This might be my last blog post with Donald Trump as President of the United States. Chances are, its not. Regardless, the fallout from Trump's dismissal of FBI Director James Comey last week has been both dizzying and winsome. The revelation of Trump blurting out classified information to Russian officials, while not technically illegal, was certainly annoying to DC insiders but alienating to several key American allies. The narrative is less about cohesion with Russia the possibility of corruption and more about incompetence and ego. And yet, somehow Trump might still persevere.
Sadly, it doesn't surprise me that most Trump supporters aren't feeling too much buyer's remorse. The vicious cycle of conservative blogs, each regurgitating the same shallow bullet points while creating half-truths and exaggerations about their liberal opponents, are manna for angry fools. Let them blame the mainstream media for doing their job, or cast off late night comedians for their right to satirize and skew public figures. A former president attempted to censor the media via executive order, and it blew up in his face. (I'm aware that President Trump doesn't know his history, but the point stands.) The "bubble" or beehive mentality that might have cost Sec. Clinton the election works both ways. The sad thing, even if Trump goes his ardent supporters will not give it a rest, doubling down on the internet-born, nonsense conspiracy theories that attempted to hound --and still try to vex-- Presidents Clinton and Obama. Right-wing outsiders have cherry-picked Trump as their man, and they're backing him to the bitter end.
Regardless, the rural whites that saw Trump as a shining white knight 6 1/2 months ago must be seeing some sort of rust in the armor now. This was a man who both took advantage and navigated through a weak but excessively large crop of candidates for his party's nomination. He constructed his agenda in saying the things that other Republicans allegedly think but won't say out loud --more conspiracy theory-- and in the process dragged the GOP into the mud. Despite what some liberal bloggers have implied, the Republican Party is not built on racism and isolationism, but he dragged those two ugly ideas into the voting booths. His four months in office have matched his bluster, defined by a litany of executive orders in the early going, but only getting one bill (AHCA) passed through Congress. In blogs past, I letter-graded the Bush 43 and Obama administrations; in the very hypothetical situation that Trump leaves office before 2021 (or June), I don't know if I would give him a grade higher than D-.
Nearly four months in, the Trump administration's greatest achievement its the most scandal-plagued since Bill Clinton's, and at this rate it will eclipse Whitewater, Paula Jones, and whatever else our 42nd president deflected two decades ago. The people that feared and loathed "Crooked Hillary" are stuck with "Bungling Donald." It would make sense for President Trump to resign, but his pride and various past indicators suggest it won't happen. No elected Republican in either house will be breaking rank with Trump or their party anytime soon. The possibility of up to 11 1/2 years with a President Mike Pence (not a typo) may not seem palatable to many, but at least we can all concur that he would be a far more competent and even-keeled presence in the Oval Office. At the moment, for many Americans its just a pipe dream.
Next Week: my annual high school graduate "memory list."
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Showing posts with label racism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label racism. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
My Toxic College Relationship, Conclusion
After graduating from college, I drove straight back to the west suburbs. What was supposed to be a three-month layover has dragged on more or less for nine years. Regardless, after that last encounter with Babs returning home felt cathartic; I knew our friendship was strained, and she wouldn't bother me in a part of the suburbs that she detested for vague reasons. (Her July 2006 visit was a disaster, but she already had a preexisting bone to pick with Downers Grove and Westmont.) We were still Facebook friends, but I felt no inclination to drop a private message, or leave a wall post, or even a solitary poke. The distance was geographical and emotional, palpable yet comfortable.
Babs reached out by DM in March 2008, three months after I graduated. It was a sincere apology but also a belated one; it seemed like she was finally doing something about her hair-trigger temper. She suggested meeting up over summer break, but with my work schedule and general lack of interest, I didn't take her up on the offer. Communication after this point was sporadic, the occasional email or Facebook message, and just that.
Even though I felt cool and collected, I was still struggling to move on. My inherent social awkwardness and lack of dating experience made asking women out a landmine of failure, and the handful of dates I went on went nowhere. I created an account on POF, but that was also a dead end. Babs continued her pattern of meeting guys of her particular type, getting bored and cheating on them, then dumping the cuckolded guy for the new slab of meat. Then this happened.
I was lethargic for days, and a phone conversation with Babs a few days later did little to console me. I thought it was strange that she would get engaged less than five months after meeting this guy, but knowing Babs' tendency to act on impulse and not thinking things out, I was almost certain the engagement would fail. Did she even know the guy? Indeed, it did fall apart and for a lot of the same reasons she dumped me: she clashed with her would-be mother-in-law, religious differences, her fickle tendencies. In our next Facebook chat, Babs implied that he was verbally abusive, and legal action was taken to prevent the two from ever encountering each other again.
Professionally, Babs was also fledgling. Her lifelong dream was to be a park ranger, or at least work in the U.S. Park Service in some capacity. Apparently, she had a job interview for a ranger position, but lost the job to a woman of color. Not only did Babs complain about affirmative action to me, but she also complained to the woman who conducted the interview... in person. (She was escorted out of the building.) Ultimately, she landed a gig working in a rehab facility for troubled teens, which was demanding and only sporadically fulfilling. From a distance, I worried if her temperament would be her undoing again.
I continued to maintain a distance. Our last real conversation was in July 2011; she wrapped up the late night chat by saying she wanted to see one of my improv shows someday. She loathed city driving, or being in urban areas in general, but I knew in that instance she meant well. At the same time, her hair-trigger temper was starting to spill into social media. On three occasions, I commented on a status update she posted, and she called my response pointless and idiotic. On the last of those occasions, she posted something about a sick grandmother, though it was unclear if she was talking about her own grandma or someone else's. She left a terse wall post clarifying that it wasn't her grandma, then unfriended me. I replied in defense, but I knew she wouldn't have read it. It was the last time I attempted to contact Babs. I knew she was overreacting (again) but this was the final straw. It was March 2012, six years and two months after we first met.
