But I Couldn't Find A Way, So I'll Settle For One Day To Believe In You, Tell Me, Tell Me, Tell Me Lies

--"Little Lies", Fleetwood Mac

On Law and Order: Special Victims Unit yesterday the question was brought up whether or not it was better to lie to a boy's father should proof come up that he, in fact, wasn't the biological father. Is it better to tell the man who loved this child for seven years, caring for it, providing for it, that the child was never really his? Should it even change the relationship at all? Granted, there's always going to be a sense of separation from that point forward, but can a person really give up all that emotion in an instant when the "truth" is revealed? I, for one, believe there is nothing to gain in that situation. The so-called right to know excuse is just a convenient means to ease one's guilt over finding out the truth and to me is tantamount to the desire to spill a secret and spread gossip. If the father loves his son and the truth of his parentage might somehow deter that love in some manner, then I'm all for withholding the truth.

Even tonight, in an even more desire set of circumstances, it was discussed on Pushing Daisies whether Ned should reveal to Chuck the secret that he accidentally killed her father oh so many years ago. Yes, it's a fairly huge secret and it probably should have been spilled a long time ago. Telling her now, though, would serve no purpose. It's not like he planned to kill her father. It's not even like he knew at the time it happened that he was responsible. But the guilt he is experiencing over keeping the secret is a guilt I believe he should learn to live with because revealing it would only make him feel better. In fact, it would only serve to make her feel worse.

I think that's the question that lies at the heart of any desire to reveal the truth, would it make the person you're telling it to feel better or feel worse in the long run. Most secrets, once they're told, have an immediate reaction upon the listener--whether that is glee, anger, sadness, or even sheer fear. However, I think most of us can gauge pretty accurately what the cumulative effect of sharing a secret is going to be. It's our responsibility to decide what's best for a person if we have any depth of feeling for that person when it comes to unburdening ourselves of a secret that directly affects him or her. I'm a firm believer in little white lies. I'm a firm believer in abstaining from offering the truth is not the same thing is lying. I'm a firm believer in doing whatever possible, even if that means outright lying, if it'll spare somebody you love direct harm. In fact, I'm a lot more harsh and forthright when it comes to telling outright strangers the unglossed truth than people I profess to care about.

----

The first time I received a blowjob I was vastly inexperienced which led me to unfortunately relieve myself incorrectly. In short, I peed into her mouth. As you can imagine I was embarrassed and ashamed at the time. The amazing thing is that she was neither disgusted nor upset. She reacted as if nothing out of the ordinary happened and that day we continued to have sex as normal. So convincing was her reaction that I even doubted myself for years that I'd actually pissed. Eventually, all was forgotten and I chalked up the story to faulty recollection of the facts.

Well, cut to three or four years later and I'm talking with the ex in question. We're discussing old times and first times and the anecdotes of our youthful indiscretions when she blurts out the question if I remembered the time I peed into her mouth. Truthfully, it caught me by surprise. I was aghast and embarrassed all over again. Yet, despite that strange mixture of laughter and terror, I decided that she was right to hold onto that particular secret for so long.

I can only imagine if she'd decided to tell me right when it happened how awful it must have been. It probably would've scarred me for life. Worse yet, I can only imagine if she'd decided to wait a couple of weeks or even a couple of months after. We were only barely deciding to become serious and something like that might have derailed any such plans. It would have been like a black cloud hanging over our heads the whole time. I don't know if I would've been able to speak without regret to her after that. I don't know--maybe I might have gotten over it after awhile, but, knowing me, that scenario isn't very likely. Most likely I would have been ashamed of what I had done and angry with myself. That probably would have turned into my getting angry with her for keeping the secret for so long. Assigning blame came a lot easier to me in those first few years and it would have been rather easy for me to take my self-loathing out on her.

That's why I'm kind of relieved she waited. I got to pretend that I didn't do what I did and she allowed me to work my way through my inexperience.

----

As a policy, there are a few people I tell everything to because I know they're ready to hear it. But there are also people who I've spent my entire life shading the truth just a bit because I know the whole truth would completely change their lives around.

There are just some lies that need to be told to save everyone embarrassment. There are just some times when protecting the person you care about means holding out the complete truth. And there are some truths that people aren't ready to hear right away... or ever.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Here I Am, The One That You Love, Asking For Another Day, Understand The One That You Love, Loves You In So Many Ways

--"The One That You Love", Air Supply

Dear Frisson,

This is a notice that I take offense at your implication that "the group" Air Supply provided the world with no tangible benefit. I find it particularly libelous that you could make the claim that no individual has ever truly appreciated them for their own sake, instead, making the distinction that their only worth was as an object of derision and ridicule. I appreciate them. I still listen to them. It is my contention that if I, as an individual with individual preferences and nuances, can form a high opinion of the group and their oeuvre, surely, others have come to the same conclusion. I understand that you were possibly speaking in hyperbolic terms and were possibly employing exaggeration as a means to express your point of disliking them, but, in truth, I was visibly upset with the whole tone of your short missive.

