Last week, there was a period of several hours when my cat, Harry "The Highlander", acted in a manner most uncharacteristic to his normal behaviour. It passed, and I forgot about it until this past Thursday, when he stopped eating and drinking, did not want to go outside at all and rejected T-U-N-A. Chiropractic adjustments seemed to have no effect, though it had in the past. The tuna clinched it, and I took him to the vet after there was no evidence of using the litter box, after 24 hours.
Dr. Tzvi, the vet, ran a battery of tests, took blood and gave Harry an IV drip to deal with his dehydration. Every half hour or so, Dr. Tzvi would check our the lifeless lump that used to be my very active cat, look at his blood test results, shake his head and say to me, "This is not good at all," and yet refused to elaborate. When I would ask for details or try to understand the worst case scenario - having been raised in the Jewish/Polish mother model -the vet would refuse to explain until all data came in. But I was not supposed to freak out, of course.
The short version of the story: "most probably" a parasitic infection that is causing severe anemia and break-down of his red blood cells. If I had not brought him in for a check-up, he "probably" would have died over the weekend. Then he casually mentioned cancer and FIV as alternative diagnoses, if no improvement appeared within four days.
The good news: the very same day, after receiving the IV plus anti-biotics and steroids to avoid RBC break-down, Harry started to get ornery, used the litter box and tried to eat food. Today, one day later, he is more active and asking to go outside. Which he can't, until his 21 day course of anti-biotics is completed.
When I told my mother about the stress this caused, she did not hide her true feelings; there is some part of her that fears that I am falling into the Crazy Cat Lady stereotype, and that having a cat means I will die alone and single. Her immediate response to my sadness was, "Oh well, your cat is dying. Pets die you know..." Thanks for the sympathy and support, Mom; surprising all the more so because she grew up all her life with cats as pets.
The aspect of this episode that continues to bother me concerns the clinical approach (as expert and professional as I could want) towards my feelings and fears. Never mind the fact that I am the one paying the veterinarian's bill, all 600 NIS of it, but that fact that pets (as with children) reflect the environment created by their owner and in the home. Like any other doctor, he could use some improvement in his bed-side manner towards the human in this equation.
I always mock the American pet owners who take their dog or cat to an animal shrink, when their house mate misbehaves by peeing on the carpet or destroying furniture. It is ultimately therapy for the owner, as animals cannot speak English (duh) and they simply react to the atmosphere around them.
Oh, and I think that I would subscribe to a pet care HMO in Israel, if such a thing existed.
Showing posts with label dating sites. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dating sites. Show all posts
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Mister Rogers on Relationships
Fred McFeely Rogers, known as Mister Rogers to the civilized world, was a calming and assuring presence in my life when I was a child. Even today, I find his simple approach to life comforting and totally on target. Reading his books as an adult, I feel like he still values me as a person, that he is speaking directly to me and my struggles.
That is the power of the man, and his words.
Given my frustration with the dating and marriage scene, I found this advice of his most helpful, and wish to pass it on to those readers who could use it:
"Love" is a word to use with care. It means many different things and can be expressed in many different ways. But I think it means that a person can grow to his or her fullest potential only in mutually caring relationships with other human beings.
Mutually caring relationships require kindness and patience, tolerance, optimism, joy in others' achievements, confidence in oneself, and the ability to give without undue thought of gain. We need to accept the fact that it is not in the power of any human being to provide all these things all the time. For any of us, mutually caring relationships will also always include some measure of unkindness and impatience, intolerance, pessimism, envy, self-doubt, and disappointment.
Love doesn't mean a state of perfect caring. To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now - and to go on caring through joyful times and through times that may bring us pain.
May the new year bring us all joy, and the love that we need in our lives.
That is the power of the man, and his words.
Given my frustration with the dating and marriage scene, I found this advice of his most helpful, and wish to pass it on to those readers who could use it:
"Love" is a word to use with care. It means many different things and can be expressed in many different ways. But I think it means that a person can grow to his or her fullest potential only in mutually caring relationships with other human beings.
Mutually caring relationships require kindness and patience, tolerance, optimism, joy in others' achievements, confidence in oneself, and the ability to give without undue thought of gain. We need to accept the fact that it is not in the power of any human being to provide all these things all the time. For any of us, mutually caring relationships will also always include some measure of unkindness and impatience, intolerance, pessimism, envy, self-doubt, and disappointment.
Love doesn't mean a state of perfect caring. To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now - and to go on caring through joyful times and through times that may bring us pain.