For some inexplicable reason, my sister is still in touch with Babs on Facebook. She claims they only talk about dogs, and only every now and then. I have asked my sister to sever ties with Babs, to no avail. On the one occasion when I dared to ask about her current whereabouts, my sister told me she moved to Dallas in 2014. Babs and I one had a dozen mutual friends; when I last looked at her profile two years ago, we were down to three. I was still friends with most of these people, and I wasn't the only one that get fed up with Babs. Maybe she was projecting her insecurities, maybe she had an as-yet-diagnosed case of borderline personality disorder. I'll never know and quite frankly, I don't care. It goes without saying that I have no intention to reconnect on my own volition.
So why am I sharing this story? In some ways, Babs is a cautionary tale; it took a lot of growing up and introspection to realize that abusive relationships may not necessarily be rotten at the surface. It was my first relationship and the one that provided the harshest learning experience. There is something cathartic about excising toxic people from your life, a person who may seem sweet or wayward on the surface who gradually exposes the worst attributes of their personality. I've moved on; I've been in relationships with other women, and I'm content without Babs in my life.
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Even though I felt cool and collected, I was still struggling to move on. My inherent social awkwardness and lack of dating experience made asking women out a landmine of failure, and the handful of dates I went on went nowhere. I created an account on POF, but that was also a dead end. Babs continued her pattern of meeting guys of her particular type, getting bored and cheating on them, then dumping the cuckolded guy for the new slab of meat. Then this happened.
I was lethargic for days, and a phone conversation with Babs a few days later did little to console me. I thought it was strange that she would get engaged less than five months after meeting this guy, but knowing Babs' tendency to act on impulse and not thinking things out, I was almost certain the engagement would fail. Did she even know the guy? Indeed, it did fall apart and for a lot of the same reasons she dumped me: she clashed with her would-be mother-in-law, religious differences, her fickle tendencies. In our next Facebook chat, Babs implied that he was verbally abusive, and legal action was taken to prevent the two from ever encountering each other again.
Professionally, Babs was also fledgling. Her lifelong dream was to be a park ranger, or at least work in the U.S. Park Service in some capacity. Apparently, she had a job interview for a ranger position, but lost the job to a woman of color. Not only did Babs complain about affirmative action to me, but she also complained to the woman who conducted the interview... in person. (She was escorted out of the building.) Ultimately, she landed a gig working in a rehab facility for troubled teens, which was demanding and only sporadically fulfilling. From a distance, I worried if her temperament would be her undoing again.
I continued to maintain a distance. Our last real conversation was in July 2011; she wrapped up the late night chat by saying she wanted to see one of my improv shows someday. She loathed city driving, or being in urban areas in general, but I knew in that instance she meant well. At the same time, her hair-trigger temper was starting to spill into social media. On three occasions, I commented on a status update she posted, and she called my response pointless and idiotic. On the last of those occasions, she posted something about a sick grandmother, though it was unclear if she was talking about her own grandma or someone else's. She left a terse wall post clarifying that it wasn't her grandma, then unfriended me. I replied in defense, but I knew she wouldn't have read it. It was the last time I attempted to contact Babs. I knew she was overreacting (again) but this was the final straw. It was March 2012, six years and two months after we first met.
For some inexplicable reason, my sister is still in touch with Babs on Facebook. She claims they only talk about dogs, and only every now and then. I have asked my sister to sever ties with Babs, to no avail. On the one occasion when I dared to ask about her current whereabouts, my sister told me she moved to Dallas in 2014. Babs and I one had a dozen mutual friends; when I last looked at her profile two years ago, we were down to three. I was still friends with most of these people, and I wasn't the only one that get fed up with Babs. Maybe she was projecting her insecurities, maybe she had an as-yet-diagnosed case of borderline personality disorder. I'll never know and quite frankly, I don't care. It goes without saying that I have no intention to reconnect on my own volition.
So why am I sharing this story? In some ways, Babs is a cautionary tale; it took a lot of growing up and introspection to realize that abusive relationships may not necessarily be rotten at the surface. It was my first relationship and the one that provided the harshest learning experience. There is something cathartic about excising toxic people from your life, a person who may seem sweet or wayward on the surface who gradually exposes the worst attributes of their personality. I've moved on; I've been in relationships with other women, and I'm content without Babs in my life.
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Monday, November 7, 2016
Some Final Thoughts on the 2016 Presidential Election
This year, I saw America. This wasn't a specific goal, but the circumstance and result of doing some long-awaited traveling. I spent quality time in seven different states, including a part of my home state of Illinois that I hadn't visited in some time. I nonchalantly interacted with locals, tried things I had never previously experienced, met the spouses and family of good friends, and generally tried to appreciate the atmosphere of an unfamiliar terrain. I connected with some wonderful people and created memories that I'll always treasure, in an attempt to temporarily bridge a gap between age, religion, and culture.
I mention age, religion, and culture because I spent of this time in what would be considered "red state" territory. The atmosphere was humble and relatively speaking, socially conservative. I largely avoided talking politics, even though this brutal election was on nearly everyone's minds. I came to realize that Donald Trump, the multimillionaire who finagled his way to the Republican presidential nomination, represented none of these people.
In the early days of the 2016 presidential campaign, I was baffled by how Trump and his incendiary, nationalist rhetoric was polling ahead of the perceived GOP front-runner, Gov. Jeb Bush. As it turned out his anti-Mexican, anti-Muslim, and mostly meninist platform catered to an ignored demographic, a new silent majority of sorts: social conservatives that didn't identify as Republicans. They were on the fringes of society and politics itself: bigots, rubes, conspiracy theorists. The type of people that make the most appalling hashtags trend on Twitter, who only listen to conservative news-talk pundits like Michael Savage, Rush Limbaugh, and Alex Jones and perceive them as beacons and not bilious entertainers. In other words, people who think mainstream conservatism is too out of touch with their toxic beliefs.
Indeed, Trump took advantage of this silent majority, and made Twitter his playground. If the election was limited to one social media outlet, then the New York real estate mogul would be winning decisively. He ran laps around Sec. Clinton, demonstrating a lack of filter and tact not previously seen by a presidential candidate. The woman who would become the Democratic candidate did her best to take the high road until she finally told Trump off. She tweeted "Delete your account," a succinct but oddly flaccid retort. Where Clinton emphasized her many qualifications (and Trump's lack thereof), Trump just kept attacking anything and everything without remorse. The pandering and flame-throwing was incessant, and his status as the fringe right's patron saint was solidified. Clinton knew better than to add gasoline to a flame war, and stayed on the high road instead.