If their biggest offense was to provide the world with subtle odes to love that were at times coying and saccharine, then I think there are far worthier targets for you to take aim at. Granted, my whole argument may rest on the simple maxim of "what did they ever do to you?" but it's a truth I think is valid. I don't know--speaking from personal experience, Air Supply as a force for good has done nothing but persuade me to believe in a higher power out there, a higher power that transcends any period gloominess that may pervade me at one time or another. They have done nothing but provide some small comfort that some semblance of true love exists and the small comfort that such a state such as being in a loving relationship is a state I am worthy of and deserve. Yes, they are songs. Yes, they are not the most articulate or complex of arrangements. However, in simple truth there is simple beauty. I believe that. Subsequently, I'm of the mind that in simple beauty such as can be found in any piece by Air Supply there can be found simple truths. These simple truths, I'm convinced, are all truths we need to be reminded of.

Is your heart so cold that you would belittle someone else whose only fault is that they possess hearts full of love? I think not.

I think somewhere in that disbelieving mindset that prevents you from imagining fortune befalling you, you still hope for something grander than yourself. I think even you can see that relishing in the self-sustaining grandeur that is love causes no harm. There's nothing to be ashamed about when it comes to having hope, having faith, wishing upon a star that love will come your way. We all wish that. We as caring beings even go so far as to wish it for other people. I know I wish it for you. Nothing would make me happier than to come to find that somebody out there tamed your jaded heart and made you a believer. I would also hope you would wish the same for me. That's all Air Supply is doing, spreading the message that instances of compassionate connection occur on a daily basis. They're just spreading the message that if you're patient enough and leave yourself open enough, you too can experience love.

As they say, if that's wrong, then I don't want to be right.

So stop being a grinch and jump on the Air Supply bandwagon. You have my assurances that if you enjoy yourself that I shan't tell a soul. There's no harm in hearing what they have to say and, of any group that I know, I think they're exactly what you need to allow yourself to dream once more. I happen to think dreaming suits you and that you'd be a more fulfilled person if you began to practice it.

Stop worrying so much about giving the appear of looking the fool. Stop trying to talk so much about why it won't be good for you and just listen.

Listen.

Enjoy.

And I swear you'll come out a better person... hell, even the nights are better. LOL

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

----

...consequently, I received this in the mail today along with the brief note, "Consider me converted, Frisson":



All too easy.

And Now, Open Your Eyes And See, What We Have Made Is Real, We Are In Xanadu

--"Xanadu", Olivia Newton John and Electric Light Orchestra

When I was about six or seven my parents took the whole family out to Universal Studios. I think it was because we had relatives staying that we engaged in all the touristy activities, but I remember it being one of the first times going on the tram and seeing all the sights. Providence knows my memory isn't the best and that I lose more than I retain. But I do remember being on the tram coming down a hill and seeing a billboard for Xanadu, one of the trippiest films ever made. I remember thinking how cool it looked and how I wished I'd seen that film when it was in the theaters. I don't know--I was young; flashy images and the picture of Olivia Newton-John was pretty much all it took to impress me. It wasn't so much the coherence of the project (which, upon later viewing, wasn't all that coherent), but the idea that this project emitted brilliance that perked my ears and eyes up.

Inherently, my day was set. I saw one good billboard and it set the tone for the rest of the outing. I had fun. I smiled and laughed a lot. It really was that simple.

Sometimes I wish it were still that easy. I mean--people say all the time that children are easily entertained or easily fulfilled. They don't want for much a lot of the time, so it's an easy matter to have their wishes fulfilled. The problem, I believe, is when we get older, we start setting our sights a little higher. We aim a little farther and then, consequently, push ourselves to reach expectations that may or may not be out of our grasp. I think that's a problem. While I agree with the principle behind testing your limits, I know firsthand the devastation and anxiety the accompanies people who have yet to reach their goals. If there was only a means to achieve your dreams without being suffering in the process, I'd be all for it. But what I've known of dreams, it's a roughshod affair that ends in tears more often than not. That's what I can't stand.

That's why I think Toby has it right when it comes to her new philosophy--little joys in little boxes. She too has experienced the angst of worrying about the future, worrying about what happens if you fail. That's why she came up with the philosophy I've always espoused, but never put into words so concisely.

