Lost on the Lunatic Fringe

I’ve been listening to traditional music on Youtube today, and as I listened and read the comments, it occurs to me that the world is full of ancient butthurt. On the Amharic traditional song you have people claiming to be children of Kush with a bone to pick with those descended from Semites. I wondered if this were the source of the conflict between Eritrea and Ethiopia. In the Korean traditional song, you have people claiming that the Chinese stole the instrument from the Koreans, or that the Koreans simply kept using their secondhand Chinese instruments long after they fell out of fashion in China. It makes me wonder how much of the world’s problems are the result of people who can’t let go of a grudge.
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That’s what Kurt Vonnegut Jr. used in his book Slaughterhouse Five to indicate that someone had died. It was an ironic understatement.

I have to say, I don’t think I’ll be sad when 2009 is dead and gone. It’s been a rough year all around. We’ve been laid off, moved, been desperately broke, considered moving again, owed taxes, (the figure we owe is suspiciously similar to the figure we got in a stimulus check) and now due to a fuck-up on the part of our employer during Mehdi’s transfer, we’ve been presented with an $800 bill by our dentist, because Mehdi wasn’t covered by insurance during August. My first thought was, “Sykes strikes again”. The alternate thought was “And here we are again, guests of the surprise party department”.
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I got this song stuck in my head, and I got to thinking about the significance of the engagement ring. Now, I personally never cared about the tradition myself, except on a vague emotional level. I got the song stuck in my head, though, and me being me, I had to analyse the cultural meaning of an engagement ring.

The first thought that came into my head was that it was something a woman could hock if things went south. It was symbolic of economic independence, a gift that a man gave a woman to show that he was giving her freedom instead of tying her down. Then I thought about how it symbolized an investment in the relationship on the part of the man. To most men, a diamond engagement ring is a significant investment. You have to be serious to even consider spending that chunk of your income on a piece of jewelry. That, paired with the idea that it symbolized economic freedom to the recipient creates the situation of it being a sacrifice, a leap of faith.

I got to thinking how people simplify these ideas into an obligation. “He owes me a ring” (In exchange for what?) “She owes me because I gave her a ring, otherwise she should give it back.” (Again, what’s the exchange?) It all seems to have turned something with beautiful symbolism into something ugly and materialistic, or commercial. It’s turned into something that makes women into grasping whores and men into buyers. I can’t help but feel as if so many things in our society and relationships are reduced to this. Maybe it’s because we make a show of love, but love doesn’t figure into all that many relationships. The ideas which would be beautiful in the presence of love and trust turn into something ugly and cheap in its absence, and it’s reduced to something very very close to prostitution. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want an engagement ring before I got married the second time, because I’d perceived it in its ugly sense, and didn’t want to sully my relationship with that.

It’s funny how many things change depending on their context.

A friend and I had a short conversation about how it’s nice to just chill out and enjoy the moments of good conversation and good company, or just peace and quiet. I had to bring up the superstition of the “evil eye”.

In some parts of the world, people believe that if you value or love someone or something too much, you’ll attract the attention of the evil eye. If somebody compliments how pretty their baby is, they’ll sometimes smudge dirt on the child’s face and say something like, “yes, but her face is dirty”. This is to avert the evil eye. It’s magical thinking, that something bad will happen if you admit to something being good.
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Last night my husband and I decided to watch Behind The Green Door. Now, there are a number of redeeming things about the film, such as a script and a plot, weak though they may be, and the fact that it was shot on film. Also, all of the people in it were adults with the body hair adults are supposed to have. We came to the mutual conclusion that the film did not appeal to us, though. The reason for this was that the people in the film were at best enthusiastic, but not skilled. Porn historically seems to be made up of people who don’t really know what they’re doing, and just go through the basic operation of getting off, but not all of them are even really doing that. While it is very nice to see a woman put her mouth on a dick, just doing an up and down motion seems rather mechanical. It isn’t exactly enjoyable to watch. There’s no real effort or investment in it. Maybe we’re just picky, but there has to be something more to it. There was, of course, plenty of cunnilingus, but none of that was skilled either. Most of it seemed to be geared towards not blocking the camera rather than actually doing something. And we wonder where people learn to be lousy in bed.
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Finally, after about a week of hauling loads of belongings in the car and by trailer and van, we have everything here. I’m plotting a yard sale soon. In the process of moving, I discovered something I should have been aware of all along. We have too much stuff. We have things we’d forgotten all about, and things that we don’t need. I marvel at how it was stashed in the old place, because there’s no way we should have been able to maneuver through the house unless we’d unwittingly been the proud owners of tardis-cupboards.