I grew up around mostly Republicans in a shallow-red Chicago suburb. I was raised to not judge a person by their gender or race or faith or creed, even though my hometown circa 1991 was overwhelmingly white and Catholic. That wasn't something to came to me innately; I remember my first grade teacher, a woman of Greek descent, struggling to explain why Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks were so important to American history to a classroom that was over 90% white. I had two minority classmates, a third-generation Mexican-American and a girl who was half-Haitian, half-African American. The Latinx classmate was extroverted and well-liked, but the other girl was awkward, timid, and a bully target. My teacher failed to make her (and our class in general) understand what King and Parks sacrificed to give her the right to be as equal as everyone else. It was until she moved away, about a year later, that my classmates and I realized how awful we were.
When I see the childish antics of Trump's most ardent supporters, I think back to that first grade classroom. They all had something in common: they were rural or suburban and overwhelmingly white, but also left behind in the new economy, expect easy answers to hard questions, and worst of all reluctant to accept that America is more multicultural and diverse than its ever been. They see Muslims, blacks, and the LGBTQ community as threats, but their real-life interaction with them is minimal and they base their fear out of stereotype. As a result white supremacy, anti-Semitism and sexism have shifted from the fringes to the middle of the discussion. Moderate conservatives, or at least Republicans that supported minimally more palatable candidates like Ted Cruz and Dr. Ben Carson, begrudgingly joined the frenetic Trump bandwagon because, well, who else was going to beat Hillary?
Even though the Democrats have labeled itself as the "party for women," there was a time in the early-to-mid 1980s when the GOP headquarters staffed more women than men. Where Democrats have more or less embraced feminism (with some qualms), Republicans have largely been either ambivalent or oblivious. Where the women of the GOP mostly stayed in low-level administrative roles, women in the opposing party ran for office and inspired the next generation to follow their footsteps. The backward legacy of Phyllis Schlafly, the face of anti-feminism, lingers in the GOP months after his death and will likely do so for years to come. If the 2012 election was a deliberation on women's health rights, then 2016 is about what it means to be an American woman, period.
This is the sixth election, presidential or midterm, that I've covered in this blog. I usually end each pre-election missive with a nonpartisan plea to vote, to demonstrate the most basic tenet of democracy. This year, I can't bring myself to play my intercession down the middle. Where Hillary Clinton has many flaws, Donald Trump has proven repeatedly that he is vile and shortsighted beyond redemption. He is shameless opportunist that will break every campaign promise the moment he enters the White House, then blame his failures on everyone except himself. Trump was overexposed as a reality star 10-plus years ago and exhaustively omnipresent now. Say all you want about decades of unproven rumors and right-wing vilification, Hillary Clinton is the only logical choice to be our next president. Someone will bring up Benghazi and the private emails, but someone else will retort with at least 20 things that Trump did. This election is about a leader against a demagogue. Beyond the former first lady, there is no other viable option.
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I mention age, religion, and culture because I spent of this time in what would be considered "red state" territory. The atmosphere was humble and relatively speaking, socially conservative. I largely avoided talking politics, even though this brutal election was on nearly everyone's minds. I came to realize that Donald Trump, the multimillionaire who finagled his way to the Republican presidential nomination, represented none of these people.
In the early days of the 2016 presidential campaign, I was baffled by how Trump and his incendiary, nationalist rhetoric was polling ahead of the perceived GOP front-runner, Gov. Jeb Bush. As it turned out his anti-Mexican, anti-Muslim, and mostly meninist platform catered to an ignored demographic, a new silent majority of sorts: social conservatives that didn't identify as Republicans. They were on the fringes of society and politics itself: bigots, rubes, conspiracy theorists. The type of people that make the most appalling hashtags trend on Twitter, who only listen to conservative news-talk pundits like Michael Savage, Rush Limbaugh, and Alex Jones and perceive them as beacons and not bilious entertainers. In other words, people who think mainstream conservatism is too out of touch with their toxic beliefs.
Indeed, Trump took advantage of this silent majority, and made Twitter his playground. If the election was limited to one social media outlet, then the New York real estate mogul would be winning decisively. He ran laps around Sec. Clinton, demonstrating a lack of filter and tact not previously seen by a presidential candidate. The woman who would become the Democratic candidate did her best to take the high road until she finally told Trump off. She tweeted "Delete your account," a succinct but oddly flaccid retort. Where Clinton emphasized her many qualifications (and Trump's lack thereof), Trump just kept attacking anything and everything without remorse. The pandering and flame-throwing was incessant, and his status as the fringe right's patron saint was solidified. Clinton knew better than to add gasoline to a flame war, and stayed on the high road instead.
I grew up around mostly Republicans in a shallow-red Chicago suburb. I was raised to not judge a person by their gender or race or faith or creed, even though my hometown circa 1991 was overwhelmingly white and Catholic. That wasn't something to came to me innately; I remember my first grade teacher, a woman of Greek descent, struggling to explain why Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks were so important to American history to a classroom that was over 90% white. I had two minority classmates, a third-generation Mexican-American and a girl who was half-Haitian, half-African American. The Latinx classmate was extroverted and well-liked, but the other girl was awkward, timid, and a bully target. My teacher failed to make her (and our class in general) understand what King and Parks sacrificed to give her the right to be as equal as everyone else. It was until she moved away, about a year later, that my classmates and I realized how awful we were.
When I see the childish antics of Trump's most ardent supporters, I think back to that first grade classroom. They all had something in common: they were rural or suburban and overwhelmingly white, but also left behind in the new economy, expect easy answers to hard questions, and worst of all reluctant to accept that America is more multicultural and diverse than its ever been. They see Muslims, blacks, and the LGBTQ community as threats, but their real-life interaction with them is minimal and they base their fear out of stereotype. As a result white supremacy, anti-Semitism and sexism have shifted from the fringes to the middle of the discussion. Moderate conservatives, or at least Republicans that supported minimally more palatable candidates like Ted Cruz and Dr. Ben Carson, begrudgingly joined the frenetic Trump bandwagon because, well, who else was going to beat Hillary?
