Mon 18 Mar 2002 20:15
re-reading writing of past few days: they really are a catalogue of experience, bringing back primarily visual images, but, now that I think of it also other sensations.
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Mon 18 Mar 2002 18:08
I've made some horrid mistakes and I hate that I have, but, at least I had the opportunity to make the mistakes.

a mistake:
on the back of my health insurance card:
In order to avoid a reduction in hospital and medical benefits, please be sure to call the appropriate telephone number listed below before receiving services requiring precertification and within 24 hours of an emergency admission. These services are described in your benefit literature.

the service- a sonogram or something of my heart costs probably $700 according to Frank, the man with the voice I've learned to associate with homosexuality. It was wierd to have him pressing too hard with the probe on my chest [in a dark room lit only by the glow of the sonogram CRT/display], first he puts slime (probably electrolyte?) then jabs the probe--(1) I should find women doctors; -my head was right next to his keyboard, and the screen. (2) damn it I try to careful about these things and when performance time comes- the medical establishment gets me (correction-I let them get me through my lackadaisicalness--wrong word--lack of ?? )--though perhaps they have not got me, but the insurance co, who perhaps is paying for things that are not really necessary. What if I were the president, however? It probably would have been done. (2) was supposed to be, I feel sorry for any women who submit to Frank. It really is a death inducing world out there, if one looks in the right places.

So what is the situation in which a heart murmer would affect the use of antibiotics during surgery?
Who told you that?
Kaminsky, at least, that's what I believe he said.
...
It's for gum surgery {What is Frank thinking?}... bacteria in the mouth

I tell people to think of the heart murmer like a stream, with pebbles in it, where the water curls back around--stuff can build up in that eddy- bacteria..

well, what was going on.




[2002-03-27-2253 fyi: it's covered (no precertification necessary) & considering that the insurance company gets ~$300/mo for me (I pay 10%, employer 90%, not a big deal--amazing. Heart murmer functional (I assume, have not heard otherwise), but impressive to see the backflow in rainbow colors like a winamp lava visualization plug-in and hear the sounds of my heart.]

I was going to say I've made mistakes with Joanna, but I don't think it is a mistake to express the "I"--the immediate spontaneous self. It shows me in all my shallowness, playfulness, and deepness. But when I consider my I's effect on her, there are moments which make me, well, think I probably should have kept my mouth shut.

Therin lies a double standard. I forgive her, and even appreciate her actions, which are things I wish to not do myself--commenting on how the church official was unable to read German like a german, for example. Yet am hard on myself for saying things like "because I don't want to be like a prick" -- a hushed chill passes through the cathedral -- (as to why I did not correct her for saying the traditions which she values intensely have been going on for thousands and thousands of years), or saying, later, "yes, it doesn't matter how fat someone is, as long as they have that quality you're describing..." heck, what did I say, exactly? The point she was making that it is personality not appearance that attracts. And in my attempt to allay body consciousness issues (which I have no doubt, and would not wish more pain of that type on anyone (though when I feel successful with eating, diet, body sculpture, it is a pride, I think)) probably had the effect of doing the opposite.

I am loving my editor, vim, right now. The font is down small, 8pt courier, white on black.

The double-standard probably relates to our age difference. Another saying I don't like remembering: "Fresh out of school," a comment made upon seeing the molecular diagrams in her notebook. Or questioning her contention that Physical Therapy school admission is more competitive than medical school. Its nice to play with people you think are iron, and not be afraid of hurting or weakening self-esteem, adding self-doubt. Yet, I've been with someone whose fairly iron... Yoanna is not iron, and that is very much what makes her great- her empathy is sensitive, and emanates.

This brings me to a suggestion of hers: have you ever helped someone just to see a smile on their [sic] face. It was volunteer, not help... I said no, my reasons were various and selfish, and I would never describe them so simply. This took us to radical feminism, and then to more social theory. Climaxing with fluffy cabbages, and "you are such a trip." Which I interpret as, "I don't take you seriously."

She sees her life in helping supporting roles.

I saw her across the subway tunnel, she briefly picked up the receiver on a payphone--to call whom?-- her messages?, but put it back, and sat down on a bench, looking how? my train came, and through the window I watched until I couldn't see her. Something I believe Stephen Deadalus would not do.

I did have fun composing a text message to her on the subway this morning, 5c to send, which sums up my dilemma,
Thank u for last night! I am a bit sad it seemed u did not leave with as much joy as i did, i hope it was the cold or tiredness, not the interaction. <3 !

What a challenge. I think I tend to think the worst. Was there some research that said the last moments of an interaction define some emotional tone about something until the interaction resumes again?