May the new year bring us all joy, and the love that we need in our lives.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Friday News Feed
Life Imitates Art
This past season on the Israeli tele-novella, The Champion, they featured a fictional (cigar-chomping) Prime Minister who had been diagnosed with cancer. This PM then decided that if he is indeed going to die in the next year, he wants to facilitate a true peace in the Middle East as his legacy. The final episode of this season involved an assassination attempt by one of his closest advisers, who was also coincidentally, an arms dealer.
And now we hear that PM Ehud Olmert (a real-life cigar chomping Prime Minister) has been diagnosed with Prostate cancer. A corrupt man whose approval ratings were technically in the minus is now "popular," and he is riding this wave by pushing through major land grabs for the Arabs, until there is nothing Jewish left of the capitol and the country.
I say, as a purely objective medical professional, that he should take some time off, resign his position and tend to his body, while someone else fixes the damage he has done thus far to the country.
Global Warming, Israel Style
Traditionally, the rainy season in Israel begins at the conclusion of the Jewish holiday of Succot, a holiday which has long passed. Instead of the much needed rain, Israel is experiencing not only sunny and pleasant weather, but a dusty heat wave. Those of us who suffer from allergies during the transitional season appreciate this phenomenon less, not to mention how the drought will affect the crops and the water supply.
Could be Al Gore's pet project, global warming, though the religious and superstitious sort attribute 'Biblical' causes, ie that G-d is showing his displeasure with the current state of the government by denying us water. The Torah does indeed state that if we Israelites do not deserve to live in the Holy Land, the land will literally "chuck us out."
I am not yet packing my suitcase, but find that performing the ancient Native American rain dance on my porch makes me feel better.
Facebook Etiquette
Facebook made the news this week, along with its 25 year old founder, and I say good for him, let him have some spending money in his pocket. The expansion of social networking on the web has introduced certain sticky situations, for which there is no official protocol.
This past week I "broke up" with some friends, and contemplated for several days whether it was appropriate or kind to remove them from my Facebook network, even though they had hurt me very badly and didn't think about my feelings. I decided that I could accept the fact that we were no longer a part of each other's lives, and that access to my profile would provide no real damage.
This morning, I checked Facebook, and lo and behold, the wife of this couple had unceremoniously dropped me from her Friends list. Notably, her husband had not. I felt that it was not appropriate to have any contact with the husband, given both their actions in the past two weeks; and that as long as the wife had struck the first blow, so to speak, I could remove the husband with a clear conscience.
I have heard stories that people have made themselves available to date on Facebook, before they even broke up face-to-face with their partners.
What would Miss Manners say?
Dollar Continues to Fall
The shequel-dollar exchange rate for today is 3.964.
Financial analysts are recommending that you keep your money under your mattress until George Bush gets out of the White House.
This past season on the Israeli tele-novella, The Champion, they featured a fictional (cigar-chomping) Prime Minister who had been diagnosed with cancer. This PM then decided that if he is indeed going to die in the next year, he wants to facilitate a true peace in the Middle East as his legacy. The final episode of this season involved an assassination attempt by one of his closest advisers, who was also coincidentally, an arms dealer.
And now we hear that PM Ehud Olmert (a real-life cigar chomping Prime Minister) has been diagnosed with Prostate cancer. A corrupt man whose approval ratings were technically in the minus is now "popular," and he is riding this wave by pushing through major land grabs for the Arabs, until there is nothing Jewish left of the capitol and the country.
I say, as a purely objective medical professional, that he should take some time off, resign his position and tend to his body, while someone else fixes the damage he has done thus far to the country.
Global Warming, Israel Style
Traditionally, the rainy season in Israel begins at the conclusion of the Jewish holiday of Succot, a holiday which has long passed. Instead of the much needed rain, Israel is experiencing not only sunny and pleasant weather, but a dusty heat wave. Those of us who suffer from allergies during the transitional season appreciate this phenomenon less, not to mention how the drought will affect the crops and the water supply.
Could be Al Gore's pet project, global warming, though the religious and superstitious sort attribute 'Biblical' causes, ie that G-d is showing his displeasure with the current state of the government by denying us water. The Torah does indeed state that if we Israelites do not deserve to live in the Holy Land, the land will literally "chuck us out."
I am not yet packing my suitcase, but find that performing the ancient Native American rain dance on my porch makes me feel better.
Facebook Etiquette
Facebook made the news this week, along with its 25 year old founder, and I say good for him, let him have some spending money in his pocket. The expansion of social networking on the web has introduced certain sticky situations, for which there is no official protocol.
