The Sheila Variations

I remember the first time I saw Big Fish.

My wife and kids were on vacation for a month and I couldn't go because of my work schedule. It was too long to be away from each other and I had really tried hard to be a good soldier about it, but there was really nothing to do while she was back home visiting all of our friends, so I ended up getting into a very strange funk of jealousy and denial.

So I rent this movie and bring it home to watch, (cause I really like Ewan), and as I'm watchig this movie, I feel myself start to heave with emotion. No crying yet, just a huge physical reaction to this movie that really shocked me.

At one point in the movie I actually stood up out of my chair and yelled at the charaters in the screen. I never do stuff like that. At another point, I felt so stupidly, exultantly happy that I couldn't sit still and felt like calling everyone I knew and having strange stream of consciousness conversations with them over the phone for no reason but to spread a little joy. It was an incredible emotional roller-coaster like ride for me.

When Albert asked his son how it ends, I began to cry. Not just little crying, but full on, Huge Scottish tears rolling down my big mug, sobbing. Gasping for air because I couldn't get enough, not being able to see, sounding like a cross between a foghorn and really badly done death scene. I cried hard, I cried loud, I cried long. I cried so out of control that I scared the cats. I didn't even realize the movie was over for about 20 minutes after it ended.

I have never had that kind of a reaction.

Looking back on it, (which, being relentlessly introspective and yet outwardly extroverted and gregarious, is something I do), I realized that this movie had merely tipped the scales and that I was ripe for a cathartic moment. I still desperately love the movie and it reminds me of my father, who I miss dearly, but the reaction was not just about the movie. It was about my soul reminding me who I really am and taking care of what really needed to be taken care of. Sometimes, it just happens.

I know you don't want advice, so I won't offer you any, but do know that you are not alone or absurd or crazy. You are strange and wierd and wonderfully made, but then again, who isn't?

Blurpy. I love it.

As for being lonely..humans aren't meant to walk alone forever. Ain't a damn thing with being lonely. Don't be shy either - nobody who reads this blog regularly could possibly think that you're a mopey shut-in.

Oops. I think I mighta strayed across the line into advice land when all I really wanted to do was regsiter my approval of the above post. (Stamp) There ya go.

Okay - advice is okay. :)

Thanks, guys.

Oh and Kaptin: You have to go over to Emily Jones' blog and read her post about Big Fish. I know just what you mean about having a catharsis seeing that film ... thanks for sharing that story.

Will do. Thanks

I love you friend

I got off the train, and he stayed on, obviously going on to Journal Square ... and I felt this piercing sense of loss as I walked away from him. It hurt me to walk away from him. Does he have any idea that he is so full of light? That his blurpy body is so beautiful?

Did you ever get the impulse to go and talk to him while you were still on the train?

I'm confused as to why you let this shining moment pass...

Hi sweet Sheila,

As a very lonely guy in Texas, I can resonate with what you went through last night. I offer my sympathies.

I went through a period in my life, fairly recently, in which I was completely and totally in uncontrollable love with someone who thought of me only as a friend. It wasn't at all a physical attraction (in fact, objectively speaking I would describe her as dog-ugly), but somehow every cell in my body, every part of my soul yearned for her to return my love, and the grief I felt over her was so severe that it caused me physical pain. I have been doing psychotherapy for a while for various issues, and I would often complain to my therapist about how I knew I needed to get over her and detach from her, but that I just couldn't. My therapist would only respond, "We don't have much control over who we are attracted to." This is a truth that still brings tears to my eyes. If only one could be completely rational...

Sympathetic hugs.

Yeah I had the impulse to just tell him I felt drawn to him and his blurpy beauty.

But I didn't.

Didn't want to risk the rejection. Also, I felt on the verge of tears. Not the best way to approach a gentleman. In a teary-eyed nervous breakdown state.

Risking rejection. God, how I can relate to that.

That "better to have loved and lost" saying is crap sometimes, isn't it?

Being rejected myself more times than I like to remember, the familiar pain is sharp and always on the surface.

On a lighter note, the tears might have been effective. Talk about stroking a man's ego: If I had a lovely woman come up to me sobbing in praise of his blurpy beauty...well, she probably wouldn't be posting the same blogpost this afternoon ;)

Barry: HAHAHA I never think like that, and perhaps I should! "I am driven to tears over your blurpy beauty, sir..."

heh heh

Oh and about "it's better to love and lose" NONSENSE - there's that line in Men in Black ...

