Last night, at ten o'clock in the evening, my beloved friend David died.
And while the details regarding how he died are irrelevant, what certainly matters to me, as well as to every person he touched, is how he lived his short but triumphant life.
He was such a good listener. Whenever you talked to David, with his one trademark raised eyebrow, you not only got the sense that he was listening adamantly to every word you said, but he was actually analyzing each and every voice inflection for shear maximum effect. Of course, then he would tell you what he was really thinking.
And when he spoke...!!
When he spoke, you always, always, always knew that you were never going to get anything less than the god's honest truth--even if you didn't want to hear it. David had a knack for detecting a lame excuse, a white lie, a pure lie and a half truth when he heard one. Honestly? The man had the Best B.S. Detector. Ever.
But he was also one of the most compassionate men I've ever met. When my dog was sick, a few years back, he gave me a number to call for sick Malteses. And eventually, when my puppy did pass away, he came up to me with these sad eyes, gave me a hug and said one thing: "I'm so sorry, baby."
"I'm so sorry, baby."
Yes, David was gay. And everyone knew it. He wasn't shy about it, but he wasn't that flamboyant either. And yet, the fact that he was gay never seemed to bother anyone--not even those skeptical of homosexuality. As cliché as this is to say, to know David was to love him. Simple as that. The loveliness of David the Man outshined any bigotry or hatred anyone might have had toward his particular lifestyle. To everyone, he was just...David.
And it is David--a partner for one, a co-worker to many, and a friend to all--that will be missed long after his untimely passing, last night. David, an avid lover of lighthouses, may have been the proudest man I ever met, but what I think everyone who ever had the privilege of knowing him would agree on is just how proud they are to have known him.
We all have beautiful memories of David. For some, it's the memory of traveling down the interstate with him, singing along to Dido's song, "White Flag." For others, it's taking a trip to Chicago with him and discovering parts of yourself that you never knew existed before. For others still, it's the memory of mall walking with him and just being bathed in his wise, warm and soulful presence and just...talking.
For me, one of my fondest memories--one of my last memories, actually--is when he walked by my desk and, out of the blue, stopped, looked at me and said the following words that will haunt me for many days, months and years to come: "I'm so proud of the person you've become."
To that, I wish I had given him the reply that just finally popped into my head only moments ago: I couldn't have done it without you, buddy. I couldn't have done it without you.
God, I'm gonna miss you, David.
We all are.
You truly were our lighthouse.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Monday, May 7, 2007
A Queen for a King
IT'S OFFICIAL!!! MY DAYS OF FALLING OFF THE BED ARE OVER!! AS OF THIS FRIDAY, IT'S TIME TO SAY "ALL HAIL TO THE QUEEN...AND GOODBYE TO THE TWIN!!!"
Gee, can ya tell I'm excited?
Gee, can ya tell I'm excited?
Friendly Fire
I hate to crib from a fellow blogger, but I, too, have an issue with a friend and, like my fellow writer mentioned in their latest entry, the issue is really neither mine nor is it any of my business.
And yet, here I am writing about it.
So, let's set things up. I have a friend who has, let's just say, not had a good track record with men. In fact, except for a few exceptions, here and there, her taste in men could be considered as abominable. Some of them have stolen from her. Some of them have had weird pedophilia tendencies. Some of them have been drug addicts (which goes back to the aforementioned stealing). Needless to say, yeah, not exactly a sterling reputation when it comes to picking the best and brightest of gentlemen callers.
For the most part, I have been there for her when it comes time to pick up the pieces when her relationships reach their inevitable doom. I do it because that is just what friends do. They stick together, try and help pick up each others' broken pieces, and help glue said pieces back together again.
In the last two months, my friend began dating a guy who most would consider as a giant Fucking Loser, drinking everyday, smoking pot and doing G-d knows what else. The guy, sweet though he may be, is, in fact, just that: a ginormous Fucking Loser. Pure and simple. She knows this, too, because she has told me, straight up, "he's such a fucking loser!!"
