minutes, and we had to make a few trips to the bathroom, and I was glad to have some toys on hand to entertain her because I wasn't bored in the least. She spent more time watching the audience than the film.

As for Whatever Works, I was sorrily disappointed. I hadn't thought much of Woody lately, but I loved Vicky Cristina Barcelona. So I was looking forward to something special, but it kinda sucked. The actors spoke like they were on stage, and the main character, Boris, spoke to the audience frequently, and that's typical for Allen, but I find it awkward to watch. It's impossible to get lost in the film when you're constantly aware these people are acting. I liked that Boris tells it like it is to everyone he meets. I tend to admire people like that. But his love interest, Melodie, was supposed to be his opposite particularly to his brilliance, but her stupidity was over the edge and grating. A few lines of hers were funny, but too many were just uncomfortable. He's the heartless brain, and she's the brainless heart, and they're both painfully two-dimensional.

At 92 minutes, it feels like it goes on forever, yet it really needs another half hour or so. Characters change paths abruptly and unbelievably. There's too many to get to know them very well in the time allotted, and most feel like they're just doing a first reading of the script. Instead of subtle dialogue and action leading the plot, everything's spelled out in efficient asides that are devoid of any creativity or poetry. By the end I felt beat over the head with the big message: Enjoy life in any way that works for you. There. I spoiled the ending for you, so you don't have to go. Your welcome.

Hannah and Her Sisters it's not. Too bad.

Same Blog, New Look

2009-07-14T19:35:00.003-04:00

I finally got brave enough to update the blog template. I'm such a luddite, I was sure everything would be lost forever. But here it is! And my blogroll is in alphabetical order finally! (And now I can't find anyone.) My motivation was being able to use labels. I've been labelling stuff since the beginning, but couldn't figure out how to make them show up at the side. Now here they are.

Whew. That's enough excitement for one day.

Boy Bitching

2009-07-11T21:15:00.008-04:00

Things are too personal right now for me to be political even though much is happening in the world that requires comment. Others are doing a fine job of that. So I'll forge on.

He often laments that he doesn't know what's going on with me until he reads it here. But I talk and talk and write it all down for him on paper. Maybe it's the realization that others are seeing it too that makes him sit up and pay attention a bit.

I went away for a week with the kids. He offered to do a whole host of major jobs around the house in my absence. I declined, and asked that he just do the necessary tasks: take the garbage out, mow the lawn, tidy and sweep. I just wanted to come home to a clean house.

Then I came home to a disaster. He said he was so tired at night, he couldn't do anything. But he did manage to take the dog for lengthy walks, and bathe him, and get out all the free weights (and leave them in the middle of the room). I'm assuming he actually used the weights for a period of time. But he couldn't muster the strength to carry the garbage can from the back of the driveway to the curb. Or he forgot all these trivial things, so I came home to a clean dog, but a stinky house. He's resigned to his forgetfulness, "Guess I fucked this one up too." Golly gee, too bad I'm such a dope.

The dog and the cabin are the highest priorities. He's up there right now starting to work on the inside. I'm home cleaning the mess he left in his wake. The house and family come a distant second to the cabin and dog. Actually I come second because I can potentially provide pleasure. The house and family come after his work and his friends. They're at best sixth in line.

But I wrote way back here about our respective idiosyncrasies. He's ADHD. How much can be excused because of a condition or disorder or whatever? I mean, he's too tired or forgetful to get the garbage out, but he can get supplies and drive four hours to work on the cabin all weekend. But that gives him more pleasure and satisfaction than trivial mundane tasks that need doing over and over around the house, so I'm supposed to be understanding of this.

But who wouldn't rather build something than clean it?? His thing is, he gets so much more pleasure out of the one, and so much pain from the other, that he just can't possibly be expected to remember or have energy for basic cleanliness. Somehow he sees himself as differently-abled from others in just this one respect, so I'm not to get too upset that I have to do all the tidying up after him.

And now, another back-breaking straw, I have to tidy up after his dog too. I have to clear out all the toys from the yard to mow, and I regularly have to sweep up all the stuffing from my couch cushions that he destroys every minute he's left unsupervised - which is often. And even though he washed the dog, he didn't wash the bedding (the kids' beach towels which we sorely missed last time we swam at the cabin), so it still stinks like wet dog in the house.

Yesterday, as I unpacked from the camping trip, I had the doors open to go in and out with stuff. The dog got loose three times. Each time he got annoyed at the kids and me for opening the doors in the house. He didn't offer to help me unpack, and he didn't offer to take the dog for a walk to get him out of the way for a bit. He just kept leaving the dog in the house, disappearing somewhere, then getting mad when he escaped again because of our carelessness.

And as I was trying to get my older two kids re-packed and off to their dad's for the weekend, he kept rambling on and on about his work. I kept asking him to wait until the kids were off, but he'd stop briefly while I spoke directly to one of them, then continue his rant. I was unpacking, doing dishes, and saying good-byes to the kids, all the while he was telling his tales of woe of yet another job site he's going to hate.

ADHD or just plain inconsiderate? I don't really care anymore.

Bitter Film Bites

2009-07-11T19:00:00.006-04:00

I was recovering from a vodka-cooler induced headache this morning, and ended up watching an oldie on TCM: Panic in Year Zero! with Frankie Avalon in a non-singing, non-Gigety role. It suited my mood because I recently had a very apocalyptic dream. I can't remember it at all anymore, but I do remember the feeling of having it.

I remember a different dream, however, in which I was auditioning for So You Think You Can Dance, and I made it to choreography, but I was wearing big black rain boots, so it was all very awkward. And I didn't want to take the boots off because they were my signature style or something like that. It felt like the end of the world albeit not literally.

Back to the film. It's 1962, and the Russians nuked most of the large cities in the U.S., and Ray Milland and family were fleeing into the countryside (where the radiation can't possibly get them). There was general chaos everywhere as people turned to lawlessness in the face of imminent death. One scene really made me mad. The dad and son go off hunting, and the daughter wants to come. But, of course not, silly. Girls shouldn't be using guns. Go back in the cave to make us lunch. Then the girl is raped by two bad guys, and the dad and son hunt them down and kill them (instant death with one shotgun blast to the belly - and no blood!).

