Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!wuarchive!swbatl!uucibg From: uucibg@swbatl.UUCP (3929) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: A newcomer's toast Keywords: knewcomer, first toast Message-ID: <1064@swbatl.UUCP> Date: 19 Dec 89 22:00:31 GMT Reply-To: uucibg@swbatl.UUCP (Brian Gilstrap - UCI - 5-3929) Organization: Me? Organized? You must be joking... Lines: 108 During a momentary lull, a young man gets up from yet another corner table and strides to the bar. He'd been lurking there a while but, this being Callahan's, people didn't mind. He looks about 5 1/2 feet tall with wavy, reddish-brown hair grown from "somewhat long" to "almost shaggy". A small diamond stud is still visible in his left ear. He is wearing pleated black pants and a gold colored, high-necked shirt, the kind of semi-casual stuff that's comfortable. He is somewhat slight in build, what some might call wiry, and his face looks adolescent. "A ginger ale, please," he says and Mike is saved from asking for ID. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he glances around somewhat nervously as Mike digs out a bottle and pours. "I'm Brian Gilstrap," he says and hesitates, seeming at a loss for words. Picking up the mug and laying down a dollar in its place, he stares into its depths for a long while. "I guess I'd like to tell you a story before I give my toast," he says. "A year and a half ago, I met someone special. As seems to be the case most often, I wasn't particularly looking at the time. It came as something of a surprise to both of us when we found we were in love, but Diane and I didn't complain. Things went rather well, though there were a couple of hurdles and bucked shins. After a year (and much soul-searching) had passed, I took the plunge and asked Diane to marry me. Much to my surprise, she said yes. "Now, I guess you might wonder why I would ask her if I didn't think she would marry me. I guess I'll never know that one for sure myself, but I chalk it up to Love. I had weighed Life-Without-Her and Life-With-Her and the scales had tipped and then toppled toward the latter. To be honest, I really didn't care; it felt right." He pauses to take a pull from the mug and stared into the bottom like he was expecting to find something there, maybe courage. "Well, this August Diane broke off the engagement, a month and a half after it began. It seems that she met this guy named David who made her feel all these things that she thought she shouldn't feel if she were going to marry me. I did a rather good job of falling apart." Taking another pull, he continues, "So I didn't hear much from her for a few weeks. Then we tried being friends but she called that off when her new love got upset that she was seeing me. I don't call him that out of sarcasm, by the way. "I was doing alright I suppose. I'd realized that some of the things she'd said during the breakup were right. Or at least they were things that, after having them pointed out to me (directly or indirectly), I wanted to change. There were also some things that I 'found' on my own, also in this category of 'not-so-pleasing character traits'. "Shortly before my 25th birthday, she called to wish that it would be a happy one. This started a series of conversations that resulted in an evening spent Christmas shopping and seeing a movie (along with a friend of mine). It was rather spur-of-the-moment on my part to invite her, but my other friend, Kristina, didn't mind if Diane came along. After the movie, Diane came back to my place where I gave her the Christmas present I had been debating giving to her." "We talked for over three hours, and cleared the air on a number of topics. At one point she mentioned that she was being more honest with me than she had ever been with anyone else before in her life. Much of the talk dealt with problems that she had been having with David. I had heard several times before about some of these problems. I won't go into details but even Diane considered him a spoiled brat, among other even more unsavory descriptions. And yet she says loves him very much. I don't claim to under- stand that, but I've been trying to accept it. "During our talk, I told her that I was not willing to be someone she saw 'on the sly' so to speak. David wanted her to have nothing to do with me. I told her that I would like to try being friends but I was not willing to have her constantly breaking plans whenever David wanted to get together. She agreed that she needed to figure out what she wanted to do. "Well, today she told me that she and David had talked over