Fackin Truth Blog

An Anonymous Blog Coming to a Computer Near You

I vomit a little in my mouth every time somebody paints a glossy fantasy of "the perfect relationship." Most of those stories reek rise from the pages of lame romance novels and ignore the true work required to live "the love of your life."

In fact, outside the realm of arranged marriages by the age of 12, the Great American Love Story features two flawed (and sometimes broken) people hanging on to a thread of hope that the dream of a soulmate actually exists. For hearts further marred by greed, betrayal, and The Jerry Springer Show, choosing to love and commit remains a leap of faith that even an atheist can appreciate.

In this age of maintaining "appearances," people will walk across 10-lanes of busy highway traffic. Naked. On a bed of glass. Or do any number of stupid pet tricks to hide the truth about anything from real age to actual salary. Those same folks offer canned answers to explain their perfect marriages. Oh yeah, we schedule date nights. Oh yeah, we never fight." One day you pull back the curtains and find the wife in the basement with her boyfriend and the husband upstairs with his boyfriend.

What happened? The formula failed? Or did somebody fail to mention that the bogus formula doesn't exist?

I remember all the times my mother attempted to offer advice, and started with, "Well my life wasn't perfect," or "I didn't always make the right decisions." So many times, I wished she would share the reason why her life wasn't perfect, or what decisions she wished she could "do over." That's where real life resides... inside the details of what went wrong. That kind of education is priceless, and only available when the curriculum is Radical Honesty. So my fiance and I decided to start an anonymous blog, detailing the source of our brokenness and revealing the work it takes for us to live the imperfect relationship made perfect by love.

And of course, that's the last you'll hear of it here, because anonymous means you won't be able to trace the blog back to our typing fingers. If you happen to find your way there, we hope you enjoy the roller coaster ride. And oh yeah, the content won't be suitable for anybody under the age of 18. You'll have to keep getting the "edited" version of life in our crazy zoo here, understand?

What is Sexy??

I was home sick today. After surviving 2 weeks of the flu, I end with a bang sporting a sinus infection, lost voice, and upset stomach from the sinus drain.

But I'm surrounded with a flurry of sexy activity as my man happens to be doing all of the following at one time:

:: Slow cooking beef stew in the crock pot.

:: Washing and drying loads of clothes.

:: Steam cleaning the upstairs and downstairs carpets since The Puppy completed Potty Training 101.

:: Making sure the kids get fed with beef stew-covered rice.

:: Preparing my tea with Rock and Rye to breakup the phlegm left in my face, chest, and stomach.

Now isn't that sexy?

Nevermind. I must be delirious. I guess the sexy just comes from him doing all of that with his shirt off - looking like hot butter on a homemade Southern biscuit.

I'm going back to bed.

Edited to Add: After reading this post, Butter on a Biscuit declared that I look exactly like the sick green dude holding the tea cup in the picture. "Well, he should have curly hair, 'cause at least your hair looks nice today."

I'm thinking I should break his ankles before I slip back under the covers. But then again, who would get my tea for me?

You missed a knock-down drag-out brawl at my house on Saturday night.

I'm not kidding. Me and the Mr. went at it. I'm talking about a knock-down argument that Ali would rather watch than his own boxing footage. I'm talking about a war of words that Mi.ke Ty.son would call "ludicrous" in that simple little voice of his. If words produced physical force, our neighborhood would look like Beirut.

I must preface this post with a factoid: I am not a fighter. I will go out of my way to compliment you or do something nice for you whether I've known you for 1 decade or 1 hour. I don't have many buttons, and they're hard to push. In fact, I represent a dying breed of peacemakers.

But let's keep this real. I'm 95% peacemaker and 5% vicious LionSharkPitBull. I'm not impenetrable. If you go looking for one of my few buttons and pressing around like a monkey on a switchboard... well... then... man-up and take what's coming.

Did I also mention that I'm fair? Consider those words FAIR WARNING.

