Pages

Showing posts with label Pam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pam. Show all posts

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Soul Mates, Stunt Doubles, and Other Realities....

  Watched Will Smith's Hancock the other day for the first time.  I enjoyed it. Grittier than I expected, and Jason Bateman's performance inspired me to push Michael to become a PR guy: I think he'd be spectacular at it, personally.  Michael and Bateman's character Ray share that quality: they can persuade you to do good, functional things simply by talking to you, not by raising their voices or pushing you around, just talking.  Theirs is a subtle power, one that's far more effective on me than "C'mon! Go do it!  Do eeet!".  But that's neither here nor there.

  What most caught my attention was Charlize Theron, and who could blame me? Oh, Charlize....

I thought her role in this movie was especially poignant.  The only other "superhero" in the world, Hancock's wife for over three thousand years.  Built, like he was, to have her superpowers diminish and immortality fade when she chose a mate, so that they could live and die together, as normal people, if they so chose.  The only way they can be "superheroes" is to be apart. 

  What powers do we lose when we're in love? 

  It's coming up on a year that I've been single.  I've had the privilege of meeting so many others, some in my boat, others paddling alongside me in their own, who were in wonderful relationships, and are now out of them, floating along this unexpected river. 

  Some I've only known as single men and women, others I met when they were just out of a relationship and in the "crazy" stage.  A few are still "recovering", years later, from what happened to them. A few of them went the other way and are now in relationships whereas before they were single.

  For some, life lessons need to be taken internally.  No matter how much people will give you advice on relationships, early on and well after you've fallen out of love and gone back on your own, you have to learn numerous things completely through your own experience.  The old "I'll believe it when I see it" adage applies to some people more than others.

  From a year's worth of owning the whole bed to myself, I can say two things for sure: I know who I am, and I know who I'm waiting for.

  But first, one random point:

Stunt Doubles

 Lining up for Harry Potter  a few weeks ago with Michael and Aaron, we were talking about the new "See Friendship" function on Facebook.  I off-handedly remarked that Alice had said that our "friendship" was so epic that you'd swear we were dating.  "Aren't you?" teased Michael.  "Yeah, she's like a part-time girlfriend for you," said Aaron.  "You need to consider getting an actual girlfriend and not just a female friend."

  Checking this with Alice through our preferred medium of BlackBerry Messenger afterwards, she concurred:

"Yeah,you should get a full-time girlfriend soon. As much as I enjoy our friendship, it'll be a lot more fun for you ;)"

 The next day, I met Pam for coffee at the Indigo bookstore in Stoney Creek.  When we were walking to our cars afterwards, I mentioned the conversation of the previous night.

   "Oh, you mean stunt doubles," she said.

   "What?"

   "Well, it's like an opposite-sexed substitute for either an existing partner or none at all.  You know how sometimes if a boyfriend wants to go somewhere that his actual girlfriend doesn't like, he'll sometimes get a female friend to go with him?"

    "Yeah?"  Pam nodded.

    "Yep. Stunt double.  A fill in for an actual partner."

    Not a new concept for me, for sure. One of my favourite movies, Elizabethtown, featured the idea prominently.  As Kirsten Dunst's character Claire says of her friendship with Orlando Bloom's Drew Baylor:


"We're the substitute people."
 
   Being a stunt double or sub for an actual partner's supposed to be something of an insult, but that usually presumes that one of the people involved wants to be more than that.  This is what my ex's current boyfriend used to be: in the end, he got his wish, rightly or wrongly. 

   But for myself, the (re)discovery of the concept made me realize something new: most of the female friends I'm closest to serve as substitute people for my ex.  They're part-time girlfriends, totally platonic, but serving the same functions. And we're all cool with this arrangement.

    Pam and Alice are the two primary stunt doubles I have, I think. Even my ex herself at times...well, the new version of her, anyway.  Each serves different purposes.  Pam's like a big sister who thinks much the same way I do and who really *gets* it; Alice shares many of the same interests and quirks that I do and has a knack for kicking my ass in a good way without meaning to, very effectively; and whenever I need historical perspective, I go to my ex, because after all we've shared, she remains the one human being outside my family who knows me best and longest - fourteen years now and counting.  And, of course, my guy friends provide buddy time and act as a rational, more social contrast for me to measure up my crazy introverted ideas. 

   Again, it is what it is, but I find it remarkable that I had to find at least six substitute people to provide the emotional satisfaction I used to get from just one. 