This past week I "broke up" with some friends, and contemplated for several days whether it was appropriate or kind to remove them from my Facebook network, even though they had hurt me very badly and didn't think about my feelings. I decided that I could accept the fact that we were no longer a part of each other's lives, and that access to my profile would provide no real damage.
This morning, I checked Facebook, and lo and behold, the wife of this couple had unceremoniously dropped me from her Friends list. Notably, her husband had not. I felt that it was not appropriate to have any contact with the husband, given both their actions in the past two weeks; and that as long as the wife had struck the first blow, so to speak, I could remove the husband with a clear conscience.
I have heard stories that people have made themselves available to date on Facebook, before they even broke up face-to-face with their partners.
What would Miss Manners say?
Dollar Continues to Fall
The shequel-dollar exchange rate for today is 3.964.
Financial analysts are recommending that you keep your money under your mattress until George Bush gets out of the White House.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Tall People
A song called "Short People" came onto the radio this morning, and I paid attention to the words, and the chorus in particular disturbed me: "Short people got no reason to live." I don't think a folk song should be advocating suicide, just because someone is height challenged.
I also challenge the world to consider the detriment of being tall. Only a tall woman can relate to the following painful memories of childhood:
1. Wanting to shop at the same stores where all the other girls buy their clothing.
2. Wanting to buy your first pair of high heels, and realizing that none of the cool stores carry a size 11 or 12 women's, and having to go to the Ugly Shoe Store for Old Ladies to buy some hideous Orthopaedic pair of "comfortable shoes."
3. Never being "cute."
4. Going to a bowling birthday party and being told in front of all your friends that they don't have your size in a women's shoe, you will have to wear one of the men's bowling shoes. (Like you don't feel awful enough already in a bowling shoe...)
5. Maintaining poor posture and slouching to the height of the group, so that you can feel like you are at eye-level.
5. Having limited dating options, or actually dating someone who is at least a head shorter than you, and seeing your reflection as a couple in the mirror for the first time, and feeling like you are Shrek and he is Princess Fiona, when she is not an ogre.
One of my grandmothers had a size 12 shoe, quite rare for a woman of that generation, and unlike today, there were zero options to walk into a normal store and buy normal fashionable foot ware. My other grandmother bought me a book called The Tallest Girl in the Class, a story about this girl in the fourth grade felt like an outsider and a freak, until she was picked to play the Christmas tree in the pageant, because she was the tallest person in the class. The children's book does not specify if she needed therapy later in life.
In elementary school, because I towered over both the girls and the boys, I was chosen to play Mordechai in the Purim musical, which we performed in front of the whole school. In retrospect, I would like to question the intelligence and sensitivity of putting a shy tall girl in a beard. My best friend at the time, Karen Zomick, got to play Queen Esther, because she was petite and "cute."
Today as an adult, I appreciate the many ways in which I am outside the box, my height being only one factor through which I stand out in the crowd. Tall people have stature and authority; my three brothers each stand over six feet. If I were thin enough, I could be a super-model. Quite content with my body and my build, I have no desire to lose a few inches, I will lose an inch and a half from my spinal discs as I get older anyway (as all humans do over time).
Maybe I ought to sue my elementary school for my not being married, because they caused gender confusion and set back my self-confidence. Anyone want to take on the case?
I also challenge the world to consider the detriment of being tall. Only a tall woman can relate to the following painful memories of childhood:
1. Wanting to shop at the same stores where all the other girls buy their clothing.
2. Wanting to buy your first pair of high heels, and realizing that none of the cool stores carry a size 11 or 12 women's, and having to go to the Ugly Shoe Store for Old Ladies to buy some hideous Orthopaedic pair of "comfortable shoes."
3. Never being "cute."
4. Going to a bowling birthday party and being told in front of all your friends that they don't have your size in a women's shoe, you will have to wear one of the men's bowling shoes. (Like you don't feel awful enough already in a bowling shoe...)
5. Maintaining poor posture and slouching to the height of the group, so that you can feel like you are at eye-level.
5. Having limited dating options, or actually dating someone who is at least a head shorter than you, and seeing your reflection as a couple in the mirror for the first time, and feeling like you are Shrek and he is Princess Fiona, when she is not an ogre.
One of my grandmothers had a size 12 shoe, quite rare for a woman of that generation, and unlike today, there were zero options to walk into a normal store and buy normal fashionable foot ware. My other grandmother bought me a book called The Tallest Girl in the Class, a story about this girl in the fourth grade felt like an outsider and a freak, until she was picked to play the Christmas tree in the pageant, because she was the tallest person in the class. The children's book does not specify if she needed therapy later in life.
