Tuesday, July 27, 2004
I was thinking the other day, on my way up the stairwell at work (you know, I'm stalling right now, because I can't quite recall exactly what I was thinking, I just know it was something about love, yep, got it). I was thinking about the different types of love, all the different flavors and varieties. I was thinking it would interesting to put together a book of short stories, or maybe essays, that revolves around different kinds of love, and, I suppose, by extension, loathing.
My thinking began by considering love of self. You know, doc Phil says you gotta love yourself first. My thinking as I walked the stairs was about a person who loathes their self learning to love their self. This got me to thinking about the sort of comfortable and mature love I have for my ex-wife. This is a stable love. Let me explain though, our relationship is NOT stable, but the love I feel towards her never goes away. This is chapter 2. A man, a woman, a lifetime together, ups and downs, ins and outs, but, in the end, what remains is this enormous, gluttonous love that will not diminish. That's a beautiful thing. In the story, I might build a contrast with the instability of everything else in this world. How flowers wilt and die, trends fade and disappear, bellies that were once rock hard begin to protrude, dominated by a fleshy softness, and so on.
Then there's the new love, which, I think is really, again, a love of self, or a monument to selfhood. We love a new person because of how they see us, because of who we are with them. It's a fake and artificial love not based in reality, I guess, because once the cracks begin to appear in the facade we build for one another, authenticity of self creeps in.
Then there's the love one feels towards a child. I wonder about this sort of love though. I know that when my child was younger, like even 10, I loved him dearly. I looked at him with such admiration. Now, he's a pain in the ASS, and I miss looking at him with such adoration. I want that adoration back, but as he becomes more and more his own person, tries different identities, rebels, gets mouthy, and is contrary, I have to work at loving him more. Chapter 3.
Chpater 4 should be about loving an ideal. I'm not sure how to explain this, but I think all of us are in a sense in love with ideals. For example, when I was a teenager, I fell completely in love with this girl, Mary Igel. I was whipped, not shaken or stirred, and this woman, with whom I shared only a few brief kisses, and no real concrete connection, has sort of become the ideal by which I guage everything else.
I'm still in love with the idea of Mary Igel. What was it about her? She was older than me by 3 years. She is beautiful, with silky black hair. She was rich, or her family was wealthy, from Edina, an affluent suburb of the Twin Cities, and she was always happy. I still think this love was based more on what she gave me than what I gave her, so it is a form of self-love. Mary must have filled holes in my life, deficiencies that I had.
Now that I think about it: what I loved about Mary was she made everyone she came into contact with feel special. This is her gift. When I was with her, she made me feel like 14k gold, no, platinum, and that was something I couldn't do for myself.
But, there's more here: there's still the ideal, the Mary Igel ideal, and I'm still in love with it and part of that love is the era -- those summers long ago, the music we listened to, the beer we drank, the car I drove, the job I had, all of it is part of this ideal. It was all amazing, and Mary was part of it.
I think I'll stop at 4 chapters, a novella instead, I guess.
My thinking began by considering love of self. You know, doc Phil says you gotta love yourself first. My thinking as I walked the stairs was about a person who loathes their self learning to love their self. This got me to thinking about the sort of comfortable and mature love I have for my ex-wife. This is a stable love. Let me explain though, our relationship is NOT stable, but the love I feel towards her never goes away. This is chapter 2. A man, a woman, a lifetime together, ups and downs, ins and outs, but, in the end, what remains is this enormous, gluttonous love that will not diminish. That's a beautiful thing. In the story, I might build a contrast with the instability of everything else in this world. How flowers wilt and die, trends fade and disappear, bellies that were once rock hard begin to protrude, dominated by a fleshy softness, and so on.
Then there's the new love, which, I think is really, again, a love of self, or a monument to selfhood. We love a new person because of how they see us, because of who we are with them. It's a fake and artificial love not based in reality, I guess, because once the cracks begin to appear in the facade we build for one another, authenticity of self creeps in.
Then there's the love one feels towards a child. I wonder about this sort of love though. I know that when my child was younger, like even 10, I loved him dearly. I looked at him with such admiration. Now, he's a pain in the ASS, and I miss looking at him with such adoration. I want that adoration back, but as he becomes more and more his own person, tries different identities, rebels, gets mouthy, and is contrary, I have to work at loving him more. Chapter 3.
Chpater 4 should be about loving an ideal. I'm not sure how to explain this, but I think all of us are in a sense in love with ideals. For example, when I was a teenager, I fell completely in love with this girl, Mary Igel. I was whipped, not shaken or stirred, and this woman, with whom I shared only a few brief kisses, and no real concrete connection, has sort of become the ideal by which I guage everything else.