It bugged me that the guys were obviously not very good protectors of this girl, yet they refused to teach her how to use a gun or even let her hold the thing for good measure. She wasn't allowed to protect herself, but was left alone. And it was all her fault for leaving the cave in the first place. She should know her place and do what she's told.

I got the same outraged feeling watching a very different movie: Straw Dogs. About his film, Sam Peckinpah said, "I didn't want you to enjoy the film. I wanted you to look into your own soul." Well alright then. I didn't enjoy the film. Even worse, I watched it with a bunch of guys who did.

The movie's about a mathematician and his pretty wife moving into the country where she gets raped. Apparently people should stay in the city for safety. Anyway, the wimpy math-dude gets clever over the course of the film and defends his home against a whole tribe of drunken rapist types. But that's just the thing - he defends his home, not his wife. The brutes sent him on a wild-goose chase while they buggered his woman, and he's more angry at being duped than outraged at the violation his wife has endured at their hands. His ego rates way higher than his wife's body and soul.

At the end, the nerd is setting up traps in his home. The wife is a bit useless. And my bf at the time turned to me and said, "If that ever happened to us, you better be more help to me than that!" He was right there with the protagonist. And I was right there with the wife. I was incensed that the idiot had no ability to protect his wife, yet she was offered no means to protect herself. It's his job to protect her, and he failed. She paid the price, but that's not what really matters. It's his feelings that matter. And it would have been just as bad for him, I'm guessing, had she successfully protected herself against attack. That would be just as demoralizing.

That potential scenario reminds me of New York, New York. There's a woman who can take charge of her life, and he runs her down every time she tries. Instead of being her supporter, he's her competitor. Thank god he left. He was just a burden - but a charming burden.

The women in these first two movies were just offered up to the men, and the focus wasn't on their pain, but on how their poor men were holding up against some type of theft. In the Panic film, the mother tells Ray that their daughter is more worried about him than about herself. The poor dad is having to cope with his little girl's loss of innocence, and that's where our sympathy is meant to dwell.

I've never met a man that I thought could protect me. There seems to be a code of sorts that says, step aside for another man in pursuit of his happiness, then call your girl a slut if she can't fight him off adequately. Well, that's my old bf's deal anyway. His best friend since age two accosted me frequently, and I was lucky to be able to keep him at bay. But I'll never forget the talking to my bf gave me when I kicked his best bud in the nuts. "You just never do that to a guy - never!"

Fuck you, dickwad. Ya I'm still mad about that. Deal.

And in NY, NY, Francine has to celebrate alone when she finally signs a record deal. Jimmy can't feel joy for her accomplishments because it puts him in second place. I worked towards a goal for a year and got two first place awards for my efforts. And there were no streamers or cake to come home to. Just a lament about his horrible day at work - again.

I tell him he has to go. Sometimes he doesn't seem to believe it. But that was the straw that broke my back.

ETA: Twisty recently wrote about the misogyny on TCM here. I'd comment, but it's over the 200 mark.

And Another Thing...

2009-06-30T20:08:00.004-04:00

Whatever happened to the Carnival of Feminists?? Apparently the last one was in January or February. I've been out of the game for a while, busy and all, but I thought I would have heard something about such a great carnival totally dying off.

And I've got eczema something fierce! Last time I had it was after buying the house next door and contemplating the floor to ceiling garbage in every room. I thought I had really taken on more than I could chew that time, and it played itself out on the itchy mounds on my hands. Now I've got tenant problems, partner problems, money problems, and that general running out of time feeling I get more and more after hitting forty. So much to do, and so many barriers to doing it all.

But then again, nothing really needs to happen. I don't have to mow the lawn or make the gardens look presentable, or even clear off the kitchen table. I just think I do because I've been sucked into status anxiety for the time being. It'll pass. I try to remind myself I really just need food and shelter and people to love. And I've got all that in spades. My kids wanting stuff really tugs at me, but if I can refuse them, then maybe they will also learn to enjoy what they have. Maybe.

Which brings me to the "Thought Du Jour" in today's Globe and Mail: Sir Isaiah Berlin once said, "Philosophy is a wonderful subject, ubt it is necessariy unfinished and unfinishable. You really can't solve anything. At the end of my life I want to know more than I did at the beginning. And I couldn't get that from philosophy."

I agree with the first part, but I certainly understand more - or think I do - now than I did before studying philosophy. It's everything - how to govern, how to live, how to love, how to think. Sure there's no cut and dried right and wrong. But I think much of what we think we actually do know for sure is illusory anyway.

I've just finished the book Bozo Sapiens which contains many facts and scientific-type analysis of the human brain in a quest to determine why we do such stupid things all the time. It's a very good read. But really, at the end of it all, nobody's come much farther than Plato's analysis that we just don't measure very well. When we see something in the distance, it has less impact (as a means of pleasure or pain) as something in the foreground. It just does. You can study all the neural activity you want, and you really don't get much past that as the final conclusion. So the final chapter was a bit of a let down. Sorry, I just gave away the ending.

Powerlessness

2009-06-30T19:16:00.005-04:00

I'm so pissed right now, I'm shaking. I don't know if I should sit or stand or jump or yell or cry or punch a wall.

It's the landlord-tenant act.

Well, more specifically, it's two asshole tenants that I want to do some damage to, but won't, and I should probably even delete that last line in case this blog is found and it comes up at the trial, but I won't do that either - gotta draw the line somewhere.

The Rundown:
Mid-May they want the place. There's no lease because it's not a legal apartment being in a basement with low-headroom and all. Yes, I know all about the wicked route of deception and lies biting me in the butt and all that crap. And here we go. They give me last's month's rent cheque, and I tell them I'll get the first month's rent when they move in June 1st.

June 1st - They run and hide when we show up (really!), and don't answer the door for seven days. I realize they're deadbeats, but also my guy's moving out. We're still together, we just can't live together. So, just as well, he can slide in there. If a landlord needs the place, you can take it back with notice. I know I have to give them until September 1st, so I bargain with them. I ask them if they'll go the end of the month if I give them $300 cash back from the rent they already paid. If they want to stay longer, just give me the rent cheque, and move out the following month. They don't have any cash, so they agree to move out the end of the month. All's well.

June 30th - They say they're not leaving. We have to give sixty days notice. I say, "I know the rules, but you verbally agreed to take cash in exchange for leaving at the end of the month." But I didn't say it all calm like that. I got all red in the face and loud and even called him a shit at some point, and he kept trying to close the door and I kept shoving my foot in it. In short, I went nuts. Totally. The upshot - he denies saying he was going to leave, and we can't get in there to move my guy in, AND they still haven't paid for June.