Basically, the philosophy is you should treat each new accomplishment with as much enthusiasm as you would a larger one. I mean--if you concentrate on how happy something small and usually insignificant makes you and not worry about when you're going to get the big prize, you'll never be disappointed. That's it. That's all. It's not telling you to give up on your lifelong dreams. It's telling you to appreciate all the tinier dreams you have along the way.

It makes her happier than she ever was before.

And it makes me happier than I was even a few years ago.

Somewhere along the way in my life I adopted a stance of only huge progress being worthy of notice. If it didn't completely revolutionize my life, then it wasn't good enough. I did that and I was miserable because everyone and everything disappointed me. I could never make people or my own actions as stellar as I wanted them to be. Or, when it wasn't that, I could never accomplish tasks I set for myself fast enough. Or, when it wasn't that, I could never appreciate tasks I did manage to succeed. I copped this attitude that if I get it done then it wasn't grand enough or hard enough. It was always push, push, push.

And I was miserable.

Then I remembered how happy a silly little movie like Xanadu could make a silly little me and I made a concerted effort to enjoy everything more. While it hasn't always worked out like I planned and I've lost my footing following this philosophy more than once, I can see the positive benefit it has had on my life.



Little joys in little boxes... that's all you need to know.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

I Know People Will Try, Try To Divide Something So Real, So Till The End Of Time I'm Telling You There Is No One

--"No One", Alicia Keys

When I started blogging here I didn't have a purpose. I didn't know what this was going to be, what I was going to write about, or even how long I'd actually keep it up. I went into this without any strict guidelines as to content or character. Originally, from my first few posts, I thought I would be writing mostly music and movie reviews with the occasional rant thrown in for good measure. I mean--I've always been a fan of entertainment and I naturally reviewed CDs, shows, and films when I'm with my friends. It only made sense to make the natural progression of keeping a record of these reviews for posterity.

Then something happened along the way. I started to write less about the world outside and more about my own stories. Instead of finding inspiration in stories told to me, I began to use them as launching pads for my own personal tales of wonder and woe. Instead of merely reporting exactly what I was seeing and hearing, I was continuing the posts into the realm of what it was making me remember or regret. That's when I found out the kind of writing which suits my disposition.

I love writing about myself. I love explaining how I feel and why I feel and what caused me to be the way I am. Yes, I like writing short stories and, yes, I like writing reviews. I even like writing an occasional poem now and then. But the kind of writing I've always had the most fun with, the kind of writing that honestly fulfills me the most is when I can recount a conversation from four to fourteen years ago and be able to figure out what it means to me now. Or, even better, to take something that is happening to me today and show I how was better equipped to process it because of having gone through a similar experience before. I have this need to self-diagnose myself that I had never found an outlet for until I started writing here. It's almost therapeutic, writing here. Not only does it allow me a clear, concise outlet for feelings I'm almost always loathe to share with most people, but it also provides me a means to put some pretty awful stuff behind me. When I write it here, it's almost like I leave it here. Brandy says my sharing it with the world is the way I absolve my guilt; if I can admit it and leave it up for people to read whenever they want, then it's like I'm no longer ashamed of what kind deeds I was capable of or what kind of man I was in my youth.

In this vein and with this attitude I thought I would keep this site wholly personal. I thought the only way it would work is if I limited myself to that subject, namely, me. I didn't ever want to stray too far from personal stories because I thought that was the only way this would turn out to be long-standing endeavor. The minute I started to write about other areas, it didn't seem as fun, and I always returned back to me. This is also why I thought it wouldn't make sense to bring in a co-writer, because then I'd be splitting the attention. This site would cease to function in its newfound purpose.

Then Breanne and I started talking after she had read a few of the first months' worth of posts. She started telling me about how she always wanted to keep a blog herself, but how her busy schedule limited her time to actually throw posts up. That's when I threw the suggestion up as a lark to start writing a few things here. I told her it would give me a chance of not having to write so often and it would give her a chance to keep a semi-blog without the hassle of having writing too often for her. In actuality, this was just after we hadn't been speaking for awhile for various reasons, I really just wanted an excuse to keep in touch with her more often. That's when I found out another reason for this site, to allow she and I to say things to each other that we either neglected to say or never seemed to have the time to say. Rather than try to schedule her in to say something small or rather than waste a phone call basically to ask, "hey remember the time that...?" I could just post stuff up here. That would allow her to reply and in that way we could stay more connected than we had for quite some time.

In both respects, airing my personal grievances and attempting to stay in contact with Miss Holins, I realized this site is less about entertaining the masses and more about keeping me somewhat sane, somewhat grounded. I realized this site is almost 100% egotistical in regards to the fact that almost everything I post up is written for me to read down the road. There are honestly times I forget that people other than myself and Breanne read this. All of this is really vanity disguised as entertainment or education.

