No one wants to know you're happy.
Seriously. They don't. They say they do, they feign interest in the oh-so-cute-and-romantic stories you share, but at the end of the day, your misery is more entertaining and your happiness? Less so.
Maybe your closest friends and family like to think you're happy, but they don't need to be faced with it every time they see you.
Your migraines are more entertaining than your happy marriage.
And your minor car accident is more interesting than your brand new car will ever be.
So when things are going well, we may find ourselves keeping to ourselves more than we should. We make the effort by not discussing "that" topic, because... well... the happy stuff is boring.
A good story is moving, captivating, involves trial and error, misstep and misfortune.
And a happy ending is much easier to take, if it's preceded by a tumultuous plot.
As a result, we might find ourselves delving into the past too much, chatting with people we promised to ignore because they make things interesting. Retelling painful moments from years ago because we've "come out of it unscathed," all the while our reminiscing reopening a wound we'd hoped to have healed.
The storyteller in us wants some substance, something full of emotion, something bad that we can make good with words and hate mongering. Something to hold their attention, because our happiness seems to cause an uneasiness that our more painful moments never seem to.
But with each retold story, of heartbreak or sadness, we not only bring our audience down to a place where they can feel something, but ourselves as well.
Poisoning our present happy moments with reminders of the sad ones.
Giving up our contentment for camaraderie instead.
Have a relationship topic worthy of discussion?
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Growing up means shutting up
I haven't posted much on this blog for two reasons.
1. I'm very busy.
2. I'm afraid EVERY TOPIC I want to write about will end up ticking someone off.
I recently realized that the fact that I'm sensitive to the idea all of a sudden, doesn't say anything about my friends or family suddenly being less understanding or open minded.
It has to do with the fact that suddenly I'm more aware of how my words might upset them.
There was a time when I thought the word "crass" was a compliment.
When hearing people declare that "Chrissie will say whatever she wants without apology," was something that I could be proud of.
And maybe I'm just getting old... but suddenly, being crass isn't on my list of aspirations anymore.
And being sensitive is no longer a "weakness" but something I'm glad to feel from time to time.
So here's a post, minus the post, because if nothing else... I'm growing up.
What made YOU realize, you'd changed?
1. I'm very busy.
2. I'm afraid EVERY TOPIC I want to write about will end up ticking someone off.
I recently realized that the fact that I'm sensitive to the idea all of a sudden, doesn't say anything about my friends or family suddenly being less understanding or open minded.
It has to do with the fact that suddenly I'm more aware of how my words might upset them.
There was a time when I thought the word "crass" was a compliment.
When hearing people declare that "Chrissie will say whatever she wants without apology," was something that I could be proud of.
And maybe I'm just getting old... but suddenly, being crass isn't on my list of aspirations anymore.
And being sensitive is no longer a "weakness" but something I'm glad to feel from time to time.
So here's a post, minus the post, because if nothing else... I'm growing up.
What made YOU realize, you'd changed?
Friday, October 30, 2009
Finding piece
There's something about things falling into place that just illuminates all the other things that are still in disarray.
It's like a 1,000-piece puzzle, with only the edges assembled.
We may immediately feel as if we've accomplished something, but in the end we're left with just a big empty box.
We can become frustrated with our clean edges and carved out future because sometimes it seems like that empty box, the outline waiting for more, is just... life.
A series of pieces that surely have a place in the "whole" but pieces that also need to be just so in order for everything around them to work out.
And so, we fill our puzzle, one piece at a time, hoping the bigger decisions are enough to anchor our futures in something tangible.
Hoping our edges are strong enough to withstand all the rest.
As we check off our accomplishments, it's obvious to see how we got there, what pieces had to fall into place in order for the 1,000-piece puzzle to begin to make sense.
But, as each piece slides into it's appropriate space, any sense of accomplishment is undermined by the other pieces—in an overwhelming pile—coaxing us to move forward, to do more, to get it done.
Because without a sense of direction, or a purpose, the pieces we've yet to find a place for just clutter the end result with maybes and what might-have-beens.
And it seems no edges are strong enough to handle that.
It's like a 1,000-piece puzzle, with only the edges assembled.
We may immediately feel as if we've accomplished something, but in the end we're left with just a big empty box.
We can become frustrated with our clean edges and carved out future because sometimes it seems like that empty box, the outline waiting for more, is just... life.
A series of pieces that surely have a place in the "whole" but pieces that also need to be just so in order for everything around them to work out.
