PERFECTION – isn’t that too boring?

I don’t want to be perfect or be called perfect, because I consider it a huge insult. I fully understand that you might see perfection in me, but please do not tell me – I beg you. But if in a moment of insanity laced weakness you blurt out how perfect I am, I would feel sad and distraught. And why would I feel that way? Because I find that perfection is boring – and I don’t want to be considered boring – do you?

Perfection is the state of completeness, of utmost flawlessness. The old Greek dude Aristotle explained a few years back perfection as something which is complete and contains all essential parts, something that is so good that it cannot to any extent be made any better or something that has attained its full purpose. So to some extent we do use “perfect” correctly; not perfectly, but at least correct for others to understand what we mean.

Some self-proclaimed brainy dudes came up with the statement that a singular paradox would be that the greatest perfection is imperfection. And my brain burps and goes into deep confusion, screaming: whatever!

But then I realize that this statement could have some merit. This is what I think: People (as in you and I) are not perfect – because it is impossible for us to reach perfection – though a few of us are getting pretty darn close. So let’s swing with that and then consider that we could be perfect in-spite of our imperfections or more so because of our imperfections. So we are as perfect as can be, because we (as in you and I) cannot be perfect, but we can reach perfection with our imperfections. Makes sense to me; how about you, too fast?

Anyway, the reason I am not willing to be perfect or be called perfect, two situations I have successfully avoided so far, but only barely, is that when you have reached this level of completeness and flawlessness, you have absolutely nowhere to go. You cannot expand or develop any further and wouldn’t that quickly make you predicable to a fault and eventually boring? Yes it would, if you agree or not.

You see, the unpredictability in us Homo sapiens, within legal ramifications, is what makes us charming, exciting and fun to party with – well, most of us, huh? Okay, so this unpredictability can also expose sides not so charming, but at least it is not as utterly boring as perfection would be – do you see what I mean?

But the silly thing is that we still keep trying to improve ourselves and more than often with perfection as a guiding light, a goal we will never reach. I have nothing against any effort made that will help advance our lives, concerning who we are, relationships we are involved in and so forth; I am so totally for that, so if reaching for perfection will get the ball rolling - hallelujah. We are for the most part aiming too high this way – but we are for the most part also smart enough to know that, so it’s okay.

What about the ethical question whether women or men are perfect or should be perfect? Wouldn’t that clash with some kind of super-human form, an image so hard to put together even using our most vivid imagination? And when we finally think we got it right – then what? Again, we have nowhere to go, nowhere to expand beyond. So this super human will quickly go dull and boring, and will never be invited to another party – how sad is that?

Some people find my good friend George Clooney to be a perfect male specimen. I personally see the image of Lara Croft (hot first name, really) in Tomb Raider as being the alpha female body (with no human comparative, of course – yes I know that, duh); but Angelina Jolie did play the part (physically) very fitting…

The small village of Saint Paul de Vence in the South of France lingers in my memory as one of the most perfect spots on earth. So many times with friends and dinners and conversations; lots of laughter and great near-to-perfect moments. A multitude of perfect times with my wife; as a human being she is not perfect, but to me she is so darn close to perfection (and therefor rarely boring).

Our trip to New York City and Washington DC a couple of years ago with our two sons (young adults) was traveling as good as it ever gets; many moments when visiting my Mother in Denmark. When napping with my dog resting on my legs and the cat curled up next to my head; and the list is very long.

These are of course not moments and places of perfect perfection, but on a human scale of reality they are so close that it doesn’t matter how perfect or not that they are or that they were; life doesn’t get much better than any of that – really.

When somebody has finished something or what-not, we round it up with perfect, meaning that the task has been completed, and we all understand that. It doesn’t mean that it can’t get any better, but just acknowledging that it’s okay and/or fine or good job or whatever; the term perfect fits the bill.

We don’t use perfection as much and when we use it, we more so mean close to excellent. But it’s not a completely lost word, as perfection has special meaning in math; it gives a proper name to certain numbers that demonstrate uncommon properties; but you already knew that, huh?

And we have perfect numbers (28 with divisors 14, 7, 4, 2 and 1) –what? We have a perfect flower that just happens to be bi-sexual (which makes dating a piece of cake). Aristotle also told close friends that he saw perfect as in complete, and I agree with him, as I see complete as done as well as can be done – at that time.

We acknowledge the impossibility of reaching perfection ourselves, but that doesn’t hold us back looking at people, images and things that we will and do consider perfect; doesn’t matter if it’s real or imagined (or my favorite: fantasized).

I like the words perfect and perfection. Even after all of the above, they both tell me that we tried our best, and if that reached the summit of excellence or not, that is pretty perfect to me.

As an afterthought: I’m actually okay with you finding me perfect, as long as you don’t find me boring. So perhaps you should call me nobody – because nobody is perfect – there’s an idea, huh?

DIETS – and good luck with that

Seems as everybody has been on some form of diet. Also seems as nobody has ever told me that they actually finished the diet they were on; I never did, but I’m finally on my way. Suppliers of diet tools like books, special foods, etc. are happy about these failures, like really happy. They should be as it’s a multi-billion dollar business and I really don’t have a problem with that.

The human framework, also known as the skeleton, is constructed to carry a limited load of muscles, fat, skin, internal stuff (Yuk!) and whatever. It has been determined by those who know that a handsome and charming male as yours truly, with a height of 6 foot 1 inch (approximately 184 cm.) should weigh between 140 to 190 pounds (for those of you living on the metric system: 64 to 86 kilos). I don’t know if I weigh too much, because I can’t see the read-out on the scale – my stomach is in the way (only kidding). Pound-wise I’m a bit in the dangerous area, but I’m on the way towards the healthy zone, slowly but surely; fascinating stuff, if you ask me.

Thousands of diet books, diet-plans, classes, nutrition experts and so forth constantly bombard us with the new and ultimate end-all-diets, with a new end-all-diets coming out just about every day. And we obviously buy all this junk again and again because we are naïve in believing that one of those plans will eventually work. So we buy boxes of crappy food that stinks up the house after two minutes in the microwave oven, smells like the burning cardboard/foam box it came in and the box probably tastes better than the food inside – just add a dash of ketchup or ranch dressing. All we are getting are smaller portions, packaged for the big money.

To me DIET is just DIE with a T. But here’s my free solution to any weight you want to lose. The magic word is DISCIPLINE, that’s all it takes – and it’s one we have a terrible time taking control of.

We decide to go on a diet because we need to for whatever reason. We can buy a diet-plan, we can read about diets or make up our own plan – it is actually very simple. The main reason we decide on a diet is primarily because of the way we look, though the priority to any diet, any weight loss attempt should be because of health. Our skeleton is built to carry a certain weight. Any excess poundage is simply adding strain on bones and joints, heart, lungs and other internal (Yuk) stuff that need to function with the highest efficiency.

