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Showing posts from July, 2015

The End of the Line?

Have I said too much? There's nothing more I can think of to say to you...
But all you have to do is look at me to know that every word is true.
--Tim Rice, "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina" (from Evita)


Over fifteen hundred posts. Well over a million words. Over eleven years. The idea well is running dry.

Barring some major life or world event, there will be no post here for the foreseeable future.

I want to thank everyone who has been along for the ride. I'm very grateful to have had such discerning and supportive readers. Love to each and every one of you.

--Ken

UP NORTH

Just back from what felt like a flying visit Up North. Capitalization, as always, intended.

I haven't been up there in a year, which is entirely too long. First there was the job search--and looking for a job is a full time job--and then there was, well, the job. No holidays 'til I've been there a year, and I'm working extra shifts to boot.

Eva hasn't been up there in entirely too longer.  In her case it was Georgia-Peach nailing her down. We loved our Peach to, ah, peaches, but she was a handful even at home.

And Tux...Tux hasn't been to Daddy's Daddy's house in almost nine years. For most of that he was being a big brother to the Peach. Now, approaching the other end of a long and happy life, Tux once again found himself going for a long, long CAR-RIDE.

We left right after a rough night shift, and we realized at precisely the point at which it was too late to turn around that we had forgotten Tux's leash. This didn't worry me as much as it mig…

Ashley Madison

NOTE TO READERS: I apologize for the paucity of blog topics lately. I had a long blog written about INSIDE OUT, the movie, and deleted it when I realized that there are better and much more succinct reviews out there by the dozens. Go see it. Twice. It's that good. 

Then I had a blog written about work, and it crossed some lines. (No worries, I enjoy my job and I'm doing well there, but there are some things, as there are in any job, which make me want to scream. I vented, then realized publishing my vent might be a colossal mistake, so I deleted that too.)

Now we have Ashley Madison.com being hacked, and it shoved forward a post I was going to make next month. I PROMISE that whatever the next blog is about, it won't be love and relationships, okay?

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Thirty-seven million would-be adulterers.

One in five residents of Ottawa.

I wonder if they're clenching just a little right now.


I want to get this right out front where nobody can miss it. I DO NOT SU…

Have I been doing it wrong?

Why not accept the conditionality of love? Why not adopt an idea of love where it's historic and contingent and evolves with another, based on the things the person does and what they are? Because, if love really is unconditional, if it isn't going to depend upon and respond to the person, then the person isn't doing anything to grow, nurture, cultivate, earn, or flow into your love. The only thing that person is is a target for the love, a recipient for you to love. It might seem wholesome and good to love someone this way, but since they really don't have anything to do with how the love unfolds, then it's really all about you and how you feel.
 If someone can do nothing to earn a love, they soon come to disregard its worth. Cheap grace doesn't make sinners into saints. But if love is something we earn and shape and cut and nip and grow, then we see its worth and the reward from our efforts. I guess I'm saying maybe "unconditional" isn't alwa…

'conceal, don't feel'

for a single day
tie your dominant hand
behind your back
you can't use it
you can't miss it
you can't even remember it is there

and live your life as normal
do not complain
they will not understand
they are all one handed after all

at the end of that day
you will know
my every day.

sometimes
i forget myself
and unshackle that hand
flex it
and use it

the freedom is
freedom
i can lift great weights
carry huge burdens
build cathedrals
i can do
what i was born to do

for a time

eventually
it is always noticed
that i have an extra hand
freak they see
freak they say
freak i feel

various punishments are proposed
exile behind great walls
amputation with rusty saws
and worse

in the end
out of self preservation
and shame
i tie my dominant hand
behind my back

and move on




Happy Anniversary, Eva and Mark

This post will take you through the looking glass.

Well, I kinda figure quite a few of my posts do: I'm not normal, as you've surely figured out by now. But even so, it's not every day you run across a blog post from a husband wishing his beloved wife and her boyfriend a happy anniversary.

Here's one.

As much as I would like to simply wish Eva and Mark a great day and a better year ahead and leave it at that--you know, the way you do with any couple celebrating an anniversary--a post like this regrettably has to have a whole lot of me in it. I hope there comes a day when that's not true...it'll be around the time that Hallmark starts selling cards for metamours.  But for right now, my newer readers (and probably more than a few of my older ones as well) are trying to wrap their heads around what they're reading here...and likely thinking some pretty uncharitable thoughts in the process.

It's okay. I've had my manhood questioned, vigorously, all over…

Competition

This statement is increasingly indicative of my overall life's philosophy.  And it's one big reason why I don't feel like I belong in most settings.


Our entire civilization is predicated on the notion that if there are winners, there must be losers. This is so axiomatic that it goes unquestioned and usually unnoticed. It's just the way it is.  The winners bask in glory; the losers pick themselves out of the dust and try harder next time. At least in theory. In reality, the losers often simply give up, especially if the losing is constant.

To our credit, we've begun to notice this. We've tried to do something about it, by making everyone winners: the gold medal for showing up. We've stopped keeping score (officially) in kids' games. Some schools have even stopped giving out marks. Which is ridiculous. The world outside your precious snowflake's bubble is harsh and unforgiving, and it's full of competition. Sooner or later, no matter how much you…

Kensplaining

"Women's faults are many,
Men have only two:
Everything they say...
and everything they do."
--Anonymous, that most prolific and profound of poets

There are a bevy of columnists at The Globe and Mail whose work I make a point of reading every week. The best of them, interestingly, are women: Tabatha Southey, Elizabeth Renzetti...and Margaret Wente.

Wente is a polarizing figure. She went (ha-ha) through a little plagiarism scandal three years ago, when she stole a sentence from an Ottawa Citizen column; her employer disciplined her, but kept her on staff. I for one am grateful. Her politics are miles and miles away from mine and many of her columns leave me slack-jawed with blood boiling, But I'm not one to live in an echo chamber and how else can I buttress my own beliefs without exposing them to opposition?

I was going to do a blog on "mansplaining"--wow, Chrome's spell-check doesn't even flag that word anymore--and was trying to find a hook to hang i…

Aftermath

I would like to thank those people who have come forward with unqualified love and support for Eva and I in the wake of my last blog. Several folks have disclosed that they, too, suffer from mental illness and are medicated for it. It means a lot to both of us that we are not alone. Of course we knew that, but there is always a difference between knowing and experiencing.

Not everyone has been supportive, alas: there are people who don't believe in mental illness, or don't believe Eva lives with it, or that her situation is anything to be concerned about. That's fine: we expected that too. In the end, Eva chooses -- wisely, I think -- to heed the advice of the many qualified professionals treating her, complemented, and yes, at times superseded by her own knowledge of her own mind and body.

Answers to a few questions we have fielded:

1) There is no injectable version of the drug she takes, or anything similar. It would be great if there were, but there isn't.

2) Eva is…

Please read this.

Note to my readers: this post is several WEEKS in the writing. More effort has gone into this than any other post I have written in ten plus years, by far. You can trust that every word herein has been thoroughly vetted and put in place with the fullest of intentions; that every feeling expressed here has has been fully examined and found authentic; and that every statement is as true as it can be under the circumstances.  
If you know me, if you care about me--if you know Eva, even if only as an abstraction, and care about her on any level--I implore you to read this post. 

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There is so much we don't understand about the human mind and the mechanisms and maladies behind its malfunction. And it seems to be human nature to fear what we do not understand. That fear--which might helpfully be abbreviated "False Evidence Appearing Real"--is not helpful, particularly when it ends up being directed at a suffering human being. Trust me, he is dealing with more than eno…