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This version can be obscure-documentary-worthy at best.
Hi sierraAZ,
But you must admit I am in contention for a leading role in the Detroit version. I am thinking of a fence with the nick name of "squidy" since I blend in so well when I do "bidness" .
Every hour of every day? That's butt kissing. A totally unreasonable expectation.
Only for the unreasonable.
Maybe I learned the hard way what happens when you don't nourish and cherish what you have in love. You don't just take it out when it's convenient or when you want something or when it seems "right" or "proper." And it isn't, and doesn't have to be, butt kissing.
But maybe I also learned the right way long enough ago, even if it took me a long enough time to take my head out of my ass and practise what I knew to be true. I saw for myself what you got when you nourished and cherished that love every hour no matter what you were doing or where you were doing it. It isn't butt kissing to refuse to take for granted what you know in your heart of hearts doesn't just grow or secure itself. It has to be grown. It has to be secured. It has to be tended and tilled and reseeded and repruned and refertilised. Not the next convenient hour, not the next available day, but continuously.
And, by the way, I've never been accused of kissing my SO's butt merely for growing, securing, tending, tilling, reseeding, repruning, refertislising, and retending what we have together, even if we have to be apart awhile for such things as work.
To isolate one simple example that you probably won't see very much of anymore, if at all---and I only wish I'd practised what I'd learned long enough ago, though of course who knows what life would have been if I had---I saw often enough a little old jeweler finish his working day by washing up fresh, changing into a fresh shirt and tie, shaving, and making sure he looked like anything but a fellow who'd just put in eight or nine hours hard over a dusty and often grimy workbench, because he couldn't bear for his wife to meet him, two stops up, for the subway ride home together to the north Bronx, at anything short of the best into which he could make himself. It was far from the only example he could yield up, but if you wanted an object lesson in the little things meaning the biggest things, you could have begun there and rested assured that that was only one of a trunkful.
That little old jeweler was my maternal grandfather.
He was a better man than I will ever be and more of a man than these so-called decent husbands who take their wives for absolute granted, do nothing to nourish or cherish what brought them together in the first place, and wake up to learn the hard way what happened to their mis, mal, or untended gardens.
And my grandmother went to her grave believing she was the luckiest woman in the world for having had that kind of love.
I should be so lucky. Even if I have the honour of being loved that deeply by my SO, who knows only too well what it means to be the garden that went untilled, unnourished, and taken for too much granted for too many years.
Maybe I learned the hard way what happens when you don't nourish and cherish what you have in love. You don't just take it out when it's convenient or when you want something or when it seems "right" or "proper." And it isn't, and doesn't have to be, butt kissing.
But maybe I also learned the right way long enough ago, even if it took me a long enough time to take my head out of my ass and practise what I knew to be true. I saw for myself what you got when you nourished and cherished that love every hour no matter what you were doing or where you were doing it. It isn't butt kissing to refuse to take for granted what you know in your heart of hearts doesn't just grow or secure itself. It has to be grown. It has to be secured. It has to be tended and tilled and reseeded and repruned and refertilised. Not the next convenient hour, not the next available day, but continuously.
And, by the way, I've never been accused of kissing my SO's butt merely for growing, securing, tending, tilling, reseeding, repruning, refertislising, and retending what we have together, even if we have to be apart awhile for such things as work.
To isolate one simple example that you probably won't see very much of anymore, if at all---and I only wish I'd practised what I'd learned long enough ago, though of course who knows what life would have been if I had---I saw often enough a little old jeweler finish his working day by washing up fresh, changing into a fresh shirt and tie, shaving, and making sure he looked like anything but a fellow who'd just put in eight or nine hours hard over a dusty and often grimy workbench, because he couldn't bear for his wife to meet him, two stops up, for the subway ride home together to the north Bronx, at anything short of the best into which he could make himself. It was far from the only example he could yield up, but if you wanted an object lesson in the little things meaning the biggest things, you could have begun there and rested assured that that was only one of a trunkful.
That little old jeweler was my maternal grandfather.
