Decisions, Decisions, Decisions -- The Difficulties of Having a Choice

You can drive yourself nuts thinking about all the things you could have done differently in your life. You can make yourself miserable thinking about all the missed opportunities. Besieged by what ifs. Haunted by if only. Tormented by what you could have said, what you should have said. Why you overreacted to this but let that go. 

Time bends in on you. That day forty years ago is so clear in your mind. Yesterday is a blur. Was that really already ten years ago? Has it really been two years since I saw….? Why do I remember that stupid conversation from the sixth grade? Why does that one remark from thirty years ago still sting? Did that really happen? Was it as I remember it or have I exaggerated it in the retellings? 

Choices. That’s what life’s really about. Did you make the right ones? Are you making the right ones? Do you have enough of them? It seems at times too many. It can be dangerous to have a lot of choices because so many are the wrong ones. For that matter two choices could be one too many because that extra one leads to disaster.

If we’re lucky we face a lot of choices. The enslaved have fewer. The desperately poor don’t have many. Neither do the permanently crippled. Choices are for the healthy, the free, the solvent. A lot of choices come when we’re young, often when we’re ill-equipped to make them. Sometimes we make choices when we don’t need to. It can be hard to stay the course. Doing something else, another direction, the grass on the other side, the bright shiny new thing, all are temptations. As the song goes, we don’t know what we got till it’s gone. Truth. We’re fine. But see something else and….

The worst choices are the ones made on impulse. I’ve made plenty of those. So many regrettable ones. So many things that sounded good at the time.

All this is maddening. There is no guide, no rule book, no syllabus for life. You can get something along those lines if you follow a religion but then you’re being fed all manner of mythology, unreal expectations and sometimes you have unnatural strictures placed on your actions. Religion gives you easy answers but they’re often the wrong ones and put demands on you.

So it’s hard. Parents can guide us. That can be good, bad or have decidedly mixed results. The best parenting requires clear boundaries but also opportunities for young people to learn to make their own decisions.

Decision-making, choices really start hitting you in college. What should I major in? What classes will I take? Should I date this person? Should I go to the party or study? Who are my new friends? Should I change my major? Should I drop this class? Should I do an internship? Where? What’ll I do this weekend?

For most young people going to college means freedom. Not everyone is ready for it. I remember my freshman year (when dinosaurs roamed the Earth) and how different the maturity levels of my fellow newbies were. Some had cars, had been in relationships and were experts on drugs. Others were virgins, couldn’t drive and had never been high. Some were all in on academics on day one and others were all in on getting high on day one. We came from all over the state. There were students from small logging towns, from Orange County, from poor neighborhoods of San Francisco, from Bay Area suburbs, from valley towns, from beach towns and me from radical Berkeley, a veteran of campus demonstrations who believed he hailed from the center of the known universe.

Who you associated with and how you got along was not easy to navigate. Choices. Adding to the complexity were girls, most of whom had entered or were entering womanhood. Some were shy, some sophisticated. She was clearly a virgin, she was clearly not. Who could tell about her, her and her. She was out of my league. She still had braces. She was too tall. She was funny but weird. She was pretty but uninteresting. She didn’t seem to like me. She did.

I was on the soccer team. Long hard practices. Being part of a team. Suddenly competing with players as good as I was. Some were — I had to admit, better (not much). It was a lot.

I made choices in my first few years of college that affected the rest of my life. Some were good. Some I still suffer for. Like I said at the beginning, you can drive yourself nuts thinking about this stuff. It’s best not to. Living in the moment is the wise thing to do. Talk about easier said than done.

Butts, Asses, Rear Ends, and Derrières, Oh the Many Terms For the You Know What

I was teaching my class American slang the other day when the term butt dial came up. From there I was asked about the proper or more common term for that part of the human anatomy that one sits on. Soon I had twenty different terms on the board. My students were bemused, doubtless in part because their languages also have multiple terms for one’s backside.

Anyway I thought it might be interesting to discuss each term right here on this blog, though frankly there’s not a lot to say about many of them. I’ll give it a go.