Peace in silence. I am reminded by the woman at the marble hill stop who went to a silent meditation retreat with others. There was a table for those who did not wish to talk to others. I think that is beautiful. To do away with all the petty handshakes. So, I feel, on somedays, I do not wish to say hello, or good bye, or how are you, and I feel that's o.k.

silence.

This whole thing is out of order! I've been adding sentences here and there, and forgetting I was not at the end.

She said, "Does 'Confused' mean anything to you?"

Yes it does, and I (eventually) realized I'd taken her where she did not want to go by my holding of her hand on occasion. We perhaps cleared things up. But my directness is not her way yet. I believed I'd been making things clear, but said perhaps I'd been vague. But had I been vague? Attempting to think of myself as a boyfriend has been getting me down because the 'generalized other' from which I've been evaluating myself for that role, cannot see me as a good boyfriend. As a monk, I could not be better. The issue is that I'm a monk for whom relationships are part of the practice.

There is perhaps a power difference in our relationship I was unaware of, because of my age, and because she said she finds(found?) me very attractive, I believe she said sexy, while I consider myself presenting a somewhat awkward, tending to lug around lots of junk, and to not dress snazzily, appearance. It would seem, though that she's had much more experience in relationships than I have.

But still, she said, "Does 'Confused' mean anything to you?" instead of, I've been perplexed by your holding of my hand, feeling uncomfortable, because I don't know what your intentions are, and because I've had bad experiences in the past, when a less stable young man wanted to commit suicide, perhaps partly because I had let love grow on his end by allowing such things as (perhaps) handholding, but did not have the same magnitude of feeling on this side of the glass.

Of course she would not say that-- but perhaps you see the difference.

Now what about me? What about things which are difficult to ask-- what about beating around the bush (her words), what about not asking the doctor more about the procedure? How does one even get the idea in one's head to say something at all?

There is ever more that could be written here, but I think this bush has been beaten enough! beat! beat! beat!

Double contingency. Please, lord, my intentions are good... don't let me be misunderstood!

Asha calls herself a Catholic, reveres the Church and its ceremony, has high standards for decorum/religiousity/mass/ has strong and intricate traditions based in her Polish heritage and the Catholic religion.

I am someone who considers himself as having started with nothing, the experience of nothingness, and constructed a life around him-- but I did not have nothing. I had my body, I had swimming. I did have some history, but no tradition except that so timeless it was simply consdered the way things were, not tradition.

We eat differently as well.

For the most part that is the story. The things attracting her to me (I meant to say 'me to her') are clear: her sensitivity, her expressiveness of emotion, her responsiveness to me. Her to me? Was it excitement about more superficial attributes of myself? I would rather think she did as she said, perceive my openness--and she did say I seemed vital.

I'm curious what her best moments with other intimates have been--
What have my best moments been? I don't think I think of it in terms of moments.

Ha, me sexy? I have seen sexy, and it is bob. But I have seen that bob is shy, though his appearance is not.

Monks do not wish to be valued for their sexiness, but it could be an advantage if they consider relationships to be part of their practice. Or should they work instead from charisma, as asha's example of a powerfully attractive friend whose appearance she did not consider to be stunning?

Walking by the homeless woman, asha noticed she had a child.

Later denouncing the frat-boy type (oh how they are abused), and those who would walk right by someone who needs help. That was me walking by the homeless woman with a child. I did not even trouble to feel for her, while Asha did, visibly. She kept turning to look while I was thinking to myself, "How rude to keep looking!" When I have been homeless, my feeling is I would have wished her to walk right by as if I were not there--but, well, no not a young woman like her, I don't think, certainly not all people share my outlook. Would they have taken her up on her offer of a place to stay, if, as she was imagining, she had her own house? This was a question.

You do talk plenty, even though you say you don't.

Joanna, because I create messes with words, I try not to produce too many--but there are times I think you don't wish me to be silent?

Yes, and, since we're asking questions, why is it that I'm able to look into your eyes more than you are able to look into mine? (Asha to me, but I had first remarked on that phenomenon and on my efforts to return her gaze, or had I even posed the question, but left it unpursued?)

I think one has to be calm, not nervous to be able to look back into someone's eyes. Also, when I look into your eyes, it is hard for me to think of anything else.

Do I have fear, and she is the one who does not?


And always, I'm curious to check, in remembering a conversation, whose words do I remember more of, the other person's or my own?

I am happy to find that a large amount of asha is in my memory, not just me.


And I will stay silent, until she calls, until perhaps Friday, or the weekend. I may mention the silence, "I do wish to talk with you more and see you again, but also I feel the intervening silence is good for me. If it is not for you, I would love to break it, however."
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