He was a better man than I will ever be and more of a man than these so-called decent husbands who take their wives for absolute granted, do nothing to nourish or cherish what brought them together in the first place, and wake up to learn the hard way what happened to their mis, mal, or untended gardens.
And my grandmother went to her grave believing she was the luckiest woman in the world for having had that kind of love.
I should be so lucky. Even if I have the honour of being loved that deeply by my SO, who knows only too well what it means to be the garden that went untilled, unnourished, and taken for too much granted for too many years.
Hi WhistlerMCMLV,
Women may jump at being put on a pedestal for some time until they begin to loath it. If the woman you are with is the center of your life, you certainly will not be the center of hers for long. If you notice, women are attracted to powerful, thriving men. That comes before she is swept of her feet to consider that she competes and is worthy of such attention. The moment he drops off all else and idolizes her, so too goes the draw. That does not mean she endures his ignorance.
I wonder what kind of civilization we would have had if the most prominent men driving forward the society, and drawing the adoration of women everywhere, suddenly just began worshiping his woman? I believe women dump their men at least as often for sagging in any meaningful life work as they do for a man who completely ignores them.
If a woman draws the attention of a stooge, it is no more than the ignorance of majesty.
Oh man, it's just a simple love story, about a woman who married, had kids, and then, years later, met THE man. The one who set her soul on fire. Except she was already married with kids. So she painfully struggled with her choice - to stay with her family, or to have the passion/excitement that she so longed for. And she chose her family, but not without some regret, of course.
Could be the story of my life, sigh. These things happen, you know.
They do indeed.
This is why people should never just "settle". ONLY marry the one you are 1000% sure is the one who lights your fire, whose very presence motivates you to be the best you can personally be, the one you simply cannot live without
I believe women dump their men at least as often for sagging in any meaningful life work as they do for a man who completely ignores them.
If a woman draws the attention of a stooge, it is no more than the ignorance of majesty.
Maybe it depends on how you define a "stooge." Not to mention what you define as "meaningful life work."
I wasn't exactly doing a glamorous job when I had the unlikely fortune of being found by my SO. I was just a Las Vegas cab driver. Let me tell you what she said as we discovered something between us that I'd be willing to bet anyone else would envy unless they had their heads planted so far up their asses that they could give you the play by play of their own root canal procedures:
I want the man. I don't want his wallet. I don't want his job.
By the way, I haven't driven a cab since last July. I've since found two new jobs: one as a professional writer (that's how I normally make my living) and the other as, of all things, a radio comedian.
And if nourishing and cherishing what she's granted me the honour of knowing at long enough last equals being a stooge, then just call me Moe.
This is why people should never just "settle". ONLY marry the one you are 1000% sure is the one who lights your fire, whose very presence motivates you to be the best you can personally be, the one you simply cannot live without
Is it hard to get a visa and visit your "ideal" world, LM?!
Is it hard to get a visa and visit your "ideal" world, LM?!
hahahahaha - well, the truth is, people have to take more responsibility for their own lives and happiness instead of just letting life happen to them. You've also got to have standards you hold yourself to and don't compromise on.
I don't live a perfect life, but I am perfectly happy with my life because I have lived it consciously and with complete responsibility for my own happiness. Sadly, some people seem to think that is just too much work and they'll never have what I have.
Last edited by lovesMountains; 01-19-2010 at 02:14 PM..
Reason: spelling
Maybe it depends on how you define a "stooge." Not to mention what you define as "meaningful life work."
I wasn't exactly doing a glamorous job when I had the unlikely fortune of being found by my SO. I was just a Las Vegas cab driver. Let me tell you what she said as we discovered something between us that I'd be willing to bet anyone else would envy unless they had their heads planted so far up their asses that they could give you the play by play of their own root canal procedures:
I want the man. I don't want his wallet. I don't want his job.
By the way, I haven't driven a cab since last July. I've since found two new jobs: one as a professional writer (that's how I normally make my living) and the other as, of all things, a radio comedian.
And if nourishing and cherishing what she's granted me the honour of knowing at long enough last equals being a stooge, then just call me Moe.