In elementary school, because I towered over both the girls and the boys, I was chosen to play Mordechai in the Purim musical, which we performed in front of the whole school. In retrospect, I would like to question the intelligence and sensitivity of putting a shy tall girl in a beard. My best friend at the time, Karen Zomick, got to play Queen Esther, because she was petite and "cute."
Today as an adult, I appreciate the many ways in which I am outside the box, my height being only one factor through which I stand out in the crowd. Tall people have stature and authority; my three brothers each stand over six feet. If I were thin enough, I could be a super-model. Quite content with my body and my build, I have no desire to lose a few inches, I will lose an inch and a half from my spinal discs as I get older anyway (as all humans do over time).
Maybe I ought to sue my elementary school for my not being married, because they caused gender confusion and set back my self-confidence. Anyone want to take on the case?
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Rebecca Danzig Keller, In Memoriam
Last Thursday was the eighth anniversary (Yartzeit) of my grandmother's death, a woman who very much impacted my life and with whom I was quite close growing up. My mother (her eldest daughter) had suggested that we children and grandchildren do something "meaningful" to mark the day, to honor her memory.
Not coincidentally, the Universe gave me a slow Chiropractic work day, and I was able to look through letters and journal entries from the time immediately before and after her death, which in turn gave me a burst of almost overwhelming creative energy, which I used to channel into photography and creative writing.
The day of her funeral, eight years ago, I wrote the following in my journal:
"There is a whole life in this house, from large details like her car to small details like her basement office organization, her color coordinated towels, her books. How does one dismantle a life? How does one distribute and incorporate it? Everyone keeps saying that her legacy is us, her grandchildren, we are the proof that she did something worthwhile, that each of us carries her within us. Why can't she be here to see it, I feel like everyone has a time, and this was not hers.
What will people say about me when I die? What will be my legacy?"
In speaking to a friend today, a woman aware of my issues at being single and childless in my late 30's, she challenged me with that exact question: What is my legacy? Can I say that I am an inherently worthwhile and important person, regardless of the standards imposed by society or by my family? Why do I exist?
For now, I have a sufficiently unconvincing answer, with the only fact on the ground being that I EXIST. I would even venture to say that I exist for a reason, and that I have faith that the Universe and its Higher Powers generally knows what it is doing. But I cannot answer the "Why," and it terrifies me, because I am afraid that if I explore these answers and possibilities, I will not like what I find. Perhaps it will come to me in a dream.
I do, however, have an opinion on the subject, and it starts with the classic philosophical question, if a tree falls in the middle of the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? And actually, my answer to that is a definitive NO; hearing, like the other five senses humanity has been programmed with as part of their genetic package, is dependent upon relative perception. While the sound and the loss of a tree in the middle of a random forest will most definitely impact the Greater Universe - in keeping with the principles of Chaos Theory - if it has not been perceived by another, it gets lost.
To apply that theory on a micro level, I assert that I am in fact a worthwhile person, deserving of love and being in a loving relationship, and I assert that I value my own company. Ultimately, I wonder if I count, if I leave no trail behind me when I die, genetic or otherwise; if there was never one person in my life who loved me unconditionally, who wanted to be my husband and raise a child with me not out of obligation, but out of eagerness and interest and a desire to grow old with me. Surely, the heavens will cry when I leave this Earth, and somewhere in the cosmos there will be a ripple, but will any human miss me or remember me?
As a child, fame and global recognition represented my idea of meaning and legacy in life, I would not be considered a success until I had been featured on the front page of the New York Times for saving humanity, or until at least one of my works of art was hanging in the Metropolitan Museum. That template has dramatically shifted, I do not need nor want to save the world. Right now I want and need intimacy, physical and emotional, the knowledge that for at least one person on this planet, I am their first and most precious priority. You can argue that it means that I don't love myself 100%, or that I err in using an external measure of my worth, but I am human living in a society of other humans. Robinson Caruso had it much easier.
I don't know how to express or explain that feeling of total acceptance, except to say that I received that affirmation from my grandmother, and that is a large part of the reason why I miss her.
I close with a Celtic sonnet that someone read to my family when they visited the shiva house, eight years ago, and I dedicate this poem to my grandmother, and to myself, that I may have a long, fulfilling and happy life, and will have left it a better place for my being there.
Grieve not
Nor speak of me with tears
But laugh and talk of me
As though I were beside you.
I loved you so
"Twas Heaven here with you.
Not coincidentally, the Universe gave me a slow Chiropractic work day, and I was able to look through letters and journal entries from the time immediately before and after her death, which in turn gave me a burst of almost overwhelming creative energy, which I used to channel into photography and creative writing.
