Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Rhoda and Opie: A Coupla Freaks

Here's the story, or the query, or the mystery, and if any one out there is able to decipher exactly what happened, or is willing to give advice, surely you are going to heaven, or whatever your version of it might be: a really good concert, a delicious dinner, or an amazing sexual experience?

How does one decipher the difference when you are in a bad situation with someone and they are a freak and you are a freak? You both behave badly, but your own perspective is shot. Do you blame the other person, especially since you have concrete evidence that he or she is thin-skinned, naive, and, well, young? After you know he's fudged a few stories at work to cover himself? Do you continue to trust someone after he's complained about you to an authority at work? In another context, that question would seem absurd to me, like "he punched me in the face - should I try to forgive him"? What if you know the other person has at least as much anxiety as you? What if you feel you are introducing the whole story with a clear bias, so that the reader is already won over to your side, without even realizing that lapses in judgment occurred? (Notice the cute illustration, to feign compensation for above-mentioned bias. ) Did I ever claim to be Jewish saint? (Maybe I did, but that's a rhetorical question.)



Don't get all hot and bothered over there - I made it sound worse than it is, and this is not someone I am currently talking with more than a professional hello. I don't know why I care, and I don't know if it's genuine caring, but I know I am beseiged with questions and hopes. Hope that I haven't messed with my job too much; hopes that something can be salvaged. How embarrassing. The connection between us was chipping off anyway, due to circumstances described below, and when I asked a colleague to check on said person, said person became enraged that I would "gossip" about him. So maybe that means he has not demeaned me to every human at work? Why am I not more angry? Anger is a huge part of my identity, with a specialty in self-righteous anger.


Let's take a more serious look. Say Rhoda - not Mary, of course! - is at her job. She's a beading teacher, creating beads to stroll through for all sorts of folks. And say Rhoda is having a hard time, like Joe's been kind of a jerk lately because he wants to leave the show, and even though Rhoda knows it's better that way - a happily married Rhoda was an oxymoron, really, and signaled the demise of something pure - and so Rhoda goes to work and everything seems good at work, despite personal woes. (Oh I know Rhoda had a spin-off, but that's besdie the point.) She is beading with a young, inexperienced guy - we'll call him Opie, although that's not exactly right - and he seems nervous a lot, but then they realize that they both love, well, beads, and the same hippie music, and he is almost as funny as she is. No, definitely as sensitive, and sort of funny. They yak about all sortsa stuff, including their respective assessments of their beading students, movies, books, 'the works.'

She neglects to notice as more than a nagging whisper that he is wildly disorganized, and she doesn't quite know what to do about joint projects that he doesn't seem to care about. When they actually have to teach something to a group of prospective beaders, it's great, and they are even using Bob Dylan-style beading. (Isn't it weird that Bob Dylan's name is Bob? Bob is such a mundane and fun name. He seems more like Caleb.)

Oh, anyway. So Rhoda's all like so middle-agey-bogged-down and she's having a lotta fun with this guy at work - he should be Ritchie, actually - and people at work are like, hmmm, big-personality Rhoda is maybe going overboard. Rhoda doesn't notice. Often, they leave at the same time because the mini-guy has signed on for extra duties that he hates, but he is unable to tell The Boss that he hates them , and Rhoda is stuck with extra work. She doesn't really mind, and she helps him some. They talk about it, but Rhoda tells him beaders help each other out, and Richie is new: after his first year, it will be easier. One night, The Big boss moves a deadline up, and they take all of their papers out to eat, and correct them together, alternating between serious work, serious chat, and very not-serious chat.


I am really truly getting to the point, but this is hard difficult painful and I need to not glass over either Rhoda's or Ritchie's freakiness.

One day Big Boss, not an unfair person, but idiosynchratic, at least, and not so far off from Lou Grant, or Ed Asner (there really wasn't a difference: he played himself, like Peter Falk aka Columbo), sits Rhoda down. So Lou says "Rhoda, I had to learn this. You hafta learn this. People are talking." Oops, I left out a part.


Flashback! (If you were hoping for logical sequence you wouldn't be reading this, anyway.) Big Boss, a week earlier, tells Rhoda that she - Rhoda - is going to specialize in a certain type of bead design, as many of the inner-city students are way below bead-level - and that she and Opie will not be together any more. Rhoda is taken aback, she cries even, later. Lou is tactless, telling her in the hallway, while beading students gossiped and compared styles all around her. What is going on? How did this happen so quickly? Why had Lou spoken to Ritchie that morning - to ask his opinion - yet not to Rhoda? It is all quite disturbing, yet still, Rhoda proceeds, in her quirky, nervous-energy way, to do her work.