I have no memory whatsoever of how the brawl started. I guess that's how it goes after an emotional blackout. Because I blacked out fo'real. Sure, I remember most of what happened, but I had spit-fire pumping through my veins. Once spit-fire starts flowing... I'm on a mission to shred you silly like taco cheese. (I love tacos, but I digress.) Forget the guns. I'm old school with an English teacher for a mama and a memory like a flash drive. If you flinch in pain when I spit, then I'm fighting my A-game. Bring. It.

We broke just about every rule in Dr. Ron Rice's Fighting Fair in Marriage during our 1-hour-or-so argue-fest. We didn't ask permission to initiate the "discussion." We didn't avoid sensitive personal subjects. We certainly missed the memo about "don't fight in bed at night."

Like mental ninjas, we lurked in and took deft slashes at places we knew we could draw the freshest blood. I can't even post the best quotables here because I can't think of one that doesn't count as TMI (too-much-information).

Popcorn would not have done justice for watching this 12-round fight. If you had tickets to this throw-down you woulda been tossed a quick-grab a bag of Funyuns or some cold chicken from the fridge. As contenders, we brought the heat. Muhammad Ali rolled over in his sound sleep.

We even threw in some childish moments to keep the party interesting and mix things up a bit.

I really want to slap you in your mouth.

AND???? My daddy will killllll youuuuuuu. I'm his bay-bee.

So you want me dead???

Well.....

You've never been passionately in love if you've never fought with passion. Only a fool believes that a fight-less relationship is proof of happiness and compatibility. Too many times, especially in your youth, it's proof that nobody cares enough to engage the other.

Looking back, I didn't throw fire like that even when my ex-husband walked out to be with his girlfriend. What a dangerous sign that we'd divorced emotionally long before - or worse, possibly never even married - long before he started turning-in keys and walking out the door. As I responded to Nikki describing the apathy surrounding her own marital breakup:

My ex husband walked out on me and remarried 1 month after our divorce. When he left, I was hurt and angry. I wanted to fight for us. When he called, he was cold and rude, and sometimes I would get ill in the bathroom after he hung up.

But I'm glad I didn't put up a championship fight. Because I wasn't mourning over him. I mourned the death of a fantasy about marriage and not about our marriage. I mourned the thought of raising two boys alone and what that would do to me financially. I mourned over losing the image of a woman who could keep a husband and nurture a family. I even mourned about all the Mr. Fixit household jobs that would go undone.

And beneath all that mourning for the wrong stuff, I was happy to be free. I clearly wasn't engaged enough with him emotionally as a friend, wife, or lover to simply miss his presence. The greater tragedy would have been if we stayed together.

The thin line between love and hate isn't an urban legend. That ish is real. Like a well-placed landmine, you don't understand the power until you prance through the forest of love, trip the line, and detonate the bomb.

Fighting each other. Then crying together. That's how the night ended.

The landmine exploded. We argued over who tripped the line. We fought about the damage. We tied our bandanas, painted our faces and sniped each other from the bushes.

Now blackouts have side effects, so I'm not sure when this next thing happened... But somebody got the medicine kit and started dressing the other's wounds. Suddenly, we're in a mountain of gauze, ointment and tears.

Like old kung fu warriors in a badly dubbed TV spot, we acknowledged how the other was a truly formidable opponent. Not because of superior skills, but because only the best of friends and deepest of partners can fight like animals, hit where it hurts, and spar without spilling an ounce of love from the tank.

We're still talking about that day. He speaks with a serious resolve about the necessary purpose for the blowout. (I love a man who understands that good and bad both teach purpose, but I digress again). We would jump in front of a train for each other. We fight with passion and not hate - which is obvious based on how we recover. And most of all, running through the lilies isn't the only way - or necessarily the best way - to learn about the person to whom you gave your life.

Now that the spit-fire has ebbed and I'm back to my 95% peacemaker self, I can still say without a doubt that I'm one of the luckiest (read "most blessed") chicks on the planet.

When are the skies most clear?

I say "After the Rain."


And that's exactly what happened after my post mired in frustration. I didn't walk off into the sunset with singing birds fluttering through the sky. But I did get clear on a few things and the clarity is like having a second-sight.


It's crazy. Seriously. I have a quick budget plan that will be in place by the end of the week. I implemented some changes around the house that had an immediate effect. And my crazy fiance started handling some of his business this morning after surprising a sistah with breakfast in bed before work.