the weekend, gotten many things out into the open, and were going to try to make things work. She agreed, as part of that, to have no more contact with me." Sighing, he takes a third pull from the mug. "I appreciate your listening," he continues. "I still love Diane. I still don't understand why she broke off the engagement, which I guess is not too surprising since she's admitted that she can't seem to put it into words. I was learning to cope with the fact that she and I would not be together, and I suppose I'll finish that process someday. Don't get me wrong. I hurt, a *lot*. I suppose four months isn't really that long on some time scales. And that hurt has been made worse by this recent conversation. Hindsight shows me that it was foolish to think she might be changing her mind. But at the time, that's what it sounded like. "Also, from everything she's told me, this David is a real bozo. Now, I realize that I don't know him. I *know* I'm prejudiced. What I mean is that, assuming conditions X are what are necessary to make Diane happy, from everything she's told me (I appear to be her confidant in such matters), I believe she's setting herself up for 'not X' in a major way. I also know that there's really nothing I can do. It's her life. "All of that is history, and it hurts, and I know I'll probably never like it; but I'm working on handling it. But now comes the tricky part, the place where I don't quite know what to do. "She has done an about-face three times now, and the friends I've talked with suggest (in the words of one) that 'she's too flakey and [I] can't afford to continue letting her mess up [my] life'. And I've never been very good at giving up, especially when it comes to relationships. I'm willing to bet large sums of money that she'll contact me again at some point in the future. And I don't know what to do. I keep wondering if I should tell her to leave me alone, listen to what she has to say and then make a decision, or what? I've always been a strong believer in giving people the benefit of the doubt. Now I wonder if sometimes I carry it too far. The emotional turmoil of dealing with Diane is incredible. So I guess I need to either learn how to prevent it from bothering me or stop interacting with Diane altogether. And I don't know which one I want, or which one is right (they might very well end up being different)." He stops to finish off the mug, gazing into the fire. "So, what's my toast? To Diane, the Love of my life (so far), and to The Benefit of The Doubt. I almost cringe to imagine what I'm likely to learn as a result of all this." Seeming rather embarrassed, Brian heads back for the corner he came from, or is it a different one? There seem to be so many of them here, it must be a trick of the lighting or something... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brian R. Gilstrap ...!{ texbell, uunet }!swbatl!uucibg OR uucibg@swbatl.UUCP -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!snorkelwacker!apple!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!rpi!jefyoung From: jefyoung@pawl.rpi.edu (Jeffrey Young) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Interconnectedness Keywords: long-winded as usual Message-ID: <*`'&2#@rpi.edu> Date: 19 Dec 89 23:09:29 GMT References: <1802@bucket.UUCP> Reply-To: t-phils@microsoft.UUCP (the Eternal Stranger) Distribution: usa Organization: Microsoft Corp., Redmond WA Lines: 60 Leonard Erickson writes: | | a small boy cries, | victim of children's cruel taunts | a loner, no one to comfort him | he learns to hide the pain | they look for new victims | the armor is begun .... | finally, he decides | he opens the armor, to await | deathblow or embrace? | no matter, death is better | than life without love | ............... | An overweight man in his thirties gets up from the corner where he has | been listening to to the discussion. It is obvious that he has been crying. | | He places a dollar on the bar and asks for a bourbon. Leaving it on the bar, | he turns to face the room and recites the above in an unnaturally calm voice. | | In the silence he downs his drink and hurls the glass at the fireplace | as if it were an enemy. As he is paying for his drink, the door opens and Alaric returns, snow in his hair and on his eyebrows. He listens silently through the recitation, watches as glass sprays from the fireplace, then turns to the bar with a silver coin in his hand. Accepting a glass of golden liquid from Mike, he turns back to the room and the fireplace, paying no attention to the blood that still seeps slowly from the cuts in his