So yesterday

So yesterday. It was an important day. In someone's life. Not so much in mine. That's not to say it was a bad day. Had a nice visit from my brother and sister in law. And celebrated the birthday of my one x sis in law at a nice new restaurant. All good. And a good time was had by all.
But it wasn't necessarily an important day for me. In the grand scheme of things. But if it was an important day for you, i wish you well. Even if i shouldn't.

Crossing the lines

So, i crossed over a line the other day. A personal line of behavior that i set for myself. The line wasi would never call someone a derogatory name or assign them a derogatory classification in public. That goes for individuals and for groups. I will allow myself to call someone's actions stupid though, because i don't think that's unkind or unfair to state my belief or my personal judgment that an action is stupid or any other adjective I might use.

Some might say my line is too fine and i should refrain from that too. But that's not how I feel about it, so it's not where I draw my personal line.

anyway, I'm not going to argue that with you. If you think that makes me a bitch or unkind or that I think I'm a god or something, that's ok. That's your opinion. It's just not mine. If you'd like some shinier penny who walks like she's on a rainbow and talks like a flower all the time, you go on ahead. And marry her. That's just not me. And i don't think it's healthy.

That all said- i will actually really hold back a critique, if I know the person who committed the action is sick or injured, is grieving,or cognitively disabled or mentally ill. I'm at least that kind ok? and even if you give me no reason to hold back, another line i draw is that i will try to make it known that any judgment of your behavior is my opinion only. I will say that I could probably do a better job of that than I do. Sometimes I give you enough or too much credit for knowing that. And I shouldn't.

So now- all that said! I will tell you how I crossed my line the other day. And why. And the why is NOT an excuse; simply a notation so you'll understand my thoughts.

So, I'll start with why. It started with my answering in the comment section, my thoughts on someone's FB posts. Actually, it wasn't a statement, it was a question. But it was the kind of question that implied my thought while it asked. And so someone answered. Not with a question or an answer or a rebuttal, but with an insult to me.

Some other people joined the thread and made arguments. I ignored her insult and answered the other posts. But then, she insulted me again. So this time, i spoke up for myself. And all was ok until later in the discussion, I cited an article. And wham. She came at me again.

At this point, I was plenty angry, but I knew that a bully can feed off your answers if they are not strong enough. And quite honestly, by this time, I was fairly convinced that while maybe she wasn't cognitively disabled,she wasn't all that bright. But I was still angry, so i pleaded my case to the originator of the thread. Telling him, that since he knew her, he needed to get her to stop OR I was afraid my anger was going to get the better of me. And if it did- I was quite convinced I would take it upon myself to annihilate her, verbally.

The person took the thread down. Ended it. But, I was still angry because he hadn't really stood up to the bully and told her that her behavior was out of line. I felt that he should. As my friend. And as a bystander to bullying.

So suffice it to say. I was angry. And admittedly immature about it. And in a post about something similar as the original topic, i labelled Republicans as stupid.

Childish, oh hell yes. Over my personal line. You betcha. But, I did it all the same.

And i am both sorry and ashamed. As I should be. And I am vowing to try to never, even if angry, cross that line again. I hope to be successful.

Here's what I am up against though. In my heart of hearts, where I can be true with my feelings, I actually do think a lot, if not most Republicans are just not very bright. And the ones that I think might be bright, i think are either ignorant, delusional, or worst of all- uncaring and unkind and selfish. I am stressing first that this is ONLY my opinion. And I am stressing second that I realize I'm crossing my line right this second. Just know though, that I'm only crossing it because I am trying to help you understand why my vow is a hard thing for me. In the same way, it's difficult for someone consumed with racism to hold themself back from behaving as a racist, it's hard for me to hold back my beliefs.

Another thing that makes this hard is that I'm human. And when I'm sick or stressed or grieving or angry or hurt, I am pretty weak. And while I believe it is still my responsibility to find a way to cope with any of those things, I truly am not mother theresa and I know it. So, hopefully on any day that I might slip, you will be. And you'll forgive.

Once in a land far away and in a time that was fictional, i voiced an opinion about something to a person who I loved, very much. An action, more or less. But because i was anxious and I was writing quickly, i dropped a comma from what I was saying. That comma would have made what i said what I really wanted to say. That I thought someone was trying to make a buck off his worries and concerns at the expense of those worries and concerns. The lack of comma made it sound like I was insulting him personally. When I explained, i was told I was forgiven. But the truth of the matter is that I never really was. And it later became plaster in a wall between us.

And so maybe I am still wrong to judge or express my judgments or opinions. But here's a rub with that. If I don't do that, I feel that I'm not speaking up against evil. Whether it is real or only my perception. So, in the end, I still have to keep my line where it is. I just really need to do a much better job of not crossing my line.