She made that statement after she broke up with his ass about three weeks ago, which occurred directly after he drunkenly threw her across her living room in front of her two-year-old, my godson. When she informed me of what he had done, any good will I had toward the man flew right out the window. So, for about two weeks, she went on and on about what a loser, what a friggin' zero this guy was (all the while e-mailing back and forth with him, telling him that if he changed, someday...maybe...they'd get back together). I was there for her when she needed to cry, when she kept calling herself stupid over and over, asking me why she keeps picking such horrible guys as boyfriends (I told her that, like me, she wants to see the best in everyone...even if the signs are right there in front of her telling her otherwise).
So, yeah, she was a mess.
Now, that pretty much takes us to last Thursday. Keep in mind that the whole break-up thing took place over the course of two weeks or so. Anyway, she calls me up, the other day, and says "don't be mad at me, Hal. But Shane and I are back together. He's really changing."
Grrrr...argh!!
It was less than a week or so before that he was lying to her about his drinking habits, making prank calls and passing up an evening with her in order to go throw back some brewskies with his buddies. And he's "really changing?!" Are you fucking kidding me?!?!?!
And the thing is, my Gal Pal is so smart!! When I was going through my little rough patch, she had the best, smartest advice for me. It angers and frustrates me to no end that she's being such an idiot. She's so much better than this "man." What the hell is she thinking?!
She's done this dance before!! Many a time, in fact!!
But of course, I don't tell her any of this. Instead, I listen to her, nod my head and politely agree with what she's telling me. Normally, I would have yelled at her, but for some reason, I just placated her. Don't ask me why. Maybe it's just because I'm so very tired of watching her go through the same self-destructive motions, over and over again.
I just can't do it anymore. I just can't watch her hurt herself anymore. She's always said that I'm the best friend that he has. As disgusting as this sounds, part of me wants to just draw a line in the sand and say, "him or me, sweetheart. Him or me."
No, I don't have feelings for her. What I mean is, if you stick with him, I will not be there, this time, to bail you out as you endure emotional--possibly even physical--hardship after hardship. You dump him and I'll be there for you when you're feeling alone and sad. To some, that might make me sound like some manipulative, put-upon sonofabitch. I, on the other hand, think of it as tough love. I mean, who wants to stand by and watch someone that they love dearly knowingly jump into something that is bound to tear them into little pulpy shreds?
Apparently, me.
Of course I'll be there for her. Alas, as Dionne Warwick, Stevie Wonder and Elton John once sang, that's what friends are for. Anyway, like I said, this is her bag, it's her life and it's her issue. I can't tell her who she can and cannot date. She's a big girl. I just wish she'd start acting like one.
For her son's sake.
And yet, here I am writing about it.
So, let's set things up. I have a friend who has, let's just say, not had a good track record with men. In fact, except for a few exceptions, here and there, her taste in men could be considered as abominable. Some of them have stolen from her. Some of them have had weird pedophilia tendencies. Some of them have been drug addicts (which goes back to the aforementioned stealing). Needless to say, yeah, not exactly a sterling reputation when it comes to picking the best and brightest of gentlemen callers.
For the most part, I have been there for her when it comes time to pick up the pieces when her relationships reach their inevitable doom. I do it because that is just what friends do. They stick together, try and help pick up each others' broken pieces, and help glue said pieces back together again.
In the last two months, my friend began dating a guy who most would consider as a giant Fucking Loser, drinking everyday, smoking pot and doing G-d knows what else. The guy, sweet though he may be, is, in fact, just that: a ginormous Fucking Loser. Pure and simple. She knows this, too, because she has told me, straight up, "he's such a fucking loser!!"
She made that statement after she broke up with his ass about three weeks ago, which occurred directly after he drunkenly threw her across her living room in front of her two-year-old, my godson. When she informed me of what he had done, any good will I had toward the man flew right out the window. So, for about two weeks, she went on and on about what a loser, what a friggin' zero this guy was (all the while e-mailing back and forth with him, telling him that if he changed, someday...maybe...they'd get back together). I was there for her when she needed to cry, when she kept calling herself stupid over and over, asking me why she keeps picking such horrible guys as boyfriends (I told her that, like me, she wants to see the best in everyone...even if the signs are right there in front of her telling her otherwise).
