InsaneJournal

From the Personal Journal of Alexander Miers (blogspot.com/socilite)
I come home after the third 15 hour day to the air conditioning off and no food in the fridge. The sum total of food I have consumed for the day is a granola bar, a cup of coffee, part of a salad, a bottle of coke and an apple. I am hungry, hot, frustrated. My insulin level is low and my temper is high and I almost got in not one but three accidents on the drive home. I want to get into my pajamas, get in my chair and watch mindless TV. I want to be cool (the air conditioning in the office was broke for most of the day) and I want a homemade meal for once. I haven’t had a home cooked dinner in a month. Mostly, I just want understanding, a sympathetic gesture of some sort. Instead, I am instantly bombarded. I am scolded for getting something on my shirt, drilled over the cost of this month’s phone bill (shouldn’t the city be paying for more of this?) and told once again to cancel the sports package for our cable (it’s a waste of money). For five minutes, the nagging goes on until I finally snap. We have our first fight in a while, words screamed over floors. I don’t want this argument. I am too tired to yell. I end up slamming the door to my study, my chair no comfort and the TV left off. I worry, sometimes, how much like the beginning this is.

The beginning was hard, harder than most people probably realize. I think people assume that because my family has money, I did too. We’re decently well off now. When my term runs out, I can retire. Not many Americans can say that, especially not in their 50s. I was able to pay for the schooling of my children, but a lot of that was because of the trust my parents had set up for me and I had transferred to individual trusts for them. At the beginning, though? We had nothing. We couldn’t even afford a home until after our third child was born. We lived paycheck to paycheck, and sometimes we didn’t make it. With four years of student debt under my belt (my parents were generous enough to pay for my undergraduate schooling), I was forced to occasionally go crawling back to my parents to pay for our rent. We lived on potatoes and ramen. My kids wore second hand clothing; my wife didn’t get a diamond band until our 15th anniversary. It’s hard to have a good relationship when you’re in a situation like that. When it was just the two of us, when I was just a student and she worked odd jobs, we could make it. We were young and in love and for a while that was enough. Children, though, change everything and while I wouldn’t trade any of mine for the world, things were certainly tighter because of them. With children around, you learn to fake smiles. You cut yourself off so they don’t see how hard you’re treading the water to keep your head above it. You break down in the bathroom or in the car driving to work; because that’s the only time they won’t see you. Jo and I got into such a habit of pretending to be strong that sometimes we forgot to take our shields down around each other. Five years into the marriage, we were talking divorce. Heck, we still were ten years in. Sometime between moving to England and having Natasa though, things fell into place. Things still aren’t easy, today is proof of that, but in the end it’s worth it.

Maybe I should get a tattoo of that, though. Sometimes I could use the reminder.

edit: It's ironic. I was so hesitant to put out this thing, first for the fact that it will be found sooner or later and used against me, and second because I hate blogs. They scream "LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME! I'M IMPORTANT! PAY ATTENTION TO ME! CARE ABOUT MY THOUGHTS! MY THOUGHTS ARE IMPORTANT!" They make us look like a petulant little child, so spoiled that we throw a fit the second our parents stop paying attention to us. Mostly, I hate them because since starting this, I have fallen into the same trap. All the sudden, I am hurt that it isn't everywhere that I have a blog outside of the column I write for the City's website. I'm mad no one seems to notice me. I've become just as bad as everyone else, except it is worse because I am a hypocrite as well. There is so much outside of this, too. It is such a stupid thing to be concerned about. I watched a movie tonight, Paradise Now. It was good, thought provoking. It made me question my loyalty to the Israeli cause. I have always supported the State. My mother was Jewish. I like the idea of there being a homeland and we all like the underdog. The country is tiny, but the people fight for it fiercely. Israelis seem to be more patriotic than Americans, which is saying a lot. They are surrounded by enemies but have not fallen. I always brushed off the issue over Palestine. "Oh, they are just doing what they must. Besides, the Arabs have their own countries. It is Israel's country, not Palestine's." And in a way, that still stands. In a way, though, I can see how they feel. To be so trapped, so shut down, so oppressed. Young men become suicide bombers because they have no other options. They will never get out of their position, so why not try to become something bigger? To help further their cause and help their family have something they cannot? In the end, who is right? That is what I should really be asking rogerebert. Israel or Palestine? Higher taxes and more social programs or lower taxes? Things that matter, not which bands are better so I can put together a play list most will not pay attention to anyway.