Technically dieting is when we deliberately select certain foods to control our body weight or nutrient intake – but primarily to drop some pounds. So when we apply that discipline thing, plan our meals according to suggestions we can easily get from the Internet, we will lose weight – guaranteed. Another free advice is, that eat what you eat now, but cut the portions in half. Yes, it’s Hell in the beginning, but you teach your stomach and brain to acknowledge the smaller portions and they pretty much adjust accordingly, getting full faster by not expecting more. Of course you have produce, all that green and leafy stuff, as well as fruit to fill up the “hungry” spaces and it’s healthy too. Exercise is essential and something we can never get enough of. But I don’t want to be another end-all-diets guru - other than just mention that discipline thing again.

When I arrived in the USA in 1975 I weighed in at 165 pounds. I pretty much kept that weight till about 10 years ago. I biked a lot at the time (200 miles per week), but suddenly became afraid of getting hit by a car, so it wasn’t a pleasure biking anymore – and I stopped. Early last year I hit 227 pounds (Yuk again) and decided that was more than plenty, way enough, unhealthy and utterly ugly. So I disciplined myself with even more exercise, dog-walking and by watching the sizes of my food intake. I’m at 211 now and will by the end of this year reach 192 pounds. It will still be a bit high according to my bone structure and height, so I’ll see how I feel, and especially see how I look at 192 – probably more handsome if that is even possible…

As with most adjustments we make in our lives, more or less drastic changes, do not set impossible goals. Don’t plan on losing those 50 pounds by next Saturday’s barbeque (as it can only be achieved by cutting off a limb you are not using a lot – that would be an arm or a leg – or both? Duh), but attack you weight loss using small baby steps, one pound at a time; be disciplined and stay positive.

It’s actually easy to lose weight when we determine to do so, but the tougher part is that we for the most part find it again. But what has really worked for me and is still working, is that when I have lost yet another pound, then I concentrate on not getting it back. Sure it’s an up and down battle, but the more I practice it, the lighter I get – baby steps and discipline.

My main thing is the smaller portions of what I eat. Sure there are more green stuff and fruit in my diet than I inhaled back in the wild calorie days, but I’m not going totally diet-wacko as I do like ice cream and the occasional three pounds of Redvines (that’s a candy thing around here).

Of course I do not recommend trying to lose weight following the advice on the list below – but wouldn’t it be diet-heaven if it worked?

PETER’S TEN RULES OF DIETING

Never put off till tomorrow what you can eat today

Eat every meal as if it is your last

Chew your food at least once

Avoid fruits and nuts. After all, you are what you eat

Snack ONLY between meals

Don’t save your dessert for last. Eat it first

Never go back for seconds. Get it all the first time

Set your scale back 5 pounds. On second thought, make it an even 15

Vegetables are essential: so we have carrot-cakes and pumpkin-pies

Last but not least: Hang around people who are fatter than you

Okay, I used to be much more concerned about my looks (for obvious reasons) than any form of “health” issues. But when I got bigger my looks started to fade in importance, to where it was much more important that I took care of my health.

And that is what I’m doing now; not just for me anymore. Now it’s part of respecting my wife and my children. I don’t look like the 165 pounder anymore (lucky me, really), but even in my heavier version I’m still utterly adorable. Smaller portions, somewhat healthier food without going crazy, exercise and that discipline thing; yeah, I’ll reach my goal – I have no doubts… How about you?

JEALOUSY – a lousy emotion

We have all been jealous and we will no doubt run into more of that unpredictable emotion as long as we shall live. Some of us deny ever being jealous, and that is also okay; among the reasons for this denial is that jealousy is considered a weakness, and we do not want to appear pathetic, do we? It is a lousy emotion and it is there for all to see and perhaps to avoid? (Jea)- lousy – there you have it.

For the most part we attach jealousy to human interaction, though I also find jealousy among animals. During vast research I consistently observe how Tess gets jealous when I pet Mindy (that would be our dog and cat) and vice versa; but it’s more so between humans that the real deal is.

No matter how much sociologists inform us that cultural beliefs and values trigger jealousy on most levels, I am convinced that we don’t really give a hooters where it’s coming from. When we are jealous, the origin has no interest as we are too busy being, well, jealous.

So what is involved in this lousy emotion? We find fear of loss, suspicion of or anger about perceived betrayal, low self-esteem and sadness, uncertainty and loneliness, distrust, plus a vast variety of insecurities and loads of anxieties. As you can see, nothing seems too appealing, huh?

Jealousy can be listed within sibling rivalry, family, sports, the workplace, in platonic friendships and so many other places; but the big one is ROMANCE. That’s the one where we for the most part see jealousy pop up as the Green-Eyed Monster. Yes, Gentle Readers that is actually what some people also call jealousy. For the fact-seekers out there, that term is believed to come from Shakespeare’s Othello (act III, Scene 3, line 169 – if you really need to know).

Romantic jealousy, which of course is not romantic at all, involves rivalry for the same man or woman, suspicion, lack of superiority, anger, resentment, inadequacy, helplessness, disgust and many other lovely sub-emotions. For those who have been through this emotional rollercoaster ride, the common opinion is:

BEING JEALOUS SUCKS BIG TIME

And adding to the fire, jealousies can be based on reality (duh!) as well as imagination, random rumors, guessing, anger, lack of facts and my all-time favorite: assumptions. The thing is that when we are caught in jealousy, constructive and solution-based thinking as well as common sense are not in the same zip-code. All the energy is geared towards the pain, confusion and self-pity we surround ourselves with – pretty much placing ME in the center of self-inflicted misery.

“Self-inflicted”? Sure, certain situations ignite jealousy and we get involved, but can we control our involvement to some extent? When Gertrude all of a sudden find Hans to be much more exciting and much sexier than Franz (her husband the last 22 years), Franz’s initial reaction is surprise and anger; perhaps not in that order. So could Franz actually handle the situation without involving jealousy? Of course he could.

Okay, so he admits that he has not been the stud-muffin Gertrude started out with and that it only took him a year to take Gertrude for granted. The romantic notes quickly dried up with the rest of the romance Gertrude fell in love with back then. “Fair enough”, Franz admits, as he acknowledges his failures. He blesses Gertrude and Hans’ newfound love, gives Gertrude a divorce and moves on; Piece of Bavarian Chocolate Cake.