Funny thing is my guy's the one with the temper. On the way down he was asking what to do if he starts to lose it. I told him, just don't lose it. HAHAHAHA!!! My guy was silent, and I was freakin' out! And no legal venues are open until Thursday morning because of Canada's birthday tomorrow. Stupid birthday.

The problem with the landlord-tenant act is that if they don't pay rent, I have to give them a day's grace then serve them notice of eviction, then they have 14 days to get rent together. If they pay within 14 days, then they can stay. And we can do that every single month for six months before we get to go to court. It's bullshit.

All of a sudden I feel like I've got an ulcer or I'm going to barf. Yum. The best part, is, if we CAN get them out by August 31st - at the earliest - I'll put money on it they'll trash the place for all the trouble we've caused them.

I'm too stupid to live.

Benjamin Button

2009-06-25T22:43:00.003-04:00

I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button last night. I didn't love it for the same reasons I didn't love Forrest Gump. It felt contrived and forced in too many places. But it sure pulled at my heartstrings. I was a basketcase by the end of it. And, unlike my mediocre reaction to Tom Hanks, I find it hard to look away when Brad Pitt's filling the screen - especially in scenes where he looks just like he did in A River Runs Through It.

Life and death as on-going and inevitable was beaten into us in the film. But I was hit by a few other themes, particularly the difficulty with being different, not fitting. Yet Benjamin actually did find a niche here and there - he managed to find a few groups of people that he fit with. It hits me hard that I still struggle so hard to fit anywhere. I'm a good teacher, and that fits me, but I'm not supposed to hang out with students, and a shift in the relationship would destroy what's created in the classroom. Soif even a bizarre character like this is able to find a place in the world, what's my freakin' problem? This is why I love Hedwig and the Angry Inch. He ends up alone, willing to accept the isolation inherent to life. That felt more real, or at least, more familiar.

And I liked the ideas around love - how it's possible to be accepting that the time just isn't right and the people we love might be with other people until we're really to connect completely. And that even if we're in love, it's not always the best choice of housemate. Sometimes practical issues do get in the way of emotional bonds.

And I like the little bit on the randomness of life. Little things happen all the time that affect everything else, and we have no control over all these little things that end up changing our world in myriad ways. It's all a crap shoot. Well, of course there are choices we're able to make to blaze the trail in a better direction, but those choices aren't the only thing creating the path we walk. And sometimes they're barely even significant.

Treasure Hunting

2009-06-25T07:04:00.006-04:00

Funny story:

My little one loves treasure hunts. So, for her fifth birthday, we set up a big treasure hunt for all the kids. Luckily the rain held off so we could have it outside. Of course my girl pitched a fit right before, and her brother did all the finding for her loot bag. But that's beside the point.

All the moms dropped off their kids and left. All except for one mom, who said very little, didn't want anything to eat or drink, and she just hovered near her boy. I didn't know her or him very well, and I found it difficult to engage her in conversation, so I just left her be.

Anyway, the kids are all searching for toys in the back. One kid, of course the one who's mom is in constant watch, reaches into the cat door that leads to the garage. I put it in so I wouldn't fret if I couldn't find all the cats during a storm or something. So the kid reaches his hand in and pulls out a treasure. "I found a movie!" I go to see, and of course it's not Bambi or anything tame, it was Zack and Miri Make a Porno. I told him that wasn't part of the game.

Well, at least it wasn't Back Door Sluts 9.

I'm very alone these days, and feel constantly misunderstood - it's frustrating to the point of silencing me. Soon I'll share more.

Escapes

2009-06-06T23:11:00.006-04:00

I'm always amazed when I come across similar ideas over and over in various places. I was in a bookstore and just flipped through a book that caught my eye: Anti-Cancer. Because of my family history, I have an on-going interest in new cancer theories or discoveries. But that wasn't what caught me. It was this:

Three groups of mice had tumours grafted on to them. "One month after the graft, 63% of the rats that had received shocks but had learned to avoid some of them by pressing a lever had rejected the tumor. The rejection rate in this group was higher than in the control group (which had not undergone shocks), in which only 54% of the animals had rejected the cancerous cells. On the other hand, only 23% of those animals subjected to electric shock with no means of escape managed to over come their cancer. The helplessness of their situation had, it seems, hastened the tumor's spread....It isn't stress itself that promotes cancer development; it is the persistent perception of helplessness the individual has that affects the body's reaction to the disease."

So we're actually better off to be stressed out, but sometimes see an avenue out, than to never be stressed at all. So the fact that we're in a doomsday scenario these days what with the environment, the economy, and the proximity to 2012 and all, isn't a problem if we can see a direction to move in that will benefit our situation.

My question is, with situations much more complex than a shock that can be avoided, do we actually have to be able to help ourselves, or is it enough to have the illusion that we can help ourselves? Is believing that we're doing something the same as escaping the problem? And what if we just stop caring about the problem? Do mice ever acclimatize to the shocks? What if the shocks were minor at first then gradually increased?

And if I escape the problem by drinking regularly, is that triggering the same cellular activity as if I actually escape the problem by avoiding the pain in the first place perhaps by no longer reading or watching the news?

I thought of these questions as I watched Vicky Cristina Barcelona. It's a gorgeous film. Several of the characters are trapped. An older woman is in a dead relationship, but decides it's too late to move on, so when she meets a younger woman just starting a sparkless marriage, she tries to convince her to end it now. The older woman is being shocked and trying to escape by focusing on the other woman, projecting her pain elsewhere. The younger woman is being shocked but tries to get used to the pain. The others are in a triad that works well, a new member is a buffer, muting the shocks betwen them. But when she leaves, they have to escape one another. And she is naturally restless, so escapes all experiences before they get too painful, but thus endures a different kind of pain. Do all methods of escape count??

Until I just IMDB'd the film, I forgot it was written by Woody Allen. The dialogue made me think it was written by someone whose first language wasn't English. Everyone speaks in a very formal, grammatically correct way - how we might write to one another, but not how anyone I know ever speaks. That felt awkward, and I'm not sure what effect he was trying to achieve there. It's not something I've noticed in any of his other films. Beyond that, I could watch it over and over. But I'm a sucker for Woody.