So, yeah, she was a mess.
Now, that pretty much takes us to last Thursday. Keep in mind that the whole break-up thing took place over the course of two weeks or so. Anyway, she calls me up, the other day, and says "don't be mad at me, Hal. But Shane and I are back together. He's really changing."
Grrrr...argh!!
It was less than a week or so before that he was lying to her about his drinking habits, making prank calls and passing up an evening with her in order to go throw back some brewskies with his buddies. And he's "really changing?!" Are you fucking kidding me?!?!?!
And the thing is, my Gal Pal is so smart!! When I was going through my little rough patch, she had the best, smartest advice for me. It angers and frustrates me to no end that she's being such an idiot. She's so much better than this "man." What the hell is she thinking?!
She's done this dance before!! Many a time, in fact!!
But of course, I don't tell her any of this. Instead, I listen to her, nod my head and politely agree with what she's telling me. Normally, I would have yelled at her, but for some reason, I just placated her. Don't ask me why. Maybe it's just because I'm so very tired of watching her go through the same self-destructive motions, over and over again.
I just can't do it anymore. I just can't watch her hurt herself anymore. She's always said that I'm the best friend that he has. As disgusting as this sounds, part of me wants to just draw a line in the sand and say, "him or me, sweetheart. Him or me."
No, I don't have feelings for her. What I mean is, if you stick with him, I will not be there, this time, to bail you out as you endure emotional--possibly even physical--hardship after hardship. You dump him and I'll be there for you when you're feeling alone and sad. To some, that might make me sound like some manipulative, put-upon sonofabitch. I, on the other hand, think of it as tough love. I mean, who wants to stand by and watch someone that they love dearly knowingly jump into something that is bound to tear them into little pulpy shreds?
Apparently, me.
Of course I'll be there for her. Alas, as Dionne Warwick, Stevie Wonder and Elton John once sang, that's what friends are for. Anyway, like I said, this is her bag, it's her life and it's her issue. I can't tell her who she can and cannot date. She's a big girl. I just wish she'd start acting like one.
For her son's sake.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
This Is The Life....
I know this is very out-of-left-field, but here goes...
It was brought to my attention, this morning, that a very close friend of mine who has been ailing for the last few months has now taken a dramatic turn for the worse and has about two weeks left to live. With that in mind, I just want to take this time to say something to all of you--random readers, family, friends...wherever you come from, wherever you're going to...
And what I want to say, I know, is going to come across, for many, as sappy, preachy, cliché and even condescending to some cynical naysayers out there (it is what you make of it, I guess)...but I want to say it anyway because everyone--myself, included--needs to hear it every now and again...
No matter how depressing it gets, no matter how unsuccessful you feel you are, no matter how lonely you may be, no matter how hopeless everything seems...
Don't ever, ever, ever wish your life away.
It's a one-time thing. There will never be another you. We are so very fortunate to be alive and to have the genuine blessing of a Next Day. Treat each and every single one as if it were a gift, a fresh start, a new opportunity to be who you want to be, to do what you want to do.
Treacle? Perhaps.
But can you honestly tell me that I'm wrong?
It was brought to my attention, this morning, that a very close friend of mine who has been ailing for the last few months has now taken a dramatic turn for the worse and has about two weeks left to live. With that in mind, I just want to take this time to say something to all of you--random readers, family, friends...wherever you come from, wherever you're going to...
And what I want to say, I know, is going to come across, for many, as sappy, preachy, cliché and even condescending to some cynical naysayers out there (it is what you make of it, I guess)...but I want to say it anyway because everyone--myself, included--needs to hear it every now and again...
No matter how depressing it gets, no matter how unsuccessful you feel you are, no matter how lonely you may be, no matter how hopeless everything seems...
Don't ever, ever, ever wish your life away.
