Monday, June 16, 2008

My Journey is an OK band from the 80's.

Right before Father's Day I found out my Father, Step-Mom and little Sister have been keeping from me that they don't believe in the church anymore and have not gone in two years. (My little sister over stated that because two years ago my dad was Sunday School President. So it must be just shy of two.) She is seventeen and had to tell me because the real adults were too busy basting themselves and stuffing themselves with seasoned bread crumbs. But it's all OK I am told, because they are on "A Journey".

I told my older sister about their lying to me for 2 years and leaving the church and she said, with a big grin on her face, "Awesome." I looked at her sideways and said, "I'm sorry?" And she said that she just meant it was great because it meant they were now on their journey. So two things, I had to be the bigger person and let it go in front of my kids. (Not that I believed a word of it, she secretly hates the church.) And there was that word again.

Father's Day is the special day I went on my first date with Trace, Bella's DNA donor. He, too had left the church and was on what he called a journey, to find his truth. He said he was happy I had found mine in the church because he had tried but couldn't. I told him we were going in different directions. He said we were both going in the same direction because we were both on journeys to find our truths. I gotta admit I didn't get it. During our short relationship he would periodically get upset at me for not allowing him the "blessing" of "helping" me. He then was kind enough to help me out of an apartment I had lined up. He then helped me out of a job interview. He said I should move my stuff into his garage and hang out at his house and let him help me some more. He helped me get pregnant and then he helped me hate myself every hour of every day for the next three years after he bailed and proceeded to make decisions that were all about him and his life journey which included anything and everything he could think of without bounds to try and save himself any negative outcome. Financially, emotionally, socially. And at my expense if necessary. Or my girl's. He does "help" remind me that the church is 100% true, however. Because the year I started to come back to church HE is what Satan tried to throw at me. A person and his Journey.

I guess some people get tired of church service and want to do other things like sit down and concentrate really hard on themselves. Because it's really, really important to think for long periods of time about yourself in order to find your truth. So that when you're faced with a decision you know exactly how you should act in order to be true to yourself, to try and create outcomes that you need to have happen in order to make things better for you. So that you're happy. On your journey.

If your journey to find your truth means you're doing things like lying to your family or leaving a pivotal life situation that you helped create...then your truth is full of shit.

I've never been interested in my truth, I am interested in THE truth. God's truth. Unconditionally, I just asked for his truth, whatever it may be. And now the question of truth is to me never in question. All together, "Don't stop...believe-n."

Friday, June 6, 2008


Oddly, you seem to be the bulk of my readers.  Maybe because Brett's friends check in.  Whatever the reason I have a reward for you!  It is the Holy Grail of relationship harmony.  It is finally that one thing women are not telling you because they feel you should already know it and if you don't we are not about to tell you because for crying out loud you should be able to just figure it out for yourselves.  Yes, you knew all along there was something we were holding over you.  You're very smart.

It is called, Validation.  Use it, become it.  You will thank me.  It does two things, gets you off the hook and it calms us women down right quick.  You don't actually have to be listening fully or thinking at all for this to work!  I know, it's awesome.

Practice the following sentences.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Babe.  That totally sucks!"  

This is all you have to say.  It's OK to say it a few times.  In fact, sprinkle liberally.  This works for nearly everything.  Nearly.  Some examples are, when your wife complains about the poor treatment she received from her mom, the girl at the Gap, neighbors, the kids, mechanics.  Or if she loses items up to and including car keys, the dog, her favorite lip stick, her sanity, the car in the mall parking lot.  (But NOT her figure.  Anything to do with her body image will be addressed later.) 

"I completely understand ______."  
"Why you'd feel that way."  
"Why you think that."  
"Why you did that."  
"Why you said that."  
Infinity.  You must close with, "You are not crazy."

 Again, little effort is required.  If you do happen to accidentally hear any small piece of usable information, maximize on that.  If she mentions her crazy sister, say, "I completely understand why you said that to your sister, 'cause she's so crazy!"

"I can see why you have that point of view." Or "I understand how you could see it that way."

You do not have to believe this to say it.  You may have a totally different opinion.  I repeat, you may have a different opinion.  Not relevent!  Not that we don't care about your point of view.  We care.  But not until after we have been...what?  That's right, validated.  Women do this thing called, VENTING.  And when we do it we call you, usually exasperated, the way we used to call our high school girl friends.  And we do this because since we've gotten married we no longer have girl-friends.