On Predators

2009-06-01T00:08:00.005-04:00

I was biking around alone in the bush, and I was thinking about bears. I wondered if bears ever go for deer, and I think they don't. I can't remember any wilderness docs with a bear attacking a deer or moose or gazelle or whathaveyou. Well, at least I hope they don't, because I was thinking that, to a bear, a person on a bike might be deer-like and just too fast to make it worth their while. I know if a bear sees you, running might provoke their chase instinct, so you're supposed to stand your ground. But if you're zipping by too fast to make eye-contact or adequately size-up, I'm thinking you'll be okay. I'm going on that anyway.

And as I was thinking about this, it occured to me that all the instructions for dealing with black bears center around making it not worth their while to attack. BUT there's also many a caveat that you also can't get them angry, and you can't appear to be fun to kill - squawking hysterically and bouncing around. You have to make the bear just annoyed and bored enough to leave, and not so annoyed that they kill you. That can be a very fine line to consider while a large predator chews on your head.

In the book The Bear's Embrace, a true story, the narrator was attacked, and as the bear chewed out her eye, she thought to tweak it on the nose - but she was very careful not to tweak too hard. It had to be just enough for him to have second thoughts about bothering with her. And it worked.

And it all made me think of dealing with a potential rapist. It's the same set of instructions. You have to make yourself difficult and annoying, but not piss the guy off in case he loses it and beats the shit out of you. We were told to vomit, if we could. That's gross and might put the guy off. Tight jeans with a tricky belt were on the list. It might take them too long to figure out, and they'll give up and go for someone easier. Also, maybe scream and yell and struggle like a banshee so he realizes it's really going to be far too much effort for the reward. BUT this last tactic can backfire if he thinks it's fun to have such an animated target, or alternatively, he might flip-out and bash your head in.

That fine line's a bitch.

Change Without Expectation

2009-05-29T07:37:00.004-04:00

Taoist writings, old philosophers, and self-help books suggest that we'll be much happier and the world will work better if we live without expectations. We shouldn't try to change other people because it's not our place, or not possible, or wasted energy, or whatever.

But how do we improve, as a group, if we don't try to change others' behaviours? If we don't have campaigns to stop littering or drunk driving, if we don't put consequences in place, then we'll be swerving drunk on the highway trying to avoid all the garbage.

"The world is sacred, it can't be improved. If you try to change it, you'll ruin it."
(chapter 29 - Tao Te Ching)

Or perhaps it's not that we shouldn't suggest right action, just that we shouldn't expect people to follow the suggestion. Don't hold on to outcomes and all that. But that's why we put consequences in place. If people think about doing wrong, we threaten them with punishment. If that was all to disappear, would we start behaving more respectfully? Did we actually create this problem by installing a punitive method of behavioural control in our society?

I don't know. I'm off for the weekend to think about it all. Ponder at will...

On Madonna, Whores, Nice Guys, and Animals

2009-05-27T21:13:00.005-04:00

I was thinking of a male-centered concept that mirrors the madonna/whore dichotomy. I came up with sensitive guy/animal. There's some similarities but also significant differences between the two.

Guys and girls both want to bring a nice date home, unless they've a rebellious streak and want to freak-out their folks. But typically the madonna/sensitive guy get to meet the parents. But when night falls, we want the whore/animal to play with. A recent study found that when women are most fertile, they want rough, masculine men. When they're least fertile, they find softer, more feminine men most attractive.

Personally I've never been into the sensitive type - the guys who have mainly female friends and everyone calls "nice." I want a man who can hold his own with me, not one that will bow to my every command. But I'm much more a whore than a madonna - if one has to choose.

Unfortunately, it seems for women we do have to choose. Well, not directly, but if we slip over that line just once, wear a too-short skirt, flirt too overtly, etc., everyone else chooses for us. We're sluts, and the nice girls will shun us. Just as well. They're boring.

Guys move in the other direction. Being an animal is preferable. You're in until you show a weakness: you get pouty when people want to wrestle or start teasing you; you can't catch a ball or use a screwdriver, or you order a screwdriver instead of a beer or rye.

The difference between getting caught in one of these dichotomies is that parents and friends are happy to accept an animal, nice guy, and madonna at the table but not a whore. A guy can help with dishes and be a sweetheart, or tell off-colour jokes and be a character. A woman has to help with dishes. A potty-mouth on your girlfriend elicits worried whispers and concerned admonishments. And it takes a strong partner to cope with that.

I propose we reclaim whore. I like sex, dammit, and that okay. I think Zack and Miri Make a Porno is the funniest movie I've seen in a while. When somebody farts, I laugh out loud. That's the thing for me - nice girls aren't allowed to laugh as much. They have to pretend to be disgusted with body humour, to be above all that, to be sacred and heavenly instead of profane and grounded. I'd rather have my feet in the mud than my head in the clouds.

What's key is the fear of women who will tempt your partner away or leave you for someone else. A sensuous woman is a woman who might let desire lead her, and we can't have that. We all know some guys let their little head speak for their big head, but that's to be understood, forgiven, even pitied a little. Aw, poor guy got caught up in things and now he's got both his mistresses pregnant! It's often seen as cute when guys are all out-of-control in lust after some girl. If we're a friend of the cad, we're exasperated but with a little grin and eye roll. Oh, you.

When a woman's losing it for someone, it's not cute, it's dangerous. She's a home-wrecker. A passionate woman doesn't know her place in the order of things.

And I wonder how much this has to do with a primitive fear a husband might have that his wife's children are not his own. Women need to be watched to ensure they're not bringing another man's progeny into the mix.

I like being sexy and telling raunchy jokes, but I'm not going to leave you or screw your boyfriend or screw you for that matter. It's funny, because I think a woman can love sex but not wander quite so far to get it. It's men who rack up the numbers. Yet somehow that's still okay.

I might wander in this direction, though...

What Kind of Mother...

2009-05-26T22:21:00.005-04:00

Okay, first of all, that the headline asks about the mothering, and not the fathering, always sticks in my craw, whatever the hell a craw might be.

This is about the 7-year-old girl in Manitoba sent to school with a swastika on her arm. When the teacher washed it off, her mother helped her re-draw it. The young girl explained to the teacher the best way to kill a black person. It's absolutely horrific.

But...