It's a one-time thing. There will never be another you. We are so very fortunate to be alive and to have the genuine blessing of a Next Day. Treat each and every single one as if it were a gift, a fresh start, a new opportunity to be who you want to be, to do what you want to do.
Treacle? Perhaps.
But can you honestly tell me that I'm wrong?
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Listen Up!!
So, I know it's a little late to start making New Years resolutions, but I've decided to do the unthinkable. That's right! I'm making an Almost Mid-New Year Resolution. And, for many of you, it will be something you've really been waiting for on my end, lemme tell ya.
From here on out, my goal is this: to talk less, listen more.
I'm very self-involved. It's one of my biggest character flaws. I talk about myself...all the time. One of the biggest, most common criticisms that I get is that when people talk to me, confide in me, etc., I tend to go back inside my head to pull out a personal experience of my own to match theirs. And, ya know, that's a good thing...on some levels. I mean, it's good to be able to find things you can relate to when it comes to communicating with other people.
The problem is that when I'm trying to find something in which to relate, I tend, well, not to listen to what they're saying. What's worse is that most people can see exactly when it happens. I think my eyes do sort of a glazing-over thing. I'm not quite sure how it works, actually. Either way, though, it's no good.
One of my favorite lines in "Pulp Fiction" (and I think it may be a deleted scene, so if you don't remember this amazing nugget of Q.T. dialogue, it's probably because it never made it past the cutting room floor) belongs to Uma Thurman. She tells Vincent Vega (John Travolta) that there are two types of people in this world: Those who listen and those who simply wait to talk.
Well, sorry to say, for a good portion of my life, I have been one of those people who fall into the latter category. As previously mentioned, I tend to listen to a small portion of what another person is saying and then I space out and think of something really witty to say, some way I can tie myself into their story or, yeah--guilty as charged--think of a new, more entertaining subject to begin talking about.
Hell, just tonight, two phone calls in a row, I was asked if I was even paying attention to what the person on the other end was saying (I wasn't) and if I had an answer to their question (nope again!). Gotta say...it's getting pretty embarrassing. If I'm any type of friend, I need to really start being more considerate of other peoples' thoughts and feeling and stop thinking about myself.
Yes, readers, as a special treat, just this once, the window has been opened for one and all to comment about the other ailment I suffer from: Only Child Syndrome. So, have at it. It's a one-time thing (but something tells me no one is going to ever let me forget it).
Wrapping things up (hey, I'm tired, alright?!?!), look, I think it's a pretty common thing for everyone to think that their shit, their drama is more important than the next guy or gal. However, if you are truly a good friend, you will find a way to get over yourself, listen and just be there--really there!!
For those friends of mine (and family) who read this--and you know who you are--from now on, I am going to try and be that person.
Happy Almost Mid-New Year!!
From here on out, my goal is this: to talk less, listen more.
I'm very self-involved. It's one of my biggest character flaws. I talk about myself...all the time. One of the biggest, most common criticisms that I get is that when people talk to me, confide in me, etc., I tend to go back inside my head to pull out a personal experience of my own to match theirs. And, ya know, that's a good thing...on some levels. I mean, it's good to be able to find things you can relate to when it comes to communicating with other people.
The problem is that when I'm trying to find something in which to relate, I tend, well, not to listen to what they're saying. What's worse is that most people can see exactly when it happens. I think my eyes do sort of a glazing-over thing. I'm not quite sure how it works, actually. Either way, though, it's no good.
One of my favorite lines in "Pulp Fiction" (and I think it may be a deleted scene, so if you don't remember this amazing nugget of Q.T. dialogue, it's probably because it never made it past the cutting room floor) belongs to Uma Thurman. She tells Vincent Vega (John Travolta) that there are two types of people in this world: Those who listen and those who simply wait to talk.
Well, sorry to say, for a good portion of my life, I have been one of those people who fall into the latter category. As previously mentioned, I tend to listen to a small portion of what another person is saying and then I space out and think of something really witty to say, some way I can tie myself into their story or, yeah--guilty as charged--think of a new, more entertaining subject to begin talking about.