The day of her funeral, eight years ago, I wrote the following in my journal:
"There is a whole life in this house, from large details like her car to small details like her basement office organization, her color coordinated towels, her books. How does one dismantle a life? How does one distribute and incorporate it? Everyone keeps saying that her legacy is us, her grandchildren, we are the proof that she did something worthwhile, that each of us carries her within us. Why can't she be here to see it, I feel like everyone has a time, and this was not hers.
What will people say about me when I die? What will be my legacy?"
In speaking to a friend today, a woman aware of my issues at being single and childless in my late 30's, she challenged me with that exact question: What is my legacy? Can I say that I am an inherently worthwhile and important person, regardless of the standards imposed by society or by my family? Why do I exist?
For now, I have a sufficiently unconvincing answer, with the only fact on the ground being that I EXIST. I would even venture to say that I exist for a reason, and that I have faith that the Universe and its Higher Powers generally knows what it is doing. But I cannot answer the "Why," and it terrifies me, because I am afraid that if I explore these answers and possibilities, I will not like what I find. Perhaps it will come to me in a dream.
I do, however, have an opinion on the subject, and it starts with the classic philosophical question, if a tree falls in the middle of the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? And actually, my answer to that is a definitive NO; hearing, like the other five senses humanity has been programmed with as part of their genetic package, is dependent upon relative perception. While the sound and the loss of a tree in the middle of a random forest will most definitely impact the Greater Universe - in keeping with the principles of Chaos Theory - if it has not been perceived by another, it gets lost.
To apply that theory on a micro level, I assert that I am in fact a worthwhile person, deserving of love and being in a loving relationship, and I assert that I value my own company. Ultimately, I wonder if I count, if I leave no trail behind me when I die, genetic or otherwise; if there was never one person in my life who loved me unconditionally, who wanted to be my husband and raise a child with me not out of obligation, but out of eagerness and interest and a desire to grow old with me. Surely, the heavens will cry when I leave this Earth, and somewhere in the cosmos there will be a ripple, but will any human miss me or remember me?
As a child, fame and global recognition represented my idea of meaning and legacy in life, I would not be considered a success until I had been featured on the front page of the New York Times for saving humanity, or until at least one of my works of art was hanging in the Metropolitan Museum. That template has dramatically shifted, I do not need nor want to save the world. Right now I want and need intimacy, physical and emotional, the knowledge that for at least one person on this planet, I am their first and most precious priority. You can argue that it means that I don't love myself 100%, or that I err in using an external measure of my worth, but I am human living in a society of other humans. Robinson Caruso had it much easier.
I don't know how to express or explain that feeling of total acceptance, except to say that I received that affirmation from my grandmother, and that is a large part of the reason why I miss her.
I close with a Celtic sonnet that someone read to my family when they visited the shiva house, eight years ago, and I dedicate this poem to my grandmother, and to myself, that I may have a long, fulfilling and happy life, and will have left it a better place for my being there.
Grieve not
Nor speak of me with tears
But laugh and talk of me
As though I were beside you.
I loved you so
"Twas Heaven here with you.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Anatomy of a Blind Date
Part I: Short Phone Call (Friday)
I had been expecting a call from "R" for several weeks now, his benefactor had called me several times to tell me how we were "perfect" for each other. R called today, and when I said I had been waiting to hear from him, I heard panic in his voice, as he asked, "Oh, did you get married already?" I explained to him that I was in fact still single, but that he had simply called at a bad time - I don't speak on the cell phone when I drive - and requested that he call me back a few hours later. No word from him the rest of the day.
Part II: The Phone Call (Sunday night)
Right away I could tell that he had taken the Romper Room "How to Win Friends and Communicate Annoyingly" course, because he literally started every sentence by saying my name in a lilting voice ["Doc....PAUSE"], whereupon I was meant to respond with equal enthusiasm and drama ["Yes R...PAUSE"] and only then would he finish his sentence.
He wanted to have a first date over the phone, to ask me enough questions for him to determine whether it was worth his time to meet with me in person. I responded by saying that I don't do dating interviews, and that I can much more easily gage attraction and compatibility if we actually meet in person and share a conversation over a cup of coffee. At that point he asked the most appalling question of all, especially since we had not yet met and there is no relationship to speak of, he said: "Tell me how I must change so that you will like me. Anything that you want me to do or change about myself, I am willing to do."