Lou says - back to the hallway - he went to a conference yesterday, and after all, the two jobs were originally meant to be separate (that's true). Rhoda has to move her things out of the joint office, and she tells Opie - he reverts back at some point - that she has been evicted. Opie had honestly talked about wanting to work on his own because he needed to do well without an experienced beader always there, but he was torn. Rhoda told him to do what was best for him. He had informed Lou one morning that either would be fine; he told Lou later in the day that he wanted things to remain the same. Lou interrupted - "I'm splitting you up!" Maybe Opie had realized how much Rhoda is working on (cynical view). Maybe he remembered how well they had worked together (who knows). They had received a lot of praise about their work together. (Notice that was all past-tense/pre-split, and that it quickly became a moot point.)


Rhoda spends a week trying to connect with Opie - he is stand-offish. He has the flu or something and whenever she sees him he is blowing his nose. He teaches a creative lesson that she had planned without thanking her or mentioning it. The beaders all love the lesson. Rhoda is wildly jealous, working on what seems like far less interesting stuff. She pesters him for her things. Remember how Rhoda had asked a colleague how Opie was doing? by now the tension between them is clear. Rhoda googles "apology," although she is already pretty good at it, and manages a strong apology on a Friday morning. Unbeknownst to Rhoda, Opie had ratted her out the night before. Wow, you can really tell how obsessed I am with this whole issue, huh? It's starting to seem a little funny to me at this point.

Oh God, back to the story. Lou says, "Look, Rhoda. People are talking. You and Opie had an argument and you sent him a text message asking him to talk to you. You mentioned drinking. You gotta stay away from him." Rhoda is mortified, horrified, embarrassed, angry, and fearing for her job. She is a married woman, devoted to her kids and family. Somehow all sorts of feelings had leaked out. She had been out with a bunch of colleagues and invited Opie. He had shared the email out-of-context. He was so wrong, and such a freak, and such an asshole to 'tell on her,' without ever talking to her. He was the classic, fearful, afraid of-conflict guy. For Rhoda, the anniversary of something painful had just passed, and despite knowing how righteous she was, Rhoda sorta knew she'd been acting crazy, hounding Opie about little remnants of connections, like supplies she needed back, books, and information beaders share.

She and Opie had confided in each other. They were both wounded souls. They hung out in the same places. He gave her one of his CDs. But there was an undercurrent of something, and instead of letting it be, it just sort of flared up.

So the question is not what should Rhoda do, because she already did exactly what Lou prescribed, and he told her at the end of the week that she had done well at the new-fangled beading assignment. He had said to stay out of staff meetings while things cooled off. He had said beaders gossip. He had said that he had been in a similar situation once, and that he would teach Rhoda how to avoid it again. He told Rhoda not to speak to a soul about it; he told Rhoda that he knows everything that 'goes on' at the beading establishment. Yikes! Could that possibly be true?

She is working on trusting herself again. She is still obsessing, but not as much. Eating? Not really. Sleeping? A bit better. Watching movies, listening to loud music, writing, looking through papers, thinking about beading. Joe is suddenly very supportive. Maybe the show will stay on the air, after all. Or maybe she's a bit more of a Phyllis (Chloris Leachman - off the fucking wall, and almost as over-sexed as SueAnn Niven)?

But why would Rhoda still care about Opie, who basically betrayed her, and actually complained to Lou? Is she obsessed or compassionate? The original sentiment was some maternal-type concern about his lack of professional care-taking re beading requirements. She became a pseudo-stalker and it was all wrapped up in confusion and - as the DSM IV manual says - a loss of awareness that her behavior was out of the ordinary. Rhoda still wants to contact Opie! Why? Partly because she doesn't like to leave things unresolved - she hates it - but also because she misses the sudden, intense companionship, she misses another lost friend from a while back, Edward, and she misses her little brother, although Rhoda refuses to over-do this point.

I wrote a poem once called "I love too much." Omigod that's like that pop-psychology book. but it's not that I stay with people who are bad for me, it's that I see the details in people, I feel for them, and I love them as whole personalities.

Obviously Rhoda was so mortified that she didn't quite tell anyone, even here, the whole entire exact story. She tried to tell her great and excellent friend Gotcha, an older and wiser confidante. She told enough. There was nothing physical that went on between them, there was no lying to Joe; there was just so much intricacy to the friendship that it is still impossible to 'pin down.' Other folks validated the fact that Opie was something of a freak, but what am I, if not a freak?

Opie still has some of Rhoda's books and beads and other things, but she is leaving them in the old office until a light moment comes up. Rhoda fears that she will be removed from the team completely, and she is prepared to switch from the idea of a hiatus to a division. Rhoda adores the people on the rest of the team, all of whom are professional and kind adults. Rhoda is always going to have to manage mental health issues. She really, really wants to go back in time, in a lot of ways. Not like Aunt Bea, or anything, but definitely before the bad things happened, and before the really bad thing happened.