hand. "It would not be unfair to say," he says slowly, "that the armor I wear upon my body symbolizes the armor that he who I represent here wears upon his heart and soul. I think he would appreciate that poem greatly, for he has lived it himself." He raises the glass. "To all those who armor their hearts - may they all learn to live without their armor... may they all find love that will allow them to live without the need for armor." He drains the glass and tosses it almost gently into the fireplace, then returns to the bar for another glass before making his way over to his usual table. --- Phil Stracchino t-phils@microsoft.UUCP Eternal Stranger and Digital Renaissance Man for Hire ------------------------------------------------------------- `The biggest drawback to being a Renaissance man in the 20th century is that you automatically become an anachronism. The 20th century has no real place or use for a Renaissance man, particularly a digital one.' (posted for Alaric by Taldin) -- "You are blue, Unicorn.. the Blue of clear, cloudless days where everything seems like it's going right and nothing could go wrong.. and the Blue of despair and lonliness." jefyoung@pawl.rpi.edu Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!snorkelwacker!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM!jane From: jane@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM (Jane Beckman x2637) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Scapegoats Message-ID: <8912191503.AA06674@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Date: 19 Dec 89 23:03:33 GMT Sender: daemon@ucbvax.BERKELEY.EDU Lines: 112 Jilara walks in with her shoulders hunched and looking like she is going to cry. "Got a BIG mug, Mike?" she says despondently. "I'll take a mug full of Stingo, with an infinite refill." She tosses a five on the bar. She sighs as she looks at the place where the Tabbifli used to curl. "Damn, I'm going to miss her," she says, sighing again. "I wanted to put her in my lap and hug her, because we have a whole lot in common." She sits down and gulps her Stingo. "Damn it, Callahan," she grumbles, do you have to chill this stuff? I dispise the American tendency to chill what should be warm. Take that how you want." Suddenly, she slams her fist hard against the wall, making everyone in the place jump. She looks a little less despondant, afterward. "My therapist says I gotta stop doing that. One day, I'll break my hand. But the pain is good for me. It lessens the other pain a lot." Alaric comes over and gives her a hug. "Thanks," she says. "I needed that." She gazes into the dark-brown brew as if trying to grasp the meaning of the universe, holds it up and talks at an empty space near the ceiling. "My friends, I have spent a wretched time playing a smiling hypocrite and bouncing bullets off my wrist-bracelets. You see, I got the supreme joy of spending a family therapy session with my brother and his wife. I had hoped that when I agreed to this idea, I could convince them to cut me a little slack." She laughs cynically, for perhaps longer than she should. There is maybe a little tone of hysteria under it all. "There is no reprieve in our family. Those who do not adapt---die or live in slavery. I can imagine what my darling sister-in-law Louise would say, if she knew I was talking here, to all of you. She keeps talking about duty, and upholding the family image. Well, I am sick of upholding images, hollow mockeries and stick-puppets that we put up to convince others that the Truth can't be real. Must keep up appearances, dear. What you think and feel isn't really valid, you just overdramatize and misinterpret everything. WE know what's real, you don't. She's good at what she does, very good. She puts on the smooth sugar-and-honey concern, and people say "Oh, what a nice lady!" She should work for the Borgias." Jilara gulps more of her stout, leans back against the wall. A shadow flits over her face, and she throws another backhand fist at the wall, the shadow fading a little when she does. "You see, I am the scapegoat. I'M too materialistic, she says. This is the woman who has six cars. (Well, she and my brother have six cars between them. They're into antique autos.) I'M too into hanging onto the past, she says. Christos, I wasn't even allowed to HAVE a past! Move on, move on, stop getting attached to things, to people, to anything. I attach too much sentimental value to things, she says. Oh yes, out with the old, in with the new and trendy... This is the woman who tells me that I shouldn't READ my out-of-print books because they're too