The question being asked is should the girl be removed from the home? They've found evidence of drug use, so they can remove her because of that. But what if they hadn't? Can we take children from their homes because of the twisted belief system of the parents? I'm not so sure. If parents think homosexuals should all burn in hell, can we rescue the wee tots? If they want all the immigrants to go home (excepting themselves and others of British and Western European lineage of course), can we invade? Is it enough to warrant intervention if they're just talking about how much they hate a group of people?

Under Canadian hate crime laws, (section 319 of the criminal code), it's a crime to publicly incite hatred against an identifiable group (by race, ethnicity, sexual orientation...). There's no first amendment for us! To be convicted, the mother would have had to communicate statements against an identifiable group in a public place in such a way that it's intended to incite hatred against the group and in such a way that there will likely be a breach of the peace.

It's clear the mother communicated statements in her home to her daughter in a way to incite hatred against a few identifiable groups. But there's no proof she ever made the statements in a public place (somewhere anyone could go freely) or in such a way that it would likely create a breach of the peace, not directly or immediately anyway. Technically, I think, she didn't commit a crime. She just told her daughter how much she hates black people and Jewish people, and she taught her to do the same. I guess the swastika was displayed publicly, so that could satisfy that criterion. But it doesn't appear she was intending to start something with it. She later suggested it was the stupidest thing she'd ever done.

My parents were arrogant to the nth. Both professors, they shunned the ignorant masses and told me to do so as well. I wasn't well-liked by other kids, and being told that they don't connect with me because they're all morons was really helpful to my development of coping abilities in the cruel world of the grade school playground. I could tolerate my "uniqueness" by feeling sorry for their weak minds.

Now I don't think it's healthy to be raised to condescend to all others and to see oneself as supreme over others, but it did put a smile on my face when I came home once again with mud in my hair from the kids "playing" with me. They didn't tell me we're smarter in order to preserve my self-esteem, but because they really believed it. In fact my dad used to insist we each have large families to carry on the intelligence genes and thereby improve society.

This little girl's mom believes they're better than people based on race. Is that significantly different?

But...

My parents didn't explain how to be violent towards anybody. They were pretty much pacifists (except for the occasional spankings that were a sign of the times). When I got beat up, they were all about turning the other cheek.

It's disgusting and disturbing that a little kid in a peaceful town is being trained early in the art of torture and murder. It's truly sad. But neither of them have acted on their beliefs or knowledge. So do we have a right to remove the daughter?

I think not, unfortunately.

Little Stuff

2009-05-24T23:02:00.004-04:00

I thought I understood the importance of allowing gay and lesbian marriage. But the other day my four-year-old asked me, "Can a boy marry a boy?" and then "And can a girl marry a girl?" When I answered in the affirmative, she was absolutely delighted with the options open to her. And I remember telling my older two that they could marry anyone they want, male or female, and another mom butting in "No they can't. It's not legal." And I wanted to just punch her.

Last night I had a dream that the wife of a colleague who's having an affair came to my house. I wouldn't let her in because she seemed off, so I talked to her in the driveway. She had a little pink, sparkly purse. And in it she was hiding a gun pointed at me. She was accusing me of being her husband's mistress. First I told her that if she's going to kill anyone, it should be her husband for two-timing her. Killing the mistress just means he has to find a new one. Only after this lecture did I try to convince her I'm not the one she wants. Then I hit a moral dilemma: should I tell. I really wanted to, and I wanted to call the woman's husband too - under the guise of warning him of a crazy lady about to hit their home.

I wrestled the gun away from her finally, and the police took her. I leaned in the window of the car before it left to lecture some more: "Don't think this is all my fault. You made a choice today to leave the house with a gun with the intention of pointing it at someone. This is your doing, and you have to take responsibility for it. And your husband needs to take responsibility for his actions too."

I'm just dying to tell someone off these days!

Sex Ed: Destroying Sex Lives Since 1913

2009-05-16T21:46:00.007-04:00

Apparently, the origins of sexual education in schools had to do with actually teaching newly married, urbanized men and women how to have children at a time when proper ladies and gentlemen didn't want to have to say anything of the sort right out loud. They paid a teacher to do the dirty work. Before the industrial revolution, kids would get the idea from watching farm animals boink. In the shelter of the city, they were clueless. (That's what the link suggests, yet my gut says, "As if.")

Perhaps it's as a consequence of these origins, but sex education is anything but sexual. It entirely focuses on reproduction. Girls and boys separate to learn about the ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus, and "birth canal." And hidden on the photos, ignored, sits the sad and lonely clitorus just dying for some attention. I talk to students about what they learn today, and that part is pretty much the same as it was almost a century ago. They get gory STI information and daily quizzes on the myriad ways birth control can fail you. That's the standard curriculum.

Who would be harmed by actually teaching teenagers how women's bodies work?

I've just been reading Promiscuities by Naomi Wolf. It's got a great little history lesson in the middle of it: "Lost and Found: The Story of the Clitoris." She concludes that keeping the clitorus a secret was due to economic expansion in the mid-1800s that "created a class of educated women who could enjoy the leisure that would permit them to threaten the stability of the sexual double standard." I think she needs to read further back. Many philosophers in the 16th century wrote about the problem of knowing if the children you're raising are actually your own flesh and blood. And Aristotle warned that men should rule over their wives for their own good. People worried about wandering women long before industry.

Do we still have to keep women in the dark to keep them chaste? Face it. Some of us are going to have sex with other guys even if the sex is bad. We're curious, and they've got us on a variable ratio rate of reinforcement. And maybe if we were all better educated at a younger age, the sex at home would be good enough to keep us sufficiently entertained there. And a simple blood test will tell who gets to pay for any children that ensue.

But there's another problem. Consider this bit written by Dr. Marie Carmichael Stopes in 1918 in her book Married Love:

"The supreme law for husbands is: no union should ever take place unless the woman also desires it and is made physically ready for it. A man does not woo and win a woman once for all when he marries her: he must woo her before every separate act of coitus....So complex, so profound, are woman's sex-instincts that in rousing them the man is rousing her whole body and soul And this takes time. More time indeed than a husband dreams of spending on it."

Maybe today (and back then), it's not just about progeny or promiscuity. It's about the sheer laziness of many men (not all thankfully) to actually be willing to spend the time and energy making it good for us. If women don't know how it works, and men can claim igorance regardless, then a lack of enjoyment for a woman just means she doesn't like sex, not that the sex is bad. And men can get themselves off in what Kinsey called "a dead cavity."

