Matchmaker vs. Menace

"The stars will wait patiently while you look up the album art for Ted Nugent's Cat Scratch Fever, because they want you to know exactly what you look like to them. "

It's quite possibly inappropriate to begin a thought with a side tangent, but seems I enjoy living on the edge, so screw it. A number of weeks back, I'm wandering through a discount retailer searching for a red jacket. You see, once upon a time, I had an awesome bloody goddamned '70's style pleather jacket in hooker red. It was brilliant and damnit, I looked pretty brilliant in it. Anyhoo, I found a sad substitute for said jacket, but I also happened upon this funky-fantastic vest made of faux-suede and lined with pseudo-lambswool. This ain't any ordinary vest - it's akin to something you might happen upon a Cirque du Soleil cast member sporting. That was enough of a visual for me to plunk down my money and take yet another bold fashion risk (Who am I kidding? If you've ever seen me out in public, you know damn well I look like the product of Punky Brewster on a coke binge). Even amid bits of self-consciousness, I wore the vest to work and strutted about like a peacock in heat. All that glory and confidence came to a crashing halt when I walked in the door upon arriving home: "I'm gonna call you The Nuge". "Um, ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME!?" "What!? No! I love it! You just look like Ted Nugent, so I'm calling you The Nuge!" Fantastic. Not three days later I happened upon the horoscope at the top of this post and couldn't help but laugh. It was even Cancer's horoscope. Awesomeness. And ya know? I think I might just wear that vest a bit more frequently and perhaps pair it with a bow or sawed off shotgun, just for effect.

In a roundabout manner, that side tangent actually COULD feasibly relate to the subject at hand*. I was gossiping with my dear mother last night and my favorite brother came up. Although I've made it painfully obvious that he's my hero for so many reasons - if you haven't met him, you haven't LIVED. When he wakes up in the morning, I'm rather positive he pisses excellence. He is the muthafukin bee's knees, to be sure. He is also single *gasp*! Refrain from jumping to conclusions as he's blissfully single. I dare say I envy him on occasion when I'm being reprimanded for somehow enabling a certain someone's wedding ring to go flying off into the heating duct because he lost weight so the ring doesn't fit his finger anymore and despite being at work, it's all my fault. *ahem* But I digress.

A bit of a back story, here - when my parents divorced, my father - a devout Catholic - married a Mormon broad with a gaggle of children, grandchildren and yes, even children of the great-grand persuasion. Growing up surrounded by the culture, I'm well aware of the immense priorities placed on meeting, marrying and promptly breeding. A lot. Almost obscene amounts of it. But I'll save that conversation for another day. Anyway, as my dear brother lives near my dad & his wife, there are frequent invites for dinners, particularly around the holidays. And I wouldn't so much label them "invites" as "summons". As the surgically implanted foot in my dear stepmother's mouth dictates - there are often lectures about "finding a nice girl" and "settling down". To date, I am not aware of any forced courting, but I'm fully aware how damning the constant nagging must be for him.

My brother and I grew up in a cloud of judgement and rejection from the locals. It could hardly be avoided as we were immersed in this cult-ure everywhere we turned. It was often made well known that we were despised by neighbors and school mates for little reason beyond our own (differing) religion. In all reality, "our religion" generally entailed skipping church in favor of Slurpee's, Mad Magazine and enough candy to induce vomiting while we frolicked the hour away at some nearby park or another. The point was we simply didn't fit. And to not fit was bordering on criminal in our sheltered little cul-de-sac.

It wasn't until high school that we all were able to escape into the fringe society. I dare say high school rather saved all three of us (the third being the other brother who shall not be named). We were exposed to more of a bigger picture of the world... beyond our wee pond. We each blossomed off onto our own unique paths and were able to begin something of a healing process. My brother went out of state for college and immediately thereafter even ventured off the continent for a time. On his travels, he encountered like-minded geniuses with that thirst for knowledge and adventure. For all the things I'm so terribly jealous of. After a time, the job market was bleak and his financials even more so. Sadly, he moved back to our state of birth where he currently resides. This man is brilliant, insanely talented, charismatic, bloody hilarious, well-educated and handsome. Ah yes. And single. Oh, the horror!!!!

Why on earth is it assumed that those precious few people, those who have found themselves and have attained a heightened sense of peace and purpose - must be only hiding their misery at being alone...promptly subject to sighs of pity and the meddling of busy bodies? Have you found your soul mate? A hearty congratulations - but for Pete's sake, LIVE AND LET LIVE. No pity necessary as he is richer in his experience than many of us will ever be. The sad fact is that the omnipresent pestering is breaking his spirit. Rather than embrace his accomplishments and gifts, he is gradually succumbing to the brainwashing - believing he has fallen short of "normalcy". That is an offense I take personally. My heart broke once when he gave up his art. It's breaking again at his alienation.

Alas, it's not my battle to fight, so I ball my hands into fists and shake them aimlessly about on his behalf. It is my hope he will still encounter the realization, along his path, that he is unique, amazing and worthy. No less a human because he is not attached to another. And really, shouldn't we all be whole individuals first rather than basing our self-worth on the presence of a partner? Just a thought.

*Oops... Almost forgot to tie the side tangent to the main point of the post: One of the most detrimental influences on my brother and I as children were the remarks of others. T'is eventually far easier to isolate ourselves than face the possibility of a vocal outsider. Despite free speech and all that hoopla, there is also something to be said for tact. You never quite know who you may drive into a remote cave with your careless remarks.

