Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Paul's Evil Twin?
This blogging thing has caused such an uproar. More precisely, a tempest in a tea cup, between Sheryl and I. I had not written anything of note in a long time, and hadn't published since last year when I was pushing, and being pushed by outside forces (my editor) to write several scandalous news articles per week. All my previous training as a fiction writer, a creative non fiction writer, and then as a poet was to let my first draft fly with no self censorship. As I progressed in my writing career I discovered that getting published involves a certain amount of controversial or conflict oriented angles on things. That, and I suffer from testosterone poisoning. So between my chronic lifelong affliction, and all the attention and compliments I've received over the years-- "I am what I am." At least in print. For those of you who know that I was accepted into an MFA program last year at the prestigious (?) University of British Columbia at Vancouver should also know that it was the only application to Grad School that I sent out, and that I got in with submissions which in part, made a lot of fun of Canadians. After they totally gakked my financial aid application, I am far more inclined today to poke fun at Canadians. It's quite safe. What are they going to do, invade and sack the White House? Again? Where's the fun in that? They already did it once. One thing Canadians don't do is repeat themselves, eh? I said one thing Canadians don't do is repeat themselves, eh? I said one thing. . .
But be that as it may. I repeat myself a lot because I figure very few people actually listen even 75% of the time. Especially me. So if I repeat myself I might get an idea myself, sooner or later, of what I am actually getting at. The 75% listening factor gives me 25% free space to replay minor variations on a theme. Then I find out who is really listening because they tell me to shut the hell up for a second, or at least try to get to my point. And I do. Because they got my attention; by means of making some strident noise.
By the way, we met very few Canadians who actually say eh, eh? But many Vancouverites over stress their vowels which is really quite charming. Also, instead of asking where you're from they say, "Where's home?" which I took rhetorically and tried to answer in the abstract realm every single time. As a result many Canadians are now convinced that Californians:
1. Can't answer a simple question.
2. Talk too much.
3. Have little or no idea where they are from.
Like the Evil Twin issue: here I am still trying to explain, again, why it's OK for me to be who I am. One of our clients says to me, "You're such a GUY." And she's right. But it's not really evil to be a guy. Just mildly unpleasant at times. Here's a great example, Mary Daly. She's my all time favorite feminist, as radical as they come. Why do I love her so much? She's such a GUY. She out-guys me so much of the time. I like even more that she'd probably really hate to hear me say that. She got fired from a tenured university professorship for refusing to teach one of her classes as a coed class (it was all women). Know why?
She said that she could not teach a class on feminism which included men because women are (by cultural conditioning) too prone to self censoring their true feelings in the presence of men. She's right I think-- my partner is in the next room self censoring as I write. Mary Daly was once asked if her Ph'd in Theology wasn't still useful to her and she answered, "Yes, as compost." My god the woman has guts.
So lets all be "such a guy" for one day and then the next day we can all be. . . something else, before the rivers run with blood and the atmosphere burns off in a nuclear conflagration. There's a place for polarization and theres a place for integration of the opposing sides of ourselves. I'm still considering doing and "Evil Twin" blog and then another blog of more useful, calm and healing intent, but I still don't really want to do that. I'd rather be whole.
Yours in pure unrestricted unconditional Love,