Now for the Crown Jewel on the Holy Grail of relationship harmony.  I'm aware I'm mixing metaphors.  It is Sexual Validation.  Woman attach their body image directly to their sexual identity.  And it's all Mr Heffner's fault.  If you ever get stuck in the body validation trap you do not have to chew your arm off for fear of losing your life.  Validate.  

She says something like, "Since I had the baby I just feel so loose and flabby."  "I really, really need to get to the Gym."  or even a straightforward "I'm sooo FAT!"

Repeat something very close to the following.  "If this is you getting fat then I am READY for your jelly.  Get the kids in the car, we are going for Ice Cream."  Optional: Palm her butt cheek and kiss her on the neck.  DO NOT pat her butt and make her fat jiggle.  DO NOT slap her on the butt, that feels degrading.  Cup it gently, and lean in and kiss her on the neck or cheek.  Or that spot behind our ears, we like that.  And seriously take us out for Ice Cream.  When we know we are hot we feel better.  If we feel better we want to feel even better and we want to work out and be happy.  If we are sent into a spiral of depression we get fatter and fatter.  You telling us that our gaining five pounds is not the worst thing in the world takes all of the energy out of it.  "Does my butt look fat in these pants?"  You say, "I'm sorry, were you speaking?  I was just lost in the total juiciness of your back side."  This is a good time to spank her on the ass.  See the difference?  Well she will.  Trust me.

Next week we will talk about validating but using your actions instead of words.  Like watching TV or playing games on the computer instead of coming to bed with your wife where the possibility of getting a lil somethin' is at about 85%.  Versus in the living-room holding your clicker or the kitchen with your Mac.  Where its nil.

Good luck.  Happy validating.  I know you can do it.  (See it works.)

Thursday, June 5, 2008


So I woke up from a dream last night that was so disturbing I can't sleep tonight.  That and being sick and being WAY over my head in every aspect of my life, I now can not enjoy the one thing that never failed me.  Sleep.  I'm a world class sleeper.  I slept through labor.  I can sleep through anything.

But last night I could not get to sleep.  So I took some ten types of cold meds and then I worked at it...hard.   After about an hour I dreamed that I was on set and in charge of a mentally challenged actor.  Not a biggie, but in this dream the guy was my daughter's biological dad's brother.  Such a brother does not actually exist.  So this is my mind's version of what his brother with Down's would look like.  And then, because Art should always deal with nonsensical department tasks someone also put me in charge of a series of big camera moves.  I guess they were impressed with the manner in which I sequestered the talent.  So I'm handling it all well until we have a multi camera move.  I pace it out and then que the B camera team to begin a big steady-cam move when I hear screaming.  I walk to a room where I find Uma Thurman lying on the floor.  And I ask what's going on and I'm told that something is really wrong.  And I say, "Yeah!  You are skin and bones, girl..."  And I say it the chiding way I say it to my friends that are itty-bitty things, only she was a literal skeleton without skin.  And I then notice she is pregnant.  She's so thin I can see every vessel and contour of the baby and it's little paper thin sac.  A woman by her hips moves a stethoscope aside and declares, "The baby isn't breathing."  And the woman says she will go and call an ambulance.  And she hands me a knife and tells me to cut her sac open along the scar line she shows me and then says, "And cut off that little doohickey right there."  But she says it all casual like, as if telling me to burn off that ugly mole.  So I am confused as to whether or not this order is life threatening to Uma or the baby.  Can this order just take a pass?  I can see the scar line I need to follow to make the incision but I can not seem to work the knife thing she handed me and I have no idea what pesky little doohickey I am to remove and I don't know if she will come back.  I tell everyone to start looking through all of the drawers for a proper scalpel and I try like hell to get the weird knife in my hand to function.  And then this is where I stop the dream.  I wake up and it's only Midnight.

That night was followed by a day that was nearly as disturbing.  I find out that I have moved my family onto a block that is a freaking petrie dish of festering psychological disorder.   So I'm scared to death that my dreams will get worse tonight.  And I can not imagine a worse dream.  That last dream covered all waking demons up to and including,  

1.  My Daughter's Biological Father
2.  Job Stress
3.  Dead Babies
4.  Insecurity/ Incompetence
5.  Eating Disorders
6.  Miscommunication
7.  Responsibility
8.  Mental Retardation 
9.  Uma Thurman
10. Failure

Afraid I will dream that my whole family is eaten by cannibals, I'm up watching Tila Tequila at 4am.  And considering the alternative, it's not too bad.