I'm still in love with the idea of Mary Igel. What was it about her? She was older than me by 3 years. She is beautiful, with silky black hair. She was rich, or her family was wealthy, from Edina, an affluent suburb of the Twin Cities, and she was always happy. I still think this love was based more on what she gave me than what I gave her, so it is a form of self-love. Mary must have filled holes in my life, deficiencies that I had.
Now that I think about it: what I loved about Mary was she made everyone she came into contact with feel special. This is her gift. When I was with her, she made me feel like 14k gold, no, platinum, and that was something I couldn't do for myself.
But, there's more here: there's still the ideal, the Mary Igel ideal, and I'm still in love with it and part of that love is the era -- those summers long ago, the music we listened to, the beer we drank, the car I drove, the job I had, all of it is part of this ideal. It was all amazing, and Mary was part of it.
I think I'll stop at 4 chapters, a novella instead, I guess.
I got a new dog, a Weimaraner. I'm still a bit confused about the pronunciation. I read in a pamphlet published by the Weim Association of America that the name should be pronounced Wi-Mar-On-Er, but everyone I speak to says Wi-Mar-Ine-Er. Who knows. I like the feel in my mouth of the latter, but it seems to me that Weim owners are a snobbish sort and I might be help to task for mispronouncing the name.
His name is HAP. He's adorable. He's also full of energy.
It's taken a few days to get used to the whole puppy routine. I'd sort of forgotten what you do with a puppy. I know that you can't just let them roam around unsupervised. I was watching the damn dog every minute of every day though. I've found a happy medium as I seem to have learned some of Hap's routine and schedule.
I tried to adopt a Weim through Weimaraner Rescue. The first time I contacted the local rescue, the man I spoke with was a complete and utter jackass, very snooty. This man and I got into a bit of a tiff because he was treating me like an idiot, like I had never raised a dog before, when, in fact, I've already raised a very obedient, very happy, very well-behaved dog from scratch once.
Anyway, this contact was a two years ago, and at that time, I was really just gathering information. Anyway, when I started looking again a few months ago, I contacted Weim Rescue again. I sent them e-mails, and I sent them snail mail, and no one replied. I ended up going through a breeder, a friend of a friend of a friend who gave me a great deal on the pup. I feel a bad about not rescuing a dog, but my sense is that these Weim Rescue people in BELLEVILLE, IL have chosen to ignore my requests. My sense is that this man I spoke with was offended that I might question his knowledge and thinking about Weims.
Let me give you a sense of what this man was like: he said a Weim is like having a three year old baby at home, would you leave a three-year-old home alone? Of course, I would not leave a baby home alone, but I do leave my DOG home alone. I questioned, nope, actually, I told him this was absurd, you can't leave a dog home alone.
He was an arrogant SOB, and truthfully, as bad as I feel for not rescuing a needy dog, I feel a sort of vindication for having gotten a Weim in spite of this idiots best attempts to thwart me. Yes, I do feel like he was consciously trying to prevent me from getting a Weim, at least through his rescue.
Anyway, Hap is an awesome dog.
His name is HAP. He's adorable. He's also full of energy.
It's taken a few days to get used to the whole puppy routine. I'd sort of forgotten what you do with a puppy. I know that you can't just let them roam around unsupervised. I was watching the damn dog every minute of every day though. I've found a happy medium as I seem to have learned some of Hap's routine and schedule.
I tried to adopt a Weim through Weimaraner Rescue. The first time I contacted the local rescue, the man I spoke with was a complete and utter jackass, very snooty. This man and I got into a bit of a tiff because he was treating me like an idiot, like I had never raised a dog before, when, in fact, I've already raised a very obedient, very happy, very well-behaved dog from scratch once.
Anyway, this contact was a two years ago, and at that time, I was really just gathering information. Anyway, when I started looking again a few months ago, I contacted Weim Rescue again. I sent them e-mails, and I sent them snail mail, and no one replied. I ended up going through a breeder, a friend of a friend of a friend who gave me a great deal on the pup. I feel a bad about not rescuing a dog, but my sense is that these Weim Rescue people in BELLEVILLE, IL have chosen to ignore my requests. My sense is that this man I spoke with was offended that I might question his knowledge and thinking about Weims.
Let me give you a sense of what this man was like: he said a Weim is like having a three year old baby at home, would you leave a three-year-old home alone? Of course, I would not leave a baby home alone, but I do leave my DOG home alone. I questioned, nope, actually, I told him this was absurd, you can't leave a dog home alone.
He was an arrogant SOB, and truthfully, as bad as I feel for not rescuing a needy dog, I feel a sort of vindication for having gotten a Weim in spite of this idiots best attempts to thwart me. Yes, I do feel like he was consciously trying to prevent me from getting a Weim, at least through his rescue.
Anyway, Hap is an awesome dog.