Maybe...

Maybe... The kindest man I ever met in this world died last month. I only found out just yesterday though, so the shock of it is still ringing in my ears. And in my head. And in my heart.

Sad. It really doesn't begin to cover the way I feel knowing this guy is not in the world anymore.

He was an artist. A talented one. More than a talented one- a gifted one. who, for the most part, labored in obscurity. Not that he cared. He just made art because that's what he was compelled to do. To earn a living, he taught. Art to high schoolers. and he was gifted at teaching too. Never have I seen a teacher who was more beloved by his students or who loved his students more. All his students. All of them. The ones who were artistic and the ones who were not. He especially loved one who was severely disabled and even had to use a computer to speak. He was mischievous. Loved to play jokes on his kids. But never mean. Just wanting to make them laugh and to understand humility and humanity. And love. He saw something special in every one of them. Every single one. He wished he'd had children of his own. His marriage failed. He drank too much. He'd show me proudly, the ranks of his kids who'd made it big in the world of fashion. Of graphic design. Of whereever Art led them. He'd tell me of the ones who sobbed their stories out to him. He foiled more than his share of bullies. The administration hated him. Because he didn't care about what they did. His classroom was where the misfits went to each lunch and to have someone smile at them just one time that day.

The man had a wicked sense of humor. A constant smirk of amusement. A twinkle always in his eye. A throaty laugh that came straight and often, from his heart.

Once he showed me the portfolio he made to get hired for his first teaching job. Back when portfolios were all the rage in hiring teachers. I'd seen a million portfolios. Most of which made me want to gag. His made me cry. It was a poem.

I think he was a poem.

How does a poem end? In this case. In his sleep. All alone. His heart giving way to something else.

He was a chain smoker. A chain drinker. To my great disgust, he was a lover of nascar. I would tell him, " if you would give up that dirty habit, I'll marry you." He would smirk and laugh and say, "you don't want to marry me." Emphasis on the ME. and he'd wink. Because he knew my heart was still somewhere else.

He was a wonderful, hearty cook. He'd message me and say, "please come up, I want to cook." I'd say, "ok." He didn't drink wine. But he always made sure there was wine for me.

He loved heartwarming movies. He loved movies about history and wars. He was something of a patriot. Although I always thought that was wierd. He had a wild mixture of conservative and liberal beliefs. He loved movies for little kids. He had a little sports car that he somehow acquired through a trade. But most of the time he drove the cheapest car that could be had. Which at the time was a pt cruiser. Ugg.

He did not like to go out. Except to his backyard where he grew vegetables and flowers that would make you drool.
He was dirt poor. He made his own furniture. Built the frames. Sewed the cushions. When his mother was dying of cancer, he moved her in. And cared for her. Until she died. He missed her openly and everyday, afterward. He had a grey cat named smokey who HATED me. I hated smokey back.

One time we went out somewhere nice. I dressed up. I wore make-up. He said, "wow" when i came to the door. He looked dashing. We were a pretty couple really. We ran into one of his students who told him he should keep me. He said, "if I could..."

He loved the Sunday paper. Sunday mornings were coffee, lying on the living room floor, cigarettes burning, pouring over every page. Front to back.

You couldn't make him angry. No matter how hard you'd try sometimes. You just couldn't make him mad. And after awhile, you just didn't want to.

He had not one speck of ambition. He loved technology. He could write like a dream. But rarely did. He was a good listener. In that he'd listen all the way through anything you'd be having an angry tirade about that day. Then. He'd hug you. And then you'd be ok.

He grew up poor. Dirt poor. Hungry every day poor. If he'd not had art, I doubt he'd have gone to college. I think he'd be in jail for misadventures. His sister was a college professor. His brother was i don't remember. He loved him but they were too different to be close. His dad was a drunk. His mother, a saint.

I don't know. I think maybe.... Maybe I loved him.

I think maybe i didn't realize it until yesterday.

I'd let him go. At some point, I just couldn't see us being together and I told him we both needed to move on. I remember i was mad because he didn't really protest. He just accepted what i said. I stopped coming over to dinner. We remained friends. On facebook and occassionallyon the phone. He moved away. We emailed. He invited me to visit. I didn't go.

I let him slip away. And then he slipped away. In his sleep.

And now on hearing, I am sad. Blue.as a girl can be.

And maybe? Maybe I loved him.

I mentioned he was kind. He was kind. you could hear it in his voice kind of kind. And I'm sad that all that kindness has passed out of this world.

Maybe.....

Nevermind

Hopped on to tell you a story. but you know what? Now i don't even feel like telling it. So, nevermind.