   It goes to show that none of us are truly functioning under our own power.  We all need those social connections, and those emotional ones in particular, wherever we can get them.  And though we'll occasionally burn our friends out with our whining, complaining, and venting, they'll be back for more, because that's what good friends do. 

   There's more I want to say on the subject of stunt doubles, but I want to touch on something else first, so we'll return to this later.

  Who I'm Looking For....

   Personal value and self worth are often the first casualties of a breakup or divorce, provided you didn't lose them already in the time leading up to the split. Thus, you might feel inclined, as I did for about seven months, to look for a new relationship way before you've managed to put yourself back together again.

  They'll tell you "you're not ready to date", and sheer ego will keep you from listening.  But you aren't, you really aren't, until you know you can be on your own.  It's old news, it's what everyone tells everyone else who is suddenly single.  And yet, as I said earlier, you've got to learn this from your own experience to really believe it.  As Ke$ha says, love is indeed a drug, and when you're jonesing for a hit after you're stash has run out, you'll say anything to get it.  That's what desperation does. 

  Hell, they may even have to tie you to a tree.

   So then, how do you know you're ready?  Same way you've got to prove to the bank that you don't need the loan in order to get it.  Same way that you need work experience before you can get that first job.

   You're ready for a relationship when you can feel the same love for yourself as you would if you had a partner to love you. 

   I thought I was ready in April.  Then again in June.  And in August, I was actually dating a girl for a bit, and I though I feel this is when I became emotionally ready, I had a ton of career-related challenges - namely French classes and studies that I needed for a job-saving bilingual test - that would have interfered with any new relationship for at least a month and a half.  

   Those may have indeed been self-deceptions, false Buddhas on the road to Enlightenment, but if you'd asked me then if I was ready to fall in love again, I would have said yes.  Not that it would have been a giant lie, but I wasn't as ready as I am now. 

   Because now, when I think of meeting someone, I'm willing to wait for the right person.  I have a surprisingly clear and ever-evolving idea of who she is, and anyone less than that would always be second rate.  That wasn't the case before, when I was willing to date every kind of girl just for the validation. 

   Love costs you your superhero powers, if not applied correctly.  That subplot in Hancock is a great metaphor for what it does to some people, and what it would do to me if I fell in love with anyone less than the right girl

   That's who I'm looking for.  Her and only her. 

   Most women out there don't interest me.  My buddies tell me I have to approach them, say hello, and I'm really good at doing this now, but I choose not to most of the time because there's only one kind of experience I'm looking for, and it's not a casual lay.  Most women don't interest me because I'm not interested in most women. Just one.

   Right now, I'm functioning at an overall peak performance in many aspects of life.  I've improved so much and I'm working on elevating the other parts, career in particular.  I'm as sure of myself as a self-reflective ENFP lone wolf author can be.  My ideal mate is someone who would not cause me to revert back to who I was before, and thus undo this evolution in progress.

   I'm uniquely positioned among other men in my social circle to be able to declare this.  For starters, my sex drive is not nearly as elevated as most guys, meaning I'm not going to go skirt-chasing at bars because I can wait for someone special to share that experience with.  I love myself more now than I ever have, not conceit, but a healthy love of self.  I'm more willing to define social boundaries and not give up my time, attention, or beliefs just to get people to like me.  Most of all, I'm living for things that are bigger than me, primarily art and storytelling in the form of writing, and acting when that gets off the ground. 

   As such, the only dance partner I'm willing to take for a spin will be the so-called "One".  Soul mate. Twin flame.  Whatever you want to call her, she's the only one I'm willing to go and get.  I'll know her when I see her.  And since I'm waiting for only one particular girl to show up, I don't need to waste my time chasing other ones around the ballroom.

   That way, when I do fall in love, I won't be giving up any of my power. The love-drug makes you do so many stupid things. Given the right circumstances, you can fall in love with just about anyone: it's how you explain the "why is he with that bitch?" or "why is she with that asshole?" scenario. When you're with the wrong person, you can damage yourself for life, lose your abilities, sometimes forever. Love isn't enough.

   In a relationship with my soul partner, however, we can only add our powers together, because she's the optimal match for me. She doesn't have to be a complete copy of me - she'll have her differences, obviously - but we need to be in the same wavelength in life, giving off the same type of vibration, for this to work right.  Call me picky if you wish, but why the hell would I settle for anything less than the best for me?