Ass. My preference if you’re not in formal company or “polite society.” Very few people are offended by the term anymore. It’s also the one that is best suited for compliments as in “she has a nice ass” or, of course, “he has a nice ass.” It’s used in certain phrases such as “pain in the ass” and “you can kiss my ass.” (I’ve never understood exactly how telling someone that they can kiss your ass works as an insult. Would you really want  this person — who you presumably don’t like or are angry at — to kiss any part of your body? And what if the person rather fancies you and would enjoy puckering up? There are two variations: kiss my ass and you can kiss my ass. The latter explicitly grants permission. I’ve also heard “kiss my aching ass” though what the fact that your ass aches has to do with anything I honestly don’t know.

Butt. Maybe your most common and basic term. Not to be confused with buttload. The term “BUTTLOAD” actually comes from a genuine historical unit of measurement. A butt was a large cask used primarily for storing wine, beer, and other alcoholic drinks, and it equaled about 126 U.S. gallons (roughly 477 liters). In fact, a butt was considered half of a tun, another old liquid measurement. In terms of referring to what one sits on and defecates out of, butt is boring but perfectly serviceable.

Rump. Let’s reserve this for when describing a particular kind of roast or an animal’s anatomy. It’s not used much these days anyway.

Rear end or rear. I don’t know why we would use rear end when the shorter rear is available. But then people do love a redundant word. Rear is suitable, inoffensive, gets the job done.

Tookus (which has various spellings) and its half sibling tush and it’s effeminate form tushy. This is a word more commonly used by our Jewish friends. I’ve never thought to employ it but won’t complain if you do.

Bottom. This seems to be popular for use with children and I believe it appropriate with little tykes. But please, never describe an adult’s ass as a bottom.

Posterior. It’s nice that we have it as an option but I don’t think it should, or will ever, become commonly used.

Buns. Nope. I’ve never heard anyone I respected use this term. Let’s not give it anymore space here. Just move on.

Caboose. It’s kind of cute but not cute enough to take it out of mothballs.

Fanny. Absolutely not. Forget you heard it, I’m sorry I mentioned it. Only your Aunt Gladys with the harelip would use it and then only after a third whiskey sour.

Bum. Short and efficient. Nothing wrong with it. Mostly used by Brits.

Derrière. If you think you sound classy by using a French word you’re only half right. It’s suitable for parties.

Booty. As in booty call. This was popular when I was growing up and mostly within the African American community. Whether it’s usage still skews to younger people and among Blacks, I don’t know. It simply does not work today for adults of any color, ethnicity, religion or lodge membership. Its day has come and gone.

Keister. Your Aunt Glady’s husband, Uncle Hobart will use this but you shouldn’t.  Originating in the late 19th-century underworld, it previously meant a burglar's tool-box or a suitcase, likely derived from the Yiddish or German word Kiste (box/case). It is used to describe the seat, such as "falling on one's keister.”

Tail. Humans do not have tails so forget it.

Heinie. I’ve been around for many decades and have only heard this used maybe a handful of times. It’s dated and fading completely out of use. Or at least one hopes.

Behind. Nothing wrong with it. Fairly common. I don’t know why it would be used in preference to other terms.

Haunches. Maybe it’s a regional thing but — while I know of its existence — I never hear it.

Can. I think it had an earlier heyday. Wouldn’t mind it making a comeback. Don’t know how it started getting used.

Duff. Like others on this list I just don’t get it. But if you must….

There you have it folks, my first ever post about asses, butts, keisters, cans, heinies…..You’re welcome!

How the Hell Do You "Enjoy the Sunshine"?

I don’t eat cottage cheese and I don’t like it, so why would someone say to me: “enjoy your cottage cheese”? Okay, they probably wouldn’t. Yet sometimes a person will tell me to “enjoy the sunshine.” Unlike enjoying cottage cheese I don’t even know what this means. Am I expected to go outside and feel the sun on my face and exclaim: “this is great!”? Am I supposed to go for a walk “in the sun”? If the latter does that mean I’m supposed to enjoy the look of the cloudless sky and the large yellow orb in the sky? What the hell?

