I have a group of female friends-- Nancy, Sheila, Lynn, Susan, Kaikay. I call them the "sisters," they are people with whom I connected immediately and permanently. In one corner of my heart I believe that they are the lost sisters from my past lives. I never feel a need to seek approval or support from these women; it's a given. Friendship does not need to be sought, or affirmed, or renewed, or nurtured. It simply is.
And yet, despite having these strong connections, I find myself investing my emotional energy in seeking approval and affirmation from people who are never going to give it. My boss, in fact, every boss I ever had except for Susan and Lynn (who are each one of the sisters). I have a positive knack for finding bosses who are stingy with approval, or insecure about accepting input from subordinates. Or perhaps it's not that I have a knack for this, but that the sorts of people who seek administrative positions are people who thrive on this sort of petty bullshit, or who need the affirmation of the title to feel a sense of worth.
Probably this stems from some emotional need not met in my childhood. I'm constantly seeking praise from a father or mother figure, or something like that. Which makes me wonder what neuroses, what bad decisions based on misunderstood emotional needs, my kids will suffer?
Friday, February 20, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Homeless
The seaman is back, ready to put the waves behind him forever and making noises about staying in Chicago after all. It is all I can do to sit on my hands, bite my tongue, and refrain from falling to my knees with a heartfelt "thank you jesus" that he might stay within shouting distance.
In the meantime, he's living at home, except he's not. I can count on one hand the meals he's shared with us since he got back, and the conversations lasting more than a few minutes. Gentle suggestions that he might contribute financially in tiny ways (buy every third bag of coffee?) are met with blank stares or amusement. I think back to when I was a young adult on my own for the first time, and realize that I never thought about my parents at all. I'd go "home" periodically, but when we were in Chicago I just never thought about them.
How strange, then, for my son, who is in that same life phase, where we are peripheral if not actually superfluous, and yet here he is, living in our house. He can't not think about us when we're underfoot all the time.
In the meantime, he's living at home, except he's not. I can count on one hand the meals he's shared with us since he got back, and the conversations lasting more than a few minutes. Gentle suggestions that he might contribute financially in tiny ways (buy every third bag of coffee?) are met with blank stares or amusement. I think back to when I was a young adult on my own for the first time, and realize that I never thought about my parents at all. I'd go "home" periodically, but when we were in Chicago I just never thought about them.
How strange, then, for my son, who is in that same life phase, where we are peripheral if not actually superfluous, and yet here he is, living in our house. He can't not think about us when we're underfoot all the time.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
The traveller and the homebody
From the skater: "Chengdu was probably the grossest place I've ever been. The pollution was close to intolerable and there was just filth everywhere. I saw a street cleaner once and it was hand built. Despite those sad factors, I actually had quite a good time there. Being in such a different place doesn't seem to get old."
From the seaman: "...with the end in sight the days are starting to drag even harder. I've already created countdowns on the calendar on my phone and the paper one in my room, and it helps to be able to see when I've passed certain markers— yesterday was the 20 days to go point."
From the seaman: "...with the end in sight the days are starting to drag even harder. I've already created countdowns on the calendar on my phone and the paper one in my room, and it helps to be able to see when I've passed certain markers— yesterday was the 20 days to go point."
Brrrr
For the first time in nearly two years, everyone in the family is experiencing similar weather:
Chicago 36 and overcast
Shanghai 39 and rainy
Southhampton 37 and cloudy
Chicago 36 and overcast
Shanghai 39 and rainy
Southhampton 37 and cloudy
From the skater
Appropriately, a description of a boat trip:
"After our shows in Chengdu I went on a four-day boat trip down the Yangtzee (sp?) River. The whole trip was rather exciting because we never really knew where we were. There was always someone there to tell us where to go but no one ever told us where we were. Our tour guide could tell us 'ok you'll wake up at 6 to go see a temple and you should be back on the boat by 9' and she would give us our ticket for the temple and we would go look at it. Sometimes there would be a sign with English on it explaining the site but usually not. It didn't matter because everything we saw was so beautiful to look at.
"Our first day was spent mostly on a bus in the city of Chondqing. We saw a few sites including a big gold Buddha, 2 prisons, and a knife factory. We never found out what the prisons were all about but one had a torture room with some very used looking devices. The knife factory was quite an experience. Like everywhere we went, we had no idea what it was. They took us into this building and sat us in a little room with chairs set up facing a little table with veggies and a giant metal pole on it. There was also three knives of varying sizes. A lady came in and started talking a million miles a minute about God knows what for several minutes. Then, seemingly out of the blue, she walks over to the metal pole with this big butchers knife and start beating on it with all her strength. At this point we are just buckled over with laughter because we can't imagine what is going on. It is only then that this guy who speaks English leans over and explains that the building we are in used to belong to the government and now belongs to a steel factory that makes these knives out of the same steel tanks are made of and that . Our lives made much more sense then.
We finally got onto the boat that night and sailed off till morning. This boat was absolutely the most communist thing I have ever encountered. Every morning at the designated wake up time an announcement was made over the loud speakers and then music would play until we left the boat. At the same time people would walk around and knock on your door to wake you. It was very interesting. Everyone wake up now! Ok everyone go see this temple now!"
"After our shows in Chengdu I went on a four-day boat trip down the Yangtzee (sp?) River. The whole trip was rather exciting because we never really knew where we were. There was always someone there to tell us where to go but no one ever told us where we were. Our tour guide could tell us 'ok you'll wake up at 6 to go see a temple and you should be back on the boat by 9' and she would give us our ticket for the temple and we would go look at it. Sometimes there would be a sign with English on it explaining the site but usually not. It didn't matter because everything we saw was so beautiful to look at.
"Our first day was spent mostly on a bus in the city of Chondqing. We saw a few sites including a big gold Buddha, 2 prisons, and a knife factory. We never found out what the prisons were all about but one had a torture room with some very used looking devices. The knife factory was quite an experience. Like everywhere we went, we had no idea what it was. They took us into this building and sat us in a little room with chairs set up facing a little table with veggies and a giant metal pole on it. There was also three knives of varying sizes. A lady came in and started talking a million miles a minute about God knows what for several minutes. Then, seemingly out of the blue, she walks over to the metal pole with this big butchers knife and start beating on it with all her strength. At this point we are just buckled over with laughter because we can't imagine what is going on. It is only then that this guy who speaks English leans over and explains that the building we are in used to belong to the government and now belongs to a steel factory that makes these knives out of the same steel tanks are made of and that . Our lives made much more sense then.
We finally got onto the boat that night and sailed off till morning. This boat was absolutely the most communist thing I have ever encountered. Every morning at the designated wake up time an announcement was made over the loud speakers and then music would play until we left the boat. At the same time people would walk around and knock on your door to wake you. It was very interesting. Everyone wake up now! Ok everyone go see this temple now!"
Monday, December 22, 2008
From the seaman:
From the seaman (soon to be a thankful landlubber):
"I am in the home stretch here on the Queen Victoria, and with the end in sight the days are starting to drag even harder. I've already created countdowns on the calendar on my phone and the paper one in my room, and it helps to be able to see when I've passed certain markers— yesterday was the 20 days to go point.
"The past few days we have been in the Carribbean. It's been warm and relaxing, but after tomorrow we'll be gone again, back to England and more importantly, the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic crossing was surprisingly smooth, nothing compared to the Bay of Biscay—unfortunately, we will be passing through there at least one more time. We spent two days at the beginning of this cruise in the worst seas we've had in my time here, and after that nothing really affects me anymore. As I've mentioned before, I don't tend to get severely seasick, but two days of constant violent motion will get to anyone.
"I've gotten pretty good at this gig. My reading is pretty darn good now, and once I get back home and get my jazz chops back up I might be a pretty good piano player. The musical director here has come to regard me as capable and trustworthy . This is both flattering and annoying, since it means that any extra piano duties on the ship tend to fall on me. It's been interesting seeing the politics of music unfold here—for instance, the pianist in the dance band here is incredibly good. He's an amazing soloist with great ideas and chops to spare and most people say that even though he's a better piano player than me (which I agree with); but I'd have a better chance of getting a gig over him simply because I'm easier to be around. So my plan now is to continue trying to be nice and practice, practice, practice.
"I know everyone is very proud and excited, but this gig really does suck. I'm reluctant to say this, especially to Bahk (who is clearly the most jazzed about the whole thing), but after close to five months of trying my best to be positive about the whole experience I've got to say I don't like it very much. I may continue to work on ships, but I'll be looking strictly for fill-in gigs, one month long at the longest. This is a good way to make money, but it's terrible for making connections and developing creatively. I've come to realize this is the easy gig—good money, less challenging music, and everything is taken care of for you. If I prove to be an utter failure on land after a couple of decades, then maybe I'll be back, but I think I will try to avoid the sea in the future.
Have a great Christmas and New Year's, and say hello to everyone for me. I have gifts for everyone when I get back, so we'll have to schedule a nice dinner so I can pass them all out (Nora will have to wait for hers, I think). I miss the feeling and smell of Christmas in Chicago— 80 degrees and palm trees just does not feel right. I get to New York in 19 days, and I have changed my flights so I will return to Chicago on the 15th."
The skater promises a letter as well. Hers forthcoming.
"I am in the home stretch here on the Queen Victoria, and with the end in sight the days are starting to drag even harder. I've already created countdowns on the calendar on my phone and the paper one in my room, and it helps to be able to see when I've passed certain markers— yesterday was the 20 days to go point.
"The past few days we have been in the Carribbean. It's been warm and relaxing, but after tomorrow we'll be gone again, back to England and more importantly, the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic crossing was surprisingly smooth, nothing compared to the Bay of Biscay—unfortunately, we will be passing through there at least one more time. We spent two days at the beginning of this cruise in the worst seas we've had in my time here, and after that nothing really affects me anymore. As I've mentioned before, I don't tend to get severely seasick, but two days of constant violent motion will get to anyone.
"I've gotten pretty good at this gig. My reading is pretty darn good now, and once I get back home and get my jazz chops back up I might be a pretty good piano player. The musical director here has come to regard me as capable and trustworthy . This is both flattering and annoying, since it means that any extra piano duties on the ship tend to fall on me. It's been interesting seeing the politics of music unfold here—for instance, the pianist in the dance band here is incredibly good. He's an amazing soloist with great ideas and chops to spare and most people say that even though he's a better piano player than me (which I agree with); but I'd have a better chance of getting a gig over him simply because I'm easier to be around. So my plan now is to continue trying to be nice and practice, practice, practice.
"I know everyone is very proud and excited, but this gig really does suck. I'm reluctant to say this, especially to Bahk (who is clearly the most jazzed about the whole thing), but after close to five months of trying my best to be positive about the whole experience I've got to say I don't like it very much. I may continue to work on ships, but I'll be looking strictly for fill-in gigs, one month long at the longest. This is a good way to make money, but it's terrible for making connections and developing creatively. I've come to realize this is the easy gig—good money, less challenging music, and everything is taken care of for you. If I prove to be an utter failure on land after a couple of decades, then maybe I'll be back, but I think I will try to avoid the sea in the future.
Have a great Christmas and New Year's, and say hello to everyone for me. I have gifts for everyone when I get back, so we'll have to schedule a nice dinner so I can pass them all out (Nora will have to wait for hers, I think). I miss the feeling and smell of Christmas in Chicago— 80 degrees and palm trees just does not feel right. I get to New York in 19 days, and I have changed my flights so I will return to Chicago on the 15th."
The skater promises a letter as well. Hers forthcoming.
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