This blue sky after my personal rain almost feels strange... the kind of strange that people must feel when Ashton Kutcher jumps out with the notice YOU'VE BEEN PUNKED.


I dragged my fiance through the entire process. Wait... not true. Truth be told, he was riding his own wave of frustration. We've both been taking assessments and frowning at the results. We laugh together. We cry together. And we clearly walk through the rain together.


And do you know what's funny? Like Blu said in the comments:

"Because as I said before, you've accepted, you've expressed, and now you can move forward."

Walking under his own new blue skies, my sweetie sounds like a new man. A man with a plan. My baby started his day preparing me breakfast in bed so I could have a hot meal before work. We sat. Ate. Talked. And even cried happy tears. I think somebody passed gas, too... but I won't name names.


We talked about small plans we can implement now. He called me at work today with the result of some phone calls he made to handle his business. Thank God for rain that clears the skies.

Christianity, Superstition, Rules of Engagement, and the Discussion of Race in America

Warning:
Long post. Go refill your water, coffee, or gin before you settle into this one.

Earlier today, I had an unnecessary argument with a close friend. We'll call him "Vance."

Vance is a professed Christian, believes in God, happily proclaims faith in Jesus Christ, and even gushes about how The Secret - which is also based on a biblical principle - changed his outlook on life.

But God help me, Vance is hopelessly superstitious.

I find this mix quite disturbing. How do you believe in a good and loving God who has power over the earth but also believe that same God would allow seven years of bad luck if you break a mirror? The last time I checked, my bible didn't outline such drastic outcomes for routine clumsiness.

So after Vance had another superstitious episode, and went on to assign bad luck to me for breaking one of the rules of superstition, I asked a simple question:

"How does a man of faith and belief in God also believe in bad luck for breaking a mirror?"

I went on to describe the principles of Christianity that seemed in direct conflict with superstition, and asked Vance to explain how he reconciles this.

Well...  How can I put this...  The depth of Vance's emotional response left him utterly incapable of firing enough brain cells to answer my question. In short - Vance flared his nostrils and became a mental mess. He proceeded to get angry and to put divisive words in my mouth that I never spoke or intended. After trying to defend myself and steer the conversation back to my original question, I found myself angry and frustrated. Vance is still a friend, but for a moment, there was a glitch in trust that left me looking at him out the side of my face.

During some quiet time after that unnecessarily heated exchange, I began to understand why the discussion of race deteriorates so quickly.

• The rules of engagement for any exchange should require one side to carefully consider what is actually said - and to address each issue with care - as opposed to a mental collapse into an emotional mess that destroys any hope of a productive conversation.

• The rules of engagement should require each side to weigh one issue at a time, instead of listening with nail-biting intensity for a chance to jump in on another point.

• And most of all, the rules of engagement should require each side to enter under the assumption that the other party means me no harm.

There's nothing worse than deep-seeded emotional responses that trigger Attack Mode.

If you consider the last conversation you heard about race - between members of each race - wouldn't you agree that improved rules of engagement may have actually steered a more productive response?

In terms of black and white, too many whites write-off blacks as chronic complainers. Too many blacks pigeonhole whites as privileged and uncaring primadonnas. Both sides respond to discussion points based on underlying biases instead of ruminating on what might actually be valid.

I'll leave you with an example of what I consider to be a constructive argument against affirmative action. Not constructive as in "the author is absolutely right'...  But constructive as in "not so peppered with emotional reactions that I can't find a point worth stopping to discuss with you."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On January 15, 2008, Glenn Sacks posted this commentary by an Engineer named Dave K. The conversation started after Glenn authored blog posts about Hillary Clinton's candidacy.

Dave works as an engineer and describes the white male response to affirmative action directed at women and minorities (although only women are mentioned in the title). Dave represents what can be right about rules of engagement as related to debates in personal relationships to debates about race relations. I appreciate Dave's candor in describing white (male) backlash against affirmative action:

Engineer Dave K's Perspective on Women in Male-Dominated Fields

I've been an Engineer for going on 20 years now, and I've worked at companies with no female engineers all the way to the large multinational I now work for where roughly 30%-40% of technical coworkers are female. I've also recruited on and off over the years, and I've seen discrimination in both directions in roughly equal measure.

