Tagged: men
What Was She Thinking?
Sitting across from her, he took took a breath as he finished talking. He could only wonder what she was thinking. Reminiscing, they discussed how they first met. He told her how nervous he was, how excited he was, and how all he wanted was to be able to know her thoughts. She smiled politely at this, and replied in kind.
Wrapping up the meal, they walked silently to the car. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.
He told her about his day, and she laughed at the funny parts. He told her how he learned a new joke, “How do you make an octopus laugh?…Give it ten tickles!” She laughed harder.
Arriving home, they began their separate nightly routines and he sat down to his computer. As he piddled around, he heard her turning pages, walking around, and turning on the tv. Her thoughts eluded him.
He’d had enough of the screen for one day, so he went to her. She was watching tv. Watching her, he lingered in the hall a little before entering the room. He asked himself, “I wonder what she’s thinking?”
The next morning as they ate breakfast they chatted about the headlines. He asked her how she expected her work to go, and she said, “Good.” She volleyed the question back, and he told her how he had a 10 o’clock meeting, followed by lunch with a friend. Continuing, he told her that his afternoon was booked with two more meetings, but he should be home at 5 o’clock because the last meeting won’t go long. She said, “That’s good. So will I. Chicken tonight?” He agreed. She had to get going, as hers was the longer commute. As she walked to the garage, he wondered what she was thinking.
Arriving at the office, he ran into Jeb, his co-worker. Scanning the room to be sure the wrong people weren’t around, Jeb whispered, “Hey man, you ever wonder what women are thinking?”
“Yup.”
Disappointment
When that Aprill with his shoures soote/The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,/And bathed every vyne in swich licour/Of which vertur engendred is the flour…*
“Okay, Chaucer, that’s enough Middle Earth or whatever for tonight,” he thought, exhaling.
Straining to lift the book, heavy reading seemingly adding to the already heavy weight, he placed it beside him on the couch. He closed his notebook, and placed it too beside him. In a move foreshadowing a time not yet, he pushed the couch with his hands to stand up and proceeded to the kitchen. Water cup in hand, he turned the faucet on, and confirmed a cool temperature with a rapid flick of his fingers. He nearly finished in one swig, but habit caused him to stop early and pour out the remainder. The slightest feeling of guilt pestered him as he wasted the water. “Whatever.”
As he walked back towards the couch, he eyed an open bag of tortilla chips. “Pretty sure I’m doing chips and salsa tonight,” he announced.
At first, head movement; pupils adjusting to reality next. Finally, his friend smiled.
“We finished off the salsa the other night. It’s all gone,” the friend disclosed.
“That’s fine, we still have the Pace in the fridge,” he said, knowing his friend would never stoop so low to eat, let alone serve others, bottom-shelf salsa.
Like Aesop’s cloak-removing sun, his friend’s smile only grew.
“You finished the Pace?” he asked in disbelief.
“Well, there was only so much good stuff left, so I just mixed it all together. I didn’t want to run out with people over,” informed the friend.
“Oh.”
*****
*Chaucer. The Canterbury Tales
How To Be Angry
(If you’re short on time, skip to the bottom for numbered instructions.)
“I’m not going to the dinner tonight!” he foamed.
“But you always go,” she responded.
“Right, but this one is about (insert hot button issue), and I’m not going to sit there and listen to those morons act like they know what they’re talking about!” he retorted furiously.
He knew he was right. He knew what he believed. And he knew they were wrong.
He could destroy their ideas with logic. He could destroy their ideas with evidence. He could destroy their ideas with history. Listen to them? Associate with them? How could he? He didn’t even understand how they could exist. How could he possibly be expected to keep his cool when they were so blatantly wrong? No, he’d made up his mind, he wasn’t going.
Waking up, he saw he had a few more morning emails than normal. Several of his friends wrote that they missed his presence at the dinner. One said they were all looking forward to a dissenting opinion, and without him it was a rather bland evening. Immediately, he felt a pang of regret. He didn’t expect anyone to even notice he wasn’t there, let alone miss him. Kicking himself for forgetting that people are not arguments, people are not ideas, and people are not principles, he stood up and laboriously began his morning. At 55, he thought he’d have learned his lesson by now. Oh well, lucky for him the memories of his friends always welcoming him back with open arms burst through the floodgates.
Instructions for How To Be Angry
Step 1 – Make a decision without all the information.
Step 2 – Cease contact with anyone who disagrees with you.
Lock ‘Em Up – The Other Option Is Too Frightening
Windowless, the classroom was in a little known corner of the university library. But that classroom was the place he first heard of the movement to abolish prisons. Yep, that’s a movement among some circles in this world. Just in passing, think how you felt as you read those words: abolish prison.