So when the question came up of asking my friend Toby to join the site as a contributor I was forced to really think about what california is a recipe for a black hole would turn into should someone else join. I mean--she can write. She can really write well. I find myself re-reading e-mails from her, amazed at how adept she is at expressing herself. And I'm pretty sure she'd be committed to posting when she said she would post. And I don't doubt she would have lots of interesting tidbits to say.

What I doubt is if this site would continue to function as it always has. Should she start writing here, I think it would split the focus. Up until now, it's just been about me and Breanne. But even that made a sort of sense because our lives intersect so much that it's basically one story told from two sides that occasionally branch off in various directions. Yet there was always a core sensibility there. There was always a sense that even when I wrote about something that has nothing to do with her, it would still be informed by her because she is such a daily presence in my life. There was always a sense that anything that took place in my life post-meeting her would be somewhat about her just because she probably was the first person to know. There basically came a point in 1993 where everything that happened to her started to be reflected off me, that everything that happened to me started to impact her life and vice-versa. So when I say I only write about myself, there's really a small distinction in saying that every decision I made which changed my life, pretty much changed her life too. It may not be as big or earth-shattering, but under the unspoken rules of this blog, it was allowed that I could tell my stories and she could tell her stories and neither of us feel cheated. It's a sad fact that a lot of her stories involve me and a lot of my stories involve her.

That's why, even though I love her to pieces, I don't think it would be a good idea to have Toby climb aboard this vessel. I can say that when it's just B. and I, we pretty much sail in the same direction... at least when it comes to what we want this blog to be about. It's about us. This is a record of our stories. If Miss Toblerone started posting here too, it would no longer be that. It'd be a vessel with two captains, with two destinations.

I can't allow that, as interesting as I think it would be to have someone else join.

I have no hesitation in saying this site could go on indefinitely as long as it maintained some semblance of being a record of my life, of Breanne's life, and the juxtaposition between them. But, introduce another element, and I think it would break the precious balance that this site has maintained until now.

Call it selfish, but I kind of feel about this site as I would about my autobiography. It doesn't work if someone else keeps interrupting with their own life story every so often. Yes, that's what this is, it's an autobiography.


no one, no one, no one
can get in the way of what I'm feeling

It's just an autobiography written by two people.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

You Melt Your Doubt, And Fall Into Me, I Find Your Mouth And Try To Hold It, You Blame Your Love, You Know It's Harmless, We're Both Wise For Falling

--"Window Bird", Stars


Just a small experiment we're conducting here for the sole purpose of proving (or disproving) it can be done. Part I now. Parts II and III, to follow hopefully shortly.

And now for something we hope we really enjoy...


Part I. He Wants Me Back


M - I don’t care about you? (yawn) You’re the only thing I care about.

B - I’m not questioning your sincerity, just your tact.

M - Sincerely, that’s as tactful as I can put it. I’m too tired to elaborate. Can’t we continue this discussion tomorrow, when I’m prepared to compliment you rotten?

B - As you wish, sugar. Forget I even brought it up. (sleep)

M - (beat) You should try to get some sleep too. It’s going to be awhile till we get back to the hotel.

B - I’m worried it’s not safe for both of us to be sleeping. What if someone comes into the car?

M - You’ll protect me. I trust you.

B - Funny. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? It’s like my daddy says, you don’t have the sow shepherding the stallions.

M - Why? I’m not worried. I have nothing worth stealing anyway.

B - Well, I’d like to hang onto a few things, if you don’t mind.

M - Oh, I mind.

B - Just let a gal have her insecurities, please, thank you. Besides, shouldn’t you be getting to the sleeping already? Isn’t that way you’ve been laying your head in my lap this whole time? Because if you’re not going to rest, then I think it would be best if you just sat up like proper folk do.

M - I thought you didn’t mind?

B - No, I’m happy to let you nap, but, so far, I’ve heard a lot of the yapping and not so much the napping.

M - Is that how it is?

B - That’s exactly how it is.

M - Fine. Nodding off now, Breannie. (sleep)

B - (beat) I would kind of mind if somebody took you.

M - What?

B - I’m saying I don’t want anybody to steal you. That could happen, you know? Somebody steal you.

M - Off the train?

B - Worst things have happened I’ve heard.

M - (pause) Yeah, like somebody stealing you away from me.

B - (pause) Sleep. Now.

M - I’m just saying that I know what it’s like to have someone stolen away from you.

B - Nobody stole nothing. Now shush up and take your nap…

M - You know what I’ve been thinking about?

B - …and yet his mouth never stops moving despite his protests of being tired.

M - I’ve been thinking that we should go look for a place that does Cincinnati spaghetti tomorrow. Don’t you think that would be fun?

B - You want to look for Cincinnati spaghetti? In Chicago?

