And every day the question: how does today FEEL now that I am not with her? I miss her cooking, to be sure. It still feels like she is away on a business trip or something, or I am. I did things today similar to things I do other days, but how does today FEEL? I can’t say I miss the little dog.
I plan and hope to hang out with her again later this week, perhaps even see if she got the remote control lights hooked up. I hope she did, that was fun, to give her the gift of remote control. Lighting is truly one of the things about this modern age that is really nice.
I feel a bit like this was good, that things were so powerful that we needed a break, but of course this isn’t the kind of break I had in mind. I’m not obsessive or anything by the way, it’s just been something to consider these past few days, and I have been (considering).
You know the comparison to being away on a business trip really feels apt, since business trips are often when people have affairs, brief ones anyway. So I’ve heard. (Never been married, never been working for a business). But time away in a new city offers a fresh view of the world. And that sort of fresh view is sort of how I’ve been feeling inside, even if the territory I am looking at, Davis Square for example, is still perfectly normal.
It’s not that I’m trying to work myself back to her. It’s more like I just miss the comfort of being with her, physically close to her, arms around.
I notice we were better at that than at talking, though that may be because some people evoke a quiet stillness from me – I get that same way with some other people on the phone too.
I am on a brief vacation of five days. It isn’t really a vacation vacation – a real vacation would be traveling with someone to some place. But it is time off, and I’ve used it so far (over these past two days) finally building a lawyer friend of mine his website which I’d promised I’d do months ago. It came out ok. Basically it’s just an online business card.
I also got a haircut, and I almost asked for a super ultra short one, so short that I’d be another of the bald Dharma Pop folks. But I ended up getting a 4 on top and a 3 on the sides. Sometime when I have TWO weeks off, maybe I’ll go for the nearly bald look, but I haven’t ever done that.
Speaking of which, it’s time I give props to the Best Hairtrimmer to Trim One’s Netherlands With.
I’d like to hereby give the nod to the Conair GMT180TDCS as the best trimmer for giving one a startlingly clean look. I’m not talking about down to the bare skin, that’s not something a guy can typically do if they’ve got other body hair that would make bare skin look weird. I’m talking about down to a “1” or “2” on the close-trim scale, fractions above bare.
The Conair GMT180TDCS is one of the old fashioned trimmers to which one attaches different length plastic trim-guards (comb-like guides which keep the blades a certain length away from your skin while also lining up the hairs to be trimmed), rather than having a more modern built-in adjustible head. Somehow this older tech works better at capturing every folicle and making sure they all end up at the same extremely brief length, which is something the more modern machines just don’t do. Be careful that the trim-guard doesn’t come off while you’re working. Aside from that risk, which by the way doesn’t do permanant damage, it is the clear winner.
For body hair shortening, and by that I mean chest or stomach hair, I’m giving props to the Remington Titanium MB70 with built in vacuum. It’s a modern trimmer with built-in adjustable head, with 9 hair length settings. The titanium-coated cutters stay sharper than things that are not titanium-coated cutters, but let’s forget the hype about titanium (my blender has titanium coated blades too, ooh!) and talk about what this baby does. First off, it is kinda inaccurate. Plenty of hairs seem to nearly escape this unit, so you end up with a variety of hair lengths unless you go over the same area many times. But this limitation is actually kind of useful for chest hair if you want a more realistic, non uniform look.
The built in vacuum really does work, catching about 2/3rds or more of the falling hairs. The 9 length settings also let you blend out to sections of body hair you’re happy with and don’t want to trim at all, like your lower arm hair. I’ve even used it (on it’s maximum length settings) for quick touch ups on my haircut (on my head), and though the vacuum storage area fills up quick when using it for that, it is still useful. The vacuum isn’t particularly any louder than a non-vacuum model by the way, because the vacuum is essentially just a tiny plastic fan built into the base, creating some airflow down through the device.