As if a starter’s gun, this concept set his mind racing. He began to develop perfect reasoning explaining why it would be a big mistake. First, it didn’t make sense logistically. Where would all the prisoners go? What would we do with the bad people? Then, the abstract problems began to attract his attention. He wondered what the point of prison actually was? Why were there prisons? To protect the un-imprisoned? To punish? To rehabilitate? All three? Were there other reasons? Were prisons an illusion of safety, or did they actually facilitate a more safe and civilized world?
Passing the start-finish line which signaled the end of lap one, his mind continued on. What was he to do with all that data that says American prisons are filled mostly with drug offenders? This mention of “drugs” acted like a shot of adrenaline. He couldn’t help but think about all the people he knew who had broken drug laws, yet never been caught.
As his mind rounded the turn marking the race’s midpoint, he lost focus and was unable to tell if it faltered or sped up. You see, he wouldn’t ever turn in a family member for a drug offense. He also wouldn’t enable a family member, that is to say he would cut off all contact with, and support of, any family member who he determined actually had a drug abuse problem. Acknowledging this act of cutting off led him to ask myself why? Why did he think that was the best solution? Was it simply out-of-sight-out-of-mind? And if so, is that what prison was? Was prison simply the macro-level version of what he would do on a personal level? Were all the relatives of the prison population happy they didn’t have to deal with their family member’s bullshit drama any more while simultaneously hoping they’ll get a clue and mature before they were released? In his mind, he would use ‘tough love’ on a relative, because he believed the individual must recognize he has a problem before any progress could be made. Integral to his theory working, of course, is that he’d help the minute he was asked. Having never been tested, he had his doubts as to his ability to actually follow through, though.
Finding his mind alone on the home stretch, he was unsure whether this was because it was in last place or first place. Himself selfish and vain beyond belief, he’d be the first to confess that he rarely admitted that he made mistakes. He wondered what it would take for him to admit he needed help. Certainly, he didn’t want any strangers to think he had flaws.
The race drawing to a close, he found his mind standing where the starting blocks were. The big question of the day was still unanswered. What would the world look like if we didn’t push our problems out of sight? Or as he was first asked in that industrial windowless classroom, what do you think the world would look like if we abolished prison?
Virtue’s Secret Hiding Place
Like the sun dimmed by an Iraqi dust storm, virtue was never difficult to see. He knew it existed even though he couldn’t always see it. Like that sun, for him, virtue drew his attention before he even knew why. And he desperately wanted to be counted among the virtuous men.
The trouble was that life kept taking up his time. When he was young, he knew he wanted to give 10% to the church. But if he gave 10%, he wouldn’t have enough money to live on. Later, he recognized he told little-white-lies too much, and vowed to stop. The next moment, he had to decide whether to tell his mom that he was watching a rated-R movie at his friend’s house. He decided to lie.
Later in life his struggle continued. Once he knew he was neglecting his friends and family by working so much, but he just had to put in a few more weeks of over-time to help finish the big office project. He knew he was a kind person at heart, but he never took the time to display that kindness to others. When he learned that love was an action word, he really believed he would start really showing the people he loved how much he loved them by his actions. He was going to spend more time with them; he was going to give them small gifts; he was going to listen better; he was going to pay them more compliments; he was going to give them more hugs. But then a new project started at work. And the church–that he still wasn’t tithing to–softball team had a big tournament this weekend, so he had to put loving off.
Forever frustrated, daily he noticed more and more men living more virtuously than he. Moreover, they seemed to do it effortlessly. He didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t deny what he witnessed. These other men seemed to actually thrive on their actions. When they spoke honestly and from the heart, people listened and reciprocated. When they were with their friends and family, he could see a real joy existed in the interaction. When they spent a little extra time being kind to everyone they met throughout the day, the earnest thanks they received became the envy of his eye. Taking time to learn and speak the love languages of their loved ones, he noticed these men were no less productive at work; furthermore, rumors of their deeds preceded their presence everywhere.
Looking everyday until he died, he never did figure out where they found the time.
Memory’s Blessed Burden
Some pilots in Top Gun wore polo shirts under their flight suits. “Majesty” was number 33 in his 3rd grade Sunday school chorus book. MC Hammer appeared on Saturday Night Live on the opening weekend of The Addams Family movie. His dad put up a giant cardboard “Guess Who’s 30?” sign in the front yard on July 16, 1986. When playing catch with Jerry, it was easier to catch a raquet ball in the ol’ timey baseball mitt than a baseball. His 3rd grade friend slept during class in the Janet Jackson concert t-shirt he obtained at the concert the night before. Two loser sophomores attempted to intimidate him on the first day of highschool. His name was on the scoreboard at the Toledo Mud Hens game on his birthday. The vomit formed the shape of a baseball diamond in the corner of the stairwell at that same game. (Icks-nay on blue kool-aid.) Pastor Craig teared up at the end of some sermons. Jerry buried fool’s gold so that he could find treasure.