At any rate, we are now in the stage of moving in which we have completed the move, but we have not yet unpacked. Hopefully we’ll get everything stowed away and get rid of the things we never needed or needed so much we’d forgotten all about them. Of course, work starts on Tuesday, and I have a potentially stressful funeral to attend on Wednesday. We’ll see how it plays out.

On the upside, there is a grocery store within walking distance, and this means an even quicker trip by bike. We also have a thrift store within blocks of our house, and not only is it a good thrift store, but it is set up to help battered women to be rehabilitated. Not a bad cause to back. There are so many things to do here, and I think that Mehdi and I are going to learn to take advantage of all the ones that are free or nearly so. We’ve done a little reconnaissance in the neighborhood, and plan to do more as the time goes by. As soon as we’ve got the finances straightened out and some things budgeted, we’re going to check out the possibility of getting a pair of bikes to tool around on. It’s doubtful that we’re close enough to work to get there by bike, but we might be able to spend our weekends on some.

Well, I sold my mobile home tonight. It’s bittersweet. That’s because I’m a little sad about moving to another town and leaving people I’ve grown attached to, and satisfied because I’m helping my little brother and his family to have a more affordable place to live. He’s helping me, because I needed to find a way to dispose of it before I moved. I couldn’t keep it, and it might have taken time to find a buyer outside of the family. In other words, it was convenient, with the added benefit of helping him out with ownership.
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I was lucky yesterday. When we were in Bismarck, I bought a paper to look at the apartments for rent and so on. Included in the paper was a city guide magazine. It had a bit of everything in it, from chorale clubs to window replacement and restaurants. I was impressed. It was serendipity. It showed me what the city had to offer, and where to find what I was looking for.

In my perusal of the magazine, I found that Bismarck has community garden plots for $25 a year, and not far from where we’ll be living. There’s a grocery store within a couple of blocks, and everything we’d need would be within biking distance. There’s a real butcher in Mandan and a bakery and even a patisserie. The state college has ballroom dancing lessons for couples.

We’d be losing about 100 square feet of space, but we’d be gaining a little freedom from responsibility for things like home repairs and taxes and utilities like gas and so on. I’m just ready to leave this place. There isn’t really that much on offer in Minot unless you’re a heavy drinker. The jobs are kind of a joke, and it’s a buyer’s market, so employers aren’t paying much to people like me. They cite the economy, but really they are shooting themselves in the foot by making certain that people like me go away and they can’t fulfill their contracts. I’m inclined to let them do it and do something positive for myself.

I recently read a review about a book which would seem to be by a woman after my own heart. Interestingly, I read about it on MSNBC.
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Well, Saturday we go down to Bismarck to look at apartments. I feel like there is so much to do, and only a little time to do it in, but we can’t do anything unless other things are done first. It’s like trying to undo a very complicated tangle of Christmas lights. One knot can’t be undone unless you find another one and undo it first. It takes time. It takes patience. I have so little of that these days.

Of course, the surprise party department has contributed a sick husband to the mix. I’m still trying to sell the Nova and/or get it running, and I’m working on an arrangement to sell the house to my brother, which would work out into a cheaper place to live for him. Of course, I have my misgivings there too, since the house has some things that need work, and I don’t want to ask for more than the place is worth, but I need to think about what I owe too. After Sunday night’s all night brawl between the next door neighbor and his significant other, I have my doubts about how peaceful it would be for them too.

We’ll see. I’ll just go on untangling the ball of lights until I have it straightened out.