Most large companies have diversity programs, and those programs encourage business groups to maintain a diverse workforce (gender, race primarily). I think this is a healthy goal, and certainly makes for a more interesting work environment, but it often results in pressure to choose candidates based more on diversity considerations than on merit, and this causes a cascade of problems for companies. (Which is why they keep these programs VERY quiet). I'm on the fence regarding the wisdom of such decisions... but I can say for sure that one result of this is a backlash against those benefiting from such programs.

At one notable college recruiting trip I was told straight out by a female soon to be BSEE that she was expecting an offer $10k over what any of her male candidates were expecting solely because she was one of the few women in the graduating class. The sad part is that she wasn't wrong, the company I worked for had relatively narrow salary bands for new engineering grads - but there were two bands, one for men and one that was about $6k higher for women or targeted minorities (even more if the candidate was female AND a minority).

A while back I went through a very large layoff, and while the company handled the situation as well as I've ever seen such a situation handled (a VERY tough thing for any company), a good part of the "postmortem" analysis by survivors was figuring out who got to keep their job because of their race or gender. I have no doubt that many of the targets of this were undeserving, but when a company has a policy of gender and race selectivity - they have a policy of gender and race discrimination. Call it what you want - that's what it amounts to. I daresay that nearly EVERY large company in the country has these programs, so is it so surprising that those who COULD benefit from such programs would suffer a backlash from those who could be damaged by them.

As a quick aside... I think it's a very difficult situation we've put employers in these days, they're beat up on all sides - folks who believe in pure merit, folks who believe some groups need temporary 'help' to bootstrap them into the mainstream, folks who believe that 'equality' means exact 50/50 distributions. If it was just pressure groups it would be a challenge... but in our litigious nation there is a real bottom line exposure for companies who step even an inch out of line to what the flavor of the month government policy is. Personally I think there IS a justification for these programs, but all too often I hear people who are the beneficiaries of such programs bemoaning the inevitable backlash without any inkling that there are valid reasons for coworkers to be upset. NOBODY likes to watch a mid-performing coworker get promoted over them based on their race or gender, and even someone like myself who understands the reasoning behind it finds it a bitter pill. Angry White Men indeed, and justifiably so. The thing I always try to remember though is that corporations are forced participants in these social engineering experiments just as much as we are.

Of course the other downside from this reality is that if a person belongs to the benefiting group, they will be seen by coworkers that don't know them as unfairly gaining even if they ARE the person most deserving a promotion or gain. I can't say I've ever been in that position, but I expect it would be a very frustrating situation.

In the end... we as humans tend to really take notice of thing we see as unjust toward us, and we often aren't as sensitive to things that benefit us at another's expense. White Male engineers see a female or black engineer promoted and from personal experience with the person we know it's not through merit... and we see blatant injustice. That person no doubt feels he/she deserved the promotion, so when the that person feels the backlash ... they see blatant injustice too. Doubly cursed is the promoted person who truly deserved it, because that persons accomplishment will be tainted unjustly.

So in relevance to the situation cited in Glenn article... engineers are a tough crowd, and giving someone a title will not necessarily give them credibility with engineers (we're fairly antisocial creatures after all). There's three possibilities I see for engineers discounting a female or minority coworkers opinions. The first is that the person is not qualified and has gained position through a 'affirmative action' like corporate diversity drive. The second is that the person is deserving but the coworkers have been burned enough that they suspect any female or minority... and they're maliciously lashing out at a person from that target group. The third is that the coworkers are a bunch of bigots or misogynists.

Of the three scenarios, I think the third is least likely, and the distribution between the first and the second will depend on how hard your companies 'drive for diversity' is.