M - I mean—we’ve done the whole pizza and ribs thing. Think of it as a quest.

B - Your quest.

M - Yeah, so?

B - It doesn’t sound that appealing to me. Besides, we have that whole list of places we wanted to hit, remember?

M - Yeah, but we still have a couple of days. I just don’t want to be stuck doing the whole touristy thing the entire time here.

B - Well, we already kind of junked yesterday by staying in.

M - And whose idea was that?

B - I believe that was you.

M - Incredible. It’s incredible how adept at lying you’ve gotten since I last saw you.

B - Hell’s bells, I wish there was a camera in the room so I could show you whose brilliant idea yesterday was.

M - And that would be yours.

B - I don’t think so.

M - Are you sure you weren’t drinking while I was in the bathroom. It’s hard to believe you’d forget an entire conversation.

B - Believe me, if I’d been drinking you’d have known it.

M - (shakes head) What’s the phrase again?

B - What phrase?

M - Like when you want to agree to disagree. How do you say it again?

B - Let’s cut the cat; you get heads, I get tails.

M - (laugh) Something like that.

B - “Was I drinking?”

M - (laugh) Good night again.

B - (pause) “No, I am not drunk. It’s me, Breanne.”

M - “Yes, but by the tone of your voice, I’d say you’re drunk.”

B - “I’m not drunk. It’s me, Breanne, Eeyore.”

M - I still can’t believe you did that. What was that? Four times in one night? I think that was some kind of record for drunk dialing.

B - Four times in one hour. And it wasn’t even that I didn’t remember calling you. I kept coming up with things I had to tell you immediately.

M - Like how the bartender was out to destroy you.

B - That’s handy information to pass along. What if she had destroyed me? You could steer the police in the right direction, you know?

M - Or how the drinks better when you held them if your left hand.

B - Come back to me when you conduct a thorough taste test and tell me it ain’t true.

M - Or what about your confession about how you loved me so much.

B - Yeah, well, you know. It was important that you knew that.

M - But…

B - But you already knew that.

M - For some time now. (sleep)


into the past, I try to sort it

B - (beat) At least I don’t lie in the street when I’m drunk.

M - Just other people’s yards, right?

B - Pigpens and palaces. Pigpens and palaces. The worst that could happen to me is the owner wake up and shoo me off. It’s not like somebody would decide to run me over in the yard.

M - I was only asleep for five minutes at the most. There were no cars anywhere.

B - I worry about you sometimes, Mr. Patrick.

M - Well, I think you should worry more. I kind of like it when you worry more about me.

B - Who am I, your mother?

M - Of course not. You’re my little sis, remember?

B - That you’ve always had a crush on.

M - Always and forever.

B - And who’s always had a crush on you too.

M - Always and forever. (sleep)

B - (beat) I think I’m starting to knock down too.

M - Knock down?

B - I can’t knock out because we both can’t lay down.

M - True.

B - So I can only half knock out, hence, the knock down.

M - Makes sense.

B - I think this is the longest I’ve gone without sleeping next to Greg.

M - Well, I had first dibs so he can have your lap back when I’m done.

B - Excuse me?

M - Do you ever thinkg about how this may be the last time I get to hold your hand or anything? The last time I get to just fall asleep with you or go out to dinner even?

B - Not especially. I have faith I’ll see you again.

M - I don’t.

B - Awww.

M - That’s why I’m invoking my right of first dibs. I saw you first. I’ve known you longer. I don’t have to let you go until I’m good and ready.

B - You sorta have to let me go when the plane is good and ready.

M - No, no, no. It’s kind of like eminent domain. Greg can have you for awhile, but I retain the right to take you back if it serves my best interests without warning, without compensation, and certainly without remorse.

B - So your argument is, since you had first claim to me, that my husband is only a title holder in name only. In essence, you “own” me in perpetuity.

M - In essence. Emminent domain, remember?

B - Yeah, I think I liked it better when you were asleep, sugar.

M - You disagree?

B - Hell’s bells, I disagree. You don’t own me. Nobody owns me. Nor are you the boss of me. I come and go as I please.

M - And, oh, how you please when you…

B - If you know what’s good for you, you won’t finish that sentence. (sleep)

M - (beat) “I’m not drunk, I’m Breanne.”

B - Can I tell you something?

M - Shoot.

B - I was only drunk because I wanted to make up with you.

M - And you needed to drink to do that.

B - Well, it had been awhile. I didn’t exactly know if I’d have the courage to do it straight up.

M - Oh.

B - I know that it’s true that I shouldn’t have called you so late, but…

M - But you got tired of the silence, right?

B - I think it was more a case of getting tired of all the noise that didn’t mean anything. I wanted to hear something that meant something.

M - Were you even that drunk or were you just faking?

B - I was.