Even though the Democrats have labeled itself as the "party for women," there was a time in the early-to-mid 1980s when the GOP headquarters staffed more women than men. Where Democrats have more or less embraced feminism (with some qualms), Republicans have largely been either ambivalent or oblivious. Where the women of the GOP mostly stayed in low-level administrative roles, women in the opposing party ran for office and inspired the next generation to follow their footsteps. The backward legacy of Phyllis Schlafly, the face of anti-feminism, lingers in the GOP months after his death and will likely do so for years to come. If the 2012 election was a deliberation on women's health rights, then 2016 is about what it means to be an American woman, period.
This is the sixth election, presidential or midterm, that I've covered in this blog. I usually end each pre-election missive with a nonpartisan plea to vote, to demonstrate the most basic tenet of democracy. This year, I can't bring myself to play my intercession down the middle. Where Hillary Clinton has many flaws, Donald Trump has proven repeatedly that he is vile and shortsighted beyond redemption. He is shameless opportunist that will break every campaign promise the moment he enters the White House, then blame his failures on everyone except himself. Trump was overexposed as a reality star 10-plus years ago and exhaustively omnipresent now. Say all you want about decades of unproven rumors and right-wing vilification, Hillary Clinton is the only logical choice to be our next president. Someone will bring up Benghazi and the private emails, but someone else will retort with at least 20 things that Trump did. This election is about a leader against a demagogue. Beyond the former first lady, there is no other viable option.
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Thursday, October 13, 2016
My Toxic College Relationship, Part 3
Even though Babs was no longer dating Zak, she wanted to stay friends with the big doofus. This was much to the chagrin of her social circle as well as our mutual friends, who justifiably disdained the guy. Babs took it upon herself to organize Zak's birthday party; she corralled me, a friend visiting from home, and two friends that were local into taking Zak to the Bloomington Hooters. At his core, however Zak was a Christian and not a very worldly one; at the very last minute, he begged Babs to not at a risque restaurant that he knew next to nothing about. Our party ended up going to the Chuck E. Cheese's across the street. I was annoyed by the 11th hour change as everyone else, and implied to Babs that I never wanted to hang out with Zak again.
When I was dating Babs, we bonded over our mutual appreciation for the TV show "24." I had been watching almost from the beginning, but she jumped in at the start of Season/Day 4. We watched nearly all of Day 5 together, and didn't see any reason why not to do the same for Day 6. One night later in the season, we both had obligations on Monday and I agreed to record the show on my VCR. (It was 2007, and most college kids didn't have Tivo or a DVR.) To my chagrin, my roommate confused the VCR remote with the TV remote --he was trying to watch the Bulls game-- and it didn't record. I left the voice mail on Babs' phone, and ten minutes later she called back to tell me I was an idiot. Before I could defend myself, she hung up. Another ten minutes after that, she instant messaged me to apologize for overreacting. We watched "24" together a couple of times after that, but ended up watching the rest of the season separately.
In March 2007, I went on my first date since breaking up with Babs. I was training a new DJ at my college radio station, we struck up a conversation, and we agreed to meet for coffee. She wasn't interested in dating, but we ended up staying friends and we're still in touch. (I have a habit of staying friends with one-and-dones.) It was a dead end, but at least I was finally moving on. At that same time, to my secret relief Babs and I were finally starting to drift apart. She started dating another guy, and our schedules kept clashing. We both had summer jobs, and I had summer school as well, so we didn't see each other for several months. As summer transitioned into fall semester, we never hung out and our encounters grew more sporadic. Babs was dating yet another guy, and I felt no inclination to entertain her in my new dorm room. The temptation to tell her off was too much.
Even though Babs was fading from sight, what she left in her path still lingered around. One girl, a mutual friend that eventually got fed up with Babs, worked at the same college radio station that I did. I still ran into Lola and one of her other roommates on the quad. One day at the station, Zak called out of nowhere asking for help with a move. He wasn't the bullying Zak that I knew, but slightly defeated and still rather persistent. I said I would get back to him, and shortly afterwards I did something I should have a lot sooner: ask for the advice of my peers. I explained that he was the guy my ex dumped me for, and that he could be insufferable to be around, but seemed desperate to have someone help him move. The consensus of my co-workers was a resounding "hell no," and I left a voice mail telling him I was busy that Saturday.
The day before I graduated from ISU, I ran into Babs on the elevator at Watterson Towers. I was cleaning out my dorm room and carrying items down to my car, and she was going downstairs to get a snack. She informed me that she'd had a falling out with her latest roommate, a mutual friend of ours named Allison. For reasons unclear, Allison made Babs uncomfortable, so Babs decided to move into a single-bed room on the other side of campus. I blurted out "oh well, its not like you got along with any of your other roommates" (which was true), and when we got down to the lobby she bolted out of the elevator in a fury. A few minutes later, I was able to find to her in the lobby talking to some girl, but she was snappish and refused to accept my apology.
As of this writing, it was the last time I saw Babs in person.
(Part four next month.)
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When I was dating Babs, we bonded over our mutual appreciation for the TV show "24." I had been watching almost from the beginning, but she jumped in at the start of Season/Day 4. We watched nearly all of Day 5 together, and didn't see any reason why not to do the same for Day 6. One night later in the season, we both had obligations on Monday and I agreed to record the show on my VCR. (It was 2007, and most college kids didn't have Tivo or a DVR.) To my chagrin, my roommate confused the VCR remote with the TV remote --he was trying to watch the Bulls game-- and it didn't record. I left the voice mail on Babs' phone, and ten minutes later she called back to tell me I was an idiot. Before I could defend myself, she hung up. Another ten minutes after that, she instant messaged me to apologize for overreacting. We watched "24" together a couple of times after that, but ended up watching the rest of the season separately.