Imagine if everyone was given full knowledge of all the many paths to pleasure in their middle schools. A few might have sex earlier, but the potential consequences and the sheer lack of readiness will keep the rest at bay as it does now. Hollywood films would have to change all their standard sex scenes to accomodate the new knowledge base. They're almost always cumming at the same time in the missionary position - even in Zack and Mira Make a Porno (which is a lovely romantic-comedy, by the way). It doesn't mean it all has to get more explicit. Even in Seinfeld, they suggest oral sex with the guy buried under the blankets, or unable to play the saxophone, or George complaining about getting the "tap". Jerry responded to this admission by suggesting that no man knows what he's doing down there; women are happy if men just make an effort.

Just imagine.

Funny Story

2009-05-15T06:49:00.004-04:00

I was at school last night for a concert of student concert bands and choirs. On the walk home, just past dusk, I was singing to myself as I walked, and talking to myself a bit too. I do that all the time when I walk. Two teens were sitting on a stone wall up ahead. As I approached, one said, "D'ya have a gram to sell?"

The one doing the asking was a student of mine last year, so I laughed and said, "Oh, Joe!" Up until that moment, I thought they knew who I was and were teasing me. But then I saw the look of recognition hit his face as soon as I said his name. He was aghast. I just kept walking.

I guess boppin' down the street singing and talking to yourself, with a crazy grin on your face, apparently makes one look like a stoner that might have a little extra to share!

Water Water Everywhere

2009-05-13T01:45:00.004-04:00

I went on a canoe trip with the guy and dog. It was supposed to be for four days, but we cut it in half after I started whimpering. Seriously. I've never been frightened in a canoe before, but the wind was driving waves higher than the deck of the bow. I was being splashed with freezing cold water from the waste down over and over. We were trying to get across a lake to a campsite, and after a very traumatic trip, found the campsite already occupied. I had already started making little mewling sounds.

We had to turn back and go to a different spot. Even with our backs to the wind, it was a very scary ride. It was like paddling through the wake of a sea of neverending motorboats. Finally we hit land, and I immediately changed into dry clothes. But the site was open, and the wind was relentless. I couldn't warm up, and I could barely manage to even hold a beer to celebrate survival. And then my guy pointed out a dead deer on the site. And that made me scared of a bear who might be coming back for it. And I started full-on crying and blubbering.

Even the fire couldn't warm me, so I went to bed. My guy had done the packing, and he brought a broken thermarest he had intended to fix, his new thermarest, and only one pillow for himself. I tried to sleep on rock without a pillow and a dog cramping me into half the space until I got bold enough to kick the guy off his cushy sleeping quarters at 6-ish. I emerged from the tent at 9, and he offered that we could leave even though he had been planning the trip for months.

I do really wish he could ensure I'm as comfortable as he is when he offers to pack for the both of us on these trips. It's always shocking to me when he makes himself a lovely bed, then throws me some crap. I'm fully willing to pack up my own stuff, but he insists, then short-sheets me totally. And back at home, when I started laundry in the morning, he offered to take over. Then in the afternoon, I realized nothing was hung up, and I had to quick do it myself and hope things would dry before evening. It's so infuriating and frustrating, and how do I not think he really doesn't give a shit??

Then I had a weird dream. I was at a party wearing a sexy black dress. I was with my guy, sitting on his lap at one point - which I never do. Some students were in the mix, but that was okay. It was a formal affair. But the ceiling started leaking, and there were puddles of water everywhere. We just avoided them as we danced. I had to go to the bathroom, and decided just to discretely go on the floor. Everyone would think it was just another puddle from the rain. But then some students noticed that my puddle wasn't under a leaky area, and they started wondering about it and getting closer for an inspection. I became very sheepish and tried to act cool and redirect their attention elsewhere.

I wonder if there's cracks in my goals and dreams for the future with him, and other people notice (because they sometimes comment on off-handed remarks I make), and I'm embarrassed that I've done something foolish. So I avoid the whole issue and focus on other topics. And the whole time, I'm really out of my element. I'm not comfortable acting like a sexy young thing. I want to be allowed to get old already! He's been talking about the slipper-flats girls wear, and how much he likes them. I should encourage him to get a pair because I'm not wearing the things. I've always been one for comfort, not fashion. How did I end up with someone with an eye for new trends?

Or maybe I just really had to pee.

He's gone for a few days with the dog, and I can't believe what a stress-reducer it is to not have to constantly think about where the dog is and what he'd doing and whether he has to pee or is destroying more of my daughter's artwork. And without the guy we sit through entire meals without a single argument. Lovely!

I'm not nearly out of the woods yet.

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-10T10:45:00.005-04:00

I cleaned out my blogroll - deleted anyone who was by invitation only or who hasn't blogged in 2009. There were a ton of people that I kept clicking on for updates but found the same post hanging up there time after time. Well, nice to have known you however briefly and electronically. I've got many people I want to add - they're listed on little scraps of paper around my computer - but that will have to wait for another day.

There was a great post about Mother's Day one or two years ago I think over here, but I can't find it. And yesterday I chanced on a lovely post detailing what the poster liked about her mom. I can't for the life of me recall where I saw it, but I'm totally copying the format here.

1. My mom never lost her temper. She kept her expectations - of us and herself - in check, so she wasn't disappointed or infuriated by much of anything. I think working hard but not hanging on to possible rewards at the end is a key to happiness in general.

2. She was really funny, and she laughed all the time.

3. She didn't care about her appearance, which taught me not to care, which freed up a hell of a lot of time and money for me. She wore only polyester because it never wears out, and I think she only owned three or four outfits.

4. She never made excuses for her eating or drinking or weight or messy house. She'd tell us, "If you want a clean house, you're welcome to clean it yourself." I have much to learn on this front. Because my ex has such an impeccable home, and the kids often rave about it, I scramble to try to keep it fairly clean so the kids don't move in with him. It's the only problem I have with being separated, not the reality of it, but the myriad scenarios I dream up that keep me somewhat at the mercy of the kids - both with cleaning and buying them stuff. And that's not good for anyone.