M - Which?

B - Exactly. (laugh) Like my daddy says, sometimes a wolf can catch more sheep by dressing up as a sheepdog.

M - (pause) Ceiling fans. That’s what this train needs, some big ‘ole ceiling fans.

B - Why? Are you hot?

M - No, I just like being a little colder when I’m trying to sleep.

B - Is that why our room is forming glaciers as we speak.

M - As long as the air conditioning is not on my dime.

B - Incorrigible.

M - Plus, it gives me an excuse to stay under the covers that isn’t so saccharine as wanting to cuddle.

B - As if you can hide that.

M - But I think ceiling fans would be nice on a train. You know where else they’d be nice in?

B - Where?

M - Cars. I always thought it would be cool if cars had ceiling fans.

B - I can only imagine. I’m surprised no one has tried to invent that sooner.

M - I know. It could be the next silent velcro.

B - I bet you could make your first million off of that.

M - Imagine that. I could finally get the K-car I’ve had my eye on, maybe buy some Art.

B - Garfunkel, that is?

M - Exactly.

B - You could get anything I wanted.

M - It certainly would make it easier to come see you.

B - Certainly would.

M - The question is how often you’d want me to come see you.

B - That is the question. It’s not often I like to be seen, you know? I’m right up there with Soze. Never expose myself too much, that’s my motto.

M - Says the girl who perfected the art of mooning.

B - Hey, I don’t make fun of your life’s goals. Do me the same courtesy… and I think it might be nice to see each other more often. I’ve always wanted that.

M - Quite the pickle, these lives of ours.

B - I don’t know. Right now isn’t looking so bad.

M - You should try see it from my angle. (sleep)

B - (beat) Do your feet still hurt?

M - A little.

B - That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You need to take up running. Then you’d have more energy for when you decide it would be best to walk everywhere when, you know, we’re supposed to be on vacation.

M - I just never saw the fun in it.

B - Are you joshing me? It’s a hoot-and-a-half.

M - Hmmm. Maybe we’ll try jogging in one of the parks for a bit. I’m sure there’s a thousand places to do that here.

B - You swear?

M - I swear. I mean—if you really want me to try it out, I might as well do it while you’re here. I just know if I try taking it up on my own it won’t stick.

B - I never thought I’d see the day.

M - I’m not committing to any marathons or anything. I said we can go jogging for awhile to get my feet wet, not that I’m going to instantly fall in love with it.

B - You won’t be sorry. I love running.

M - Well, you’re just the kind of person, Breanne. It doesn’t take you long to decide on something. Some of us take a bit longer.

B - Too long sometimes.

M - Yeah, there’s that.

B - (pause) It’s okay. Most of the time you come around. You’ve always got to be the last cow in the pasture in the all.

M - “I play a cow, but then I get a disease and die…” (sleep)
(beat) I have to tell you something too.

B - What’s that?

M - I almost didn’t pick up the phone when I saw it was you calling.

B - That’s understandable.

M - Which is stupid because 90% of me wanted me to call you two weeks, hell, a month earlier. I just never did.

B - I probably wouldn’t have picked up if you had. Everything has a time and a place, you know? I think we were meant to make up that night in that way and there’s no use in fighting it.

M - There’s no fighting fate.

B - We’ll always be friends.

M - Except for the times we’re more.

B - And the brief times we’re less. In the end, though, we always have that to rely on.

M - (pause) You have a cute mouth. Did anyone ever tell you that? (sleep)

B - (beat)I think we’re almost back to the O’Hare station. You need to get up.

M - Funny. It feels like I’ve been sleeping this entire way, but I got—what—maybe ten minutes of sleep altogether?

B - Blame the funny guy who kept trying to talk when he was supposedly trying to sleep.

M - Damn that guy!

B - It’s almost time to say good-bye to our little ‘ole train. Aren’t you sad? Don’t you just want to cry.

M - “I’ve got to go, but it’s important that I love you.”

B - “And it’s important that you’re not drunk, right?”

M - “I’m Breanne and this is farewell, you know?”

B - It’s depressing you remember all that.

M - I always remember important moments. It’s not often that I make up with someone after that big of a fight.

B - (pause) Now when we get back, we’re going straight to sleep, right? I want you well-rested if we really are going to jog tomorrow morning.

M - Whoa, whoa, whoa. I never said anything about jogging in the morning.

B - You’d rather be the guy crying on the edge of the road?

M - I’d rather not do it all.

B - I didn’t make a promise to you. You made a promise to me, remember, Eeyore?

M - Everybody makes promises. “But nobody minds. Nobody cares. Pathetic, that's what it is."

B - I would think so much less of you if you started breaking promises now… and you don’t have that much further you can slide, you know?