He could remember all these random things and more. Remembering so much was not without a burden. That burden was knowing where the gaps were. The burden was that he knew precisely what he could not remember.
Listening to the sermon, he was uncomfortable. Unable to ward off comparison and criticism, he longed for the memory of just a single sermon Pastor Craig gave. Was it the delivery? The rhythm? The message? He needed something to help him make sense of why today’s sermon sounded so backwards. Hmmmm…errrrrr. Nothing. Ugh!
Then a new thought occurred. Surrounding the gaps in his memory were Pastor Craig’s actions, which by definition were memorable. He remembered them to be authentic and full of integrity. He remembered feeling that the pastor loved him. What exactly did the pastor do to make him feel loved? The pastor aimed an intense focus on him. The kind of focus that is only made possible by living in the moment. Pastor Craig exemplified living in the moment.
At least, that’s how he remembered it.
How To Listen
(If you’re short on time, skip to the bottom for numbered instructions.)
“What’d you say?” he asked. Realizing he couldn’t remember crossing the bridge she created–the bridge over which her words matured into tears–he felt a great shame settle over him. Leo Tolstoy wrote, “The tears seemed to be the proper lubricant without which the machine of mutual communion between the two sisters could not work successfully.” Similarly, her tears contained the power to recapture his attention. The tears also had the effect of making him want to listen. He briefly wondered how anyone found his way without Tolstoy.
Hours later, he made it a point to determine if he’d always had difficulty listening. At first, his ego caused him to deny such a charge and pointed out that he was an excellent student. He also recalled how he excelled in a professional environment. Both required the ability to listen. Reluctantly, he opened the door Doubt was moments away from breaking down. He didn’t have very many close friends. He certainly hadn’t made any new friends in years. Swallowing his just-a-bit-too-large-a-bite-of-food-which-chokes-but-doesn’t-kill pride, he finally admitted the truth. He objectified people.
This was the only way he could make sense of it. If the person he was with couldn’t help him in some way, his mind found better things to do. Even before this revelation solidified, he had difficulty believing this was a deficient quality. That difficulty became an uncommon resolve which he used to summit his problem. At last he stood atop his terrifying realization. This never-before-seen perspective decisively gave him the vantage point necessary for change.
Instructions for How To Listen:
Step 1 – Stop talking.
Step 2 – Stop objectifying people.
How To Respect
(If you’re short on time, skip to the bottom for numbered instructions.)
He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed there was at least a correlation between the two. He thought it was more likely cause and effect than correlation though. But he knew it didn’t have to be. He knew that laziness was the real culprit.
Of course, he couldn’t blame anyone in particular. It certainly wasn’t the aggregators fault; they were just amassing the information. Likewise, it wasn’t the people who provided the information’s fault. All they did was volunteer knowledge–itself a pretty harmless action at worst.
There seemed to be no other option. It had to be the individual. Was the individual person the guilty party? Yes. He was sure of it. He knew it all along. He tried to pretend the responsibility didn’t fall on a single person’s shoulders, but it was clear now. As much as he wanted to shrug off the burden, a singular sensation passing through his body signaled that he was right. Everyone was accountable for the lack of respect permeating the culture.
In an instant, his mood changed. He felt cheery and seemed to see the world in a different light. If the problem had been identified, there could now be a solution. Of all people, he should have seen this bright conclusion earlier. It mattered not. He wouldn’t allow these thoughts to dampen his mood.
Up until recently, there did seem to be a direct relationship between how much information a person knew, and how wise they were. Naturally, the information age has saturated mankind with data. As a result, everyone acted on the belief that there were answers to life’s problems. People thought that information was wisdom. The mistake is forgivable. Nonetheless, it must be addressed. The starting place, is re-learning how to respect another person. He knew this point was tricky, as not every person behaves in a way that deserves respect. He also knew that people rise to the occasion, and in this country every person has the same inherent right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In this manner, at least, all people deserve respect.
So how does one give respect? See below.
Instructions for How To Respect:
Step 1 – Listen.
Step 2 – Ask, “What are you going to do?”
Special Fourth of July Interview with A Mugwump
I’m excited to tell you all that I had an opportunity to interview A Mugwump this morning. I thought it was a fascinating conversation, but you judge for yourself.
Captain’s Log – How many ways can we spend money?
A Mugwump – Just two. The two ways we can spend our money are by choice or by compulsion.
CL – What is money?
AM – The dictionaries are wrong on this one. Big time. It’s not complicated. Money is a language. Unlike say, English which can communicate the breadth of the human experience, money can only communicate one thing. Money can only communicate value. Money is a language that communicates one thing. Money communicates value. That’s it. All the talk about recessions, depressions, inflation, the 99%, the 1%, Wall Street, Main Street, all of that is meaningless. Money is a language that communicates value.