In March 2007, I went on my first date since breaking up with Babs. I was training a new DJ at my college radio station, we struck up a conversation, and we agreed to meet for coffee. She wasn't interested in dating, but we ended up staying friends and we're still in touch. (I have a habit of staying friends with one-and-dones.) It was a dead end, but at least I was finally moving on. At that same time, to my secret relief Babs and I were finally starting to drift apart. She started dating another guy, and our schedules kept clashing. We both had summer jobs, and I had summer school as well, so we didn't see each other for several months. As summer transitioned into fall semester, we never hung out and our encounters grew more sporadic. Babs was dating yet another guy, and I felt no inclination to entertain her in my new dorm room. The temptation to tell her off was too much.
Even though Babs was fading from sight, what she left in her path still lingered around. One girl, a mutual friend that eventually got fed up with Babs, worked at the same college radio station that I did. I still ran into Lola and one of her other roommates on the quad. One day at the station, Zak called out of nowhere asking for help with a move. He wasn't the bullying Zak that I knew, but slightly defeated and still rather persistent. I said I would get back to him, and shortly afterwards I did something I should have a lot sooner: ask for the advice of my peers. I explained that he was the guy my ex dumped me for, and that he could be insufferable to be around, but seemed desperate to have someone help him move. The consensus of my co-workers was a resounding "hell no," and I left a voice mail telling him I was busy that Saturday.
The day before I graduated from ISU, I ran into Babs on the elevator at Watterson Towers. I was cleaning out my dorm room and carrying items down to my car, and she was going downstairs to get a snack. She informed me that she'd had a falling out with her latest roommate, a mutual friend of ours named Allison. For reasons unclear, Allison made Babs uncomfortable, so Babs decided to move into a single-bed room on the other side of campus. I blurted out "oh well, its not like you got along with any of your other roommates" (which was true), and when we got down to the lobby she bolted out of the elevator in a fury. A few minutes later, I was able to find to her in the lobby talking to some girl, but she was snappish and refused to accept my apology.
As of this writing, it was the last time I saw Babs in person.
(Part four next month.)
(530)
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
My Toxic College Relationship, Part 2
A week or so ago, I wrote started writing a personal essay about "Babs," my college girlfriend. (To read part one before going forward, click here.)
A few hours after our one-on-one sitdown, Babs dropped a line on Yahoo Messenger to ask if I wanted to grab some ice cream. I agreed, not really knowing what to expect. However, I made the fatal mistake of misreading her last dispatch as "see you at five" instead of "see you in five." For once her quick temper was justified, and we did not speak to each other for about three weeks.
I figured the healthy thing to do was to not focus on our failed relationship. I went about my business with school and finding a job as if nothing happened. Out of the blue, I ran into Babs and her new paramour Zak --yes, no C in his first name-- waiting for an elevator at Watterson Towers. We first encountered Zak a few months earlier on Normal public transit; she randomly struck up a conversation with the guy, and I guess they had stayed in touch. I didn't think, however that he would be her rebound.
Babs had a history of dating guys that were the same physical type: north of six feet tall, pasty and paunchy. Growing up rural and an affinity for cowboy hats were a plus. I was well aware that I was an exception, because she said she was going through a "nerdy boy" phase. The guy she two-timed me with had a build similar to mine (slight and gawky) but her preference was big and lumbering.
After our five-second encounter in the lobby, Babs messaged me on YIM that night. She wanted to talk things out, but it became a rehash of her previous bullet points: she hated my mom, she judged my religious beliefs (or lack thereof), I was weak and immature. And yet, she still wanted to be friends. Since I thought there was an outside chance we might become friends with benefits --again, I was thinking with my pants-- I decided to give it a shot.
Two nights later, I was awoken by the landline in our dorm room. (Keep in mind, it was 2006.) Babs was in hysterics. Apparently, she was not getting along with her new roommate, a woman named Lola. The roommate was a Black Studies major and very independent, and as far as politics and personality went she was the total opposite of Babs. Apparently, they nearly came to blows late one Saturday, and Babs asked if she could sleep at my dorm. Again, I begrudgingly agreed.
Babs grew up in Park Forest, a diverse, blue-collar suburb just south of Chicago. In a town that was about 40% white, 30% black, and 30 % Latino, Babs had a unjustified contempt for the 60% of the population that wasn't "her kind." One time when we were dating, we took a day trip to Starved Rock National Park. As we were leaving, I had to stop her from running over to a Mexican family because they weren't "speaking American." There was another time we were watching the 6 o'clock news at her house, and upon watching a news story about a 12-year-old African-American had been murdered, Babs said the middle schooler was "probably asking for it." Deciding to live with someone as headstrong as Lola was an attempt to show people she wasn't a bigot, but her true colors showed almost immediately. Within two weeks, Brit had moved into a new dorm room with a Jewish roommate. (As near as I can tell, she was not anti-Semetic.)
I volunteered to help out with this awkward, uncomfortable move-out, and it was there that I met a girl named Kathleen. She was a friend of a friend who was also free that afternoon; we struck up a conversation, became Facebook friends, and we agreed to meet for lunch the next day. It ultimately didn't work out, but it was my first earnest attempt at moving on from Babs. (Kathleen is married now, but we've stayed in touch.)
I thought the fact that we were no longer dating would discourage Babs from trying to "convert" me, but if anything else it made her --and her doofus paramour Zak-- double down. I was dragged into attending more campus ministry events, where they and some other born-again types tried to "convert" me. Where Babs used a passive-aggressive approach, Zak was a straight-up bully. I tried to make the most of my time there, but almost everyone I encountered acted like they were brainwashed. After two weeks of that nonsense, I kept telling Brit I was busy on those particular nights.
It was apparent after attempting to hang out with Babs and Zak a few times that he didn't seem to have any real friends. I don't think he was self-aware enough to know his approach to people was bullying, or at the very least condescending. He was a poseur, too; he claimed he was from Texas, but grew up 45 minutes from Normal. Not only was Zak annoying me about accepting Christ as my lord and savior, but he was starting to badger some of the guys on my dorm floor.