M - You just want to do me in and make it look like I died of exhaustion. I know your wicked ways. I’m onto you, Breannie. You don’t care about me at all, do you?

B - (train stops) I don’t care about you? (yawn) Sugar, you’re the only thing I care about.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

They're Just Animals, Make Good Edibles, Fester Filth And Disease, Check The Bible, Son, We Got Dominion, We Can Do As We Please

--"Columbia Is Bleeding", Nellie McKay

Back when I used to work at the bookstore we used to play a game of "would you rather?" There may have been a book of the same name, but, if there was, we asked all the questions in there within a short span. One of the questions I always remember is "if you were in a fire and could only save a person you didn't know or save a dog you didn't know, which would you save?"

Surprisingly (or not so surprisingly, as the case may be), my answer was to save the dog. For me it boiled down to the fact that I would expect a human to do their best to save himself or herself, but there are some situations where the dog would be helpless, including fire. I mean--it'd be different if it were a baby that needed rescuing or an invalid, but, yeah, I have a bigger streak of altruism when it comes to dogs than humans. A lot of people have let me down over the years, whereas I've yet to meet a dog who went out of their way to betray me or sought to destroy me. That brings me to my other point, I don't think there's any other animal I would try to save. I'm all for stopping animal cruelty, but I'm afraid my tendency to follow what can be only described as a policy of non-interference in other creatures' lives (cf: "The Prime Directive") also extends to animals. I have no more interest in saving a strange creatures life as much as ending it.

There was a phase in high school where I went all gung-ho about animal rights. I wrote to PETA to get all this information. I gave up eating red meat for two years. I was actively doing my best to refrain from using as many animal products as possible. I was trying to be somewhat responsible for my life and how it affected those lower on the food chain.

I wish I could say this stemmed from an overwhelming sense of morality or that I felt a sharp pang of guilt for my part in the global subjugation of other species. The truth was it was just the same old pattern I have when it comes to new interests or hobbies. It started with a girl. In this case that girl was Jenny Lewis (otherwise known as "that redhead," Just Dumb Life, or Rilo Kiley frontwoman). I had read that she was a vegetarian and, once again, that was good enough to make me want to become one as well. I've written two or three posts on how I think that a lot of people fall into this routine, attempting to like something that someone they're interested in likes. I don't know if it's to impress them or the simple need to have a subject to converse about. In the case of animal rights and vegetarianism it was just a simple desire to see what the appeal was for her. Maybe I was just trying to better understand her or maybe I thought somewhere down the road, should I have ran into her, it would give us something to talk about. I don't know.

What I do know is that it didn't stick.

That's how it goes sometimes with things we fall into rather than discover ourselves. Sometimes they don't have the fortitude to be a lifelong pursuit for the simple reason that often times we never fully adopt them as are own. That's how it was for vegetarianism. It never felt like something I was doing for myself. It always felt like something I was doing for Miss Jenny. Thus, when my enamoration for her fell away, so did my sudden interest in saving all the creatures of the world on my own. As Breanne likes to say, sometimes the best part of garage sales is getting rid of the stuff we liked once rather than the stuff we always hated. We all do it. We all take inventory of the stuff that truly matters to us and discover that many of the things we thought we cherished were never really real. My CD case is full of albums by artists I could have sworn to you I liked, only to realize that the main impetus for buying them was a girlfriend or friend told me they were good. My movie watching resume is chock full of films I would have gladly given a thumbs-up on, only to realize it was more because of who I was with when I was watching them rather than what I was actually watching.

Sadly, animal rights was one of these casualties. I wish I was more informed and passionate about the subject because, whenever I do see a story relating to it, my ears always perk up. It will always be a topic that is interesting to me, but it will never be interesting enough to actively pursue.

However, like anything that touches your life, some remnants do linger on. I still don't order or eat veal or pate because of reading I did on how these two delicacies involve the active torture of the animals involved. I still boycott circuses and places where animals are not adequately housed or taken care of. And I still applaud all those who are taking a stand on animal rights issues (like Nellie McKay). Even when the hobby dies, a little bit of the knowledge stays with you--that's what I chalk that up to.

And, of course, I'd still go out of my way to save that hypothetical dog from the fire.

Now if it were a cat... I'd say let that motherfucker burn.

Cats are evil. LOL

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

So Sally Can Wait, She Knows It's Too Late As We're Walking On By, Her Soul Slides Away, But Don't Look Back In Anger, I Heard You Say

--"Don't Look Back In Anger", Oasis

I never suffered the misfortune of being moved around as a kid. My family and I lived in one house in Los Angeles until I was about five. Then we moved to the house in Sierra Madre where I grew up for most of my life. I never had to struggle with going to new schools, making new friends, or starting over with the advent of being forced to a new place. My life when I was young was the model of stability.