And hey, by the way, this one is also great on beards; something which perhaps a few people are also interested in. They still package these things as if they’re for beards and moustaches.
Why have two devices, you may ask? Well I don’t know. It just seems wrong to use the same trimmers on one’s face as on one’s nethers. Not as if someone is going to walk up to me, poke me in the chest and say “Hey, you! I know what you’ve done! I can see that you’ve trimmed your goatee with the same blades that you cut your pubes with earlier!” But if that could happen, why take the risk? There’d be no defense. “Oh, well yes, you caught me, it’s true,” I’d have to say, slinking away. “I hope no children or nuns saw me.”
So, those are the tops from a couple years of experience. Granted I didn’t buy a bunch of them and test them all. It’s strictly just some limited experience with a few different models. As good as these are, I still find I look best about a day or two days after I’ve disposed of my body hair, but in general these two devices are the best I’ve found so far.
Failures include the Conair MN251CS, a dainty silver trimmer whose attachable multi-length head is held on by a pair of tiny weak clips which will break off after a month or so. Avoid.
I used to have a term for people who I seemed to feel had a potentially important part to play in my life, if I chose to interact with them. I called them “doorway people.” It was pretty easy to recognize such people, it was some sort of soul recognition, something that made the person more realistic than other people.
There may be some psychiatric disorder for feeling some people are more “real” than others, but I am not referring to a lack of reality among the general population, I am merely saying that some people seem “more” real because they are someone seen as having more potential of relevance in one’s own life. I don’t know what kind of eye sees this. But it sees a kind of kinetic energy stored up in that person which is meant to be unleashed in your life. More “real” may be a rather biased way of thinking of people, but, as it is the kind of term that is only used inside one’s own mind, it seems ok.
There was at least one occasion many years ago when, after recognizing a doorway person, I did not follow up on the presence. It was a young woman in college in Boston. She was nice to me, but I did not involve her in my life, even though I knew that she could be, or was supposed to be, a player of some kind in my life. I was rather angry at existence at the time and I was snubbing it when it presented such situations to me. Would I have learned something good and valuable from the person if I had interacted? Perhaps, but at the time I was asserting my self by shoving away whatever creation was presenting me. People, and food too if my recollection about when I was underweight is correct – I was actively resisting a great deal.
The only people I let in at that time were people who felt intimately on the same path as myself (though I wouldn’t have used that term “path” back then since I wouldn’t know what I meant). I disregarded the “doorway people” whose lives were different than mine, ignored whatever biographical changes they would have prompted in me (and me in theirs).
But I would accept the rare connection with someone who was so clearly near my soul path that I’d trip over them. I knew one such girl in college, and I still remember her name vividly now even though I sometimes forget the names of others, or remember only their first names.
So, in review, I identified two kinds of people – “doorway people” whose lives were meant to interact with mine but were presented as opportunities only, and whom I could resist if I felt like it. And another, even more rare kind of people, who were on or near my own soul path whom I couldn’t ignore. I don’t have a name for them, but, they’re important.
It is years later now, and so I am wondering if there are still these two sets of people.
The ones on the same soul path as I’d described, the ones who I don’t have a name for? They’re still out there. Not always in one’s direct path, I’ve discovered. Rarely, I have a moment of instant recognition that almost draws me to extrovertism. On occasion I will see someone who I don’t even know, perhaps even just a glance in my rearview mirror at someone crossing a street behind me, and I am filled with a tremendous sense that I know something about that person’s heart, possibly something about their spiritual ancestry, something about their incarnation here now which makes me want to run up to them and say “hi, I recognize you and I know what you feel!” but I don’t. Or I haven’t, anyway. So I still recognize some people as particular in some way. But those intense moments are exceptionally rare, in fact I can think of only one that was exactly like that, and another which took some days for me to realize. These people tend to be lifelines. I think they’re supposed to be friends, though I’ve certainly tried to make them lovers, maybe because of the intensity of familiarity makes one want to “regroup” with them in literal terms.