valuable, and something might happen to them to decrease their value if I should dare to READ them, for crissakes! And she says that I am too hypercritical of my parents, that I should be more understanding of what they were like. Hell, I justified them for years, myself! We're talking about a semi-invalid mother with a self-image in the subbasement, who was more of a kid sister than a mother, and heavy into drug abuse. (I had to nurse through overdoses of seconal on several occasions.) When Father wasn't around (frequently), she hung out with hunky high-school guys and had pot parties with them. And told me I was just overdramatic and into misinterpreting things when my father would berserk out and kick me across the room, or sexually abuse me. Who told me I "dreamed" the screaming fights and my father breaking stuff in destructive rages. Or called them "his little temper tantrums" and told me I was weird to be upset by them. People who treated me like a possession that they could treat as they did all their possessions---badly. I said "these folks are sick," and justified things for years. After all, I was the one with the problem. Everyone said so. My brother is old enough to be my father, and he wasn't living at home during those years, so I was effectively an only child. But he always talks about how his own problems are his fault, though, for being such a disappointment to our father. Talks about how my mother always seemed so much happier on the phone, when my father was working out of town... Never can make the connection. So what did he do? He married a woman who is like all the worst traits of BOTH my parents!" She drains the mug, and walks to the bar for more. Callahan refills it without a word. Cupping it in her hands, she walks back to her seat. "And now they feel it is their obligation to tell me what my father would probably think and feel and say about me. Well damn them all!" For a moment, there is a slight shiver, as people wonder if she is going to hurl the mug across the room. She grimaces, thinks better of it. "You guys want masks, I'll show you the best damned mask in this vicinity. It's called Jilara. Jane is that little bit of splintered wreckage curled up in the corner of her therapist's couch, crying bitterly and saying "Don't hate me!" as the remains of her family snarls "What's wrong with you, we're not threatening you, you fool girl" at her. Jilara is the flip side, the one who learned that no matter how much someone hurts you, unless they know it, they haven't WON. The girl who learned from her Apache uncle (the family always disapproved of him) that far inside is the real person, and people can do what they want to the outside, so long as you keep contact with that inner core. Jilara is the person who refused to accept being a victim, and kept fighting, for her own sanity and survival. She's tough as nails, because that's how you survive. She bleeds in private, where no one sees. Except maybe here..." She looks around the room at all the good gentlebeings listening to her ramble and rage. "Maybe it's like the legendary graveyard of the elephants, where old superheros go to die---or be healed. Gods teeth, I wish every now and then people didn't hit me so hard Jilara fractures and Jane comes out and whimpers. Because then all the predators come hovering around, going "oh look, something injured---is it dinner?" And then I have to deal with them, when Jilara is at her weakest..." She glares at the fire, and the sparkling shards of broken glass in the flames. "No toasts, just a bit of rage, I fear. At least my best friend is coming down from Seattle for Christmas. She's another survivor, like me. Macha, like the name of the Celtic Warrior-Mother. We're tough ladies together, which means we can fall apart, get drunk, play on the swings and be five... We don't have to pretend. God, I've missed her, down these years since she moved to Seattle! Thanks for putting up with me raving. It helps." She sighs again, and smiles wanly. A couple of her friends come over to her table and give her a hug. ---Jilara the Exile (I hope.) "Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most." A. Brilliant (alternate identity may be jane@fsdcupt.csd.mot.com---don't you love computers with identity crises?) Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!mips!apple!well!hank From: hank@well.UUCP (Hank Roberts) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Poisoned Warm Fuzzies? Message-ID: <15115@well.UUCP> Date: 19 Dec 89 22:02:08 GMT References: <12086@phoenix.Princeton.EDU> <20940008@hplred.HP.COM> Lines: 8 Mistrust isn't all bad when you're considering taking new risks with people. Being friendly, or neighborly, is being trust_worthy_ (because that helps reward others for risking a bit). You can (I am, anyhow) be both trustworthy and reasonably cautious; sounds like a good place to begin here. If someone feeds me a line that tastes bad, I'll just say "ptui!" to it. Taking a chance and getting a 'poisoned w-f' is not too terrible a risk here. Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!cs.utexas.edu!mailrus!rutgers!netnews.upenn.edu!cps3xx!usenet From: usenet@cps3xx.UUCP (Usenet file owner) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Needlessness (was Re: The Unbeliever's Tale) Summary: Hark! A dissenting voice arises ... Message-ID: <5849@cps3xx.UUCP> Date: 19 Dec 89 23:52:20 GMT References: <5161.257f9900@elroy.uh.edu> <2700@unisoft.UUCP> <1989Dec13.201551.8648@athena.mit.edu> <4497@hplabsz.HPL.HP.COM> Reply-To: frey@frith.UUCP (Zachary T. Frey) Organization: Michigan State University, College of Engineering Lines: 74 Mike, give me a Seven and Seven. There's a theme here that bothers me. In article <5161.257f9900@elroy.uh.edu> cosc5sh@elroy.uh.edu (Unbeliever) writes: >I came up with a theory the other day -- all one needs to do to find a >girlfriend is to arrange your life so that you're happy without one. >Murphy's Law then handles the rest. Needlessly bitter, but that expresses my >mood rather well right now. In article <2700@unisoft.UUCP> greywolf@unisoft.UUCP (The Grey Wolf) writes: > I would get to the point where I would say "fuckiti'llstaysingle", and then > someone would just walk up to me and say hello. ... > And you can't just *say* that you just want > to be friends; Murphy *is* the thought.police! You really have to have > resigned yourself that whatever happens, happens, and if it works, great. In article <1989Dec13.201551.8648@athena.mit.edu> erspert@athena.mit.edu (Ellen R. Spertus) writes: >I don't think anything is wrong with the idea that you only get a >girlfriend when you can be happy without one. Is she supposed to be a >crutch? Relationships are ideally between two happy people who want >to share life's adventures, not between insecure people who depend >primarily on other people for happiness. In article <4497@hplabsz.HPL.HP.COM> sartin@hplabs.hp.com (Rob Sartin) writes: >When you are going through your life thinking that the one thing >you need to be complete is to have a girlfriend, it shows. You appear >desparate and incomplete, both to yourself and to others. I also came up with this particular application of Murphy's Law this year (it seems like a lot of people have independantly discovered it) and have been giving the matter some thought. It seems to be a special case of the relationship need ==> desperation ==> inability to fulfil need Now, in some cases this obviously doesn't hold. Needing food does not make me desperate (I have fasted up to three days with little difficulty), nor does it make me unable to get food when I decide to break the fast. Needing money does not make me desperate for money (usually) if I don't overextend myself, because I have both credit and an income. Although being poor can interfere with being able to make money, the fact that I bounce a check this week does not mean that my paycheck is not going to come in next week. So why the *hell* does needing (or even wanting) friendship, affection, love, spiritkin, or soulmate automatically make one 'desperate'? If this applies to sex (and I've seen people make this application), then the surest way for me to get laid ought to be to castrate myself. Furthermore, I must castrate myself *not* to get laid, but because I truly enjoy being a eunuch! Or, "you have to not want it enough to get it." I'm sorry, my friends, but I do not accept this. I realize the truth in "a watched pot never boils", and in what Grey Wolf, Ellen, and Rob have said, but this cannot be the whole story. I cannot play this kind of doublethink, and I suspect that many others cannot either. (There's a story behind this, but that's another post (and toast).) To needs and wants! May we be able to express them honestly and openly, and accept others expression as well. <*CRASH*> Zach "I am *not* desperate" Frey <<<* Occaisional Wise Man and Perpetual Fool *>>> Papernet: Zachary Frey | frey@frith.egr.msu.edu | Usenet: the 514 Virginia St. | frey@frith.BITNET | Bellman's E. Lansing, MI 48823 | ...uunet!frith!frey | Paradise. Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!ucdavis!pollux!ez000691 From: ez000691@pollux Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Logic? Summary: Yeah, logic! Keywords: logic suicide Message-ID: <6319@ucdavis.ucdavis.edu> Date: 20 Dec 89 02:16:46 GMT References: <12303@phoenix.Princeton.EDU> Sender: uucp@ucdavis.ucdavis.edu Reply-To: ez000691@pollux (Shadow) Followup-To: alt.callahans Organization: University of California, Davis Lines: 49 In article <12303@phoenix.Princeton.EDU> jwbirdsa@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (James Webster Birdsall) writes: >In article <6301@ucdavis.ucdavis.edu> ez000691@pollux writes: >> "Whatever you do, discard suicide as an option, immediately. You can >>live without her. You won't have to, but if everything came crashing down >>around your ears, you could go on. You *could*. Use logic, if you wish, as >>there are a couple of beautiful arguments for living, but it's better to just >>feel it in your gut. > > "Shadow, I can't let that one pass without remark. Just to be clear, >I agree with your stand against suicide... > "So that's not what I'm taking issue with. But I question your >invocation of logic. Maybe your logic is different from mine, or maybe >you have found something I've overlooked, but I have always found logic >to be not only ineffectual but downright depressing. > "In the end, I always must determine that logic cannot give me >anything to look forward to. I must simply hope, and hope is emotion, >not logic. >-- >James W. Birdsall jwbirdsa@phoenix.Princeton.EDU jwbirdsa@pucc.BITNET > ...allegra!princeton!phoenix!jwbirdsa Compu$erve: 71261,1731 Shadow shakes a finger at the scarecrow. "You misunderstand, sir. No, you can't use logic to prove that you will be happy. Only faith can help you there...and hope, as you say. But when faced with the choice between living and not living, there are powerful arguments for the former. "Death is the end of sorrow, they say. The end of suffering. No more prolonging a life doomed to be filled with unhappiness. Well, there's two problems with that kind of reasoning. First, you can't predict a life of unhappiness any more than you can predict a life of happiness; second, and more important, death means an end to any chance of ever being happy. You may live in hope, but you cannot hope after death. "As specifically applied to the worst case scenario I was talking about: if you live, you've lost your current love. If you die, you've still lost her...and you've also lost your life. Killing yourself doesn't gain you anything. It's just the wrong decision. "And, logically, if you continue living, there's always that small probability, however small you think it is, that something good will happen. Death cuts off that possibility forever. "I know that this is a dreadfully dispassionate way to address a touchy issue. But that's why I said 'It's better to feel it in your gut.' I always say I'm terrible at talking people out of committing suicide... but I still feel compelled to keep trying, so long as I don't actually *hurt* my 'comfortee' through my own bumbling ineptitude." "L'chaim!" <**CRASH**> Shadow -- From the only slightly twisted mind of... "In case we decide to ez000691@pollux.ucdavis.edu surrender to them, Number One." Path: mit-eddie!bu-cs!lll-winken!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!mtxinu!unisoft!greywolf From: greywolf@unisoft.UUCP (The Grey Wolf) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Rescuers and Real Men (was Re: The victims in Montreal) Message-ID: <2720@unisoft.UUCP> Date: 19 Dec 89 22:52:36 GMT References: <1989Dec18.192207.2520@athena.mit.edu> Reply-To: greywolf@unisoft.UUCP (The Grey Wolf) Organization: Command not found. Lines: 138 # In article <1989Dec14.203633.17168@athena.mit.edu> (Ellen) writes: # | In article <9525@microsoft.UUCP> t-phils@microsoft.UUCP (the Eternal Stranger) writes: # | Alaric, I'm disappointed with you. Why are you excluding the women? # | Just like you, I dream of rescuing and rarely of being rescued. In # | some of my daydreams, however, the man can't stand me after I have # | rescued him. I had thought this ending was overly pessimistic, but # | you have convinced me it is accurate. # # My apologies... I had no conscious intention of excluding women. Jilara # too has pointed this same thing out to me. My choice of words was as it # was, because I was particularly frustrated at the men in the room for # not trying. When I am angry and frustrated, my frustration sometimes # blurs my reason, and I don't say exactly what I mean - or don't really # make it clear what I mean. { Isn't this the sort of thing which makes the world go around? We're not perfect. } # (More