But that is only in fairytales. In life as it really is, Franz will be jealous all over the place, totally not acknowledging his lack of attention to Gertrude. All the signs of pure jealousy are, according to Franz’s ignorance, taking him out of the equation of guilt. It’s more like: “How the heck could she do this to me?”, when he in fact should say: “How could I have been so stupid – I have always loved Gertie, but obviously I stopped showing her how much I loved her…”

Jealousy is a form of protective reaction we are hiding behind; it’s a reaction to a perceived threat. Unfortunately it can involve a lot of “stuff” in our everyday life. We can find jealousy in so many areas: financially, looks, achievements of others and too many things to mention. To me the deal is that of course we are not really that jealous on a daily basis; we are not running around screaming: “Dang it, I should, I would and I could (this or that)” followed by the proverbial: “Why not me?”

But let’s not give jealousy all the credit. The synonym ENVY is probably used more so; perhaps because it’s easier to spell? Even though jealousy and envy do have several equalities, to me envy seems a tad lighter. Don’t get me wrong, as I do not embrace many sides of envy – if any. Envy is explained as feelings of inferiority, longing or belonging, resentment, wanting to possess “rival’s” qualities and disapproval of feelings, etc. Sure some of this stuff is heavy emotions, or can be, but compared to jealousy, envy is still a bit lighter.

We use both terms equally and that is also fine, as we for the most part know what the person is going through, and if we call it jealousy or envy, either way it still sucks big time.

The reactions involving jealousy/envy can be extreme; that is how strong some of these emotions can become. Some can get so tragically involved (possessed?) by the situation and the people involved. The psychological ramifications can be immense, leading to actions beyond our imagination, causing sadness, destruction and disbelief.

That is where we acknowledge how terrifying jealousy can become – and that is what we must remember when the neighbor’s new car is, well, newer than mine – jerks. But instead of surrounding ourselves with jealousy and envy, we must be happy for them. They didn’t buy the new shiny car to stick it to us; they have saved for years and finally got enough money – and now the new car; let’s join them in their joy.

It’s hard to fully control all emotions; if we could, some of the charm being a human would vanish – don’t you think? But I still believe that we can avoid many silly situations by acknowledging the unimportance of them - by looking at the bigger picture.

Let’s more so share the happiness and fortune of our fellow human beings and they will share in our happiness and good fortune – beats envy and jealousy any day.

So don’t you agree that jealousy is a (jea)LOUSY emotion? I thought you would…

Here are some good links to go with the above:

TRUST

RELATIONSHIP

TAKING ME FOR GRANTED?

TELEVISION – the more the better?

 How much television do we watch? A group of average viewers from Pitfalls (Ohio) responded in agreement: “Not enough, we want more – we seriously need more, actually”. They all agreed that time in front of the television, is time well spent – especially when the TV is turned on!

“Me and husband just love watching TV with the kids,” added Patty Lou Rodin, who has a BS in agriculture and works for the local manure distributor. “It’s amazing how our tastes are so alike; choosing something to watch together is never a problem”.

Melvin Dabber, extremely single, continues: “Perfect for dinnertime. What could possibly be better than sucking your frozen TV-Dinner in front of:  Nip ‘n Tuck – Plastic Surgeon without a License”? For more “eating while watching television”, Mr. Dabber also suggested: Obesity – Is That You?  “But sometimes that show is hard to swallow!” he said giggling.

The group also concurred concerning the enormous help and support television supplies our youngsters during homework time. They agreed that the unfair academic challenges our children go through are tremendous. They have to balance learning basic academics, while listening to MP3 players – text Pitfalls High School’s entire cheerleader team (both of them) - chat on line while cradling the smart-phone between cheek and shoulder. Luckily, television comes to the salvation by blasting sensitive rap in between MTV-News about Paris Hilton - the superb buffer.

These are but a few excerpts from an utterly thorough research conducted by Dr. Pedro Steinbeck, Director of Human Fallacies, BOBS University, Downtown Paris (the one in Texas – not on Hilton). The report’s in-depth look at television today and its importance to the American society, socially and economically, involved several individuals including Dr. Steinbeck’s ex-wife, Lorelei Duke. The final report was published in January 2010 and received exceedingly positive reviews, and not only from Lorelei. Related government agencies fully agreed with the report and promised immediate action; hasn't happened yet, duh...

The weekly magazine “TV-Guide” fully embraced the report. Spokesperson Veranda Decker, (5’4” and weighing in at 92 pounds) expressed on behalf of her publication, that: “TV-Guide is finally being accepted as one of the most important publications in the country. We might soon become a more popular read than the Bible.” A veteran journalist from New York, asked Miss Decker if she recalled the misinterpreted “more popular than Jesus” statement made by John Lennon in 1966. “I’m sorry! I don’t follow football,” Ms. Decker responded - rather puzzled.

How did Dr. Steinbeck get involved? “I heard somebody utter an ignorant remark about the value of television some time back,” Dr. Steinbeck said in that cute foreign accent of his. “The statement came from the stall next to me. Somebody clearly moaned: “Do you know why television is called a ‘medium’? – It’s because it is never well done!”  I repulsed violently and decided to act immediately. I flushed, zipped up and went straight back to my office; something had to be done”.

It was clear to Dr. Steinbeck that something as powerful as television, something getting so much attention from just about everybody, something so holy and grand, should not be disrespectfully drilled into the dirt by any of those bleeding-hearted hippy Liberals of the press, nor of the government. He was determined to set the record straight - once and for all.          

Dr. Steinbeck also felt this research could possibly make him famous. He even went as far as thinking: “Nobel Prize is Right”. Publicly he stated (if anybody other than Lorelei wanted to listen), that he had not approached this challenge for any form of fame or fortune. (Privately though, he did hope for a possible formation of the ‘Steinbeck Groupies’, with visions of them running amok, semi clad, in his mobile home). Dr. Steinbeck challenged the issue of television because he knew “good from evil”: Television being “good” and those darn hippy Liberals being “evil”. Dr. Steinbeck strapped on his remote and went to work.

First priority:  A test-group needed to be assembled. He searched for people who watched TV constantly: watched while being awake, while eating, while sleeping, while making out, while exercising, cooking, cleaning, showering, and while – no, we can’t go there. The search included people who enjoyed every program available, from “NFL Locker- Room Survivors” to “Athletic Cops” and all the way to “learning to paint from that weird white dude with the Afro”. Dr. Steinbeck found it easy to select the group, as just about every single citizen, legal or not, would be a qualified prospect.

The second action was to create a scientific name for the group. Dr. Steinbeck animatedly discarded the suggestion: “test-dummies” as a degrading, derogatory, disrespectful, unprofessional and ignorant name. After several hours of constipation, he proudly announced that the name of the group would be: "Research Dummies” (RD).