In my professional experience I've seen all three situations, I've seen a minority man COURTED by management even though his professional performance was so sub-par he'd have been fired if he was white. I've listened to guys lump a female into the 'undeserving' group simply because she was female and got a promotion - without knowing anything about her actual skills, and I've heard enough racist comments to know that real racism is still out there. The only encouragement I can offer to the poster is that I also know that engineers and scientists DO tend to be merit based - even if you benefit by a selective promotion or hiring program to get your position, if you're GOOD, you will earn the respect of the majority of your peers... which is nothing more or less than the rest of us have to prove BEFORE we get the position. I have had the privilege to work with some very talented women, which I attribute in no small part to these seemingly onerous programs (which is why I'm so torn by them).

Discrimination is ALWAYS going to create these sorts of situations... so when I read an article where a person who may have benefited from institutionalized discrimination bemoans what could very well be understandable backlash from those who are most certainly the victims of it, I understand where everyone's coming from. I truly feel bad for the talented woman or minority who gets labeled unjustly, but I also feel bad for those (lets face it) white men who have been embittered by what is essentially state sponsored discrimination. In the end I HOPE that this period of turmoil will end with companies being able to shift toward true meritocracy.

Love lands in a ditch on a one-way street... so we took a 6-lane highway.

Denmark Vesey posted an interesting Letter to a Man. I forwarded the letter to friends. I sighed, and little hearts floated from the top of my head. But I also participated in a string of comments to the letter. All can be read below:

= = = = = = = = = = =
Letter to a Man, by Curtis Martin
= = = = = = = = = = = =

A man’s relationship with his woman should resemble God’s relationship with that man. God knows you inside and out, yet He still loves you. Just think of how loving He is: His patience, His kindness, His guidance, His forgiveness, His grace and mercy… Now keep that thought ever before you and show it to your woman!

A man’s duty in a relationship is to study his woman… not to find fault in her, but to learn how to love her. You can always tell how much a man loves a woman by what he knows about her. As you comprehend how she moves: how she walks, how she talks, how she thinks and how she feels… you also learn to anticipate where she will be once her movement has ceased. That is where your posture, position, protection and provisions are ready and able to accurately guide her to her next destination.

Your guidance must be gentle, not harsh; subtle and unassuming, as if she’s doing it on her own. In taking this approach you will help to give her a sense of accomplishment which is healthy food for her ego. This, however, can prove to be very difficult for you. There’s usually not an immediate show of appreciation for all the “behind the scenes work” that you’ve done. Don’t worry, in due time her appreciation will spring forth like a tree at harvest time, supplying you with the same healthy food that you once nourished her ego with.

Seeing her prosper and flourish will be your reward. Her sense of accomplishment becomes your sense of accomplishment. Her joy and excitement of life becomes your joy and excitement of life. At the end of the day, whether or not she recognizes your work, you will know deep within your own heart that you are willing to go through hell to give her a glimpse of heaven.

This is Love!

And now, for the long awaited comments:

From the good nurse:

I wish someone would have explained this to my ex-husband...

From Skip Sievert:

They probably did. It is religious babble speak.
It is control freak stuff for lovers of the old man system of slavery control of another human.

Women can screw as many men as they want. That does not make them guilty of any thing.

The tender trap. Control crap.

And From Yours Truly:

The beauty of this letter is concealed in the mire of "one way street." And I agree with Skip when this letter isn't applied as a standard that both partners must observe.

"At the end of the day, whether or not she recognizes your work..." reeks of a man imprisoned to pleasing a woman who isn't doing her work of love.

My sweetheart and I use the term "perpetual motion" to describe our relationship. For the first time in both of our lives, love is growing with time instead of fading out of "newness." We arrived at the theory that reciprocity fuels an amazing cycle of perpetual motion -- which will take us through the rest of this life in mutual love, respect, attraction, honesty, and most of all - unabated friendship.

One way streets are inconvenient when trying to navigate a town. They're also fatally inconvenient to nurturing a successful relationship.

And take that, my friends, as a long awaited follow-up post on how my new man (now my old man) has affected this little life of mine.

Zealous Pre-Nuptial Planning

What happens when a billionaire father gets a bee in his bonnet about his daughter's pre-nuptial agreement?

A Hot Rich-Folk Mess.

Alexandra Fisher, the lawyer-daughter of hotel tycoon Jeff Fisher, didn't make it to the altar after her father bellowed an 11th-hour objection to the pre-nuptial agreement.