on this later...) # # | I'd be more confident # | having her in a room with me than the average male. My brother's # | girlfriend is much stronger than my brother. She used to jog early # | mornings in the south side of Chicago ("the baddest part of town"). # | Someone tried to mug her. She beat him up. Do you consider her # | unfeminine? # # Since I don't know her, I'm in no position to judge her femiminity. # Certainly I don't think for one second that standing up for herself # makes her unfeminine; I wish that more women did (or did so more # effectively). Unfortunately, our society tends to impose cultural # conditioning that says women shouldn't do so. # { This is indeed unfortunate, as much of a traditionalist as I am. I think that in a threatening situation, a woman *ought* to cast aside all she has been "taught" (untaught, I think, is a better word) in order to deal with the situation, whether that means actively doing something about it (i.e. beating the hell out of her attacker) or passively doing something about it (i.e. running and saving her own ass). In- cidentally, this train of thought is one I apply not to one sex or the other. I prefer to run and save myself if this is possible or practical. If there is more than just me, I'll make sure they can run if they can't fight, then I'll run... I don't know. I prefer not to fight if it is not necessary. I'll fight long enough to make a hole to run through. } # | Would you call her a "real man"? # # The term is hardly applicable, is it? What I _would_ do is admire # her for not allowing society to impose its idea of what she should # be upon her. { Bravo! } # # | She does make herself # | helpless-looking in general, however. Does that make you happy? # # I'm not in any position to say what she should or should not make # herself look like. But on that subject, what is "helpless-looking"? # { Hee! I couldn't help but snicker on this one, and then reflect yet again... Personally, I like to see my lady helpless BUT *ONLY* in the proper (intimate) settings; the rest of the time I like it that she stands on her own two feet. } # # I suppose I have high expectations of anyone - male or female. I expect # people to give more for each other, care more for each other, than they # do - irregardless of their sex. I find it hard to respect a man who # turns his back and leaves anyone to die when there is something he could # have done to prevent it. I find it equally hard to respect a woman # who does the same thing. But it saddens, frustrates and depresses me # that in this day and age, the overwhelming message that society teaches # us is, "don't get involved." We are taught the message in a hundred # subtle ways. We are taught to care mainly for ourselves - even to care # only for ourselves; certainly to put ourselves first. I cannot do that, # and I cannot admire anyone who does. I put other people first, in many # ways, and people tell me that I am wrong to do so - they act as though # it means that I am sick, mentally unstable, as though it is irrational # behavior to care so greatly for other people. But bluntly, if the # price of acceptance by other people is to compromise my principles # and become as self-centered and uncaring as they are, then thank you # very much but I'll stay outcast. { I find it rather difficult to care for myself first, but it happens on occasion. It has worked out all right for me in that I don't care for myself to the exclusion of anyone else. I'll usually drop what I'm doing in order to help someone else out, unless it is beyond my capacity to do so. Example: I won't drive to pick someone up if I've imbibed beyond my limit. } # # I don't know what you have to do to be respected by other people, but # if you want to earn my respect then you're already doing it right - # by being yourself, and by standing up for yourself and others. You # don't have to act masculine. You don't have to _ACT_ anything at all. # All you have to do is _be who and what you are._ { C'est vrai, n'est-ce pas? So true. I think this is what keeps me among friends. } # # | >In this day and age, you may think that's an outdated attitude. # | Wanting to protect people you love is not outdated. Just don't # | pretend that men have a monopoly on it, or that "being a man" is # | the highest possible compliment. # # I don't pretend that anyone has a monopoly on caring for people. If # anything, I think men _on average_ lack more in that area than women # do _on average_, because society conditions men to stifle their # emotions and feelings. { Another misfortune. It's