Moe was the dominant one.....He is the one I would expect to make the stooge groupies swoon.
Ok, despite Clint Eastwood being in it, this is the ultimate chick flick. I actually kind of like the movie despite being a guy but there's a couple of things that really bother me.
First, she cheats on her kindly husband but then blasts Clint, who is single, because he is getting ready to leave town. He has to because it's his job. Why is the cheater so angry? It's not like he seduced her. She entered willingly into her adultery but she blows up at him because he's apparently not willing to throw his life away to pursue a married woman.
Second, at the end, the brother and sister talk to their respective partners. The brother sees his bitchy wife at their motel and she's angry because he was away for so long at his dead mother's house. He immediately starts apologizing profusely and starts playing up to her, practically wallowing at her feet.
Meanwhile, the bitchy sister calls her partner on the phone and icily informs him she's not ready to come home yet. Apparently, she's mad at her partner because her mother was unfulfilled and was "forced" to cheat or something. So now all men are to blame for adulterous females! That's the take I got from this.
Like I said, I liked the movie. It had good performances but this has always bugged me. Men, take a lesson. If you're a good decent husband, it's your fault if your wife cheats on you.
I'm with you 100% on this one. This movie is the ultimate example of no accountability behavior. See If I decide that I'm not getting all I need emotionally out of my marriage, and I cheat on my wife ITS WRONG. Our female hero of the story does it and its EMPOWERING. All the women who read the book and saw the movie "suffered" along with the hero who never really found true happiness? Yet there is NOT one shred of evidence that her husband was a jerk, or mistreated her in any way. IMO this is one of the biggest double standard cinematic pieces of garbage ever. Again when the arguments are made about men being pigs it is well deserved at times, but that does not give women a pass on the same behavior either. Especially when there is a spouse that WAS doing the right thing.
Maybe I learned the hard way what happens when you don't nourish and cherish what you have in love. You don't just take it out when it's convenient or when you want something or when it seems "right" or "proper." And it isn't, and doesn't have to be, butt kissing.
But maybe I also learned the right way long enough ago, even if it took me a long enough time to take my head out of my ass and practise what I knew to be true. I saw for myself what you got when you nourished and cherished that love every hour no matter what you were doing or where you were doing it. It isn't butt kissing to refuse to take for granted what you know in your heart of hearts doesn't just grow or secure itself. It has to be grown. It has to be secured. It has to be tended and tilled and reseeded and repruned and refertilised. Not the next convenient hour, not the next available day, but continuously.
And, by the way, I've never been accused of kissing my SO's butt merely for growing, securing, tending, tilling, reseeding, repruning, refertislising, and retending what we have together, even if we have to be apart awhile for such things as work.
To isolate one simple example that you probably won't see very much of anymore, if at all---and I only wish I'd practised what I'd learned long enough ago, though of course who knows what life would have been if I had---I saw often enough a little old jeweler finish his working day by washing up fresh, changing into a fresh shirt and tie, shaving, and making sure he looked like anything but a fellow who'd just put in eight or nine hours hard over a dusty and often grimy workbench, because he couldn't bear for his wife to meet him, two stops up, for the subway ride home together to the north Bronx, at anything short of the best into which he could make himself. It was far from the only example he could yield up, but if you wanted an object lesson in the little things meaning the biggest things, you could have begun there and rested assured that that was only one of a trunkful.
That little old jeweler was my maternal grandfather.
He was a better man than I will ever be and more of a man than these so-called decent husbands who take their wives for absolute granted, do nothing to nourish or cherish what brought them together in the first place, and wake up to learn the hard way what happened to their mis, mal, or untended gardens.
And my grandmother went to her grave believing she was the luckiest woman in the world for having had that kind of love.
I should be so lucky. Even if I have the honour of being loved that deeply by my SO, who knows only too well what it means to be the garden that went untilled, unnourished, and taken for too much granted for too many years.
This is nice and all, but still, every hour of every day is just too much. You can love a person very deeply without tending to her/him every hour of the day. 24 hours a day just seems too needy.
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Cool movie nevertheless.