Sunshine has it’s place in the world. A sunny day, particularly following a series of cloudy or rainy days can be most welcome. But by and large I don’t care for the sun beating down on me. If it’s in your face it can be damned annoying and obscure your vision. I hate the sun in my face. I especially dislike the sun if it’s hot, after all the sun is the source of that heat. No thanks.

Give me fog, rain or at least overcast. Keep the temperatures down in the low sixties -- at most. I’ve got coats, jacket, scarves and sweatshirts, let me wear them. I hate coming home sweaty because it was hot outside. 

I make a point of letting people know my feelings about the sun and sunny days. They never seem to hear it. I’m still told to “enjoy the sunshine.” I still hear: “isn’t it beautiful out?” “What a nice day.” “What great weather.” Drives me nuts. It's like people don't want to listen to contrary opinions.

Making it worse people will cheer on the sun during a drought. I remember at work once someone mentioned we were finally going to get rain after months without a drop, this at a time when there were  fears of a drought. One co-worker responded with “oh no!” As if she'd just been told that a meteor was going to crash somewhere  in the area. Some people — check that, many people — seem to want it to be 75 degrees and sunny everyday. How terribly boring.

Give me variety. Mix in some rain with the sun, some sun with the rain. Bring in some clouds. Speaking of which, I’ll never understand people raving about cloudless days. If we’re going to have blue skies there’s nothing prettier than big white puffy clouds scattered about. No clouds is depressing, empty, like death. 

I’ve had people get annoyed with me because I bristle at sunny days and celebrate the rain. They can’t stand that I won’t get with the program and be like everyone else. Why do I have to be a spoilsport and have my own opinions?

A final word on this: often those warm (or hot), sunny days people extol are a product of global warming. We experienced that here a few weeks ago when there was a week of record-breaking heat. High temperature records were set virtually everyday. It was all down to — this according to meteorologists — climate change. That makes it worse when people are essentially celebrating global warming. These are the same people who love a good drought too.

Enjoy the sunshine? Can’t do it. Just as I can’t enjoy cottage cheese.

It's the Much Ballyhooed Return of: Texts I've Sent to My Wife

I'm sure regular readers of this blog (I'm looking at you Fenwick Nicklebody of Port Aransas, Texas) will remember back in June of last year when I posted some actual unedited texts I'd sent my wife. Ever since people have been howling for more (well, they've been howling). So here is a second edition. Enjoy?

I’ll be home assuming the light on Shattuck ever changes.

I’m not saying the doctor is young but his voice hasn’t changed yet.

Reading in the backyard, let me know when you get home.

Never mind, going in the neighbors are noisy.

If you get to the store I need cereal and bananas, that last bunch was weird.

Francis has given notice, he’s leaving in about a month.

Had a bagel with cream cheese and a decaf latte. Enjoyed both. While I ate five beautiful blondes came in. It was cute how they pretended not to notice me. I have the most beautiful woman at home. She doesn’t pretend to ignore me. Movie starts in a minute. I love you.

A queue at the coffee hut. Damn high school students.

From a footie newsletter I get: “The new Premier League season has kicked off and it just feels right. With the greatest respect to our friends and families, weekends have meaning again.”

Break time and people are screaming because Taylor Swift is engaged.

I’m madly in love with you.

Having fun and it’s so much better knowing that I’m coming home to you. You’re the best.

Your cookies are very popular, two students asked me to thank you. So did Olivia whose birthday is today.

This week I have eleven students. Nine females and two males. Eight or nine different countries, one student hasn’t shown up yet so I don’t know where she’s from.

The hipster doofus is out today, his third absence to go along with being late twice. He hasn’t even been here a month Bring back Frances!

Yesterday class ended with someone looking at their phone while I was talking. Today class began with a student looking at their phone while I was talking. It’s exhausting.

Twelve students, 8 females, four males. Nine different countries. Still no British.

