Tuesday, August 16, 2016

This Is Why I'm Not Writing Anymore

I haven't talked to Kristin for two weeks. She's at her parents' house; I'm at mine. We didn't talk much for most of July either, except to fight. I hate fighting. My instinct is to wait it out. From what I've seen, nobody stops a fight when they realize the other person has a good point. Fighting is a loud hiss - venting - and I would rather let off steam in private.

That doesn't make me less of an asshole. I sound like an asshole when I am speaking precisely, or when I am being critical, which is too often, since I am so seldom wrong.

I have a certain way of doing things. It's a correct way: researched, logical, precise. When my ways meet resistance, I am confused and frustrated, because my ways are correct, and all anybody else needs to do is paint by the numbers. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the methods I use to sell books online. I have systems, and the systems are the only way I make money. I want to work less while making more. It's not a fantasy, because I know how to do it.

We are fighting because we each have a different view of how the business is going. I see room for improvement. Without increasing overall effort, I believe we can improve accuracy, efficiency, AND volume. I know exactly where to focus those efforts.

That's a moot point. I'm not working with Kristin anymore. It has always caused friction, because I am far too awesome at this job, and she can never live up to my ridiculous standards.

I don't know how our marriage is going to work out, but working together sure isn't something that's going to fix it.

The problem is that when there is a work related issue, it flows seamlessly into a personal relationship fight. This means I am living in a nightmare. We can't fix work, because it is impossible for me to even suggest there is anything to fix, and doing so makes me an insensitive asshole. To make matters worse, I don't show love, Kristin feels unloved, and I am a shitty husband.

There is a whole spiderweb of issues and variables at play. I would like to start sorting all those out, but I don't think I'm invited to the table unless I bring flowers. I am not in a hurry to bring flowers to somebody who has begun in earnest to step all over my nuts.

I hate all this shit. I am riding my bicycle instead.

2 comments:

tim joe comstock said...

Three Speed! I forgot about you! Now I gotta catch up. Arizona? Not bad. How come Kristen doesn't do her Blog anymore? Its been a long time.

I've been with my current ol' Lady...I mean partner...my S.O...well, I didn't marry her so what do you call them? She's sixty now and "girlfriend" sounds odd, somehow... She calls me her "guy friend" but she gets so much of my money I'm thinking of another name ya might call me. We've been together ten years, my longest relationship ever. We tend to live together about two years then live apart about two years, on a continuous loop. The passion seems to fade as the years roll by but if something were to happen to one of us (or our deal) I imagine all manner of passionate activities would unfold. I don't intend to upset THAT apple cart.

Let's see...I'm pontificating here...I had something else...OH! Any person who has ever even ONCE used the word "cyclist" in a sentence pertaining to they their ownselves sooner or later discovers that they are fucked. You cannot stop riding your bicycle without finding yourself trapped in a descending gyre of woe and turmoil.

Relationships are strained, brain fever sets in and there is only one cure: pedal strokes and a lot of them. But you know that. Ain't it weird when you finally find out what you already knew?

OK, buddy. Glad I could help.

tim joe comstock

Oh, a postscript: I also employ systems for everything. It is a lifetime habit born of the need to function in alcoholical blackout. I know where my pants and keys and (usually) my car will be when I come to because I have SYSTEMS, man! Any interruption in the flow of my one-man planet and I can spend DAYS trying to find myself.

By the way, have you ever read "After the Storm?"

Finally, (maybe): Yes I made up the word alchoholical but I learned it from an old black dude at a freezing bus stop in D.C. about forty years ago. He was sipping from a pint bottle of Old Grand Dad and offered me a hit as the snow blasted us front and back. "It's this cold weather that makes me such a alchoholical."

So there ya go.

tags: allusion, allegory, irony, misdirection, colloquialism, simile and metaphor, bicycles

Chris Harne said...

Tim Joe - I am glad when your name pops up in my email, 'cause I always figure nobody is actually reading this shit anymore. Not that it matters much, 'cause I would probably just keep tossing my words into the woods regardless, since I have a long long history of journaling, which is like a blog on paper and remains so secret it is literally locked away.

You are right, as usual, about being a cyclist. Not everything is going so fucking hot for me right now, but the cycling has more than enough buoyancy to keep me afloat. What a relief. I'm reading more cycling books, I'm resubscribed to Bicycle Quarterly (the only readable bicycle magazine, and a true fucking dork-fest), and I'm riding about 100 miles a week (logged on the Strava app, another absolute dork-fest, but fuggit.)

Alcoholical. And sharing booze at a bus stop. I'm going to remember that one.

Chris