The RD, consisting of 8 members, representing two major ethnic groups (males & females), were issued an extensive questionnaire concerning TV viewing habits, level of understanding the programs, language, commercials, quality of sitcom laugh-tracks, honesty in news reporting, etc. The following are just a few excerpts from this massive research report - unedited.

COMMERCIALS:

The RD agreed that most commercials have an overwhelmingly positive affect on our society. The group put commercials into five categories: “The good ones, the somewhat good ones, the ones that are less goodder than the first two good ones, the funny ones, and the ones nobody really understands due to complicated story-lines,” (as in beer commercials).

Asked if he felt beer commercials give a true picture concerning the products and what it can do for the consumer, Bubba (actually his real name) replied:

“It’s telling me, that we all have a chance with the beer-chicks. I mean, look at those happy drinkers, the chicks with those teasing smiles, small pieces of tight spandex covering those great {censored}. After several beers, see how they even eye those of us with a bit of a weight challenge,” Bubba is holding back tears. “I mean, even I could eventually get lucky – those commercials give you such hope. I love what they are telling us.”

“Have you actually met any of those young ladies?”

“Not yet,” Bubba smiles with teethes missing “But I keep drinking. And you know what? It has been scientifically proved, that the more beer the beer-chicks chuck down, the better they think I look.  And they also tell us, that the more beer we drink, the “butt-wiser” we get!” Bubba laughs loudly while we desperately try to avoid the stench from the bad joke, the beer & nut breath.

Overall, the sentiment was that good, solid, interesting, and helpful messages are being communicated to the viewers. The commercials were also marked as honest and certainly not misleading, as many of those Liberals claim. “Damn them hippies!” The group agreed.

PBS (Public Broadcasting Service):

The RD agreed, that this type of liberal propaganda, this filth and these endless quantities of falsified and misguided broadcasts, these “opera” screamers and holier than thou programs without commercials, are degrading, un-American and suspect. “And what about Sesame Street; what the hell are we telling the rug rats? You have somebody pretending to be a talking character made from fuzzy florescent remnants of used wall-to-wall carpeting, controlling it’s every move by sticking a hand up its butt? Really, it doesn’t get more disturbing and perverted than that, does it?” Pearl is the mother of six, so she would know. “And the way they are portraying that Oscar character” she continues, “like this really grouchy loser, living out of a trashcan. So where’s the problem with that? My uncle…” Pearl starts to choke up a bit.

PBS, or “Propaganda BS”, as the group renamed it, was voted a no-no for anybody to watch. The group did not find any form of value in that kind of television. Bubba said: “And they keep asking you for money. I don’t wanna pay to watch TV. No way, dude! Money’s for beer - not ballet crap and opera.”

REALITY SHOWS:

The group agreed 100% that it is so hard to believe how real these shows really are. They all became rather emotional when the talk turned towards the participants who were being eliminated. “You could just see how rejected she felt. All the others on the island hated her and you knew she was devastated when they told her to get lost. All those tears mixed with make-up running down her face. I had to reach for the TP myself. ” Shelby, an AA veteran of 22 years, smiled a bit shyly. George continued: “Yeah, she was one sad chick for sure. But it was cool how they filmed her as she walked away, into the sunset, shoulders slumping, dejected and crying; her thong hanging a bit loose, while giving us the finger. It was a sad sight; I’ll never forget it.” George reached for the TP himself.

NEWS SHOWS:

All agreed that primarily the honesty in news reporting is superb and overwhelming. No fluff, no fill, no fancy words beyond five letters. “The interpersonal communication between the anchor-people is truly amazing”, according to the RD. “You feel they are your close friends, right there, in your bedroom, telling us like it is”, Lorelei says. “And how about all those small friendly stabs at the end of the broadcast, when they make fun of each other, when they all laugh and, I mean, you can’t write stuff like that; it’s amazing. They even have fun with the weatherperson”. Dr. Steinbeck cleared his throat at this point and added: “I think the weather is better on Channel 5!” - They all looked rather puzzled.

“Doesn’t it bother you that they make jokes and laugh right after they have told you how many young Americans have died in Iraq and Afghanistan so far?” we asked. “Where?” They all answered…

Dr. Steinbeck’s research report has certainly opened the eyes of the nation. The reality for all of us, finally being able to publicly acknowledge the positive influence television has on us, as individuals and as a society (functional or not), is refreshing. We all used to feel a bit sheepish when asked if we had seen such and such show, and we always, defiantly loud, claimed that we most certainly “do not watch TV and if we did, we would most certainly not watch that show”. We all did it and admitting we did, is okay. Now we can proudly and without shame, (but maybe with a bit of nausea) say: “I watch as much TV as the rest of the country!”

By watching television, we pompously and patriotically support our country, support the United States of America, its economy and its sponsors: Nike, Budweiser, Kraft Foods, Pepsi, PantyLiners R Us, Nissan and the rest of the bunch. Are you doing your part?

Rounding out our interview, we asked Dr. Steinbeck:

“How would you describe ‘bad television’?”

“The only ‘bad television’ is the one that falls on your head!”  Dr. Steinbeck might still be laughing.

Disclaimer: For security reasons, all the person’s names used in this article have been changed. For example: Lorelei Duke’s real name is Pamela Schwartz, and so on.

Update: The “Steinbeck Groupies” disbanded the very moment they ran out of beer. For the record: They only ran amok once – it was a bathroom thing. Dr. Steinbeck now lives in a previously owned mobile home in Coca Cola, Florida.

WHO’S TO BLAME? – anybody but me

When we succeed in something, we eagerly take credit for it and perhaps we even lead the way to get our accomplishments acknowledged; fair enough. But when we do something in the OOPS category, we have a tendency to immediately look around for anybody to blame or something to be fully responsible, other than ourselves - but do you think that’s fair?

So here you go: “Not me; I pretty much fess up to all the OOPS in my life; I take full responsibility for my actions…” At least that’s what you think you do, but you really don’t. Of course that does not make you a bad person – just confirms that you are “one of us”, really.

I’m sitting here writing, using my trusted software and fast computer with all its impressive technology. More stuff in the word-processing program that I will ever be able use, or more likely, will never be able to figure out how to use; duh…

The screen goes blank, I lost two hours of work; so do I go (in a calm, deep and sensuous voice): “Oh, I wonder what has happened? Did I do something wrong? Did I press a key that should not have been pressed at this time? Did the cat run across the keyboard without my permission? Was that an earthquake?” That would be a good initial reaction, by looking for a reason within myself, by first checking what I might have done wrong; but that is not what we do.