Okay I’m home. Bears won by 50, 92-42.

In many respects this has been an absolute nightmare of a morning and of course this has all to do with tech issues. Won’t be able to go to Target during break because I have to work on tech issues. Can you pick up Motrin?

Very disappointed in myself. Too emotional watching the match. Too loud. Probably not a pleasant person to be around. I’m vowing to do better in the future. Have a week till next match to reflect and work on it. At least Arsenal won and you’re still my wife — unless your walk is to divorce lawyer. Sorry. I love you.

That idiot teaching neighbor of mine called in sick at the last second (again) He’s missed more days in this three months here than I have all year — vacation not included. His students were given the option of going home or joining my class. Most of the ones would been with me previously have joined. Jorge an exception. Thank Oski.

Can we have spaghetti for dinner? With garlic bread. Also I need milk and bananas. Also need kefir and cereal but that might be too much for you to carry.

I’m home now. I’m in the office typing this text.

My Turkish student is a plastic surgeon.

It’s all part of the nightmare that this mystery pain has been.

They’re being very nice to me here I think because the person in Berkeley must have said how sad and desperate I was.

One of my new students is a professional musician from Paris. Her instrument is the clarinet. 

Soon as I started walking again the wind stopped and the rain settled down. I was wise to take shelter for a bit. 

All in One Post: Therapy, "Losers," Sports Fans, General Health, The Oscars and Some People Don't Like Movies?

Chase Infiniti one of the possible Oscar nominees

One of the great things about therapy is that you get to ramble on for most of fifty minutes. You’ve got things on your mind? You need to let off steam? Go for it. At a twelve step meeting you’ve got a few minutes then you have to listen to other people babble on. My recent return to therapy has been healing in part because I‘ve been able to get so much of my chest. Talking or writing about what’s going on in your life allows you to gain a clearer picture of what’s happening inside your head. You can see the forest for the trees.

Don’t compare your lives to others unless the person in question is a total loser.

Speaking of “losers” our idiot of a president has frequently referred to individuals and groups as “losers.” It makes him sound like a thirteen-year-old but it also raises the question: what exactly is a loser? Is it simply someone who has a different worldview as you? Is it someone who has failed professionally or whose personal life is a mess? Is it someone who was or is demonstrably wrong about some central tenet? Maybe — and hear me out on this — the real losers are the people who use the word as a blanket term for people they disagree with. Ya know, like Trumpy.

Here’s a tip for you sports fan: if you get angry at the result of a sports event you’re doing it wrong. Are you really going to let what a twenty-two—year-old does on an athletic field ruin your day? Your team losing is really something to throw a hissy fit over? You really want to spend time assigning blame? I realize that you’ve put a significant emotional investment in your team’s success. You derive great joy and even pride in your team’s success, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take defeat with equanimity. It really honestly truly is “only a game” a much as it may feel like the most important thing in the world. Save your anger for the really important stuff like what Trumpy is doing to the country and the world. I speak on this topic as an expert having a couple of teams that I “live and die by.” I also watched my usually mellow father blow a gasket when his team would lose. Always confounded me. Sports should relieve stress, not compound it. 

As I write this it’s Friday morning. Always loved Fridays, last day of the work week. Plus on Friday’s I stop at the Coffee Hut across the street from work and get a decaf latte. Delicious. How my life has changed. Decaf coffee and non-alcoholic beer. A far cry from my younger days when I fueled my mornings with regular coffee then by the evening was drinking scotch or martinis or alcoholic beers. On some occasions I’d fortify myself with cocaine. I'd have laughed at the notion of decaf or non alcoholic beverages. 