Hell, just tonight, two phone calls in a row, I was asked if I was even paying attention to what the person on the other end was saying (I wasn't) and if I had an answer to their question (nope again!). Gotta say...it's getting pretty embarrassing. If I'm any type of friend, I need to really start being more considerate of other peoples' thoughts and feeling and stop thinking about myself.
Yes, readers, as a special treat, just this once, the window has been opened for one and all to comment about the other ailment I suffer from: Only Child Syndrome. So, have at it. It's a one-time thing (but something tells me no one is going to ever let me forget it).
Wrapping things up (hey, I'm tired, alright?!?!), look, I think it's a pretty common thing for everyone to think that their shit, their drama is more important than the next guy or gal. However, if you are truly a good friend, you will find a way to get over yourself, listen and just be there--really there!!
For those friends of mine (and family) who read this--and you know who you are--from now on, I am going to try and be that person.
Happy Almost Mid-New Year!!
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Neurotica Unleashed!!!
I could be that guy. The guy who just doesn't dignify something so full of bile and acid as the comment that was posted to my last blog ("Save Me") and lets it go.
But I am not that guy.
Listen, Mr. Anonymous or whoever you are (and we'll get to that in a minute), if ya don't like what I have to say in my blog, here's a friendly tip: DON'T READ THE FUCKING THING, DUMB SHIT!!!!! I mean, for chrissakes almighty, I'm not twisting your arm!! If my "self-indulgent drivel" really offends you that much, then click out of it and do something else to occupy your time. I mean, it's that simple!!
Granted, you have every right to post your opinion, sir (or madame…who knows?), but at the very least, if you're gonna be a dick, be a dick with some constructive criticism to offer!!! Yeah, I get it, save myself! Very deep! But ya know what? If you actually read my blog, you'd realize that I have been working hard to improve myself.
But ya know what? I won't lie…I still have my issues, my fears, my problems. So, yeah, I write about them. And okay, do my words sometimes make me come across as some small, pathetic, insecure man? Maybe! Sure! I gotcha!! But that's a price I'm willing to pay. It makes me feel better after I write what I write. And it makes me want to work even harder than before to become the better man that I know I can be.
Everyone has their methods of working through the shit in their life, whether it be heartbreak or just trying to find your way. Like me, some people write. Others marinate and simmer in their own depressed juices, thinking that doing nothing will solve things. There are also those who run away from their own issues, with the idea that traveling to the ends of the earth will give them some answer, some solution.
You want revelations?! What the fuck, man?! Every day there's something new!! If it's not one thing, it's another, right?! When it rains, it pours!! Rome wasn't built in a day! And I am fucking trying!!
"Save yourself?!?!" Fuck yourself, dude!!
As for hiding behind "Anonymous?" You're pathetic. And the thing is, I'm pretty sure that I know who you are. I won't come right out and name names, though, because frankly, I'm not 100% sure and I don't like making blind accusations. But I am sure about this. From now on, if you've got something you want to say to me, if you want to write any further personal attacks against me, even going so far as to make physical threats, then you grow some fucking balls, own up to your inflammatory words and you sign your goddamn name!!
Hey, I feel better already!!Save Me
It's so common.
In movies and on TV, you always hear women going on about how they want their knight in shining armor. A man to pick them up and carry them away toward that bright, shiny place in their hearts and minds otherwise known as--you've got it!!--Happily Ever After. In fact, on a fairly recent episode of "Grey's Anatomy," our modern-day icon of feminism (god, I sure as hell hope not!!), Meredith Grey (Ellen Pompeo), referred to her Dr. McDreamy as a "knight in shining whatever."
But what about guys like me?
I mean, I know, as men, we're supposed to be the hunter/gatherers, displaying only a limited range of emotions and desires (sex, manly sports, sex, eating buffalo wings, sex, etc.), but honestly, I want to find my knight in shining armor, too!!