I guess at some point even Babs grew tired of his schtick, because their relationship ended after about four months. Over winter break, Brit called to apologize for being so pushy. She knew she was alienating people, and wanted to make amends. One night after the next semester started, I met with Babs and Zak for dinner; Zak was making me uncomfortable again, and I left early because I thought I had food poisoning. Babs dumped Zak the next day.
(Part three next month.)
(527)
A few hours after our one-on-one sitdown, Babs dropped a line on Yahoo Messenger to ask if I wanted to grab some ice cream. I agreed, not really knowing what to expect. However, I made the fatal mistake of misreading her last dispatch as "see you at five" instead of "see you in five." For once her quick temper was justified, and we did not speak to each other for about three weeks.
I figured the healthy thing to do was to not focus on our failed relationship. I went about my business with school and finding a job as if nothing happened. Out of the blue, I ran into Babs and her new paramour Zak --yes, no C in his first name-- waiting for an elevator at Watterson Towers. We first encountered Zak a few months earlier on Normal public transit; she randomly struck up a conversation with the guy, and I guess they had stayed in touch. I didn't think, however that he would be her rebound.
Babs had a history of dating guys that were the same physical type: north of six feet tall, pasty and paunchy. Growing up rural and an affinity for cowboy hats were a plus. I was well aware that I was an exception, because she said she was going through a "nerdy boy" phase. The guy she two-timed me with had a build similar to mine (slight and gawky) but her preference was big and lumbering.
After our five-second encounter in the lobby, Babs messaged me on YIM that night. She wanted to talk things out, but it became a rehash of her previous bullet points: she hated my mom, she judged my religious beliefs (or lack thereof), I was weak and immature. And yet, she still wanted to be friends. Since I thought there was an outside chance we might become friends with benefits --again, I was thinking with my pants-- I decided to give it a shot.
Two nights later, I was awoken by the landline in our dorm room. (Keep in mind, it was 2006.) Babs was in hysterics. Apparently, she was not getting along with her new roommate, a woman named Lola. The roommate was a Black Studies major and very independent, and as far as politics and personality went she was the total opposite of Babs. Apparently, they nearly came to blows late one Saturday, and Babs asked if she could sleep at my dorm. Again, I begrudgingly agreed.
Babs grew up in Park Forest, a diverse, blue-collar suburb just south of Chicago. In a town that was about 40% white, 30% black, and 30 % Latino, Babs had a unjustified contempt for the 60% of the population that wasn't "her kind." One time when we were dating, we took a day trip to Starved Rock National Park. As we were leaving, I had to stop her from running over to a Mexican family because they weren't "speaking American." There was another time we were watching the 6 o'clock news at her house, and upon watching a news story about a 12-year-old African-American had been murdered, Babs said the middle schooler was "probably asking for it." Deciding to live with someone as headstrong as Lola was an attempt to show people she wasn't a bigot, but her true colors showed almost immediately. Within two weeks, Brit had moved into a new dorm room with a Jewish roommate. (As near as I can tell, she was not anti-Semetic.)
I volunteered to help out with this awkward, uncomfortable move-out, and it was there that I met a girl named Kathleen. She was a friend of a friend who was also free that afternoon; we struck up a conversation, became Facebook friends, and we agreed to meet for lunch the next day. It ultimately didn't work out, but it was my first earnest attempt at moving on from Babs. (Kathleen is married now, but we've stayed in touch.)
I thought the fact that we were no longer dating would discourage Babs from trying to "convert" me, but if anything else it made her --and her doofus paramour Zak-- double down. I was dragged into attending more campus ministry events, where they and some other born-again types tried to "convert" me. Where Babs used a passive-aggressive approach, Zak was a straight-up bully. I tried to make the most of my time there, but almost everyone I encountered acted like they were brainwashed. After two weeks of that nonsense, I kept telling Brit I was busy on those particular nights.
It was apparent after attempting to hang out with Babs and Zak a few times that he didn't seem to have any real friends. I don't think he was self-aware enough to know his approach to people was bullying, or at the very least condescending. He was a poseur, too; he claimed he was from Texas, but grew up 45 minutes from Normal. Not only was Zak annoying me about accepting Christ as my lord and savior, but he was starting to badger some of the guys on my dorm floor.
I guess at some point even Babs grew tired of his schtick, because their relationship ended after about four months. Over winter break, Brit called to apologize for being so pushy. She knew she was alienating people, and wanted to make amends. One night after the next semester started, I met with Babs and Zak for dinner; Zak was making me uncomfortable again, and I left early because I thought I had food poisoning. Babs dumped Zak the next day.
(Part three next month.)
(527)
Friday, August 26, 2016
My Toxic College Relationship, Part 1
This week marks two anniversaries for me, one external and one deeply personal. On August 21st, 2006 Facebook introduced the news feed to its home page; rather than have to go from one friend's profile to another to get updates, they were now all in one convenient location. It was polarizing and divisive at first --I can think of at least two Facebook friends that deleted their profiles because of the innovation, and never came back-- but now you can't imagine Facebook without it.
On the same day, sometime around 9 AM, I changed my relationship status from "in a relationship" to "single" and haven't changed it since. That is not to say I haven't been dating in ten years, I simply haven't changed my status. It was the first thing I contributed to anyone of my then 100-plus Facebook friends' news feeds, and that is a rather ignoble thing to admit. At the same time, this anomaly on my profile is a stark reminder of the first and most dysfunctional relationship I've ever been in.
I first met "Babs" on my third day on campus. I had just transferred from College of DuPage to Illinois State University, spending the long weekend getting acclimated to my new surroundings. She found me standing in line in the commons at Watterson Towers, and invited me over to sit with her and some of her dorm neighbors. Brit seemed interested in getting to know me better; I gave her my phone number, but forgot to ask for hers. Luckily, she called during the week, and we arranged to hang out the next Saturday.
I really didn't have much luck with dating in high school or community college, so I kept my expectations low. We walked around the quad for awhile, then did brunch on the opposite end of campus. Since I had nothing better to do that afternoon (or evening), I also followed her to the Miller Park Zoo, Eastland Mall, and back to her dorm. All in all, it was a memorable first date. After hanging out with her again for a movie night the next evening, and to watch "24" the evening after that, we officially announced we were dating by that Wednesday.