And so, we fill our puzzle, one piece at a time, hoping the bigger decisions are enough to anchor our futures in something tangible.
Hoping our edges are strong enough to withstand all the rest.
As we check off our accomplishments, it's obvious to see how we got there, what pieces had to fall into place in order for the 1,000-piece puzzle to begin to make sense.
But, as each piece slides into it's appropriate space, any sense of accomplishment is undermined by the other pieces—in an overwhelming pile—coaxing us to move forward, to do more, to get it done.
Because without a sense of direction, or a purpose, the pieces we've yet to find a place for just clutter the end result with maybes and what might-have-beens.
And it seems no edges are strong enough to handle that.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Wings and beer
Two girls.
20 wings.
A basket of fries.
And a bread bowl of spinach dip (with stale chips).
You'd think we hadn't eaten for days given the spread of carbs that lay on our table. In combination with the stack of napkins covered in barbecue sauce, the empty pints of Octoberfest, and the bowl of chicken bones, there was little room for much more than our conversation.
"We should take a picture with all this food!" I exclaimed.
And nicely enough, the man standing behind us offered to take the shot.
"Make sure you get all the food!" We declared, since that was the purpose of getting out the camera to begin with.
And then he fumbled.
"Wait, really? Women usually don't want people to know they eat..."
We feigned a smile while I let his words sink into my already full belly.
It is true that women will order a salad when they want a steak, because it's the more "feminine" thing to do.
But when did eating become something only men can enjoy?
As we tore apart our wings and offered each other an exchange of carbohydrates, I couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom.
Because we didn't care what anyone thought of our spread, we were too hungry to notice any stares and too happy to not lick our fingers at the end of our meal.
Our photographer's comment aside, we were simply out to enjoy ourselves, our friendship, and our meal together.
And while it's true that some women don't want people to know they eat.
Other women... like us... just want others to know we're people too.
20 wings.
A basket of fries.
And a bread bowl of spinach dip (with stale chips).
You'd think we hadn't eaten for days given the spread of carbs that lay on our table. In combination with the stack of napkins covered in barbecue sauce, the empty pints of Octoberfest, and the bowl of chicken bones, there was little room for much more than our conversation.
"We should take a picture with all this food!" I exclaimed.
And nicely enough, the man standing behind us offered to take the shot.
"Make sure you get all the food!" We declared, since that was the purpose of getting out the camera to begin with.
And then he fumbled.
"Wait, really? Women usually don't want people to know they eat..."
We feigned a smile while I let his words sink into my already full belly.
It is true that women will order a salad when they want a steak, because it's the more "feminine" thing to do.
But when did eating become something only men can enjoy?
As we tore apart our wings and offered each other an exchange of carbohydrates, I couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom.
Because we didn't care what anyone thought of our spread, we were too hungry to notice any stares and too happy to not lick our fingers at the end of our meal.
Our photographer's comment aside, we were simply out to enjoy ourselves, our friendship, and our meal together.
And while it's true that some women don't want people to know they eat.
Other women... like us... just want others to know we're people too.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A good marriage
We're taught from a very young age that a good marriage is made of a few necessary ingredients...
1. Love
2. Respect
3. Monogamy
While I can't argue the importance of love and respect, I find it hard to determine the true importance of "exclusivity" when it comes to living happily ever after.
The divorce rate indicates that many don't take their vows seriously as "Til death do us part" holds true for only half of couples who declare those words in front of their nearest and dearest.
So why do we put so much emphasis on the vow to "forsake all others?"
Can we not love and respect someone, while we simultaneously want someone else?
And if we've altered the institution of marriage to sneak into it with the idea of divorce as a viable option and with premarital "fun" practiced by most...
Why do we still hold our partners to the chain of monogamy when we let these other things slide?
1. Love
2. Respect
3. Monogamy
While I can't argue the importance of love and respect, I find it hard to determine the true importance of "exclusivity" when it comes to living happily ever after.
The divorce rate indicates that many don't take their vows seriously as "Til death do us part" holds true for only half of couples who declare those words in front of their nearest and dearest.
So why do we put so much emphasis on the vow to "forsake all others?"
Can we not love and respect someone, while we simultaneously want someone else?
And if we've altered the institution of marriage to sneak into it with the idea of divorce as a viable option and with premarital "fun" practiced by most...
Why do we still hold our partners to the chain of monogamy when we let these other things slide?
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