While I am a firm believer in negotiation and compromise in a healthy relationship, this question indicated a spineless (excuse the Chiropractic pun) and desperate individual who does not know himself, or is at the very least seriously lacking self-confidence. (Not attractive, and surprising for a man who has been built up as a 49 year old successful Israeli Doctor-Lawyer.) I told him right away that on a first date he must bring HIMSELF, because I care much more about his personality and integrity and how we get along, how I feel when I am speaking to him when we are in the same space. He answered that apparently novel request by saying that he was giddy with excitement about our date because I sounded "easy", I seemed to have no expectations and he did not feel threatened. I do not know whether to take that as a compliment or as an insult, and my instinct tells me that this date will be a dog.
Part III: Another Phone Call (Monday)
R called tonight, to confirm our date on Wednesday night of this week. As he does not live in Jerusalem, he asked me to choose a restaurant or coffee house that was intimate and quiet, so he could "hold onto my every word, and not be distracted by anyone or anything." When I asked him how hungry he expected to be, he replied, "I don't need food, I only hunger to meet you." (Ack, not making this up!)
I had been expecting a call from "R" for several weeks now, his benefactor had called me several times to tell me how we were "perfect" for each other. R called today, and when I said I had been waiting to hear from him, I heard panic in his voice, as he asked, "Oh, did you get married already?" I explained to him that I was in fact still single, but that he had simply called at a bad time - I don't speak on the cell phone when I drive - and requested that he call me back a few hours later. No word from him the rest of the day.
Part II: The Phone Call (Sunday night)
Right away I could tell that he had taken the Romper Room "How to Win Friends and Communicate Annoyingly" course, because he literally started every sentence by saying my name in a lilting voice ["Doc....PAUSE"], whereupon I was meant to respond with equal enthusiasm and drama ["Yes R...PAUSE"] and only then would he finish his sentence.
He wanted to have a first date over the phone, to ask me enough questions for him to determine whether it was worth his time to meet with me in person. I responded by saying that I don't do dating interviews, and that I can much more easily gage attraction and compatibility if we actually meet in person and share a conversation over a cup of coffee. At that point he asked the most appalling question of all, especially since we had not yet met and there is no relationship to speak of, he said: "Tell me how I must change so that you will like me. Anything that you want me to do or change about myself, I am willing to do."
While I am a firm believer in negotiation and compromise in a healthy relationship, this question indicated a spineless (excuse the Chiropractic pun) and desperate individual who does not know himself, or is at the very least seriously lacking self-confidence. (Not attractive, and surprising for a man who has been built up as a 49 year old successful Israeli Doctor-Lawyer.) I told him right away that on a first date he must bring HIMSELF, because I care much more about his personality and integrity and how we get along, how I feel when I am speaking to him when we are in the same space. He answered that apparently novel request by saying that he was giddy with excitement about our date because I sounded "easy", I seemed to have no expectations and he did not feel threatened. I do not know whether to take that as a compliment or as an insult, and my instinct tells me that this date will be a dog.
Part III: Another Phone Call (Monday)
R called tonight, to confirm our date on Wednesday night of this week. As he does not live in Jerusalem, he asked me to choose a restaurant or coffee house that was intimate and quiet, so he could "hold onto my every word, and not be distracted by anyone or anything." When I asked him how hungry he expected to be, he replied, "I don't need food, I only hunger to meet you." (Ack, not making this up!)
Part IV: The Date that Didn't Happen (Tuesday)
After much consideration, I came to the conclusion that if I wanted to strangle him after spending a short amount of time with him on the phone, I could not pretend to be interested in him in person, just so as not to hurt his feelings. I have learned to respect my instinct, and my instinct - coupled with the hysterical laughter every time I thought of that "hunger" line - said that my time would be better spent elsewhere.
I called him up and told him that I would not be coming to our date this Wednesday, nor would I be finding the time to reschedule it to another time and day. I explained to him that after our various phone conversations, I did not feel that we "clicked." He seemed nonchalant, offering that should it become "relevant" for us to meet each other, I need only call him.
Part V: Moral of the Story
I don't want to remain that fabulous single woman with dating horror stories. Like the story of the man in Toronto who very suddenly, in the middle of a decent date, looked at his watch, jumped out of his chair as if his gluteus maximus were on fire, and said, "Oh god, I am missing the Simpsons." (Another true story.)
I plan on being that happily involved in a long-term relationship woman, who can laugh at my dating past, and who can appreciate and respect myself, for not having wasted the time on men who clearly were not appropriate.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Raising Our Parents
I am a grown up, with a successful career, a string of mostly positive life choices, fun hobbies and good friends. I am single, to the extreme disappointment of my parents, because after hundreds of dates, several long term relationships and one broken engagement, I would rather be happy and single than be married and miserable with the wrong person. Through life experience, lots of hard work and introspection and a little therapy, I have become a person whose company I enjoy, almost unrecognizable from the person I was growing up.