5. She was always there. She didn't do anything else after work, so she was always available to us. This is a tricky one. I want to be there for the kids for their sake, but I want to do my own thing eventually for my own sake. My mom's time was always for us. As much as I appreciated that, I need more of a balance in my life.

6. Our family came first. We didn't spend holidays with aunts and uncles and grandparents. We saw them at other times in the year, but special occasions were for solidifying our own family. So Christmas wasn't a race from house to house like it is for many others. We all spent the time hanging out together at home.

My guy's mom insists he has to go there for dinner and not spend dinner with me and the kids because she's his mom. The catch is he has to bring our little one too, even thought she's not her mom. And I wish he had the balls to say, "Mom, I spent a few decades with you on Mother's Day, now I'm moving on to be with my new family. I'll always call you on Mother's Day, but I can't keep spending the day with you now that I have a family of my own."

Well, I'll go to dinner with two of my kids. Every year it's heartbreaking that the little one spends that time with grandma instead of me. What it comes down to is that grandma's desires and hurts rate more than mine. He's still in her clutches. Well, that or he'd rather spend the time with her. But I don't think that's the case. I'd like him to be able to say that, either way. Either tell his mom he'd prefer to be with me, or tell me he'd prefer to be with him. All this, "I have to go or she'll get upset," or "Just tell me what I should do," is just his way of getting out of any responsibility for his actions. I need a partner, not another kid, dammit!

Anyway - have a great day, mums!

One Weird Day

2009-05-09T21:37:00.002-04:00

Last class on a Friday afternoon. It's a beautifully warm and sunny day, so I only have about a third of the regulars. We went to the library to do research, so I could basically ignore them until the bell rang.

One student with obvious social skills problems - like, way worse than mine - brought in a crazy-expensive doll from another class. It's a baby-trainer, just-say-no-to-sex, thing that they make you cart around for three days if you take a parenting course. The baby cries insanely while the students try to shut it up by feeding it, changing it, and rocking it wildly. It's just like a real baby. In fact, it's SO much like a real baby that this poor guy, all of 15, couldn't get it to stop crying no matter what he did until - come on you've been there - HE started crying. He was so overwhelmed with this responsibility that he broke down and blubbered and convulsed. I tried to talk to him to calm him down, but he was beside himself with anxiety and grief over his uselessness in the situation. I insisted that all moms do this because babies make no sense, but that didn't help. So I tried to find his parenting teacher to adopt out this kid before it met a tragic demise.

The other students in my class were amazing. "Wow, you're going to be such a great dad - you care so much about that baby!" and "That's really hard to do - taking care of a crying baby." So sweet. Other kids in the library were complete jerks, of course, laughing their guts out at his expense. Oh well. It all was a bit odd. He was reacting to the doll like it really was his child. I kept reminding him it's just a doll, and it's not in pain, but he couldn't hear that.

So I got the student and baby to the parenting teacher. And I relaxed a bit. Then a student told me something's wrong with some girl between the stacks.

Another student of mine was having a panic attack / seizure. She was hyperventilating and shaking all over, lying on the floor. I rolled up some newspaper, rolled the end, and made a handy paper bag for her to breath into. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing, but they do that on TV shows, and I was really proud of my ingenuity in creating a paper bag out of recycling. I told the librarian to call a V.P. who came and told her to breath through her nose to slow down her breathing. Then we sat on the floor with her until she started breathing normally again and stopped shaking. It was frightening to watch, and I wish I had been better prepared. I mainly just rubbed her back and told her, "Whatever you were thinking of that got you upset, stop thinking about that, and turn your mind to something that's really calming and cozy." I don't know if that's the standard procedure for this kind of thing, but it made sense to me at the time, so there you go.

So, the attack subsided, and she got up to get her things and got ready to be taken home. I turned my attention to the other students working on a project. Then, just to wrap things up for the class, another student barfed. Excellent. At least that's something I'm familiar with and can handle without scanning my brain for similar situations on medical shows. I know barf intimately. I can totally do barf.

Monday will be less weird. It's regression to the mean that keeps me hanging in!

Bike Collision Update

2009-04-28T19:57:00.005-04:00

Remember my post asking for suggestions after I hit a car with my bike? Well, I asked an on-line lawyer what my rights are. The on-line lawyer said if I don't pay, she could sue me, and we'll have to go to court, and if I lose, then I have to pay court costs too. But they also suggested it would be really hard for her to prove I hit her and that the little scratch I made six months ago is the same reason she needs a new bumper now after a slippery winter of driving.

So I called a lawyer from the phone book. He said she doesn't have to prove I hit her at all, she just has to say so on the witness stand. It'd be up to me to prove I didn't hit her. But he said none of that matters because she can't sue me for the cost anyway because we have no-fault insurance here. So all damages to her car will be paid by her insurance company, and the fact that it was my fault just means that my premiums would go up if I had been driving a car at the time. Since I was on a bike, my house insurance premiums might be affected, but probably not.

Then I called my insurance company. They said her insurance company might sue me (my home-owners insurance specifically) for the cost because I'm at fault. WTF?

So, really, nobody knows what the rules are or what could happen. In fact, I was on hold for ages with the insurance company because they've never ever dealt with a bicycle-car collision. To think of all the times I've been hit by cars while on my bike and did nothing.

I wrote her that she should make a claim with her insurance company. I'd rather take a chance at maybe having to pay her insurance company something, or maybe being sued by her, than just forking over hundreds of dollars.

I'll keep you posted how that goes over.

The Yuck Factor

2009-04-20T20:42:00.008-04:00

Margaret Somerville has an article in the Globe and Mail today. I considered commenting directly to the paper, but I'm not sure it would be wise as a public teacher. You'll see why. Don't let her credentials intimidate you. She often uses really questionable logic. This is a good case in point.

Except that I'll be arguing for the legalization of incest which I'm not sure I want to do, but I really can't see a bad argument against incest go unchallenged!

Most of her argument sits on the widely-held belief that close relatives who reproduce create children with genetic problems. First of all, the belief has been somewhat discounted by some geneticists who found that cousins mating have the same rate of abnormalities as any two random people.

But even if it's completely certain that chances are very high that two people will have a problem bearing a healthy child, is that good reason to make it illegal for them to marry or have sex? If an unrelated man and woman both carry a gene for a specific problem, they're allowed to marry even if they might be cautioned against reproducing. I reproduced close to 40 and was told, at one point, my age alone gave my baby a 50/50 chance of having a chromosomal problem, but nobody tried to stop me from marrying or having sex OR procreating. So I think the idea that close relatives have a higher chance at passing down genetic problems than most couples is not enough for society to deny them a relationship.