CL – Are you saying that people with money are more valuable than people without money?
AM – No. This point is tricky, so pay attention. Money is only money when it is in motion. A dollar in my pocket is not a dollar. It is a piece of paper that looks like a dollar. When I take it out to purchase something, as I hand it to the seller, it transforms into money. It transforms into a communication of value. Whether we have a lot of money or no money has nothing to do with our value. When we choose to spend money, we communicate to others what we value. As I said, money in motion is the language we use to express value.
CL – Okay then, let’s return to the two ways we can spend our money, what is communicated when we choose to spend our money?
AM – When we spend our money by our own choice, we come to an agreement with the seller of the goods as to the value of the product or service. In short, when we choose to spend our money we communicate how much we value the product or service. If we think a particular TV is worth $300 and the person with the TV thinks it is worth $300, we hand over the $300 dollars and the seller hands us the TV. The money transferred communicates the agreed upon value of the TV.
CL – And what about when we are compelled?
AM – It is not the same when we talk about being compelled to spend our money. When we are compelled to spend our money, that money does not communicate the value of a product or service. Instead, when we are compelled to spend our money, the money communicates how much we think we’re worth as an individual. The money that an armed-robber forces us to give him was freely given to us in exchange for the value of a specific application of our time, skill, and/or energy. The armed-robber is giving us nothing of value in return for our money. Therefore, when we pay the armed-robber everything we have to stay alive, we’ve just communicated that we think our time, skill, and energy, in other words, our life, has no value. And the act of paying everything–our time, our skill, and our energy (our life)–to stay alive is another way to define slavery.
CL – Slavery, huh? It sounds like you may be describing the government as an armed-robber. What do you think a government is?
AM – No, you misunderstand. The government is not an armed-robber. It does offer certain valuable things, which a private market cannot, in exchange for our money. What do I think a government is? To my mind, a description that fits all governments that have ever existed, in all time periods, for all cultures, for all nations, would have to be, “Other people making some of our decisions for us.” That is what a government is. A government is nothing more than another person or group of people making some of our decisions for us. I say “some” of our decisions because that’s what this is all about. How many of our decisions should a government make for us? That’s what we are constantly deciding in this life. To me, less is better. But I can see how others might not want the responsibility of decision-making, so they might want others to make the decisions for them.
CL – Of all days, why agree to this interview today?
AM – Today, July 4th, 2013, is a fitting day to remind people of the nature of things. America is the only group we’re all apart of today. And if your readers are anything like me, they know they have value. As a matter of fact, even if they’re nothing like me, I believe they have value. I believe this, not because I have any special knowledge, but because in order to secure my freedom, I must believe and act on the idea that everyone has value. I must act on the idea that no matter who we are, no matter what our background, no matter what mistakes we’ve made, we have value. It’s Independence Day. A holiday helping us remember that our country was founded because citizens disagreed with how/how much of their money they were compelled to spend. In other words, they believed they should be making more decisions than their government let them. It was founded because people believed they were worth more than their government thought. If we want to spend our money as we please, if we want the amount of money we’re compelled to spend to be as little as possible, we need to be reminded that we all have value. Everyone has value.
A Letter To My Friend (That I Hope To Write)
To My Friend,
We’ve known each other for some time now. We’ve seen how we each live, how we each make decisions, how we each handle problems. More than most, you’ve seen my relationships with women unfold.
I’m writing to you now because a new day has dawned. People like us, we’re different. Our brains maintain a tighter grip on information than most. We have been given all the tools necessary to accomplish great things in this life, you and I. That’s just a fact. We also know that leading a family must be one of those things. It is a timeless tradition that must be honored by all men aspiring to greatness. There is no escaping this feeling. We’re surrounded by weak men holding their hands out, expecting help. They’ve got it wrong. We’re the ones who give help, not receive help.
The point is, we made it this far, and owe it to everyone, literally everyone, to use the rest of our time to be an example.
Some maladjusted part within us wants us to believe that if a woman would have us, then she could be the one. First hand experience however, tells us that nothing could be further from the truth. First hand experience also tells us that that’s not enough. That’s why I’m writing this letter. We need to help each other stay focused on the goal. Alone, the future is bleak. Together, we can lead a revival.
Only because of you am I confident to share the news. You reminded me of something I once knew; something that over the last several years I repressed, hid, denied, and pretended to forget. You reminded me that I, too, believe ideal women exist. I, too, believe in women of such high quality that they seem unearthly. I’m talking about a quality so rare that it is only whispered about. I believe in ideal women who possess so much more than the ability to attract. My friend, we’ve always hoped we were right. Now I am certain we were, because I found mine. I hope this letter brings you good fortune, and motivates you to stay the course.
Your Friend,
A Mugwump
Captain’s Log 