On the other hand, metaphorically, I think I've been moving almost all of my life.

I don't think I've ever been really content with the status quo. I've always yearned for something that I could never quite put my finger on. There was always something better, brighter, and more alluring on the horizon. I admit, it's lead to some bad choices on my part. In the pursuit of progress I've made some mistakes in letting go too quickly on things I should have held onto. I've said good-bye to people I shouldn't have. I've given up on my projects and pursuits that may have really panned out for me. I always thought there was some pot of gold somewhere over the rainbow for me.

Now, after cutting bait and running on yet another huge part of my life today, I find myself questioning how much longer I can keep this kind of life up. I read these posts and I see how often my regrets stem from this same critical personality flaw. I don't know how to stick with anything or anyone except for a select few who, let's face it, only last because they have the persistence to stick by me through my flight response. I mean--I used to think Breanne was the scared one, running away from home all the time. Now I think the really scared one is me because, though I've never run away from home, I'm always running from my life in one way or another. It's always the same. After one huge fight with someone I convince myself that I don't need him or her. Then I walk. After one crushing blow at work or some hobby in the middle of and my mind instantly turns to giving up. Worst yet, after experiencing one hugely embarrassing moment in a circle of people I've grown to trust, I pack up and leave.

That's me--always willing to commit myself to whatever catches my fancy but leaving before the dust settles.

I wonder what's going to become of me when I have no friends left, nothing new to occupy my time, and nowhere to run. I'm going to be one of those people who looks back on his life and realizes I have nothing and no one to immortalize me. I'll have left nothing on this earth to even show I was here.

I don't want to become that person, bitter and angry because I screwed up almost all of my life.


but all of the things you've seen
slowly fade away

So, yes, this is good-bye again. "Au revoir, Simone," and all that, but this has to be the last time. Lord knows I can't keep moving forever.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

I Know, I Know, It's So, It's So Sy-Sy-Symbolic Of Everything, Everything That's Wrong With Me And You, So Tell Me What I'm Supposed To Do

--"Stuttering", Ben's Brother

kind of continued from Even The Best Fall Down Sometimes, Even The Wrong Words Seem To Rhyme, Out Of The Doubt That Fills My Mind, I Somehow Find, You And I Collide...

I was rifling through some old letters I'm sending back to my friend Jina in New York. They date all the way back to 1993 and run through 1995, and range in length from one-page castoffs to seventy page mini-novels. Back when I was seriously writing letters all the time to people, my correspondence with her was some of the most passionate writing I've ever done. Even before Breanne, Jina still ranks as one of my oldest friends and definitely my most intelligent friend.

What's making me sad is that mixed in with the letters I found a birthday card she sent me for my 18th birthday. It's not so much the choice of card that was thoughtful; it's an ordinary card, funny and short. It's the fact she filled every inch of white space with enough writing to fill probably two pages of paper all in celebration of I guess was an important milestone for me.

Some people you just connect with really fast. I do, at least, because I realized that card was sent only two months after we started writing and calling each other, and only eight months after since she dared say my favorite actress was "boring" on Prodigy. To think if I didn't respond with practically an essay refuting her claims, I would have missed on a special person in my life.

She only sent two more birthday cards.

In 1995, after a huge fight, I burned all the gifts she gave me and all the audio tapes she gave me. Then, quite horribly, I mailed her back the ashes.

It's hitting me again how many more letters I missed out on because I acted rashly. It's hitting me again how many more birthday cards I missed because I acted immaturely. And it's only hitting me again that I missed ten years of her life because in one instant I couldn't control myself.

1995-2005 all gone. It's only because she sought me out in 2005 that we're even talking again. I honestly thought she would never forgive me for that little stunt. If it were me, I wouldn't have let bygones be bygones. That's a fucking shitty thing to do to a person, burn everything they worked so hard to pick out for gifts or mementos.

I was a fucking shitty person back then.


oh it's been ages since we've been really honest

I think that's part of the reason why I try to be so level-headed and non-judgmental when it comes to people in my life now. And I think that's why once I make a connection with someone I don't let anyone or anything dissuade me from trying to maintain that friendship. Life's too short to throw away people who come into your life and really enrich it. That's why if it makes sense to me and it makes sense for that other person, I try to do everything possible to make that friendship last for the rest of my life.

I don't want to ever lose out on another friend because I convinced myself they'll be other better friends. Sometimes you only get one chance to make a lifelong connection.

That's why I don't intend to ever give up on anyone who I think is worth holding onto, worth appreciating, and, hell, worth getting a birthday card or present from me.

I lost Jina, but she unexpectedly, but pleasantly, found me ten years later.

I'm not letting anyone else go without a fight. Anyone.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers