![[dr. bob]](/dr-bob-sm.gif)
Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 23 of 23. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 12, 2003, at 9:12:15
Does anyone ever feel like the rest of the world takes their lives way more seriously than you do? Everyone I know seems deeply concerned with their taxes, relationships, social standing, property, career, future, etc, as if they're on an important mission, whose reward is ???
Don't get me worng. I go to work and pay my bills. I love my fiancee. I just don't seem to have the grave intensity about my own affairs that I witness others exhibiting about things as trivial as a scratch on their car. I'm pleased to find myself alive each day, and try to plan fun, interesting things to do and have. I don't feel that they're of much importance to other people, and I don't give that impression.
It's hard to describe, but it's like everyone else has some syllabus to life and they're earnestly going through the list trying to get an A, while I'm just doodling in the margins of my notebook (and I'm happy that way). As usual, though, I feel like I'm missing something, and it'll bite me in the ass later, when everyone else turns in their term papers and I get an F. But what?
Posted by WorryGirl on May 12, 2003, at 9:49:14
In reply to The seriousness of sanity, posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 12, 2003, at 9:12:15
> Does anyone ever feel like the rest of the world takes their lives way more seriously than you do? Everyone I know seems deeply concerned with their taxes, relationships, social standing, property, career, future, etc, as if they're on an important mission, whose reward is ???
> Don't get me worng. I go to work and pay my bills. I love my fiancee. I just don't seem to have the grave intensity about my own affairs that I witness others exhibiting about things as trivial as a scratch on their car. I'm pleased to find myself alive each day, and try to plan fun, interesting things to do and have. I don't feel that they're of much importance to other people, and I don't give that impression.
> It's hard to describe, but it's like everyone else has some syllabus to life and they're earnestly going through the list trying to get an A, while I'm just doodling in the margins of my notebook (and I'm happy that way). As usual, though, I feel like I'm missing something, and it'll bite me in the ass later, when everyone else turns in their term papers and I get an F. But what?
Eddie,
I tend to be a serious person anyway, unless I'm drinking. But I'm not too serious about those issues you just described. I'm more serious about humanity (or lack of it), empathy, etc. It doesn't exactly draw people like magnets!
Posted by coral on May 12, 2003, at 10:22:27
In reply to The seriousness of sanity, posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 12, 2003, at 9:12:15
Good for you, Eddie!!
My WH (wonderful husband) hit the gate in our driveway while backing out. Friends who were visiting saw it. I didn't. They finally told me and moaned about what a horrible mood he would be in. For TWO hours, they acted as if the sun was going to disappear. I finally said, "He'll be a bit upset and embarrassed, but that'll be all." They assured me he'd be far worse. I said, "LOOK, it was just a car." When he came home, they actually BACKED away from him. He told me what had happened. He was a bit upset and embarrassed. I hugged him and we went on with our lives. They couldn't believe it.
I think your approach is wonderful. My WH has it and I'm attempting to learn it.
Thanks for the reminder.
Coral
Posted by mmcasey on May 12, 2003, at 10:57:23
In reply to The seriousness of sanity, posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 12, 2003, at 9:12:15
Yes, I do that. I mean, I take all this stuff really seriously, and I get upset and frustrated and stressed out by all of these little things in life. But then at times, I step back and I just think "wow, none of this really matters!" And I think it's funny to see everybody getting all worked up, including myself. I wish that I could chill out a bit more and not get stressed out about stuff. I think that, in general, people do take their lives way too seriously. In my opinion, none of it matters at all in the grand scheme of things! Everything is basically really ridiculous.
Posted by leeran on May 12, 2003, at 13:53:18
In reply to The seriousness of sanity, posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 12, 2003, at 9:12:15
"things as trivial as a scratch on their car"
Eddie, I see this ability of yours as a gift. I tend to obsess over every little thing and oftentimes, any small flaw can ruin the entirety of whatever it is I'm looking at any given moment.
My husband is a lot like you are. I think you mentioned you're involved with technology? He is as well.
He's constantly telling me to "just be." Yeah, right!
In the end, we can't fit our cars or our houses into the coffin or the urn. I think it sounds like you might end up with the surprise "A+."
Posted by noa on May 12, 2003, at 18:52:29
In reply to Re: The seriousness of sanity » Eddie Sylvano, posted by leeran on May 12, 2003, at 13:53:18
I can go both ways. Sometimes caught up in the worrying about "grown up" stuff, and sometimes able to step out of the worrying and appreciate what is.
Sometimes, it is nice to put things in perspective. I am glad that I can sometimes just be appreciative of what I have. Sometimes I'll step into the nice, warm shower, and think to myself, "Ah, clean, warm, running water." There are places in the world (far too many, I'm sure) where this is not a given. Where, instead of worrying about the kinds of things you mentioned, people have to spend a good part of their day just finding and hauling water.
Or once in a while, I can stop and notice the abundance of beautiful and varied produce options at the store. It is pretty amazing.
Or to stop in the middle of obsessing about finances to tell myself, "well, at least my housing situation is stable and relatively affordable". This one is very real to me, because it is new. Had I not been able to buy this place last year, I would be in a far less stable housing situation, which would affect my quality of life enormously. So, it feels good when I can interrupt my worrying about money, or about the repairs that need to happen here, etc. etc. to remind myself that I am lucky.
All of this was reinforced for me more, when I recently read "Nickle and Dimed" by Barbara Ehrenreich.
Posted by WorryGirl on May 12, 2003, at 19:10:43
In reply to Re: The seriousness of sanity, posted by noa on May 12, 2003, at 18:52:29
> All of this was reinforced for me more, when I recently read "Nickle and Dimed" by Barbara Ehrenreich.
>
I am with you on everything you said!
I just picked up that book about two months ago. I read it nonstop until it was finished. I think it was very courageous of Barbara to do what she did. Even though she admitted that she still had it easier than the average low wage worker, I was impressed with her being willing to actually live that kind of lifestyle for fairly long periods in different places. Especially considering her upper middle class background. I don't know too many people at that income level who would be willing to do what she did.I have worked low wage jobs throughout part of my late teens and twenties, when I was married the first time and my husband was often jobless. Even though we had months where we didn't have enough money to pay the electric bill, we somehow managed to eek by in the end. Compared to some of the people this lady worked with, though, we were living comfortably.
One of the biggest reasons I am usually an appreciative person, especially of the little things, is because I have had a very small taste of poverty and have never taken material things for granted since. I also refuse to judge someone based on their lifestyle, occupation, or living conditions, race, etc. If anything, I'm a reverse snob, but I try not to be. It's just that one thing that gets my blood boiling is how arrogant a few people can be just because they have a fancy degree, or make a lot of money, etc. Thankfully, there are many gracious and humble successful people out there, too.
I get the most angry when I see how rudely service people are sometimes treated; or worse, when they are treated like they're invisible. Sorry to be on the soapbox so long, but that book sure opened my eyes.
Posted by Snoozy on May 13, 2003, at 1:08:50
In reply to The seriousness of sanity, posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 12, 2003, at 9:12:15
I have to say, I too think it's pretty healthy to not get so worked up about the small things. I have been struggling for years to be more like this. It can be painful to get very upset about something you know isn't a big deal, and then just get more upset with yourself for not being able to let it go.
I think we get into trouble when we compare our lives to everyone around us (or our perception of what their lives are like). If you're happy, or content, with your life, is the important thing.
Posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 13, 2003, at 9:50:47
In reply to Nickel and Dimed » noa, posted by WorryGirl on May 12, 2003, at 19:10:43
>I was impressed with her being willing to actually live that kind of lifestyle for fairly long periods in different places. Especially considering her upper middle class background. I don't know too many people at that income level who would be willing to do what she did.
-----------------There's a good argument in there for not spoiling your kids. I live nearby a high school, and every day after lunch, on my way home to work, I'm passed by dozens of teenage girls in new SUVs, cigarette in hand, hand flopping out the window, slight sneer on face. These kids go on to leak through college, and then have this sense of entitlement about them, as if they deserve $60K per year fresh from college for no real reason. And then their parents probably pull some strings and lend some money to meet their expectations for them. It also contributes to the massive debt that many people are in. When it's a *necessity* to live an upper-middle class lifestyle, all the people below that feel like it's imperative that it still be attained.
By gum, when I was younger, things were different. I got my first job at 12, moved out at 18 with $25 in hand, worked my way through community college with a produce job at a grocery store, lived in an ancient $200 a month apartment (utilities included!), rode the bus, rode my bike, ate Ramen noodles and macaroni, and generally struggled to get by for 6 years until I graduated state college and got a relatively decent job (which I found entirely on my own). No one gave me a dime for college, housing, or anything. It was hard, but it really didn't bother me that much at the time, and I feel like I more truly appreciate what I have now because I remember how thin things were until recently.
I'm thinking of all this because I'm considering buying a run down house in my neighborhood (it's crazy cheap), and fixing it up. I just know that anyone who sees it will think I'm a fool, wanting to move into such a dump, like it's totally insane. Why don't I buy a new house, in a prestigious neighborhood? (answer: they cost way too much).
I'm rambling, but this gets back to the point of my original post. No one else would even consider buying a crappy house on a dirt road. It's beneath them. It represents failure. From my perspective, though, it could be a tent for all I care. I just need somewhere to evade vagrancy, and this is the cheapest option. What else really matters? Am I being extreme? It's in this sense that I feel I don't take my life seriously. I don't care about my place in society. I don't sweat the details, but I don't sweat the centerpiece either. I used to feel this way because I didn't care if I lived or died, so what else mattered? Now, my depression is pretty well suppressed, but I still have this outlook. Nothing ultimately matters to me beyond survival and decency. I'm not really trying to accomplish anything, and that probably concerns the people around me more than the worst depression ever could.
Posted by WorryGirl on May 13, 2003, at 11:06:59
In reply to The cheap life, posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 13, 2003, at 9:50:47
> There's a good argument in there for not spoiling your kids. I live nearby a high school, and every day after lunch, on my way home to work, I'm passed by dozens of teenage girls in new SUVs, cigarette in hand, hand flopping out the window, slight sneer on face. These kids go on to leak through college, and then have this sense of entitlement about them, as if they deserve $60K per year fresh from college for no real reason. And then their parents probably pull some strings and lend some money to meet their expectations for them. It also contributes to the massive debt that many people are in. When it's a *necessity* to live an upper-middle class lifestyle, all the people below that feel like it's imperative that it still be attained.
There's a high school very close to us with these same type of kids driving expensive SUVs, even hummers. And you are right. It will be a necessity for them to continue that kind of lifestyle. What happens when mom and dad's money runs out, or they pass away? If they haven't married someone wealthy they are lost and can't make it. It's really not their fault and is a shame. That attitude of entitlement doesn't arouse feelings of sympathy either.
There were people who thought we must be well off when I was younger because my parents scraped to send us to church school. But we wore clothes from K Mart and I got teased a lot about that and other things. Name brands were a foreign language to my frugal parents (out of necessity, and they thought name brands were vain). It hurt badly, but that, along with my early adulthood financial struggles taught me appreciation for what we have now.
That's why I don't usually let the "little things" bother me too much now. Last year my husband surprised me when he took me out to buy a new car to replace my Saturn sedan that I'd had for 7 years. It was getting crowded carrying 2 little ones in there! Only a month after we got the new car, someone in the parking lot scraped the paint off some of the side. My first thought was pure fury, but then I kind of laughed and said, well, what's a station wagon if it doesn't look lived in? I never got it fixed - maybe one of these days.> By gum, when I was younger, things were different. I got my first job at 12, moved out at 18 with $25 in hand, worked my way through community college with a produce job at a grocery store, lived in an ancient $200 a month apartment (utilities included!), rode the bus, rode my bike, ate Ramen noodles and macaroni, and generally struggled to get by for 6 years until I graduated state college and got a relatively decent job (which I found entirely on my own). No one gave me a dime for college, housing, or anything. It was hard, but it really didn't bother me that much at the time, and I feel like I more truly appreciate what I have now because I remember how thin things were until recently.
That was a lot of responsibility you took on at an early age - what a lot of accomplishments to be proud of! You remind me of my dad. He started working full time at 13 and went to high school. He married my mother right before being drafted in the early 60s. He has always worked hard and taken pride in what he did. Unfortunately he wasn't always around for us which I know he now regrets. He has known nothing but financial struggle his entire life, but never borrowed or asked for money. HE is the type of person to never draw attention to himself or brag and I think he has gotten taken advantage of, but he continued to plug along taking care of us. My parents now live a decent middle class life and are very appreciative of what they have now, too. But they can be much too serious about the little things going wrong all the time - it's hard not to be with so much stress in everyone's lives, and they have had so many things go wrong in the past.
> I'm thinking of all this because I'm considering buying a run down house in my neighborhood (it's crazy cheap), and fixing it up. I just know that anyone who sees it will think I'm a fool, wanting to move into such a dump, like it's totally insane. Why don't I buy a new house, in a prestigious neighborhood? (answer: they cost way too much).
Buy the house! But keep in mind that the house will consume you for a while and you will spend some money renovating, but overall it is usually cheaper and more rewarding. We are still finishing the improvements on our house.
I constantly overhear conversations about people who have just bought new houses, but it sounds like they have to spend a lot on those, too, especially landscaping. Older houses often have character and usually a lot more mature trees. That's what I love about ours - all the shady trees in the back yard.
Who cares if there is a dirt road or whatever leading to the house?
In my city, the only place it is prestigious to buy "fixer-uppers" is close to the city in the artsy areas. The bohemian life continues to be alive and thriving. If we could afford it, we would try it, but the bohemian life is quite expensive these days! Read "Bobos in Paradise" (bourgeous (sp?) bohemians) by David Brooks sometime. The "fixer-uppers" in those areas usually start at $300K for 2 bedroom, 1 bath "cottages". These are the kind of people who think nothing of spending thousands of dollars for a "natural" slate shower stall to be at one with nature, but scorn materialistic and showy home theatres. You get the picture!> I'm rambling, but this gets back to the point of my original post. No one else would even consider buying a crappy house on a dirt road. It's beneath them. It represents failure. From my perspective, though, it could be a tent for all I care. I just need somewhere to evade vagrancy, and this is the cheapest option. What else really matters? Am I being extreme? It's in this sense that I feel I don't take my life seriously. I don't care about my place in society. I don't sweat the details, but I don't sweat the centerpiece either. I used to feel this way because I didn't care if I lived or died, so what else mattered? Now, my depression is pretty well suppressed, but I still have this outlook. Nothing ultimately matters to me beyond survival and decency. I'm not really trying to accomplish anything, and that probably concerns the people around me more than the worst depression ever could.
IF you are happy with choice/choices you've made you're not a failure. It is disatisfaction with your life (unhappiness) that represents more of a failure. My mother-in-law told me that when her grandfather died, his tombstone read something like "A man of humble means, but rich in the things that mattered". He was buried next to his devoted wife and was truly a successful man.
Posted by whiterabbit on May 13, 2003, at 15:15:16
In reply to Re: The cheap life » Eddie Sylvano, posted by WorryGirl on May 13, 2003, at 11:06:59
Eddie-Thought you would enjoy this excerpt from a nonfiction book I'm reading, "Blind Faith" by Joe McGinniss:
"By 1980 there were more than 65,000 people in Toms River (New Jersey), 99.6 percent of them white...These new arrivals were no more affluent, individually, than had been their predecessors in the sixties, but there were so many of them that, for the first time, there seemed to be a lot of money in Toms River. Enough, anyway, so that...shopping-especially at the Ocean County Mall-became the area's most popular recreational activity.
Each weekday morning the shuttle buses from the various retirement communities would file slowly into the mall's vast parking lot to discharge their cargo of the stooped and frail, come to wander, dazed, among the altars of consumerism.
I SHOP, THEREFORE I AM.
Younger residents would arrive by private car...It was the primary source of diversion for teenagers and housewives as well as the elderly...
'The Ocean County Mall was filled to capacity this holiday weekend as avid buyers with no better way to occupy their spare time once again made thousands of unnecessary purchases.'
There seemed to be an emptiness at the core of their lives-these tens of thousands of new arrivals who found themselves stranded in a land without character or style, trapped in a vacuum that only possessions could fill.
There was nothing unique about that. Hollowness at the core of American middle-class life has engaged the attention of social commentators for a quarter century or more. It's just that in Toms River you got a highly concentrated dose...
Thus, the acquisition of objects that would make it appear that their owner was affluent, and therefore successful and desirable, became an important task...In Toms River you were what you drove, you were what you wore, you were where you lived-no matter how heavily mortgaged it was...
A lot of Cadillacs were bought, a lot of wives drove all the way to Short Hills so they could shop at Bloomingdale's instead of Bamberger's, and a lot of backyards found room for swimming pools even though the ocean was less than ten miles away.
It became, in fact, a mark of status to brag about how long it had been since one had actually gone to the beach...There were people who bought houses in Brookside and then discovered that they had no money left with which to furnish them. This meant that for months or even years they could not invite anyone to dinner...So instead they joined the country club, which they couldn't afford either, because at the country club they would be able to socialize with the kind of people they were trying to become.
The country club crowd took itself very seriously,
even though the building looked as if it had been made from LEGOS and even though its members had only a nine-hole golf course to play on and even though they had only each other to impress on Saturday night...
It was neither an easy or rewarding way to live: that barrenness, that ABYSS covered only by a thin veneer of apparent affluence which they had to strive desperately to maintain..."There's more, but you get the idea. I read this myself with a big grin; the author's obvious distaste for this way of life and the shallow people who live it is pretty much right on the mark, in my book.
So you go get your house. You won't have time to worry about what anyone else thinks of it because
you'll be very busy with that kind of house, I'm telling you from experience. I live in a rather, umm, bohemian neighborhood in the middle of the city, in a tall skinny brick house over 100 years old. These old houses, they need a lot of care-
you must be devoted to their upkeep or they'll fall apart, but in return they'll love you back.
You get things like stained glass windows, marvelous fireplaces, pocket doors, butler's pantry, solid, heavy construction, occasional
surprises (sometimes good ones!)and a sense of history that you just cannot buy in a new tract home.Good luck to you-
Gracie
Posted by leeran on May 13, 2003, at 16:32:19
In reply to Re: The cheap life, posted by whiterabbit on May 13, 2003, at 15:15:16
Hey, I read that book after seeing the "made for television" movie years ago (even though, thanks to SSRIs - I had forgotten it until I read your transcribed paragraph).
The name "Tom's River" has always stuck with me, based on the description of the jaded lifestyle of some of the residents there as seen through McGinniss' eyes. Note: no slur intended, on my part, of the general pop. of Tom's River. I tried to word that as politically correct as possible!
I've always seen similarities between the character/lifestyle of Carmella Soprano and that demographic element of Tom's River.
Perhaps this line rang a little too true back when I read the book (about ten years ago):
"Trapped in a vacuum that only possessions could fill."
I'm hoping that my outlook has changed since then, at least somewhat. Funny, the measuring sticks we can find for where we are (or aren't) at various times in our life.
Okay, thanks for the memories! (Even the stinging ones) It's so nice to remember a time when I actually had the attention span for books versus magazines (even if my personal life was a wasteland).
Lee
p.s. Does anyone else notice the same recurring theme with so many of these murdered wife stories? SCARY!
Right before our divorce, my ex and I read a horrid account in People magazine of the murder of a woman (her husband was the suspected killer and there was a large piece of yard equipment involved).
A few months later, as we were dividing up the spoils of our marriage, I threw the unused "Salad Shooter" (a gift from his sister) on his "pile." He had to ask what the *&%$ it was, and then he turned up his nose and said "I don't want it . . . unless I could somehow fit you through it." That little kitchen appliance was definitely one of those possessions spinning around in the empty vacuum!
Posted by whiterabbit on May 13, 2003, at 17:14:20
In reply to Re: The cheap life, posted by whiterabbit on May 13, 2003, at 15:15:16
I just feel like I wasn't finished. I wanted to tell you that, before you buy your house, MAKE SURE that you're willing to devote the time and money and energy that you absolutely must have to make this house your home. Because in the long run, those cheap old houses aren't cheap at all.
You can hire people to do the fixing-up or you can do it yourself IF you know what you're doing, but it will take up a great deal of your time and it's still gonna cost you.I feel like I'm qualified to speak on this subject because (a) I've lived in my turn-of-the-century house since 1986, (b) I know people with success stories AND horror stories about their old houses, and (c) I've had enough espresso to kick-start myself right into mania, which makes me such an authority on all subjects that I could run the NASA program if I felt like it.
Anyway, once you've purchased a fixer-upper, you have two choices grasshopper.
-You can make the place your life's work, or at least a considerable part of your life for a number of years. Not only is there nothing wrong with that, I think it's an admirable pursuit. Much of the time, we humans fail to create a fulfilling life for ourselves. We get so caught up in what other people think, and own, and do. This is a value system that leaves us feeling empty inside.
As an artist, I like the concept of being able to compose or sculpt a satisfactory life for one's self. When you decide to take on an old house, you have the chance to make over your environment so that every aspect of it is pleasing to you.
You sand floors and pick out cabinet knobs with true dedication - not to wow the Joneses, but to create something of quality. Instead of hanging out at the bar with your pals, you spend your free time painting, plastering, stripping, sanding, scraping. Instead of taking a vacation, you buy and install a claw-foot tub, or that Art Deco tile, or that sink with the nickel-and-porcelain taps. You are committed and devoted to this project, and the time and money and energy spent is a labor of love. In return, this house becomes your sanctuary.-Or, this house becomes your worst nightmare. You can't turn your back on an old house; you have to be eternally vigilant. A leak in the roof, left unrepaired, will eventually cause your ceilings to sag and cave in. Rotten wood will collapse porches and let in vermin. Improper ventilation will trap moisture and cause paint and wallpaper to bubble, rot insulation, grow mold on the plaster. Old wiring can make your house a firetrap, old plumbing can burst, old windows will leak heat in the winter and cool in the summer. An old house is a high-maintenance grande dame who will not be ignored.
So think carefully, grasshopper.
-Gracie
Posted by WorryGirl on May 13, 2003, at 21:02:39
In reply to Re: The cheap life, posted by whiterabbit on May 13, 2003, at 15:15:16
> Eddie-Thought you would enjoy this excerpt from a nonfiction book I'm reading, "Blind Faith" by Joe McGinniss:
>
> "By 1980 there were more than 65,000 people in Toms River (New Jersey), 99.6 percent of them white...These new arrivals were no more affluent, individually, than had been their predecessors in the sixties, but there were so many of them that, for the first time, there seemed to be a lot of money in Toms River. Enough, anyway, so that...shopping-especially at the Ocean County Mall-became the area's most popular recreational activity.
> Each weekday morning the shuttle buses from the various retirement communities would file slowly into the mall's vast parking lot to discharge their cargo of the stooped and frail, come to wander, dazed, among the altars of consumerism.
> I SHOP, THEREFORE I AM.
> Younger residents would arrive by private car...It was the primary source of diversion for teenagers and housewives as well as the elderly...
> 'The Ocean County Mall was filled to capacity this holiday weekend as avid buyers with no better way to occupy their spare time once again made thousands of unnecessary purchases.'
> There seemed to be an emptiness at the core of their lives-these tens of thousands of new arrivals who found themselves stranded in a land without character or style, trapped in a vacuum that only possessions could fill.
> There was nothing unique about that. Hollowness at the core of American middle-class life has engaged the attention of social commentators for a quarter century or more. It's just that in Toms River you got a highly concentrated dose...
> Thus, the acquisition of objects that would make it appear that their owner was affluent, and therefore successful and desirable, became an important task...In Toms River you were what you drove, you were what you wore, you were where you lived-no matter how heavily mortgaged it was...
> A lot of Cadillacs were bought, a lot of wives drove all the way to Short Hills so they could shop at Bloomingdale's instead of Bamberger's, and a lot of backyards found room for swimming pools even though the ocean was less than ten miles away.
> It became, in fact, a mark of status to brag about how long it had been since one had actually gone to the beach...There were people who bought houses in Brookside and then discovered that they had no money left with which to furnish them. This meant that for months or even years they could not invite anyone to dinner...So instead they joined the country club, which they couldn't afford either, because at the country club they would be able to socialize with the kind of people they were trying to become.
> The country club crowd took itself very seriously,
> even though the building looked as if it had been made from LEGOS and even though its members had only a nine-hole golf course to play on and even though they had only each other to impress on Saturday night...
> It was neither an easy or rewarding way to live: that barrenness, that ABYSS covered only by a thin veneer of apparent affluence which they had to strive desperately to maintain..."
>
> There's more, but you get the idea. I read this myself with a big grin; the author's obvious distaste for this way of life and the shallow people who live it is pretty much right on the mark, in my book.