   There's a girl out there right now who's everything I'm looking for, and for whom I'm everything she wants to have.  In a way, we're already together, we just haven't caught up to the reality.  And if we're already destined to meet, then in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy today as much as I can, do my utmost to maintain positive energy as work does its thing and the holiday stresses mount and the cold closes in. 

   Who is this girl, though? My equal and complementary spirit? What does she look like?  What is her story?  Does she enjoy Babylon 5 reruns as much as I do? (Scratch that question: of course she does!). 

   I have no answers to the detail questions yet, but however, wherever, and whenever we meet, I'll owe Serendipity a drink at the bar for all of her hard work. 

  Can't buy it now though: Serendipity's busy working as I write this, and there's no drinking on the job.

  Until then, read this.  I thought it was rather sweet.  A page from Serendipity's portfolio right there.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Logic vs. Stupid

...

In assessing the withertos and whyfors of any major life change, functional people will inevitably find themselves weighing matters on the Logic vs. Stupid scale.

This paradigm, which I and my new friend (and two-person break-up support group sponsor) Pam stumbled upon during her three week tenure at my office*, is pretty simple: we all live life according to the Logic-Stupid scale.

Case in point: diets. Diets tend not to work, not because the science is shoddy or the meals are unreasonable, but because they're too damned logical. It's simple: consume better quality foods in smaller portions more frequently, and you'll lose weight and stay in shape. So simple, so logical. And yet, how often do people fall off the wagon and find themselves at Mandarin, chowing down on crispy Chinese chicken wings....(mmmmm.....crispy Chinese chicken wings....). Inevitably, the Stupid kicks in.

Funny part is, the scale is weighted towards Stupid. You can live a totally Logical life - like those who used to say it was impossible to be in love with two people at once, persons who then, well...you get the idea - and then completely fall towards Stupid, but if you're already terminally Stupid, it's pretty damned hard to shift over to Logic. Hence, why the city streets of the planet find themselves trod upon by the feet of thousands of terminal Stupids.

And by Logic, don't let images of Mr. Spock and Data fill your mind: I don't mean that you express no emotion or are a cold fish. I'm talking about pure life functionality. You can be the biggest goof-off out of your circle of friends, doing crazy things like, say, waking them up in Vegas to the strains of Katy Perry on your BlackBerry after two hours' sleep...but you are still capable of basic courtesies, can hold a job and pay bills**, and maintaining even elementary standards of health and well-being.

And also not breaking hearts needlessly. It seems stupid that so many amazing people - who, in the paraphrased words of Hedley, are not perfect, but they keep trying, because that's what they said they were going to do from the start - have had their hearts broken time and time again by complete douchebags, when what they deserve, each and every time, is the highest possible happiness, a level of love and joy that befits the effort, energy, and yes, Logic that they put into their relationships.

But I can understand the appeal of Stupid. Too much Logic can lead to life making a little...too much sense. This is especially true of people who pride themselves on functionality a little too much ("pride goeth before a fall"), which is why it's almost always those fundamentalist right-wingers who get caught getting serviced by a gigolo in the confessional.

A little bit of Stupid isn't bad, because Stupid provides the seeds of adventure, excitement, danger. Stupid is the source of all thrill issues everywhere. And as long as you're not hurting someone else in the process, Stupid adds sugar (and spice) to life.

What's the ideal Logic-Stupid ratio? Who knows? It's up to you. I'd think if you made a career from extreme sports, you'd need to be closer to Stupid just so you wouldn't freak out and break your neck. On the other hand, if you're just looking to be happy, and you've already got it - a great job, fulfilling relationship, amazing health - then maybe you should consider sticking with Logic.

So, ask yourself, where do I fit on the Logic-Stupid spectrum? That's my thought for the day, on this cloudy Easter long weekend.

(*which did lead to three weeks' worth of my stuff not getting done around the office...worth it, though. Pam is awesome: I'm in her fan club on FB)

(** and while we're on the subject, to one of my out-laws, who was talking smack about me to my ex about how much "growing up" I have to do and who may or may not be reading this, I may have had a period of being job-to-job, but I consistently paid the bills on my own place since 2001, supported your kin through her teacher's college attempts and launch of her business by giving her a place to sleep and food to eat, and moved heaven and earth to provide for my household while she was in it. So you and your high horse can both chew on that, hopefully one after the other. I'll let you decide which of you gets first bite, but I have my preference).