My mother still speaks to me like I am the sullen, introverted, judgemental 13 year old, living in her house. My friends tell me that no matter how much they have achieved in life, their parents treat them the same way, it's "natural" to fall into habits that were set years ago, modes of relating and behaviour that are so hard wired that even a complete Reset would not get rid of it.
I give others the benefit of the doubt that I afford myself, if I can change, if I am willing to put in the effort and the pain of examining the proverbial elephant camped in the middle of the room, so why can't my parents? Several weeks ago, with no apparent trigger, a routine phone call with my mother turned into a psychological nightmare. My mother launched a ten minute diatribe, actual character assassination; that she does not enjoy speaking to me and that there is nothing in my life that she be proud of. That I reflect her failure as a mother, and I must leave my independent life, move back into my parents house so they can fix me.
My only so-called failure in this case was my not hanging up immediately when she started spewing garbage. I have since not spoken to her, and through my father relayed the message that I await an apology, an apology that comes from the truth of knowing and understanding that you have hurt someone you love, an apology that says that she has examined her own motivations and will try her hardest not to repeat her performance.
Her version of the story is that I owe her an apology for hanging up on her, because she cannot admit her responsibility here, because she would rather be the victim than admit that she has victimized someone else.
I wait for this apology, hoping that this blackout period of communication will make a difference. I may be waiting for a long time...
My mother still speaks to me like I am the sullen, introverted, judgemental 13 year old, living in her house. My friends tell me that no matter how much they have achieved in life, their parents treat them the same way, it's "natural" to fall into habits that were set years ago, modes of relating and behaviour that are so hard wired that even a complete Reset would not get rid of it.
I give others the benefit of the doubt that I afford myself, if I can change, if I am willing to put in the effort and the pain of examining the proverbial elephant camped in the middle of the room, so why can't my parents? Several weeks ago, with no apparent trigger, a routine phone call with my mother turned into a psychological nightmare. My mother launched a ten minute diatribe, actual character assassination; that she does not enjoy speaking to me and that there is nothing in my life that she be proud of. That I reflect her failure as a mother, and I must leave my independent life, move back into my parents house so they can fix me.
My only so-called failure in this case was my not hanging up immediately when she started spewing garbage. I have since not spoken to her, and through my father relayed the message that I await an apology, an apology that comes from the truth of knowing and understanding that you have hurt someone you love, an apology that says that she has examined her own motivations and will try her hardest not to repeat her performance.
Her version of the story is that I owe her an apology for hanging up on her, because she cannot admit her responsibility here, because she would rather be the victim than admit that she has victimized someone else.
I wait for this apology, hoping that this blackout period of communication will make a difference. I may be waiting for a long time...
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Oh To Be a Luddite or The Death of Chivalry
My Second Life Avatar - named after the literary anti-hero Holden Caulfield - has the long straight hair for which I have always wished, and she can fly, a feat of magic and fantasy that has been part of my ethos since I was a child and got lost in DC comics. Every morning before work and every evening as I am closing up the office I check four different email addresses. After checking my email, I check the multiple Jewish dating websites on which my profile is posted, to see if I have been winked at, emailed or "Hot Listed." Some of these sites allow men to randomly troll for me and stalk me, and some are supervised by matchmakers, who no longer have to meet with you or be on the same continent as you in order to propose a match.
Just in case my life wasn't full enough, I now manage my felines' social life, as they have recently received their own profile and email on Catster.com, a virtual pet community that has grown out of the MySpace concept. Harry and Sarel are able to receive virtual treats, write and share a blog about their life growing up in Jerusalem, and send and receive emails with their furry friends.
"I think, therefore I am" has been replaced with "I Palm Pilot, therefore I exist." If G-d forbid my Palm ever crashed, I am fairly certain that I would wink out of existence. Gone are the days when doctors recorded their day with pen and paper, wrote out hand receipts and kept business records that were good enough for the IRS. My patients can read all about my education , my philosophical approach to Chiropractic, and my techniques on the company website. And the number of hi tech clients I treat for RSI, Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and work related injuries grows exponentially.
When I shop on Amazon, the highly evolved Big Brother software immediately recommends a series of books, music, films and DVDs, clothing and electronic equipment, based upon my history of purchases. Most often, their recommendations are completely on target, or it is something I already own.