No, I am neither gay nor did I come out of the closet since my last blog. The meaning behind those words are actually quite simple. That is, I want a woman to save me.
"Save me."
Those are some pretty interesting words to choose, right? Pretty dramatic really. I mean, I'm not in any mortal danger. No one has tied me to a train track a la the "Dudley Do-Right" cartoons. I'm not sick or in need of an organ donor. No, the truth is quite simple really.
I'm no picnic.
Yes, as you may have noticed throughout every single one of my blogs, I am a bag of quirks and idiosyncrasies. I mean, just look to the left of this entry in the "About Me" section. That, right there, pretty much tells you what you're in for before you even read this sucker. But as I've also mentioned, in the past, there really is more to me than those, um, qualities. Deep down, I'm a pretty decent guy who is eager to please and ready and willing to do anything to make someone crack even the faintest of smiles. But ya have to get to know me first. You have to be willing to peel away all of those layers to find that, yeah, there is a man under here who wants to love...and be loved.
But yeah, needless to say, I guess I am what you would call an acquired taste.
Now, it would be selfish of me to just expect some woman to just put up with me, take care of me, constantly boost my low self-esteem. No one should ever expect that in a relationship. That's not a girlfriend. That's a nursemaid, possibly even a shrink. However, what I would really love is for a woman to just look me in the eye, look past all of the aforementioned neuroses and eccentricities and just...see...me. I'd love them to be able to look at me and think to themselves, ah, yes...There it is. I see it now. There is someone with potential in there. He may not have it all together now and, yeah, he's kind of a mess, but ya know what, there's a man inside of him, right here and now, that's worth sticking by and fighting for.
Most of all, though, I want someone who will be happy just being with me. Not the person I may have been at one time. Not the person that I could or will be.
Just. Me.
That's what I want. That's my knight in shining armor: The person who sees me for who I am and is willing to overlook the not-so-desirable personality traits, able to realize that there is a man in there that is worth knowing and loving.
One of my all-time favorite movies is "Sideways." The main character, Miles (beautifully played by the great Paul Giamatti), is this depressed, insecure, cynical oenophile (wine lover) with the lowest self-esteem you could ever imagine. It's the closest a movie has ever gotten to portraying me. Every time I watch it, I think to myself, did Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor write this film with me in mind?! Anyway, there's this woman, Maya (Virginia Madsen), that he's fallen for, over time, but has never had the guts to do anything about. They finally have a moment together about an hour into the movie. She asks him why he likes Pinot Noir so much and he gives a monologue that makes me want to hold myself every single time I hear it. Why? Well, because it is so truly, utterly me:
"Uh, I don't know, I don't know. Um, it's a hard grape to grow, as you know. Right? It's uh, it's thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. It's, you know, it's not a survivor like Cabernet, which can just grow anywhere and uh, thrive even when it's neglected. No, Pinot needs constant care and attention. You know? And in fact it can only grow in these really specific, little, tucked away corners of the world. And, and only the most patient and nurturing of growers can do it, really. Only somebody who really takes the time to understand Pinot's potential can then coax it into its fullest expression. Then, I mean, oh its flavors, they're just the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and... ancient on the planet."
The monologue itself is brilliant. No denying that. And then something happens that elevates it from just being a scene with two talking heads, but a moment of real, nearly tangible emotion and feeling. While he's talking, the camera closes in on her and you realize, she knows that, deep down, he's talking about himself. And it's then that she falls in love with him. She sees him for the man fucked up yet lovely man that he is. And it is then that she places her hand on top of his. Magical, magical, magical.
I guess that's really what I'm looking for: My own Maya. My Knight in Shining Whatever.
My hero. My champion.
In movies and on TV, you always hear women going on about how they want their knight in shining armor. A man to pick them up and carry them away toward that bright, shiny place in their hearts and minds otherwise known as--you've got it!!--Happily Ever After. In fact, on a fairly recent episode of "Grey's Anatomy," our modern-day icon of feminism (god, I sure as hell hope not!!), Meredith Grey (Ellen Pompeo), referred to her Dr. McDreamy as a "knight in shining whatever."