But as for the “doorway people,” I maybe don’t get the same vivid sense of “doorway people” anymore. Or maybe it is more that I see that there are many more of them than I ever expected, which has made it impossible to label them as a minority of sorts.
Then again, supporting the notion that there are still “doorway people,” there are still plenty of people who are blank to me, just people going about their business, whose lives won’t interact with mine, and that is fine and logical and it is actually quite neccesary that we don’t know them all, since there’s more than 7 billion of them. I can’t say that I see everyone as possibly being important in my life. I am still limited. I still see some people as less relevant.
I’m not actively pushing away people whose bios could intermix with my own (with some momentary flashbacks, though), but I am not on the street embracing strangers either. I tend to look for people who are a little bit recognizable and I still shy away from the rest. I suppose these are the “doorway people”, and the fact that they’re less distinct is simply an improvement in how more open I am (while by the same token the fact that I still see some people as irrelevant shows how closed I am).
So these people who I am no longer calling “doorway people” are folks who I don’t immediately recognize, but who for some reason have some kind of power which seems a little bit familiar, but are also plenty unfamiliar.
My friend Kettie is one of these latter people. I saw something familiar in her eyes even in her photo. And in meeting her, I could feel something there which was quite intense. I wasn’t pushing it away this time, even though I also knew it wasn’t an immediate recognition – not one of those exceptionally rare instant recognitions. She didn’t have the same spiritual ancestry as me, nor was her path in this life the same as mine. But there was something about her and her life which seemed to have something in store for my life and mine for hers, much like the “doorway people” from long ago, whose presence in my biography would have some sort of deep meaning, and mine in theirs I suppose (not sure), if I let the complementary relationship play out.
This person was was someone I didn’t know, something that would need to be worked on, possible for some time, perhaps even some years, to even be able to appreciate what the meaning or relevance of her was. And I started to work on that.
At some point, a few weeks in to it, I resisted again, like I’d resisted people and food years ago. This wasn’t a person from my same soul group or whatever those instant-recognition folks were, and I think I got angry again about reality, as I had been years ago.
“Why are people so complicated?” “Why is communication so difficult?” “Why are people, by their very natures, a mixture of compatibilities and incompatibilities?” Sometimes life seems like a process of rolling and churning against each other until everybody’s incompatibilities and compatibilities eventually are worn smooth. It sometimes seems to me to be such an unfair, long process. Can’t we all be smooth now, shiny now? People’s differences are like nubs, abrasive. But that’s also what gives us uniqueness – they’re our life stories (present incarnation only). Challenging to say the least. I think I am still a bit upset at having to go through this again, because, quite simply, it isn’t easy.
But I have to give myself some credit for actually having tried, or been trying, to get to know the person even though this wasn’t a person who was on the exact same path as me, who wasn’t an immediate recognition.
In Kettie I saw a person with a different life story than mine, but with some hints of recognition of some purpose for her being in my life and mine in hers. And I also saw that we were different people, and that some of our differences would be problems (and I am speaking here of general perspectives) – but I viewed these problems this time as not something to reject simply because of the complexity of it.
I’ve deleted a trio of blog entries. I was told by a friend to stop feeling guilty, because (she explained), I need to be looking clearly at where I am, not looking at the ground, if I am to appreciate where I am. There are lessons awaiting me and I am about to find out what they are. Tomorrow.
Though in my deleted blog I spoke of hope (I think I did), I must have no expectations, and that includes hopes. It also includes dismal feelings, which I had my share of today as well. Both of these sides of the spectrum must be quiet.
Update: And a moment after I’d stilled myself, I received word via email. I may have lost a relationship, but I gained an experience and perhaps some maturity. It was a brief and at times wonderful relationship, most of all some discussions we’d had on a park bench in the freezing cold. I hope to find that kind of trust again, with someone else of course, but with someone.