My immediate reaction is an angry confrontation with that bloody computer, as in: “What the *&^%$ is happening? God damn stupid useless piece of technology – I hate it, ignorant pile of crap…” And then I proceed to kick the Hell out of it till it expires right in front of me – I’m sure you go: Yeah, been there and done that…

When looking at the two very different reactions, we ALL vote for option one, where we search within ourselves first, to find out what happened and find a way to fix it (in the above case: push sleeping cat off keyboard). But we blindly race into option two, doing the swearing and kicking bit. So why do we do that? Why are we playing the blame-game?

I see us use blame as an innocent component in our everyday life; we try to hide embarrassment in failing, by placing responsibility somewhere else. So we use the: “I didn’t do it” approach. And in most cases it is innocent and a rather natural (yeah, right) reaction. Rarely do we use it to speak ill of, to slander, and/or to find faults with other people or as a reproach; we do the normal blame bit in a much milder version… And we started doing all this as little kids.

As a small boy, my brother spat on the dining-room table; when our Mother saw it, she asked what had happened. My brother insisted that it was the lamp above the table that had done it. My Mother didn’t get upset about the spitting on the table, but it was negating telling the truth she did not accept – early case of the blame-game. And we have all been there and done that; yes, even the angels among us (and you know who you are)…

For the most part I don’t think we do this with malice, as I firmly trust that we do it more so out of embarrassment, trying to avoid the fact that we made a mistake; in most cases nobody really cares. But of cause the blame-game unfortunate also evolves into bigger issues and becomes a huge concern, dramatically affecting a few as well as many in serious ways.   

Criminals have a tendency to claim innocence by either stating that they didn’t do it (duh), or place blame on somebody else, no matter how convincing the forensic evidence stacks up against them (“denial” at its worst). They had an OOPS moment and can’t admit guilt – “The devil made me do it”, is another good one...

Alcohol and illegal drugs are getting a huge mountain of blame for so many things: affairs, traffic violations, idiotic behavior, more affairs, being loud at parties (been there and done that), slurry speech, just being stupid doing stupid things and the list is very long. Some issues are serious, others: …whatever?”

Alcohol and drugs are getting way too much credit; using any of the two as an excuse for pitiful behavior, is pathetic and irritatingly ignorant. I have certainly done my share of stupid stuff way back in my youth (1832), but in all fairness, I have never used the “It’s okay because I was sauced…”as an excuse (never done drugs – most of us “angels” don’t do that).

We have politicians blaming left and right, front and back. Why not use that wasted energy to find solutions instead, so we can move forward? Divorce courts are full of angry finger pointing with the blame-game at full speed. Shouldn’t they instead have looked at themselves first, tried to figure out how they each could have contributed to a better relationship, thereby have avoided court and lived happily ever after?

We play team sports and we win and we lose. We blame loses on others (defense sucked today), and take the wins as if they were our personal achievement. If defense sucked, why don’t we all think about how we each can help defense get better – by moving forward as the team we are supposed to be?

At the office, the large potential contract fell apart. Departments are scrambling, trying to find somebody to blame. Yeah, you can also look at it as searching for reasons why it fell apart, but the truth is that no matter how we pack it, blame is in the forefront, though we have a hard time admitting so. Let’s immediately admit to the failure causing the break-down, no matter who is responsible, learn from it, regroup and then move forward.

I have always respected people who announce out loud that they screwed up - because we all screw up at times– but we have such a hard time admitting we did.

When I hear somebody “blaming” something or somebody else for their own misfortune one way or another, I have a tendency to cringe a bit. If I know them well enough, I simple ask what THEY have done to fix it. Most answers are “huh?” - Which also explains why I don’t have many friends – of course.

Parker-Brothers should buy my philosophy about blame and make it into a board-game. Yeah, I know, my gentle readers are of course not into blaming anybody or anything for their OOPS moments – but all of us would still be great at playing Peter’s BLAME-GAME; don’t you think?

STEPHANIE FROM IRELAND

Is everything okay?

Cheers, Peter

ON THE WRONG END OF A GUN

I want to tell you this true and very real story. With all the talk about stricter rules concerning gun ownership here in the USA, I thought it appropriate. In one sense, as in retrospect, it’s funny - in a morbid kind of way; but as I went through it, nah, it was not funny at all.

Many years ago, I worked as fleet-manager at a car-dealership in San Francisco. A fun friend, JC, was the business-manager – my boss. As it probably still is today, it was a game of selling as many units as possible, making as much money imaginable, so a mix of greed and pushiness dominated; you know, high powered sales attitude. Not that I see anything wrong in that, as long as buyer beware.

So we jumped eagerly into any situation to make a sale; the lore of the mighty dollar. My sales attitude was always in favor of the customer; that was the way I was taught selling, working in Europe. It had worked well there, and it was working really well for me here in the USA. Sure I got caught up in the greediness within the car-business, as we also ran into lean times once in a while; so we worked hard, sold hard and pushed even harder.

This guy, about 35, walked in; I was helping out on the showroom floor, so I greeted him in that charming, self-assured and lovely way of mine. He told me that he wanted to buy a fast and powerful car – and immediately I knew precisely what I wanted to sell him. It was one of last year’s models, which had a hefty bonus pay-out to the one selling it. I asked him to wait while I brought the car around for a test-drive.

He looked rather bland the way he sat and drove the car; overweight and seemingly boring. He had the steering-wheel very close to his chest – a weird driving position. He told me that he needed a car as he had not been around for about five years; later on I found out the significance of that statement. But at the moment I was all: “I’m going to sell him this car and get a big bag full of money;” (the greed part, remember?)

We drove around San Francisco for about 15 minutes and I was wondering why he didn’t want to get on the freeway to test the speed and power – but no. Finally we were going south on Van Ness Avenue towards the dealership; and that was when he told me that something was poking into his lower back. He reached behind him with his left hand and slowly pulled out a handgun that he immediately stuck into my stomach. Now, has that ever happened to you? I hope not. It created one of those few situations in my life where I felt I had to be rather careful about what I was going to say next; something I have always had a slight (read: enormous) problem controlling.

He stopped by the curb, still with what now felt like a huge cannon pressed into my ribs. For some profound reason (duh) he had stopped right in front of the Holy Trinity Cathedral; I thought a mortuary would probably have been more appropriate.

“I’m sorry, but I have to borrow your car…” he said in a calm and controlled voice. My first idiotic thought was to respond like: “That means you are not going to buy it?” as I saw a vast commission and enormous bonus disappearing. But instead I decided to get the hell out of there and wisely negate on being sarcastically funny – but more so bent on staying alive; I considered that a good choice, even back then. I do trust the gun had a lot to do with my decision. Another fleeting thought I had was: “Is that thing loaded – ha-ha?” Or the last gasp before I met my Maker: “Need a tenner for gas?” But I wisely left all the humorous stuff on the floor.