But Somerville goes on to ask, "...do children have a right not to be born from an incestuous relationship and a right not to have to live in a family constructed around such a relationship?...[What if] a young girl has three older brothers. Will she grow up wondering which one or more will want to have sex with her when she is 18 years old?"

I've heard this kind of argument before, and here's how I answered: Just because some people choose to have sex with others of the same sex does not mean that every woman is suddenly going to look at me with lust in her eyes. Just because a few relatives out there are allowed to formally wed does not mean all my relatives will turn to me in hot pursuit. We don't all suddenly become sex manics because a minority are granted the right to be with the person they most desire.

Will children raised by siblings who married be in an awkward social situation when their friends find out? Very likely. Gross! But that's not so different from the first children openly raised by couples of mixed ethnicity or of the same sex. No child has the right to choose the family they get. It's the luck of the draw, honey!

Okay, then Somerville goes on at length to establish that for centuries people haven't practiced incest and many animals don't either. Ignoring generalizing from animals to people, the fact that people don't typically do something isn't grounds for establishing that they shouldn't do something. That's moving from an "is" to an "ought." That's called a naturalistic fallacy, and she should know better. People typically don't wear barefeet outside; therefore, people shouldn't wear barefeet outside. My yoga instructor begs to differ.

Finally, she says, "Even some people who advocate decrimininalizing incest admit to a "yuck factor" response to it. This can be an expression of a moral intuition that there is something ethically wrong in the conduct that causes that reaction."

Okay, first there's the community standards methods of determining ethical practices. If most people in a community find it objectionable, then it's wrong. If my neighbours all protest my desire to turn my home into a bawdy house, then that's precisely what sets the standards within this specific community. A bawdy house might create much more traffic on the street and change the climate of the neighbourhood having so much activity in the evening hours just while little ones are tucking in for the night. BUT, there are many cases in which the majority cannot insist on reducing the freedoms of the minority because the acts of the minority are yucky. I might think yuck at the sight of a burn survivor or at multiple piercings or tattoos or someone eating sushi. A yuck reaction can merely be a matter of taste; it's not necessarily a moral barometer.

Here's the question that really matters: If Jane and John down the street were mother and son before they were husband and wife, does that cause harm to anybody else on the street? Keep in mind there are still people out there who are totally grossed out by gay relationships and by mixed-ethnicity marriages. There's people in my city that want to ban composters and clotheslines for crying out loud. But unless we can figure out what, precisely, is the harm or potential harm caused by these actions, then I question any legal intervention.

We're not used to it. That's for sure. It's weird and creepy for a dad to marry an adult child he produced and/or raised -ahemwoodyallenahem - but, assuming, of course, that everyone is consenting and informed, is it harmful?

And there's the slippery slope argument that what if everyone married their sibling - we'd end up with a society of deformed people. And if everyone was homosexual - we'd end up with no more children anywhere. And if everyone married someone of a different ethnicity - there'd be no more ethnicities. Most people won't marry a close relative. I know I won't. But should that bizarre possibility make it impossible for anyone to marry a relative?

I asked this question of harm over and over and over again when I first agreed to a relationship with a man 18 years younger than me. I asked: Even though you say it's not harming you in any way to date someone older, what if ten years down the road you really regret this - even feel a little sick about it? His response: That's a chance anyone takes entering into a relationship. It's got nothing to do with age.

And everything I've written here can also be applied to the argument against multi-person marriages. Really, so long as it's not abusive, so long as everyone gives informed consent, so long as the relationship is loving and compassionate and kind, does it really matter who's involved?

Suffer the Producer

2009-04-16T21:29:00.003-04:00

Remember the movie Wag the Dog? Dustin Hoffman played a poor producer ever lamenting the lack of an academy award category for film producers. It's a very good movie that still holds up today.

I'm currently preparing for our Earth Day events. Today someone commented on the festival using my name in the possessive. Another teacher jumped in, peeved, "Why is it suddenly her event?," and I understood how Hoffman's character felt. I've been three months into organizing, co-ordinating, financing, and doing the very necessary schmoozing with everyone from those in administration to custodial to make everything happen. But the teacher who's playing a three-minute song at the event wants top billing.

And it struck me how much we congratulate and stand awe-struck in front of the most mundane talent but barely give a nod to the workers behind the scenes - something that takes not just immense effort but also a very different kind of talent.

The Reluctant Leader

2009-04-13T15:40:00.003-04:00

The Tao says,
"In governing, don't try to control...lead them without imposing your will..."

Being the youngest of a large family, and being unable to speak properly until the end of grade school, and being naturally small and quiet, I've always felt invisible. And it occurs to me I've actually started to depend on being invisible to people. I'm surprised when my presence is noticed in a room, when people actually look to me for advice or guidance of any kind.

And I'm a teacher.

I like to say I'm equitable and non-hierarchical. I refuse to take authority in the classroom, instead insisting we're all here to learn from one another yadda yadda yadda. I'm not an authority figure; I'm one with the people. Except I have this little extra chore of affixing a number to each of them at the end of term. When a student has a dilemma, I throw it back to the class. This often works, except they're much more brutal on each other than I would be. So I soften their choices of peer-punishments.

And in extra-curricular clubs, I hope to just and listen while they make all the decisions, but again they look to me for guidance. And after more than a decade, it still surprises me.

Sometimes I think I'm being a good Taoist leader - guiding without imposing. But other times I think it's just a way to skirt responsibility or to avoid work. I hate making decisions. It's easier to let students choose which path we should take next in the course. I'm just a slacker.

I've been thinking about all this because the colleague having the affair just gave me a big lecture on fate. Everything happens for a reason; it's all meant to be... All that crap. And even though it seems Taoist in nature, the intent of the argument is to relieve himself of the guilt of sleeping with someone else's wife. He had to sleep with her because fate threw them together. What an excuse! He's avoiding the pain of acknowledging his role in causing harm to another. He's missing out on the burden of care that comes with Taoism.

And while I've been slamming him in my head for using Taoism to avoid responsibility, I noticed myself doing the same thing. I care about students, but not enough to take the plunge and make the hard choices for them. Not so far anyway.