I've always thought it was absurd when people detailed their shit at work, because who really cares about other people's work shit? Nevertheless, I needed to air this one, and I need some sanity. The former may be happening already; the latter is going to take awhile. After all, Rhoda settled for what she could get, and I eat life up like I'm starving, despite the consequences.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

I Have Been Crazy

Oh hello. Isn't it a funny situation when everything seems lovely, charmed even, and you go to work and you are perky happy good-looking, and then things start moving along a bit fast and you are oh-so-capable and then after all of the nausea, missed sleep and racing thoughts you find out, as you sort of already knew, that you are hypo-manic or manic or just too fucking fast. Oops, that was a question - right, so isn't it odd? When you are spinning but you don't quite know it? Like the way we useta play records on the wrong speed? Was that a question? Huh?

I have wanted to write many times but it has been hard to pin down, so to speak, exactly what I would be saying. The letters would be barely enough to communicate the hash of emotion and the words would be sluggish, with the slimy-dull trail that slugs leave behind. My brother's birthday was in the first week of February, and I remember the actual day very well - or more to the point, the actual moment when we heard that we had a baby brother. Now his birthday is a psychological squeeze, the paradox of his not-alive self. "I cannot fathom it," he once told me, in response to an awful experience I had had, and now those words are truly apt.

So rather than fathom, my clever gray cells have developed an altogether new situation that provides so much distraction from true feelings that I can pretend I have none (apart from nervous anxiety, of course). The clincher, the rub, as it were, may be that one of my anti-depressants is actually fucking me up. There is no way to really know at the moment so I am taking something on top of everything else to calm myself, and waiting to do it one-by-one. I am not going to change a whole buncha crap so that we can guess what happened.


I would like to state, for the record, or for posterity, or for my one dear reader and the dog, that anxiety is painful. It fucking hurts. It caused me to do things that showed less-than-perfect judgment. Other people may have less-than-perfect judgment anyway, but mine is usually excellent, despite my other flaws. Fortunately, no one in my personal life has the opportunity to judge me, nor would they. And that is the patched-together first attempt to write; and so I boldly, or simply, go on, externally functioning and internally visualizing the old 'Road-Runner' cartoons: surely there was a swish, after he went "beep, beep," that no one could truly see, and no one had taken the time to deliberately draw. Too fast to decipher - that was the message. Aha! A goal. Perhaps a swith from the old Warner Brothers to the calming and contemporary Miyazaki?

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Yogaphoria

You know you are having a good yoga class when you are able to clear out all of your thoughts and all that is left is a sensation akin to excellent sex, the kind you feel all over. My absolute favorite yoga teacher - GuruMama - is brilliant. She knows all about varied types of yoga, how it will make you feel, anatomy, and emotions. She knows how to get me feeling like I am important, I am strong, and I can do some cool things with my body.

If I sound a bit over-the-top, it's because I am. The class put me into a clear euphoria. We started with a type of yoga where you do some repeated movements with your arms and basically you continue past the point at which you think you will have to stop. I have always loved it when people have told me to try harder. It is a comfort to me, a hand on my shoulder leading me to my best self. Since I know GuruMama well, I know that she insists that people listen to their own bodies and minds. So it was my choice, and it felt like someone had spiked my blood with a bit of something extra.

What a phenomenal world: one great teacher can bring profound happiness. Who would have thought a few months ago that I could feel this good? I dunno how long it will last, but it's super right now.

Off to contemplate my wonderfulness-

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

The Beauty of My Nature



Isn't it funny how something in nature can look so like something in nature? This is a magnified photo of my vulva. You may have thought that it was a flower, but that's because my vulva is so flower-like and sweet-smelling, too.

Isn't it amazing, the way you know something wonderful is inside, but you can't quite see it? And no, I did not shave for the picture. It was simply taken in red-photo-cellular light, and all other colors are faded to virtual transparency.

I admit that I did clean up a bit. Any residuals that might have been there were tidied away - who wants to see discharge on a picture of a vulva? Anyway, I have always loved the way there are so many folds and unique spots. After childbirth, the whole area seemed to enlarge just a bit. Soon the vagina and everything shrunk back to the original size, and the newborn prepared for his driving test.

For those of you walking around with a small vulva: don't worry! Size doesn't matter. You may not be able to carry a baseball around the house, but you can still enjoy life. It could seem like I'm showing off, but it's just my self-love shining through. At night, the petals fold in and protect my vagina, just like a princess in a fairy tale. It's a bit disconcerting in the a.m. when I unfold, but one grows accustomed to one's gifts.

On an unrelated topic, I'm having trouble finding a comfortable bike seat. Any recommendations?