So I quickly hauled my butt out of the car, noted the church and ran as furiously fast I could. The dealership was about 6 blocks away – and I ran and ran and ran, getting rather sweaty… (Yuk).

Finally I stood in front of JC in his office. He calmly looked up as I screamed: “I got a cannon stuck into my stomach and he stole the car and I’m scared and pretty pissed”. JC looked at me and in a calm voice said: “Was it one of last year’s models?” I couldn’t believe that he asked that, as: “OMG, are you okay?” seemed more appropriate – but that was JC, and in retrospect I loved him for it; just such a calm and funny dude, really.

I was brought downtown (doesn’t that sound cool?) by two detectives and gave my report. I spent some hours going through mug-shots; some very scary images. But he wasn’t there. Oh my…

And life continued. For some reason I was okay with all this, and didn’t even think about what could have happened. People around me seemed more upset about it than I was. About once weekly the next couple of months the detectives came by my office and showed me more pictures – but I did not recognize him in any. One of the guys told me that after this gun-slinging dude had asked me to get out of the car, he drove across Golden Gate Bridge and robbed a bank in Marin; at gun-point.

Then one day, my detective pals returned; both grinning from ear to ear. They showed me a line-up of six photos, all nasty looking mug-shots (Yuk) – and there he was. I recognized him at once, though his head was puffy, bruised and beaten up, it looked like. The detectives told me that he had tried to steal a Mercedes from a dealership in Beverly Hills, but while being chased by the police, he crashed into a tree and was arrested. They told me that he had recently spent five years in jail for all kinds of nasty stuff. And of course I remembered that he told me he had not been around for five years – the irony.

They asked me if I was willing to go to Dallas (Texas) to testify if needed. I said yes, of course – like free trip and excitement, huh? And then they told me that he had been transported back to Dallas – on murder charges… All of a sudden I felt I had indeed been very lucky; and life continued.

A few weeks later JC showed up in my office. He had a big smile on his face and a check in his hand. “Can you do that again? We still have some of last year’s models in stock and we really need to get rid of them”. He handed me the check and told me the insurance had paid up and it was my commission plus a rather large bonus. The car was considered sold, though in a rather scary way. JC was happy that another one of “last year’s” units was off the floor – and still giggling.

Being on the wrong end of a gun is not fun – and I know, because I have been there… But luckily, no BANG BANG…

Till next Monday: make it a safe week or better: a safe life

Footnote:

Gun control is a complicated matter, but for starters, there are types of weapons that have absolutely no place in any society. Accessibility to weapons here in the USA is pretty much wide open, where it needs to be narrowed down by tighter restrictions and additional laws. A huge percentage of fatalities caused by guns, is from suicides – makes you think, huh?

TAKING ME FOR GRANTED? – please don’t

There are millions of things we take for granted; we trust, expect, anticipate, assume and believe certain things will happen when we do this or that or when we do nothing at all. In my opinion we don’t give things we take for granted enough credit or appreciation – well, because we take them for granted; duh!

Taking things for granted can be translated into stuff we expect will happen; action causing predictable and expected reaction and that includes all the mechanics surrounding us 24/7. Turn the key and the car starts; punch a number on our Smartphones and we are connected, actually connected to the world; computers are incredible instruments we take for granted big time and we even scream at them if they are too slow; we expect airplanes to stay afloat and land safely, but complain about the small bags of peanuts; hot water in the shower and multi functioning TV’s. The list of these appliances that we ignorantly take for granted, is obnoxiously long.

So once in a while stop and find appreciation in that your car starts and drive, mobile phone works; the complex construction of PC’s and how the heck do they do all that stuff – so fast; the physics of planes flying (accepting the peanuts as a cruel joke) and that at 35,000 feet and thousands of miles away from home, I can set the programming on our TV, using my iPhone, while eating those stupid peanuts. Isn’t all this amazing – really? And then we take it all for granted – when we should appreciate – huh?

But that is just all the “stuff”. So looking away from all the “stuff” for a moment, we acknowledge that the “taking for granted” thing also flourish rather well between us human beings; and this is where it becomes a bit tricky, at times sad and perhaps disappointing. We don’t really want that to happen, do we?

American psychologist Dr. Joyce Brothers wrote the following: “Being taken for granted can be a compliment. It means that you have become a comfortable, trusted element in another person’s life.” I’m not sure about you, but do you want to be called a comfortable, trusted element? Sounds more like something you would call that old trustworthy sofa you have taken for granted for years. But Joyce is cautious because she writes: can be a compliment; I certainly do not want anybody to take me for granted – comparing me to the bloody wall-to-wall carpeting.

For some reason, I find that when we start to take people for granted, which involves being able to predict their actions on all levels, it becomes a form of personality assassination – no matter what little or how much personality they had before we started to take them for granted. So you see, taking me for granted, assuming I will do this and that like clockwork, no matter how true and wonderful it is, I still see as an insult. And the stupid deal about it is, that it is rarely meant to be – so perhaps I’m just a bit sensitive and insecure; that might be it, don’t you think? (WAH WAH WAH).

I believe that most relationships dissolve when we start to take each other for granted. We find predictability to the point where it gets boring, no matter how exciting it actually is – or used to be. We don’t often step back and look at the bigger picture, make ourselves aware of how fortunate we are, how privileged we should actually feel and add up all the blessings we felt when we first met. The simple act of looking at those photos from the early part of our relationship reminds us about WHY we are together; the thoughts and feelings will for the most part rush back to us as strong reminders. It is a rather grand trip, it really is.

I have never taken the relationship with my wife for granted – not one single second. We have been successful in keeping each of our initial individualities on track, and have never tried to alter or change each other (okay, we have probably both tried – though unsuccessfully). We respect and appreciate who we are as individuals, and that has kept a lot of the initial interest in each other running through the years. Sure we know each other very well, thoughts, emotions and way we do things, so of course there are the moments when we expect this and that – but that’s okay, as long as taking for granted is not involved. (For the record: of course we have arguments at times – don’t you?)

How often have you actually contemplated your relationship with your best friend? Actually thought about why you are friends, the sides of her you like, things that makes her special, makes your friendship excellent and exciting? You see, we don’t do that often, and that is a pity because the feeling of appreciation is awesome – on both sides, actually.

Sure it can be hard to nail down precisely why your relationships work, why you are best friends. Sometimes all we can come up with is: “some kind of great chemistry”, and that is a fair assessment, it really is; a bit open-ended, but fair.

Ask your friends, your wife, husband, partner, boyfriend or girlfriend why they think it all works so well; I think some of the answers will surprise you. I’ve asked my wife a couple of times and besides stuff that is none of your business, it was “because I can be me”. That statement knocked me over, because I never thought of that; it is so awesome to know – it really is.