something I never learned to do. I wasn't accepted, whether I was who I was or whether I was who "they" wanted me to be. So I figured, "Fuck 'em!". Emotion is necessary, be it good or bad. Sharing feelings is not bad; in fact, not enough people do. It's like walking around zombies out there in this gray world. } # Neither do I think that "being a man" is the highest possible # compliment. (To be honest, sometimes I think that being human is # more of an admission than a boast.) What I do think is that a man # who does not protect others when he could do so is less a man than # he could be - and a woman who does not protect others when she # could do so is less a woman than she could be. { If anyone wants to boast of being human, that's fine. Mentally, spirit- ually, and emotionally, I left the human race a long time ago, when I was young and impressionable...:-) Physically, I can't deny I am human. Especially since the pointed ears haven't grown in yet... } { Ramble, ramble, ramble... I keep getting interrupted, so I'll stop here. } -- "You guys are NUTS! En-Vee-Tee-Ess, NUTS!" -- History of the World, part I. Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!pt.cs.cmu.edu!andrew.cmu.edu!rf1n+ From: rf1n+@andrew.cmu.edu (Randolph James Finder) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: To Love: Message-ID: Date: 20 Dec 89 07:26:09 GMT Organization: Class of '90, Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA Lines: 11 The Horta gets up from his watching positiion heads over to the bar, orders a scotch and water, and drops a one on the counter. To Love: Love that hurts and Love that heals. >>>SMASH<<< Happy holidays from the Horta, Randolph Finder rf1n+@andrew.cmu.edu "And yet I would give it all up to be human" - Lt. Cmdr Data Newsgroups: alt.callahans Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!bloom-beacon!athena.mit.edu!elsabear From: elsabear@athena.mit.edu (Elsa Tsao) Subject: a toast Message-ID: <1989Dec20.120540.22227@athena.mit.edu> Distribution:alt Sender: news@athena.mit.edu (News system) Reply-To: elsabear@athena.mit.edu (Elsa Tsao) Organization: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Date: Wed, 20 Dec 89 12:05:40 GMT Lines: 22 This is the first time I have posted anything on alt.callahans, and only the second time I have EVER posted anything... so please bear with me. I am extremely nervous. A young woman who has been sitting quietly in the shadows slowly gets up and walks over to the bar. She is Chinese-American, just a shade under 5'5", and wearing jeans and an enormous navy blue Champion sweatshirt with the Greek letters SK on it. Playing with her ponytail, she orders a lemonade (she's alcohol-sensitive) and furrows her eyebrows as she thinks of a toast. After 30 seconds her face clears, and she smiles. She lifts her drink and says, "To good friends, loving hugs, and warm kisses... may we never be without them." She downs her drink, places her glass back on the counter, and wanders back to the corner. Curling up against a cushion, she is content to sit and listen to the other people in the room. ------------------------------ elsa tsao "elsabear... as in teddybear" Newsgroups: alt.callahans Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!bloom-beacon!athena.mit.edu!elsabear From: elsabear@athena.mit.edu (Elsa Tsao) Subject: I don't know if this was posted Message-ID: <1989Dec20.121415.22454@athena.mit.edu> Sender: news@athena.mit.edu (News system) Reply-To: elsabear@athena.mit.edu (Elsa Tsao) Organization: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Distribution: alt Date: Wed, 20 Dec 89 12:14:15 GMT Lines: 23 This is the first time I have posted anything on alt.callahans, and only the second time I have EVER posted anything... so please bear with me. I am extremely nervous. A young woman who has been sitting quietly in the shadows slowly gets up and walks over to the bar. She is Chinese-American, just a shade under 5'5", and wearing jeans and an enormous navy blue Champion sweatshirt with the Greek letters SK on it. Playing with her ponytail, she orders a lemonade (she's alcohol-sensitive) and furrows her eyebrows as she thinks of a toast. After 30 seconds her face clears, and she smiles. She lifts her drink and says, "To good friends, loving hugs, and warm kisses... may we never be without them." She downs her drink, places her glass back on the counter, and wanders back to the corner. Curling up against a cushion, she is content to sit and listen to the other people in the room. -------------------------------------- elsa tsao "elsabear... as in teddybear"