How All Good Things Seem To End

Whether I want them to or not.

Sometimes I just have to wonder about the stability of my interactions with others. Things never seem to get this bad with the people that don't matter to me, but I'm always having these explosive blow-outs with the people who I care about the most. And you'd think, if these people were so damn important, I would make more of an effort to salvage things, or to avoid the moment where damage becomes irrevocable and that bridge is burned.

But I don't. Or if I do, it somehow doesn't seem to matter.

Most current applicable situation - my boss. I admired her, wanted to be like her, saw her as the logical, cynical, liberal, Bay Area successful mom that I never had, considered her a friend, spent a full hour of my engagement party drinking with her, and thought we were a team. Somehow, a few mis-steps later, we're not even talking, I am leaving the company post-haste, and she spends her time looking for reasons to fire me. It's now a race against time. Will I leave, or will I be escorted out?

How did this happen? In spite of a Liberal Arts education, several classes in Psychology, living examples of what NOT to do, and a decent brain on my shoulders, I have no clue.

And There Is Hope!

I was sent this today by my HR department. I am not sure how frequently I was "licked and groomed" as a child, so I am not sure whether this news bodes well for me or not. But - it is nice to know there is a possibility of avoiding the lunacy of old age:

"Some interesting research has been launched by looking more carefully at data on older people. We've all heard about how just about everything declines with age: muscle strength, memory, reflexes, balance, etc, etc. It used to be that gerontology statisticians were simply a little annoyed that the variation in these characteristics increases, that is, there is more spread in functioning as the average functioning declines. It made their graphs less attractive. Then some people said: "Hey, wait a minute. That means some of us aren't getting worse as we get older. How come?" That led to research with rats which showed that some "age successfully," and one correlating factor that has been well documented is their treatment at infancy. The ones that were handled a lot by humans, or groomed and licked a lot by their mothers, aged more successfully than average. Just when nice treatment no longer counts isn't known, but this observation does provide some hope that we can learn how to minimize old age decline. It is speculated that managing stress better may be one equivalent to being licked a lot by a mother rat."

We can hope.

FaceBook - Helping Us Bridge the Generational Divide

A lot of people bitch about their parents/teachers/pastors/bosses being on facebook, but one thing I really appreciate about this trend is that I have had the opportunity to get to know some really cool older women who I would never have had the time, reason, or ability to reconnect with if I was living in the days of face-to-face contact, telephones, and letters.

One of my favorite people I have gotten back in touch with is my high school English teacher, Mrs. H. (shown below - she was kind enough to post this AMAZING pic on her facebook page.)



We sort of had a rivalry back in the day because I was a naive Christian Conservative, and she was an outspoken unrepentant liberal.

One time, she asked me during a fire drill if she was going to hell. Not knowing what to say, I explained that "If you believe the Bible, Jesus is the only way to heaven." (Laughably, at the time I thought this was a VERY diplomatic way to handle the situation.) She of course pressed the issue, saying "then you think I am going to hell!?" And I said again, "I don't know, I'm not here to judge, but the Bible says you need Jesus to go to heaven."

The next day, I found out that the sole topic of discussion in her other classes was my outlandish accusation that "Mrs H was going to hell."

I think she was mad about it even days later, because as part of a vocab lesson, Mrs. H taught 2nd Period that I was the definition of the word "Verbose."

In spite of her ability to talk some shit, or perhaps because of it, Mrs. H became one of my favorite teachers - she was funny and smart, she spoke openly about the time she hit on Michael Richards at a ski resort in front of her husband, and, as I said before, she could talk shit like a pro.

We reconnected over the last couple of months online, and she was very pleased to see that I had "come over to the dark side." If she and I were the same age, and had gone to the same high school, or lived in the same town, we'd probably be the best of friends. But we live hours apart and have at least 10 years between us - if this was still the 90's, I don't think I would have gotten this opportunity to be her friend.

As it is, I've loved having a chance to get to know Mrs. H as a real person. We even ganged up on some Conservative douche bag recently who hijacked a thread to claim that the gays are "the vanguard of accepting all sorts of dubious and harmful behavior" and that there would be "no equality if it weren't for the guiding principals of Christianity." It was nice to have a teacher on my side in that argument, although, it's futile to try and change a religious fanatic (but that's another blog post.)