We tend to get boring in our relationships when we don’t have to. We settle with everyday routines just to function. Some find that is enough excitement, but for the most part it’s bloody boring. We walk past each other so many times every day, and do we look, smile, you know: acknowledge and appreciate? Or are we just pieces of furniture? So you can see how taking for granted is not a very nice thing to practice, huh?

What I’m concerned, the opposite of taking for granted is appreciation; it’s as simple as that. And you’ll be surprised with the joy of backing off taking things for granted gives you when we move forward and acknowledge the people and the stuff we are surrounded by; it’s a grand trip we should take often.

When we appreciate each other more, acknowledge how fortunate we are, we all live better lives. I often look at photos from when the boys were small, from diapers through zits, school, leaving home, work, girlfriends and marriage. I met my wife 28-plus years ago and have so many great memories of the great times we had. I get teary eyed as I find myself a very fortunate person, and I will never take that for granted.

I don’t want to be predictable (as in boring); nobody wants to be labeled like that. Sure we get caught up in everyday routines and we forget to add a bit of color. But when we do, it makes a huge difference. So try to do something nice to somebody else, outside your normal schedule and enjoy the smiles it creates. It clearly tells them, that you do not take them for granted - and that is really nice to know; don't you think?

SKIING WITH PETER – if you dare

The term ski comes from the ancient Scandinavian language Old Norse. It was skio back then, thousands of years ago. It meant split pieces of wood as well as firewood – the irony? After hurling down mountains on pieces of split wood, taking a few falls on the way, firewood is not far from a banged up skiers thinking; unfortunately I know how that works.

In Denmark, only cross-country skiing is a possibility as Denmark is flat as a pancake. One of the two highest points is Himmelbjerget; its majestic peak reaching an astonishing height of 482 feet – isn’t Magic Mountain in Disneyland higher? Here’s another irony: Himmelbjerget means heaven (or sky) mountain. Those Danes have such a great sense of humor, don’t you think?

Back in the 1970s BS (Before Snowboarding) skiing was still for the rich people, as it involved trips to foreign lands with mountains taller than 482 feet and some serious snow. I lived just outside Copenhagen with a girlfriend from California, Andee. She had a colorful personality, lots of energy and wanted to have fun. At times I struggled keeping up with her – yeah, I know ME?

Andee suggested a ski-trip and I no doubt said: whatever. As I, Andee had never been skiing. We bought tickets to a ski resort in France called Aime La Plagne. And now it was time to outfit ourselves with ski equipment. Both of us went overboard considering our beginner status. I got top-of-the-line Rossignol skis and bindings, fancy ski-clothes, cool high tech ski boots and smart goggles – everything and then some.

It was a two weeks vacation, so we packed accordingly and then some. After a few hours flight we landed in Geneva (Switzerland) and got on the resort bus waiting for us. 3-4 hours on curvy roads, we entered France and arrived late afternoon at La Plagne. It was a fantastic resort sitting on top of a mountain ridge – probably still does.

We checked into the hotel, had dinner and couldn’t wait to get up the next morning and do that skiing thing. Oh, Andee signed up for beginner lessons; I didn’t think I needed to sign up for any ski lessons; I mean, the word bunny-slope was involved, duh. Well, that was a huge mistake.

After struggling getting into all this new stuff, skis and all, I was on the snow early the next morning. I looked smashing – as long as I didn’t move. Never been on skis, I quickly realized that trying to glide on those split pieces of wood and look cool in the process was impossible; so I stopped often and pretended to admire the view – and then I stumbled a few meters more.

I ended up on the edge of a downhill; the small kids made it look so easy. I figured, that on the way down, I’d pick up that turning left and right thing and perhaps also learn how to brake and stop. Small kids could do it, so what was the big deal?

I looked at the bottom of this mountain (it seemed). “Piece of ice cream-cake”, I thought. Took a deep breath and pushed off. As speed quickly picked up from that point on, I swiftly made a mental note to sign up for ski-lessons as soon as possible – if this didn’t kill me first, which it seemed to be in the process off.

The skis were flying from one side to another, poles all over the place, knees twisting and turning, my body being hammered, utter fear in my eyes while constantly screaming “MOR” (Danish for mother). The speed kept picking up and up and everything turned into a blur. I made another note: learn how to stop.

It was explained to me later, that I had come down in a straight line (yeah, duh…) and that my screams had attracted quite an audience from the lift line at the bottom of this huge mountain (they actually called it a practice-hill, as in advanced bunny-slope). What was left of my body had ended up a few feet from some orange netting; the skis were found in different time-zones and the poles far from anywhere. It had looked so bad that I was pretty much pronounced dead halfway down.

After some help getting my stuff back together, I headed straight into the ski-instructors office and demanded one week of private lessons. I was assigned to Pierre and we met up early the next morning.

With Pierre telling me what to do, I quickly picked up on how to ski. He started me up on the bunny-slopes and soon progressed to more difficult runs – 4 hours every day. After each day’s lesson, I continued skiing till the slopes closed down at sunset; I was seriously bitten. On the third day we went all the way to the top of the mountain and ran a few of the lesser black diamonds and then it was time for the Suicide Run (they should at least have called it that).

I was hesitant, but Pierre said: “Just follow me and do what I do, okay?” And I did – everything he did; it felt fantastic. The next few days we did the Suicide Run again and again, faster and faster – and I experienced how fantastic skiing could be.

“Are you having fun?” Pierre asked, and I was. So he told me I was on my own - I had graduated and felt great.

The next morning I was the first in line to go to the top. I was so ready and looked down on the perfectly groomed Suicide Run. But then I realized how bloody steep it was - without Pierre. I looked again and then decided that there was no way in Hell I was going to ski that thing alone, no way. So I got back on the lift and took a ride down to the bottom. I thought I was good, but obviously not that good. I spent the rest of the vacation skiing slopes less death-threatening, but still had a lot of fun – I was hooked.

Next year Andee and I decided to do it again. We went to Courchevel in the French Alps for two weeks. This place is considered “one of the best ski-resorts in Europe – if you can afford it”. The weather was fantastic with sunny days and snowy nights; absolutely perfect conditions.

The third evening we had dinner with a couple from our hotel. After a bit too much French wine we walked around the village and found a skating-rink, so we went skating. I used to be rather good on skates, jumps and all – but forgot it was a million years ago since I last strapped a pair of skates on.