>
> So you go get your house. You won't have time to worry about what anyone else thinks of it because
> you'll be very busy with that kind of house, I'm telling you from experience. I live in a rather, umm, bohemian neighborhood in the middle of the city, in a tall skinny brick house over 100 years old. These old houses, they need a lot of care-
> you must be devoted to their upkeep or they'll fall apart, but in return they'll love you back.
> You get things like stained glass windows, marvelous fireplaces, pocket doors, butler's pantry, solid, heavy construction, occasional
> surprises (sometimes good ones!)and a sense of history that you just cannot buy in a new tract home.
>
> Good luck to you-
> Gracie
I'd like to read "Blind Faith". It sounds interesting. If you haven't already read it (it was required reading for me), "Babbitt", by Sinclair Lewis, also sums up the hollowness of middle class life following the life of a rather financially successful, but unfulfilled man in the 1920s.I live in the heart of it, and it really is all about shopping and status around here in the 'burbs. Some of these people want so badly for everyone to think they are RICH and POWERFUL, even though many of them are probably heavily in debt. I'm extremely satisfied with our humble little $125K house in the subdivision no one notices or cares about.
Because of my social phobia I tend to avoid shopping, especially malls, which doesn't exactly help me connect to some of the people around here. When I'm up to it (maybe once a year) I do like to browse in the more bohemian areas such as Grant Park, Cabbagetown, Little Five Points and Virginia-Highland, etc. Goodwill is actually one of my favorite stores, and I have met some of the friendliest, most interesting people there.
Posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 14, 2003, at 11:07:57
In reply to I never know when to shut up...., posted by whiterabbit on May 13, 2003, at 17:14:20
> You can hire people to do the fixing-up or you can do it yourself IF you know what you're doing, but it will take up a great deal of your time and it's still gonna cost you.
---------------The house needs major work, for sure. It's a very small house (900sq ft) with a crappy addition on the back. It looks to me like the addition needs to be removed, the walls and floors stripped down and replaced, and the exterior redone. Basically, the frame is the only good part. I could do a lot of the work, with the exception of removing the addition. My dad built his own house (among many things), so I've managed to absorb a good deal of carpentry know-how.
The biggest argument against it is that it needs a lot of expensive work. My fondness for it stems from the fact that the house is so cheap to begin with (I could get it for like $19K), close to where I want to be, has a nice fenced yard, and I would genuniely enjoy spending my nights and weekends working on it, watching my beagle scamper around the yard and sipping a glass of wine on the porch. I envision it as my own little retreat and sanctuary, away from the apartment crowd and the waste of $720 a month that I'll never see again.
Posted by leeran on May 14, 2003, at 11:33:31
In reply to Re: I never know when to shut up.... » whiterabbit, posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 14, 2003, at 11:07:57
$19,000? This sounds like a bargain beyond belief - especially if it's in an area where real estate values are likely to increase in the next 5 - 10 years.
Sorry to butt in, but I had to comment on that low price (we live in an area where real estate prices are ridiculously high and even a small house such as the one you described would sell for over $400,000). My parents paid $15,000 for their house back in the early sixties (in the Midwest) and even in my previous locale (where real estate was quite inexpensive) it would have been almost impossible to find a house for $19,000.
When you think about it, you can hardly buy a new automobile for $19,000, and they depreciate the minute you drive them off the lot.
My experience with real estate has always been positive (in terms of profit). Granted, I've never owned property that required remodeling (always new construction) but it seems like the fixer-uppers are the properties that garner the most profit at resale time (I know you're not the materialistic type, but eventually you may need to sell for some reason and it's nice to recoup your investment and then some).
It sounds like too good of a deal to pass up (unless the real estate taxes are too high, which seems unlikely given the price of the home). Besides, your beagle would love it! (We have a beagle mix and they do love to nose around and have a little freedom).
Rent money only lines someone else's pocket . . . I bet your house payment would be miniscule in comparison - and the difference could go toward the repairs.
Good luck! It sounds like fun. I hope you'll post remodeling stories!
Posted by whiterabbit on May 14, 2003, at 15:15:42
In reply to Re: Blind Faith » whiterabbit, posted by leeran on May 13, 2003, at 16:32:19
Lee my friend, we do seem to be on the same wavelength. So you have given me some insight on life after divorce. I always avoid saying things like, "There's someone else out there for me," because I knew right from the start that I would rather live alone for the rest of my life than "settle" for a man, any man, as long as I can say I have a man...forget that. Actually I've kind of been living alone already for quite some time, been lonely in this marriage.
We've grown so far apart. It will still make me sad when we get right down to the yours and mine
piles, but - here comes the cliche - I guess if you want an omelet you gotta break some eggs. I'm somewhat anxious for the future but there's another feeling in there, sneaking in real quiet, I didn't even recognize it at first because I hadn't seen much of it around in my lifetime. Hope.
;-) G
Posted by leeran on May 14, 2003, at 16:36:08
In reply to Re: Blind Faith » leeran, posted by whiterabbit on May 14, 2003, at 15:15:42
WR: "Lee my friend, we do seem to be on the same wavelength."