After my past failures with women, it was a relief of sorts to be in a relationship. However, one major red flag that came up on our first date proved to be our undoing: Babs was a born-again Christian. She asked me what my thoughts were on religion between brunch and the zoo, and kept insisting on taking me to faith-based events on or near campus. She also admitted that she cheated on every guy she had dated, but wanted to make an effort to be in a monogamous relationship. I also realized she had a quick temper, and often made cutting comments about her dorm neighbors and people that I assumed were her friends.
Having never been serious with a woman before, I was inherently trying to keep things afloat, circumnavigating the loaded discussions about God and her frequent flirting with other guys by playing to our strengths and mutual interests. We were physically compatible, and maybe in hindsight we got physical too early in the relationship. We kissed on our first date, and things escalated after that, though we never had sex. If Babs said something I found offense or was throwing shade at one of her neighbors (which happened a lot), my instinct was to start a make-out session. I felt like the archetype of a horndog college student, putting my carnal urges above common sense.
One night, we were walking around downtown Normal (now Uptown Normal, long story) and Babs said she had something to tell me. Rather than be direct about it, she kept teasing the bombshell and kept making me guess. When we finally got back to her dorm room, she made me sit in a chair, she dimmed the lights, and she pulled out a bible. It turned out to be her most direct overture to converting me to born-again Christianity. It came from a sincere place, but I still wasn't aboard. If anything, the whole tease and reveal just made me uncomfortable.
The facade would keep cracking, but we would try to find ways to reconcile and compromise. One weekend, a movie night at her dorm came to abrupt halt when for no discernible reason, Brit started joking about a friend's eating disorder to her face. The girl ran out of the room in tears, the other partygoers left soon after, and just as I was about to leave, Babs begged me to stay and spend the night. Babs would insist I come along to run errands with her, even though I had plans that day, then get upset when I told her I needed to finish a paper or something. Toward the end of the semester, she needed help disassembling the loft for her bed, and I was the only person who showed up to help her. The physical duress of removing the loft, my inability to lift more than 60 lbs, and the humidity of an unusually warm early May day resulted in an excruciating afternoon.
A week or so later, I snapped. It was my turn to clean out and pack my dorm room for the semester, and even though I gave specific instructions on how to pack my clothes, she threw my clean shirts in with my dirty laundry. In hindsight it was a minuscule but in context I was livid. We proceeded to scream at each other for a solid ten minutes. Inexplicably, we reconciled that evening, but after that point it was pretty clear that we were treading on thin ice.
We both speculated that maybe we were spending too much time together, and since I lived in Downers Grove and she was from Park Forest (a one-hour drive, give or take) we could use the distance to our benefit. Any time we spent together during the Summer of 2006 was an event of sorts; we took two camping trips, one that went moderately well, the other cut short when Babs complained of stomach cramps (it turned out to be severe acid reflux). She spent Memorial Day weekend at my dorm during summer school, and I drove to her place at least three times.
When it was Babs' turn to crash at my parents' house in DG, the shit hit the fan. It turned out that her acid reflux was serious enough to prohibit certain foods from her diet, which turned an otherwise unexceptional home-cooked meal into a landmine. She clashed with everyone in the house except my sister; we argued, she argued with my mom over something I don't recall, and my father asked indignantly about her reading the Bible in the kitchen. A trip to Brookfield Zoo (her idea) was a miserable slog. She threatened to cut the trip short, but I persuaded her to stay a second night as planned. I drove her back to Park Forest the following evening feeling oddly relieved.
A week or two later, Babs called me in a slight panic. A few months earlier I met Dave, an old friend that she admitted to having a slight crush on. Feeling spiteful and perhaps a little confused, she kissed Dave that evening and decided it was best to confess right away. Not knowing how to react, I forgave her almost immediately. In reality, however I was annoyed that was falling back into old habits, and I probably should have ended the relationship right then and there.
Babs and I hung out at her mother's house the week after that, where we made an attempt to talk things out. The undercurrent of tension ebbed and flowed but never dissipated; I also noticed that she was making overtures with a second high school classmate. The week after that, the day after my 22nd birthday, she dumped me. Babs cited my mother, my immaturity, and my noted reluctance to become a devout Christian. I spent that weekend sulking in my dorm room, pondering my next move. It could have been my opportunity to break free, but Babs wasn't out of my life for long.
(Part two next month.)
(525)
On the same day, sometime around 9 AM, I changed my relationship status from "in a relationship" to "single" and haven't changed it since. That is not to say I haven't been dating in ten years, I simply haven't changed my status. It was the first thing I contributed to anyone of my then 100-plus Facebook friends' news feeds, and that is a rather ignoble thing to admit. At the same time, this anomaly on my profile is a stark reminder of the first and most dysfunctional relationship I've ever been in.
I first met "Babs" on my third day on campus. I had just transferred from College of DuPage to Illinois State University, spending the long weekend getting acclimated to my new surroundings. She found me standing in line in the commons at Watterson Towers, and invited me over to sit with her and some of her dorm neighbors. Brit seemed interested in getting to know me better; I gave her my phone number, but forgot to ask for hers. Luckily, she called during the week, and we arranged to hang out the next Saturday.
I really didn't have much luck with dating in high school or community college, so I kept my expectations low. We walked around the quad for awhile, then did brunch on the opposite end of campus. Since I had nothing better to do that afternoon (or evening), I also followed her to the Miller Park Zoo, Eastland Mall, and back to her dorm. All in all, it was a memorable first date. After hanging out with her again for a movie night the next evening, and to watch "24" the evening after that, we officially announced we were dating by that Wednesday.
After my past failures with women, it was a relief of sorts to be in a relationship. However, one major red flag that came up on our first date proved to be our undoing: Babs was a born-again Christian. She asked me what my thoughts were on religion between brunch and the zoo, and kept insisting on taking me to faith-based events on or near campus. She also admitted that she cheated on every guy she had dated, but wanted to make an effort to be in a monogamous relationship. I also realized she had a quick temper, and often made cutting comments about her dorm neighbors and people that I assumed were her friends.