But it all came back fast and I felt comfortable (but still slightly intoxicated). So I was going to show them a few jumps – and that’s when I fell hard on my shoulder and damaged one of my collarbones – and no more skiing on that vacation with 11 days left; I was pissed. Learned a lot about mixed drinks as many other casualties gathered daily in a great bar with a beautiful view of the slopes and the surrounding mountains – skiing would have been better; but I know what a Grasshopper is – a lot…

I continued skiing here in California. Always running fast, never really enjoying the views, kind of skiing – just fast. One time my wife and I met up with some friends for skiing in Beaver Creek, Colorado. We skied in a group of six, down really nice slopes and perfect conditions. Then we were heading into a softer right turn (I can still see it) and everybody in front of me was hugging the corner. The slope was very wide, so lots of space to the left. So I swung out and into the middle to pick up more speed through the turn. And that’s when I saw this huge icy spot. I dug in as hard as I could, but that didn’t help and death was yet again a possibility. Did it hurt? YES, but more so mentally than physically.

I did ski in the years after that crash, had a lot of fun with my wife and kids in the snow, but I started to feel hesitant and cautious about my skiing and some years back I stopped all together. But what I ride it had been. Do I miss it? Surprisingly not, but I highly recommend it – I really do and snowboarding too.

NOT ME - MY OUTFIT WAS BLUE

BREAKING UP IS HARD TO DO – or too easy?

Being dumped is not hilariously funny; deciding to divorce has little entertainment value; splitting up by mutual agreement rarely works and the guilt based: “let’s stay friends” seldom pans out.  Somebody is always ending up hurt, bitter, resentful, confused and for a while, emotionally damaged. Yes, breaking up is hard to do, but are we making it too easy?

When I began thinking about this subject, I wanted to go back and try to recall my feelings and other emotions from “being dumped”, as in somebody telling me to get the heck out, go away, “I hate you” and/or “you are ugly and your cooking sucks”. I really tried hard, but I could not find a single relationship where I had experienced being dumped; did I go through breaking-ups? Of course I did – and then some…

Let us establish that to terminate any relationship, there has to be at least two persons involved; duh! The irony: in many cases it’s a third person causing the dissolutions, based on the ignorant philosophy: the grass is (in most cases only seemingly) always greener.

We meet, we get to know each other, we become emotionally and physically attached; and then we fall in love. It’s all so euphorically exciting and so – forever? At least we hope so, as we cannot envision life without her or him ever (sigh); should I mention love & blindness here? I do recall that exhilarated feeling – again and again.

And a relationship can also end – duh! It can die gradually or rather quickly, as in “cheating” (having physical relations with someone you really shouldn’t do it with). To me cheating is the ultimate trust-buster and as trust is in the top-three of what a relationship is built on – cheating is far from nice. What infidelity is concerned: we can forgive, but rarely can we forget.

I think that most fizzling relationships lose their sizzle because we do not put enough work into them. If we don’t water the flowers, they will not grow, they will die – relationships are like flowers.

Breaking up is also based on some laziness and the unfortunate fact that we start to take each other for granted. We don’t see the person we fell in love with, with the same feelings we experienced back then. We slowly start to slack off ourselves and then we suddenly look at each other and go: “What the heck happened?” and then we start packing.

We throw other things away, so perhaps it’s an ingrown bad habit? The TV goes on the blink – we throw it out and get a new one. The coffee-grinder repair costs more than 10 new grinders; so we discard it and buy a new one, and so forth. But don’t you think relationships should be treated better than TV’s and coffee-grinders? For the most part, relationships are worth repairing.

To avoid being dumped or break up, we need to constantly work on our relationships. We need to communicate verbally, emotionally and physically – constantly. Sounds like a task? Well, it is NOT a task, far from, as you could harvest exciting results.

We are all basically good people. Luckily we differ as we are all individuals, each and every one of us. We not only have our own unique DNA, but more so our very own distinctive personality. In spite of all the differences, we still find companions we are attracted and drawn to. As a species we are monogamous – so we pair up and stay together – well, for the most part.

When we acknowledge and respect how different each of us is, we can better understand that for relationships to work, we must constantly make sure that we are on the same track; communication is essential, and not just “how was your day?”, “did you feed the kids and cat?” or “what is that weird thing on my elbow?” We need to go way beyond that – we need to constantly explore each other’s individuality and development – because that is what we do, we constantly go through changes on all levels – so why not go through it together? There’s an idea…

If we constantly communicate, we will no doubt avoid many break-ups, fights, divorces and what not. When we avoid communicating, it suddenly shows up in our face: What the Hell happened? Why don’t I like you anymore? “Weren’t we best buddies?” And then the guilt questions pop up as well as the wide range of unpleasant moments, emotions and the finger pointing to establish blame – don’t you just hate that?

If we find ourselves too busy to communicate with each other during our relationships and believe that someday we can just catch up and restore, we are so totally wrong. We quickly find that we have grown, and not grown together, but grown apart. We didn’t keep each other up to date about how we were developing, matured and all the stuff that makes each of us so unique; remember? When we keep communication going, breaking-ups would be fewer – I have no doubts about that.

As many different reasons for parting ways, as many different reactions; suffering the break of trust, loss of love, lack of respect, violated fidelity, boredom, and add your own – if you have any to add. We feel abandoned, discarded and on the same emotional level as TV’s and coffee-grinders. So we go through a period of mourning in all its drab shades and shadows; we cannot see that stupid silver-lining everybody tells us about; for now I’m sad and disappointed and feel like crap – so go away and leave me alone (so I can also pick on that weird thing on my elbow…)

Some handle split-ups better than others – duh! We look back instead of looking forward; but why not take this glorious moment of opportunity and start anew? Why not look at the positive side of a failed relationship? Why not reevaluate myself, find out who I am and where I want to go? Okay, so Joe Crap dumped me, but when you really look at it isn’t that his problem and not mine? Obviously he didn’t have the capacity to appreciate me, etc. So better getting rid of the jerk now than in 25 years and three kids later, huh?

I’m a fairly black or white, hot or cold person. So, I either like somebody or something, or I don’t which effectively removes the wishy-washy factor and makes life easier. So I can only see myself having handled split-ups and departures with that attitude.

Have I hurt anybody, made somebody sad or angry or what-not? I’m sure I have. Have I hurt and felt terrible about parting ways? I am very sure I have. Has any of it been easy? I’m positive that none was easy. Have I simulated Joe Crap at times? I possibly have – with plenty of after-the-fact regrets.

Breaking up is hard to do; but let’s not make it so easy. I believe we can eliminate a lot of those awkward moments of bye-bye’s and rescue some true relationships in the process, simply by communicating – of course only if you feel it’s worth the effort.

Until next Monday (and beyond, of course): Make it work – by working on it…

Related posts you might enjoy:

Relationships

Trust

Cheating

Who am I Really?

Being in love