LR: It's a scary-*** place to be, isn't it?
WR: "So you have given me some insight on life after divorce."
LR: There's a lot to be learned from the process. It certainly wasn't something I ever expected - either time. Who walks down the aisle (1st time) or does the Vegas drive-thru (2nd time) thinking they're signing up for a Learning Annex course? Certainly not I. I couldn't even get a date in high school so the fact that I've been married three times still boggles my brain. I have never gotten married (lol - the voice of "experience") with the idea that there would be a divorce involved.
A divorce represents the failure of a relationship, but for me, it also signified something in myself that needed repair (and still does, to a large degree).
Gracie, I copied and saved your "Looking for a Mate" post to my hard drive. It was so funny, yet poignant. I don't know why, but that post told me a lot about you. Primarily, that you are FAR more evolved than I was during/after my first divorce (far more evolved in general), and that what you so keenly understand about yourself is what will draw others to you (once you're out of this purgatory with your soon to be ex-husband). It seems like he's the last obstacle in your metamorphosis.
When I knew I had to divorce my second husband (for my good - AND the good of my son) I was a little closer to where you're at right now and that "oh, the H*** with it" attitude is what seemed to eventually clear the way for the next phase of my life.
WR: "I always avoid saying things like, "There's someone else out there for me," because I knew right from the start that I would rather live alone for the rest of my life than "settle" for a man, any man, as long as I can say I have a man...forget that. Actually I've kind of been living alone already for quite some time, been lonely in this marriage."
LR: My grandmother used to say repeatedly (after the death of alcoholic, sadistic grandfather): "I wouldn't have another man on a Christmas tree" - yet, she ended up marrying again. She married someone who treated her like a frail old queen. My father was so angry with her that he didn't speak to her until this kind old man passed away. I always felt so sad that there wasn't a time in her life when she could have a little family peace.
IMO, the loneliest place to be is in a failed marriage. This is the where I found myself in yet a SECOND marriage. One day I just mentally threw in the dish towel. I thought "oh fooey, I'm just not cut out for marriage, so what?" Even after meeting my husband I was still pretty adamant about never marrying again.
Here's what I think. I believe that it is possible to run into someone who appreciates you for who you are. Who accepts you regardless of your past or your flaws. Someone with whom the flow chart doesn't become static - and better yet, rises to places you didn't think possible.
My other marriages started out "okay" and just slid further downhill as they progressed. I really thought that must be the gist of what marriage was really like (after all, the only three I had been privy to were my own two and the train wreck known as my parents' marriage).
As utterly corny as it sounds (I will accept all rotten tomatoes thrown my way) I believe that every person has a soul mate (or sometimes several). Brian Weiss' books really struck a chord with me and I agree with his view that a soul mate isn't necessarily a romantic counterpart (although that's often the case).
I was going to try to explain what Brian Weiss said about "tree branches." Thank goodness I found a copy of it on the internet or I would have truly chopped up the entire concept. Here it is:
__________________________________Soul Relationships by Brian L. Weiss, MD
I like to think of soul relationships as similar to a large tree with a thousand leaves on it.
Those leaves that are on your twig are intimately close to you.
You may even share experiences, soul experiences, among yourselves.
There may be three or four or five leaves on your twig.You are also highly and closely related to the leaves on the branch next to yours.
They share a common limb.
They are close to you, but are not as close as the leaves on your own twig.Similarly, as you extend farther out along the tree, you are still related to these other leaves or souls, but not as closely as those in your immediate proximity.
You are all part of one tree and one trunk.
You can share experiences.
You know each other.
But those on your twig are the closest.There are many other trees in this beautiful forest.
Each tree is connected to the others through the root system in the ground.
So even though there may be a leaf on a distant tree that seems quite different from you and very far away, you are connected to that leaf.You are connected to all leaves.
But you are the most closely connected to those on your tree.
And even more intimately connected to those on your branch.
And almost as one with those one your own twig.You probably have met the other souls farther out on your tree in previous lifetimes.
They may have been in many different relationships with you.
Their interactions may have been extremely brief.Even a thirty-minute encounter could have helped
you learn a lesson or helped them or the both of you, as is usually the case.One of these souls may have been the beggar in the road to whom you gave a heart's gift,
allowing you to extend your compassion to another human being and showing the recipient to learn about receiving love and help.You and the beggar may have never met again in that lifetime, and you are part of the drama.
Your meetings vary in duration, five minutes, one hour, a day, a month, a decade, or more, this is how souls relate.Relationships are not measured in time but in lessons learned!
________________________________________
LR: I have thought of this "tree branch" concept many times since finding this board. All the "a-ha" moments I've experienced here have taken the edge off a lifetime of feeling so out of sorts (and thinking I was the only "one"). In a way, I see everyone here as a leaf on a branch that's not too far from the branch where reside.WR: We've grown so far apart. It will still make me sad when we get right down to the yours and mine piles, but - here comes the cliche - I guess if you want an omelet you gotta break some eggs. I'm somewhat anxious for the future but there's another feeling in there, sneaking in real quiet, I didn't even recognize it at first because I hadn't seen much of it around in my lifetime. Hope."