Alexandra and her beau Josh Bailer had already signed a pre-nup. Both were happy to decline alimony if the marriage ended in divorce. And why not? Neither side of the family suffers from linty pockets, and the bride has the edge.

Although the groom has a cushy job as a Wall Street trader, he can't touch the bride's combined wealth as a lawyer in line for a booyah inheritance from daddy's hotel fortune. Seems reasonable...

...but billionaire-daddy will have none of it. Although Alexandra is a lawyer and set to inherit a ka-jillion dollars, Father Fantastic insists that his daughter receive alimony in the event of a divorce.

Last year Daddy reportedly sold his Innkeepers hotel chain for  nearly £1 billion. (If he's so worried about his daughter's future, he could pop a cool £100 million into a Daddy's-Girl trust fund.)

Apparently, the wedding guests partied in separate hotels and the would-be couple flew home on separate flights.

Verily Verily I Say to Young Women - Get it Together Now While You Have Life, Love and Youth Ahead of You

Rambo Feminism (as I call it) doesn't always liberate women. In this essay, one woman discovers unfortunate and potentially life-altering blemishes on the underbelly of the "feminist" movement. Originally posted by kellymac:

A Middle-Aged Princess Grows Up.

On the cusp of my 45th birthday, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror. It wasn’t the bathroom mirror, it was a photo I had from graduate school. I looked at myself 20 years ago and had a startling and clear epiphany. It wasn’t a happy moment. It was a terribly sad moment. It was so sad that I involuntarily burst into tears, something I haven’t done since the dark days of my divorce.

I looked at the photo and came to the conclusion that I had made a real mess of my life. I felt the utter misery of my life come in waves of sadness, regret, anger, and loneliness. For almost an hour I cried as I looked at the photo of a younger me. I was 24 with a fresh MBA from an excellent school. I was eager to conquer the business world. I was eager to prove that women could do anything. I was so much thinner. My clothes looked stylish, almost sexy. Of course the hair style was awful but that was the 80s and such styles could be forgiven. I saw the brightness in my eyes, the sparkle of life, of the great opportunities that were open to me. The world was there for my taking and I was ready.

But somehow, some way, it never came to be. My life evolved into something painful and difficult. But until that moment when I looked at my photo from over two decades ago, I always blamed someone else. It was never my fault for the bad decisions I made. Typically, it was the fault of men - my father, my boyfriends, my husband, my boss, my sons. Never, ever was it something that I had done. When I commiserated with my women friends, they always supported me. They even supported me when I had my affair, telling me that my husband was not giving me the attention that I needed. I read the women’s magazines and every article was about how women were always strong, intelligent, morally righteous, unable to make bad decisions. Worse, I believed that any of my needs, no matter how frivolous, no matter how many times I changed my mind, no matter how miserable I made the men in my life feel, were more important than anything - motherhood, career advancement, a healthy marriage, whatever.

I hate the world for teaching me those lessons. I remember complaining about how my husband never grew up. But as the tears streamed down my face, I came to the conclusion that I had never grown up. I never learned about compromise, trust, tolerance, niceness. I was a bitch, pure and simple. I know now that being a bitch is not about strength or independence. Being a bitch is about being repellent, unpleasant, unhappy, and lonely. Being a bitch is nothing more than being a spoiled princess who is too selfish or stupid to accept the joy in life.

I had become a fat, unpleasant, middle-aged princess because I had refused to grow up. Sure, I had taken on grown-up responsibilities (marriage, career, house, motherhood) but at the core of my psyche was a 13-year-old girl who stamped her feet and whined when she didn’t get her way. Of course, I had stopped whining years ago but I simply replaced the whining with emotional manipulation and ornery bitchiness. No wonder I was still single and my two teenaged sons spent all their free time with their father.

When I was growing up, being a dilettante feminist, I swallowed the standard line that women can have it all. I wanted it all and I wanted to make no compromises, to assume no sacrifices, and to feel completely validated in all of my lifestyle choices. The biggest mistake in my late teens and early 20s was to let other women - women whom I thought to be strong, independent, and intelligent - determine which lifestyle I was to follow. I was simply too spoiled and lazy to look inward, to embrace the kind of introspection necessary to find one’s own path in life, the path that could lead to real fulfillment and happiness.