But what about guys like me?
I mean, I know, as men, we're supposed to be the hunter/gatherers, displaying only a limited range of emotions and desires (sex, manly sports, sex, eating buffalo wings, sex, etc.), but honestly, I want to find my knight in shining armor, too!!
No, I am neither gay nor did I come out of the closet since my last blog. The meaning behind those words are actually quite simple. That is, I want a woman to save me.
"Save me."
Those are some pretty interesting words to choose, right? Pretty dramatic really. I mean, I'm not in any mortal danger. No one has tied me to a train track a la the "Dudley Do-Right" cartoons. I'm not sick or in need of an organ donor. No, the truth is quite simple really.
I'm no picnic.
Yes, as you may have noticed throughout every single one of my blogs, I am a bag of quirks and idiosyncrasies. I mean, just look to the left of this entry in the "About Me" section. That, right there, pretty much tells you what you're in for before you even read this sucker. But as I've also mentioned, in the past, there really is more to me than those, um, qualities. Deep down, I'm a pretty decent guy who is eager to please and ready and willing to do anything to make someone crack even the faintest of smiles. But ya have to get to know me first. You have to be willing to peel away all of those layers to find that, yeah, there is a man under here who wants to love...and be loved.
But yeah, needless to say, I guess I am what you would call an acquired taste.
Now, it would be selfish of me to just expect some woman to just put up with me, take care of me, constantly boost my low self-esteem. No one should ever expect that in a relationship. That's not a girlfriend. That's a nursemaid, possibly even a shrink. However, what I would really love is for a woman to just look me in the eye, look past all of the aforementioned neuroses and eccentricities and just...see...me. I'd love them to be able to look at me and think to themselves, ah, yes...There it is. I see it now. There is someone with potential in there. He may not have it all together now and, yeah, he's kind of a mess, but ya know what, there's a man inside of him, right here and now, that's worth sticking by and fighting for.
Most of all, though, I want someone who will be happy just being with me. Not the person I may have been at one time. Not the person that I could or will be.
Just. Me.
That's what I want. That's my knight in shining armor: The person who sees me for who I am and is willing to overlook the not-so-desirable personality traits, able to realize that there is a man in there that is worth knowing and loving.
One of my all-time favorite movies is "Sideways." The main character, Miles (beautifully played by the great Paul Giamatti), is this depressed, insecure, cynical oenophile (wine lover) with the lowest self-esteem you could ever imagine. It's the closest a movie has ever gotten to portraying me. Every time I watch it, I think to myself, did Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor write this film with me in mind?! Anyway, there's this woman, Maya (Virginia Madsen), that he's fallen for, over time, but has never had the guts to do anything about. They finally have a moment together about an hour into the movie. She asks him why he likes Pinot Noir so much and he gives a monologue that makes me want to hold myself every single time I hear it. Why? Well, because it is so truly, utterly me:
"Uh, I don't know, I don't know. Um, it's a hard grape to grow, as you know. Right? It's uh, it's thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. It's, you know, it's not a survivor like Cabernet, which can just grow anywhere and uh, thrive even when it's neglected. No, Pinot needs constant care and attention. You know? And in fact it can only grow in these really specific, little, tucked away corners of the world. And, and only the most patient and nurturing of growers can do it, really. Only somebody who really takes the time to understand Pinot's potential can then coax it into its fullest expression. Then, I mean, oh its flavors, they're just the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and... ancient on the planet."
The monologue itself is brilliant. No denying that. And then something happens that elevates it from just being a scene with two talking heads, but a moment of real, nearly tangible emotion and feeling. While he's talking, the camera closes in on her and you realize, she knows that, deep down, he's talking about himself. And it's then that she falls in love with him. She sees him for the man fucked up yet lovely man that he is. And it is then that she places her hand on top of his. Magical, magical, magical.
I guess that's really what I'm looking for: My own Maya. My Knight in Shining Whatever.
My hero. My champion.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