LR: I have seen hope in nearly every one of your posts since I've landed here. Each time a situation knocks you down you seem to come back even stronger than before!
I'm see Nietzsche's famous quote each time I open Dr. Bob's front page. Those words apply to divorce (and so much more): "That which doesn't kill you, makes you stronger."
Two books that have given me a lot of hope are:
"Many Lives, Many Masters"
"Only Love is Real"Or, a movie that really gave me hope (but not for my own situation when I saw it, as I was in the dark moments of my second marriage) was:
"Made in Heaven" (1987 - Timothy Hutton) - tried to link it to Amazon as there's a review over there, but it wouldn't accept a VHS link.
Sappy movie, but I loved it.
Sorry for the long post . . . just call me the cheerleader for people going through divorce. It's a life changing experience but there is life at the end of the tunnel.
Posted by Dinah on May 14, 2003, at 18:33:40
In reply to The seriousness of sanity, posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 12, 2003, at 9:12:15
I admire that quality in you. :) My own version of emotional problems cause me to be way too serious about everything. My husband is way too serious about everything. My son (at the advanced age of seven) is way too serious about everything. Sometimes I can manage inspired silliness, but nonchalance is way beyond me.
A scratch on my car is no problem, unless I don't know how it got there. Then all the OCD thoughts start up big time. Did I hit someone and didn't realize it? How can I be sure I didn't hit someone? Maybe I hit someone but chose not to remember it? And financial problems bring big worries about bringing disaster to my family.
You said "I'm pleased to find myself alive each day, and try to plan fun, interesting things to do and have.". That is an astonishingly wonderful way to look at the world to me. I'm not sure I ever had that talent.
Posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 15, 2003, at 10:27:16
In reply to Re: The seriousness of sanity » Eddie Sylvano, posted by Dinah on May 14, 2003, at 18:33:40
>Sometimes I can manage inspired silliness, but nonchalance is way beyond me.
---------------I wonder how much of that is social. You have to learn to be concerned about things somehow, and beyond survival, I doubt that it's an anthropological imperative to fret over one's car insurance.
> A scratch on my car is no problem, unless I don't know how it got there. Then all the OCD thoughts start up big time. Did I hit someone and didn't realize it? How can I be sure I didn't hit someone? Maybe I hit someone but chose not to remember it? And financial problems bring big worries about bringing disaster to my family.
------------------That's interesting. I've never really appreciated what OCD does to people, but reading your post about a car scratch makes it clear.
> You said "I'm pleased to find myself alive each day, and try to plan fun, interesting things to do and have.". That is an astonishingly wonderful way to look at the world to me. I'm not sure I ever had that talent.
----------------I just don't expect much, I guess. I have no grand vision of how my life should be, so I don't have a model to point to and say "I'm a failure." I used to say that as long as I wasn't dying or in prison, things were going well. Tack on poor to that list of qualifiers, and that's where I am right now. I think all I've ever really wanted beyond survival and stability is to be loved, and now I am, so nothing else matters much.
Thanks for the compliments, Dinah. They make me so embarassed :)
Posted by leeran on May 15, 2003, at 10:48:06
In reply to Re: The seriousness of sanity » Dinah, posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 15, 2003, at 10:27:16
"I've never really appreciated what OCD does to people"
For me, OCD is like a dog chasing its tail around my brain, non-stop, until something ELSE comes up that I can put on "nag" and drive myself crazy about. Sometimes there are several canine dervishes whirling around at once, banging against my cortex. Ironically, one of them is CAR INSURANCE. Ours is dues at the end of May and I've tasked myself with finding a different company after all these years. I could write volumes on why this item on my "to do" list is so difficult to tackle, and all of it would look like drivel to the average person . . . but for me - it has grown to monumental proportions.
Posted by Eddie Sylvano on May 15, 2003, at 14:19:27
In reply to Re: Blind Faith » whiterabbit, posted by leeran on May 14, 2003, at 16:36:08
> "Made in Heaven" (1987 - Timothy Hutton) - tried to link it to Amazon as there's a review over there, but it wouldn't accept a VHS link.
>
> Sappy movie, but I loved it.
-------------For me, that movie is called "Joe vs the Volcano." Always makes me a little happier.
Posted by Snoozy on May 15, 2003, at 16:46:50
In reply to Re: The seriousness of sanity » Eddie Sylvano, posted by leeran on May 15, 2003, at 10:48:06
This is such a great description of OCD thinking!! And when the dog catches its tail and takes a chomp, "YOW!!! That's ME!!! Dummy!!"
>
> For me, OCD is like a dog chasing its tail around my brain, non-stop, until something ELSE comes up that I can put on "nag" and drive myself crazy about. Sometimes there are several canine dervishes whirling around at once, banging against my cortex. Ironically, one of them is CAR INSURANCE. Ours is dues at the end of May and I've tasked myself with finding a different company after all these years. I could write volumes on why this item on my "to do" list is so difficult to tackle, and all of it would look like drivel to the average person . . . but for me - it has grown to monumental proportions.
This is the end of the thread.
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