I remember college well. It was a fun time and I thought, at the time, an enlightening time. The parties were exciting, the political debates intense, the string of boyfriends and casual sexual encounters pleasant. I studied hard and I played hard. I attended the campus feminist meetings and listened to diatribes from sturdy and self-righteous peers about the evils of masculinity. I learned to scorn men when I didn’t need them for selfish reasons - study partners, shoulders to cry on, willing sexual partners. But I was never hesitant to bat my eyelashes or let my skirt ride up on my then-slender thighs if I needed something from a man. Men were handy to have around occasionally, but certainly not required, as my female peers kept insisting.

Ugly Growing Truth About Kindness and Generosity

Warning: This isn't some feel-good post about the virtue of giving your money to faceless starving children in a third world country. If you are looking for that kind of commentary on Kindness and Generosity.... um..... well.... it ain't here.

Second Warning: This post may constitute whining. That's okay with me.
- - - - - - - - - - - -

You see, the endangered species list just expanded to include two elusive creatures: Kindness and Generosity. Can you remember the last time a stranger waved, gave a kind word, or actually let you in front of them in line?

Collectively, we probably have more recent memories of getting cut-off in traffic, ignored by a store clerk, or even robbed while walking down the street. Unkindness and greed can be viral. Sometimes we catch the bug and ride the same current - returning sniper attacks with a similar brand of snark.

I have my own opinion about returning fire when fired upon. That's a topic for another post. But here's today's slant... I'm more concerned about surprising reactions when kindness and generosity actually come our way.

Chris Clarke wrote an interesting 4-part series called What If? about scarcity vs. abundance. Under the abundance model, people operate inside a commitment to "behaving generously, openly, honestly, kindly, with curiosity, graciousness, and empathy toward others."

That all sounds good. It sounds great. Like running through a field of derned lilies. And I think we agree that we'd love love love for others to treat us that way. But Clarke went on to identify a negative response that you may recognize:

"It’s ingrained in a lot of people to respond to a person who is generous, open, curious, concerned with the comfort of others, honest, and kind with cynicism.

You must be naïve, sheltered, innocent of/deluded about how the world really works."

Clarke captured my sentiment and experience much more delicately than I intended to express it. According to my version: People can act like untrained monkey babies  with chemical brain imbalance when treated with kindness and respect. Plain and simple. You've seen it. You're in the club if you've ever gotten one of these:

• rolling eyes when passing a compliment.
• "what-tchoo lookin' at" glare when greeting a stranger.
• brief sideways glance-of-annoyance when letting somebody get in front of you - whether in traffic on in the store.
• full-out taking advantage of your kindness

It's ridiculous when the reaction borders on an aggressive assault, like you've murdered somebody's firstborn with your kindness. Where in the depths of hell does such behavior come from? I believe the list of candidates is long, but one comes to mind....

Low Expectations. Two ugly words that plague the human soul from parenting to dating to interacting with strangers. The low expectation of negative behavior from one person to another defines normalcy and gets greeted with familiarity. The high expectation of kindness often doesn't exist and gets greeted (far too often) with contempt.

Which side are you on? Do you greet or glare? Do you give or take? Honest answers may indicate "both" to varying degrees.

Get it together people. Take off the diaper and climb out of the monkey baby cage. Put that on your list for 2008.

Overheard Between a Couple Whose Love Clearly Knows No Bounds

Ever get the feeling that some things just shouldn't be overheard?

As I blog the alphabet and reach the letter "O," I must share a quick exchange between a couple. I wish I'd covered this back when I first heard it so I could share more detail:

Him: [some rude comment I can't remember]

Her: Damn. Did both of your lonely brain cells have to fire to come up with that one?

Him: [pausing, then...] I really want to have sex with you.

Her: Sounds like your third brain cell... the one in your other head... is firing now.

Him: [pregnant pause]

Her: Do you realize with 2 brain cells in your head, and 1 brain cell in your other head, one third of your brain is in the seat of your pants??

If they hadn't laughed and walked off together, I would have started to wonder what kinda love-hate mess they were into.