Having never been serious with a woman before, I was inherently trying to keep things afloat, circumnavigating the loaded discussions about God and her frequent flirting with other guys by playing to our strengths and mutual interests. We were physically compatible, and maybe in hindsight we got physical too early in the relationship. We kissed on our first date, and things escalated after that, though we never had sex. If Babs said something I found offense or was throwing shade at one of her neighbors (which happened a lot), my instinct was to start a make-out session. I felt like the archetype of a horndog college student, putting my carnal urges above common sense.
One night, we were walking around downtown Normal (now Uptown Normal, long story) and Babs said she had something to tell me. Rather than be direct about it, she kept teasing the bombshell and kept making me guess. When we finally got back to her dorm room, she made me sit in a chair, she dimmed the lights, and she pulled out a bible. It turned out to be her most direct overture to converting me to born-again Christianity. It came from a sincere place, but I still wasn't aboard. If anything, the whole tease and reveal just made me uncomfortable.
The facade would keep cracking, but we would try to find ways to reconcile and compromise. One weekend, a movie night at her dorm came to abrupt halt when for no discernible reason, Brit started joking about a friend's eating disorder to her face. The girl ran out of the room in tears, the other partygoers left soon after, and just as I was about to leave, Babs begged me to stay and spend the night. Babs would insist I come along to run errands with her, even though I had plans that day, then get upset when I told her I needed to finish a paper or something. Toward the end of the semester, she needed help disassembling the loft for her bed, and I was the only person who showed up to help her. The physical duress of removing the loft, my inability to lift more than 60 lbs, and the humidity of an unusually warm early May day resulted in an excruciating afternoon.
A week or so later, I snapped. It was my turn to clean out and pack my dorm room for the semester, and even though I gave specific instructions on how to pack my clothes, she threw my clean shirts in with my dirty laundry. In hindsight it was a minuscule but in context I was livid. We proceeded to scream at each other for a solid ten minutes. Inexplicably, we reconciled that evening, but after that point it was pretty clear that we were treading on thin ice.
We both speculated that maybe we were spending too much time together, and since I lived in Downers Grove and she was from Park Forest (a one-hour drive, give or take) we could use the distance to our benefit. Any time we spent together during the Summer of 2006 was an event of sorts; we took two camping trips, one that went moderately well, the other cut short when Babs complained of stomach cramps (it turned out to be severe acid reflux). She spent Memorial Day weekend at my dorm during summer school, and I drove to her place at least three times.
When it was Babs' turn to crash at my parents' house in DG, the shit hit the fan. It turned out that her acid reflux was serious enough to prohibit certain foods from her diet, which turned an otherwise unexceptional home-cooked meal into a landmine. She clashed with everyone in the house except my sister; we argued, she argued with my mom over something I don't recall, and my father asked indignantly about her reading the Bible in the kitchen. A trip to Brookfield Zoo (her idea) was a miserable slog. She threatened to cut the trip short, but I persuaded her to stay a second night as planned. I drove her back to Park Forest the following evening feeling oddly relieved.
A week or two later, Babs called me in a slight panic. A few months earlier I met Dave, an old friend that she admitted to having a slight crush on. Feeling spiteful and perhaps a little confused, she kissed Dave that evening and decided it was best to confess right away. Not knowing how to react, I forgave her almost immediately. In reality, however I was annoyed that was falling back into old habits, and I probably should have ended the relationship right then and there.
Babs and I hung out at her mother's house the week after that, where we made an attempt to talk things out. The undercurrent of tension ebbed and flowed but never dissipated; I also noticed that she was making overtures with a second high school classmate. The week after that, the day after my 22nd birthday, she dumped me. Babs cited my mother, my immaturity, and my noted reluctance to become a devout Christian. I spent that weekend sulking in my dorm room, pondering my next move. It could have been my opportunity to break free, but Babs wasn't out of my life for long.
(Part two next month.)
(525)
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Less Than Sterling
When new NBA commissioner Adam Silver announced that Los Angeles Clippers owner Donald Sterling was banned from the league, I took pause. I spent a good 30 minutes wondering if the punishment --banishment, the forced sale of his team, plus a $2.5 million fine-- was enough or too far. In some scenario, it might have made sense to hit Sterling where it hurts him most-- right in the wallet. In the wake of a scandal that affected and aggravated nearly every corner and crevice of professional basketball, and triggering a loaded first amendment debate, I ultimately believe the punishment fits the misdeed.
It was widely known in most social circles that Donald Sterling is a bigot. The comments that were recorded and released last week brought years of rumors and heresy to the surface. A 2009 article in ESPN magazine focused on his notoriously abrasive personality, but only casually mentioned his testy, sometimes acrimonious relationships with African-American employees. Sterling was self-made, solecistic as well as solipsistic, and he didn't care what others thought of him. For his growing list of adversaries, however his dismissal from any and all NBA operations is a godsend.
The heft of the Sterling situation doesn't begin to rationalize the stupidity of his remarks. In a organization like the Clippers where over half of the payroll is black, and in a sports league where an overwhelming number of players, coaches, and executives are African-American, there is absolutely no place for Sterling's mindset. Even in the privacy of his mistress' boudoir, there was no rationale for his comments. Naming specific LA sports figures --NBA great Magic Johnson, Dodgers All-Star Matt Kemp-- only served to salt wounds. To not apologize or clarify his remarks firsthand, but rather hide behind an army of lawyers, reeks of cowardice. From that perspective, a lifetime ban makes perfect sense. People will not forget this, nor forgive Sterling in a prompt manner.
I suppose what startled me most about Silver's decision was how swift and thorough it was. He took the reins from David Stern less than three months ago, and this was the first major challenge (and decision) of his brief regime. I half-expected and feared weeks of doddering "investigations" and bluster, but Silver promptly reacted with dynamism and class. This wasn't a time to dwell, but a time for unity, and that the National Basketball Association should walk this off with dignity intact. The poison has been removed, Silver implied, and we should move on. If only Adam Silver was representing us in Washington...
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