In my twenties I was drinking and using, had an erratic diet, often got little sleep, sometimes went months without exercise. Yet I usually felt great. Today I miss an hour of sleep and I’m a wreck. Have ice cream after tacos and my tummy is in an uproar. Miss a few turns at the gym and I feel like a fat tub. So I’ve learned to take care of myself. Physical health is easier to maintain — barring serious illness or injury — than mental health. You have the proper diet, get enough sleep and have some form of exercise and you should be physically fine. But to maintain mental health can be a tough one. It’s so damn easy to fall into bad habits. Unconsciously. Stinkin’ thinkin’ it’s called in AA. Here’s a definition: “Coined by Alcoholics Anonymous to describe reverting to old habits, it's now used more broadly in therapy to identify thinking errors such as catastrophizing, overgeneralization, and black-and-white thinking, which can be managed by challenging and reframing these thoughts.” Maintaining mental health is not easy, especially if you have some condition like anxiety, depression, addiction or PTSD. I have them all!

A reminder that Oscar nominations will be announced in the coming weeks and you should — and I can’t stress this enough — by no means take them seriously. Many people watch the Oscars despite having seen only a few movies all year. Many watch without having seen a single film. Remember what George C Scott said about the Oscars:  "(it's a) two-hour meat parade, a public display with contrived suspense for economic reasons." Amen. Better to see a lot of films and skip the stupid show. That is if you love cinema. Speaking of cinema, have you ever met someone who doesn’t watch movies at all? I have too. Very strange. There’s a lot of things I can understand: not following sports, or not going to museums or eschewing nature, even not reading books, but movies? That seems such a universal art form. Between art films, blockbusters, musicals, romcoms, sci-fi, classics, noir, you can’t find anything you like? Strange. Like I said in my last post: it takes all kinds. 

My Daughter's Wedding, A Day I'll Never Forget

I’ve spent the last ten minutes struggling to start this post. It’s never this hard. What I wanted to write about was my daughter’s wedding on Friday. I hate it when people write or say: “there are no words.” There are, in fact, plenty of words the fact that you can’t find the right ones is on you not a function of the limits of the English language which is quite rich in words. So anyway, I can’t find the words. Yes, I know they’re out there but the proper ones are eluding me. 

Friday was a day like no other that I’ve experienced in my time on this planet. A daughter’s wedding was a first. I was thrilled, I was humbled, I was excited, I was reflective. I was full of love.

The wedding ceremony was held in San Francisco’s magnificent city hall. Evidently there are lots of weddings taking place there everyday and at all times. We saw many happy couples with family and friends having many, many pictures taken. I swear I don’t recall ever being in such a happy place, it buoyed an already elevated mood. 

The ceremony was short and sweet and the — I’m assuming this what you call him — justice of the peace seemed a delightful little chap. One of my daughter’s friends is a professional photographer so in addition to all of us snapping happily with our smart phones there was someone who knew what she was doing. She clicked away.

Next we went to a restaurant about a twenty-minute walk from city hall. We had a table reserved and our own menu with the newlyweds’ names on it. The food was superb, the company even better. Yours truly gave the toast and it was heartfelt and well-received. 

I don’t remember being part of such a happy occasion. It was nice meeting the groom’s cousin and two good friends as it was to meet daughter’s best friend and her husband. My wife and older daughter I’ve met but I always delight in their company. 

I’m a proud papa. Daughter made an excellent choice. Her husband is a warm and kind man. He must have special qualities to win my daughter’s affection. We share a love of proper football (soccer to you Yanks) though root for rival teams. Younger daughter is an incredible young woman. I know fathers always say that but she is a person of great intelligence and wisdom beyond her years. During my toast I mentioned her courage. She has always been brave. One could argue that getting married is a true test of bravery. 

Marriages don’t always work out as is well-documented but this one stands a better chance than most. It starts with unconditional love and requires patience, understanding, flexibility and a good sense of humor. As best I can tell they're off to a good start. 

Four days later when I think of the wedding day there is still a warm happy glow. I’m still struggling for words to properly convey how I felt that day and how I feel today. Here are some that I know are apt: love, pride, joy, serenity, elation, happiness, reflection, wonder and gratitude. In some ways that last — gratitude — is perhaps the most important of all.

It has been said that to live in gratitude is the true key to happiness. I will be forever grateful for that day and for my family, including its latest addition.