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Kitty

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Matchmaker vs. Menace

"The stars will wait patiently while you look up the album art for Ted Nugent's Cat Scratch Fever, because they want you to know exactly what you look like to them. "

It's quite possibly inappropriate to begin a thought with a side tangent, but seems I enjoy living on the edge, so screw it. A number of weeks back, I'm wandering through a discount retailer searching for a red jacket. You see, once upon a time, I had an awesome bloody goddamned '70's style pleather jacket in hooker red. It was brilliant and damnit, I looked pretty brilliant in it. Anyhoo, I found a sad substitute for said jacket, but I also happened upon this funky-fantastic vest made of faux-suede and lined with pseudo-lambswool. This ain't any ordinary vest - it's akin to something you might happen upon a Cirque du Soleil cast member sporting. That was enough of a visual for me to plunk down my money and take yet another bold fashion risk (Who am I kidding? If you've ever seen me out in public, you know damn well I look like the product of Punky Brewster on a coke binge). Even amid bits of self-consciousness, I wore the vest to work and strutted about like a peacock in heat. All that glory and confidence came to a crashing halt when I walked in the door upon arriving home: "I'm gonna call you The Nuge". "Um, ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME!?" "What!? No! I love it! You just look like Ted Nugent, so I'm calling you The Nuge!" Fantastic. Not three days later I happened upon the horoscope at the top of this post and couldn't help but laugh. It was even Cancer's horoscope. Awesomeness. And ya know? I think I might just wear that vest a bit more frequently and perhaps pair it with a bow or sawed off shotgun, just for effect.

In a roundabout manner, that side tangent actually COULD feasibly relate to the subject at hand*. I was gossiping with my dear mother last night and my favorite brother came up. Although I've made it painfully obvious that he's my hero for so many reasons - if you haven't met him, you haven't LIVED. When he wakes up in the morning, I'm rather positive he pisses excellence. He is the muthafukin bee's knees, to be sure. He is also single *gasp*! Refrain from jumping to conclusions as he's blissfully single. I dare say I envy him on occasion when I'm being reprimanded for somehow enabling a certain someone's wedding ring to go flying off into the heating duct because he lost weight so the ring doesn't fit his finger anymore and despite being at work, it's all my fault. *ahem* But I digress.

A bit of a back story, here - when my parents divorced, my father - a devout Catholic - married a Mormon broad with a gaggle of children, grandchildren and yes, even children of the great-grand persuasion. Growing up surrounded by the culture, I'm well aware of the immense priorities placed on meeting, marrying and promptly breeding. A lot. Almost obscene amounts of it. But I'll save that conversation for another day. Anyway, as my dear brother lives near my dad & his wife, there are frequent invites for dinners, particularly around the holidays. And I wouldn't so much label them "invites" as "summons". As the surgically implanted foot in my dear stepmother's mouth dictates - there are often lectures about "finding a nice girl" and "settling down". To date, I am not aware of any forced courting, but I'm fully aware how damning the constant nagging must be for him.

My brother and I grew up in a cloud of judgement and rejection from the locals. It could hardly be avoided as we were immersed in this cult-ure everywhere we turned. It was often made well known that we were despised by neighbors and school mates for little reason beyond our own (differing) religion. In all reality, "our religion" generally entailed skipping church in favor of Slurpee's, Mad Magazine and enough candy to induce vomiting while we frolicked the hour away at some nearby park or another. The point was we simply didn't fit. And to not fit was bordering on criminal in our sheltered little cul-de-sac.

It wasn't until high school that we all were able to escape into the fringe society. I dare say high school rather saved all three of us (the third being the other brother who shall not be named). We were exposed to more of a bigger picture of the world... beyond our wee pond. We each blossomed off onto our own unique paths and were able to begin something of a healing process. My brother went out of state for college and immediately thereafter even ventured off the continent for a time. On his travels, he encountered like-minded geniuses with that thirst for knowledge and adventure. For all the things I'm so terribly jealous of. After a time, the job market was bleak and his financials even more so. Sadly, he moved back to our state of birth where he currently resides. This man is brilliant, insanely talented, charismatic, bloody hilarious, well-educated and handsome. Ah yes. And single. Oh, the horror!!!!

Why on earth is it assumed that those precious few people, those who have found themselves and have attained a heightened sense of peace and purpose - must be only hiding their misery at being alone...promptly subject to sighs of pity and the meddling of busy bodies? Have you found your soul mate? A hearty congratulations - but for Pete's sake, LIVE AND LET LIVE. No pity necessary as he is richer in his experience than many of us will ever be. The sad fact is that the omnipresent pestering is breaking his spirit. Rather than embrace his accomplishments and gifts, he is gradually succumbing to the brainwashing - believing he has fallen short of "normalcy". That is an offense I take personally. My heart broke once when he gave up his art. It's breaking again at his alienation.

Alas, it's not my battle to fight, so I ball my hands into fists and shake them aimlessly about on his behalf. It is my hope he will still encounter the realization, along his path, that he is unique, amazing and worthy. No less a human because he is not attached to another. And really, shouldn't we all be whole individuals first rather than basing our self-worth on the presence of a partner? Just a thought.

*Oops... Almost forgot to tie the side tangent to the main point of the post: One of the most detrimental influences on my brother and I as children were the remarks of others. T'is eventually far easier to isolate ourselves than face the possibility of a vocal outsider. Despite free speech and all that hoopla, there is also something to be said for tact. You never quite know who you may drive into a remote cave with your careless remarks.

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