It scares me and saddens me. This same technology that has created a global community, and has made personal and professional communication move at the speed of a nano-second, has turned this generation and those to come into virtual reality addicts, anti-social couch potatoes who would rather IM, talk on their cell phone, send an SMS and email their network of friends - all at the same time - than actually spend physical time space with their friends and family. No wonder obesity, both childhood and adult, runs rampant anywhere where there is access to an ADSL line.
I can be reached by land line, fax, cell phone, Skype and email 24 hours a day. We human beings have lost our privacy, the luxury of time to mull over a business proposal, and the essential time we need to allow our body and mind to relax. We suffer from Adrenal Overload, as we strive toward more hours per day than the solar system allows.
I especially feel the degradation of social norms in my dating life. The separation of body from mind makes it simple to create a false identity: a man who "appears and feels younger than his chronological age" is actually 60 years old, missing several teeth and has no hair. A man who describes himself as "athletic" or "large boned" actually looks pregnant, as he has neglected his gut for too long. A person who lists his profession as an "environmental manager" is actually a garbage man; if a man writes that he is "exploring his options," he means to say that he is perpetually unemployed. A photo of a man with that movie star smile could have just as easily come from a picture frame he bought at CVS. Most Israeli men want to interview you over the phone, as if you are applying for a job, before they decide that it is even worth buying you a cup of coffee and speaking in person.
But how can you know the truth of a date or the possibility of a relationship, if you do not see each other, talk to each other, enjoy (or not) each other's company? I miss the days when I could go to a party or a meal with friends, meet a new person and converse, feel that chemistry, and with chivalry, be asked out on a proper date.
I cringe when I sound like I am of my grandparents' generation, "Kids these days..." but clearly the virtuality and invasive nature of the World Wide Web threatens the basis of our humanity, that is people experiencing life, and experiencing each other.
Just in case my life wasn't full enough, I now manage my felines' social life, as they have recently received their own profile and email on Catster.com, a virtual pet community that has grown out of the MySpace concept. Harry and Sarel are able to receive virtual treats, write and share a blog about their life growing up in Jerusalem, and send and receive emails with their furry friends.
"I think, therefore I am" has been replaced with "I Palm Pilot, therefore I exist." If G-d forbid my Palm ever crashed, I am fairly certain that I would wink out of existence. Gone are the days when doctors recorded their day with pen and paper, wrote out hand receipts and kept business records that were good enough for the IRS. My patients can read all about my education , my philosophical approach to Chiropractic, and my techniques on the company website. And the number of hi tech clients I treat for RSI, Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and work related injuries grows exponentially.
When I shop on Amazon, the highly evolved Big Brother software immediately recommends a series of books, music, films and DVDs, clothing and electronic equipment, based upon my history of purchases. Most often, their recommendations are completely on target, or it is something I already own.
It scares me and saddens me. This same technology that has created a global community, and has made personal and professional communication move at the speed of a nano-second, has turned this generation and those to come into virtual reality addicts, anti-social couch potatoes who would rather IM, talk on their cell phone, send an SMS and email their network of friends - all at the same time - than actually spend physical time space with their friends and family. No wonder obesity, both childhood and adult, runs rampant anywhere where there is access to an ADSL line.
I can be reached by land line, fax, cell phone, Skype and email 24 hours a day. We human beings have lost our privacy, the luxury of time to mull over a business proposal, and the essential time we need to allow our body and mind to relax. We suffer from Adrenal Overload, as we strive toward more hours per day than the solar system allows.
I especially feel the degradation of social norms in my dating life. The separation of body from mind makes it simple to create a false identity: a man who "appears and feels younger than his chronological age" is actually 60 years old, missing several teeth and has no hair. A man who describes himself as "athletic" or "large boned" actually looks pregnant, as he has neglected his gut for too long. A person who lists his profession as an "environmental manager" is actually a garbage man; if a man writes that he is "exploring his options," he means to say that he is perpetually unemployed. A photo of a man with that movie star smile could have just as easily come from a picture frame he bought at CVS. Most Israeli men want to interview you over the phone, as if you are applying for a job, before they decide that it is even worth buying you a cup of coffee and speaking in person.
But how can you know the truth of a date or the possibility of a relationship, if you do not see each other, talk to each other, enjoy (or not) each other's company? I miss the days when I could go to a party or a meal with friends, meet a new person and converse, feel that chemistry, and with chivalry, be asked out on a proper date.
I cringe when I sound like I am of my grandparents' generation, "Kids these days..." but clearly the virtuality and invasive nature of the World Wide Web threatens the basis of our humanity, that is people experiencing life, and experiencing each other.
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