Someone says, "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

There's a long pause and Tommy Lee Jones says flatly, "Try it."

Damn straight. I've loved and lost enough, thank you very much!!

"I am driven to tears over your blurpy beauty, sir..."

Of course, if that actually happened to me the world would immediately tilt wildly off its axis, continents would fly into space and we'd all crash screaming into the Sun.

That or we'd see donkeys and pigs piloting airplanes, one or the other.

But you are right. That pain can be the worst.

I also tend to agree with Mr. Tommy Lee Jones. Where my friend mentioned above was concerned, I certainly was not secretive about my passion. I gave her gifts and flowers, wrote her beautiful love letters, offered to tutor her son when he was having trouble in school, gave her substantial amounts of money (anonymously) when she was in financial trouble, etc. No dice.

I don't really think it all that useful to have such experiences.

Incidentally, although my tastes might differ from Barry's, I am not sure I would recommend the teary approach. I think that "psychopath woman" alarm bells would be going off in my head if someone approached me like that. I would be having images of the woman in question castrating me in the middle of the night when I was sleeping or firebombing my apartment or something. Not to discourage you, but...

Bryan:

Yes. One would not want to be accused of being a "Joe Lies Girl" type.

Reference, anyone?

Red, do you know you're the only hit when I Google'd "Joe Lies Girl"? ;)

I'll refrain from answering, since I cheated...

And I know the crying and weeping wouldn't be a good impression. But it might depend on what the girl looked like... ;)

I actually stole the term from Dan ... he and his friends use "Joe Lies Girl" as a shorthand for obsessive crazy person.

Don't know the reference. I may be a little biased on this, having had a woman in my life once who actually did strike me as being a psychopath. Saying that she was "in my life" may be something of an exaggeration. The real situation was that she wanted to be in my life and more or less wouldn't take no for an answer.

Scary stuff.

"Joe Lies Girl"...just one of the many reasons why I love reading you, Sheila.

I myself have a few pens scattered about.

Mark - HA! You got it!

"I've written 85 songs ... and they're all about Joe ... and I'm going to sing every single one of them tonight."

"Joe lies ... when he cries ...
Joe lies ... when he cries ..."

Oh...my...god! LOVE the reference, now that I grok.

Loneliness building in me
an energy that will not be spent
introspection nor profound thought
said, sang or written releases me

Loneliness building in me
raging, raging at the threatening storm
shaking fist, overcomes me

Lonliness building in me
Great speeding horse
huge hammering heart
pumping hot bloood
clenched teeth, lips curled
Release me!

driving me on
Run screaming
Scream running
fall in heap, sobbing

Loneliness building in me

I was curious what results Barry got when he Googled "Joe Lies Girl" and found a band called Bouncing Souls have a song called "Joe Lies (When He Cries)" Excellent! I may have found a new favorite band.

Have you thought about putting an ad up at missed connections on craigslist.org?
If he reads it, it is most definitely fate!!

The danger with this sort of post is that it makes you even more appealing than usual, which is saying something, and so it might attract the interest of, well, a loon, who thinks that if only he can attain blurpiness he'll win your heart.

For the rest of us it's just another example of what keeps us coming back to your site. We're all rooting for you. And through you, ourselves.

What everyone else said. I can't add much more to that. But because I'm a hopeless optimist, I know things will work out somehow. ;-)

Tommy Lee Jones got that line from me. I don't know how.

But I had that EXACT same exchange several years earlier.

Maybe these lyrics will help:

http://www.mydfz.com/Paxton/lyrics/oto.htm

...especially the second verse. (not that I'm necessarily recommending that as a strategy)

Darling Sheila - did you ever read my Just Say Hi story? It's actually a terrible story about meeting a guy who ended up sort of stalking me, but I still think the dating theory behind it is sound. And that theory is: if you see a guy you like the look of (as a girl who has a type is bound to do), then all you have to do is say hi. That way you are indicating interest without really making an ass of yourself or risking rejection; all you've done is say hi. I've tried it a few times (with people other than with Mr Stalking Freak), and it works - it seems it's just enough encouragement for someone who likes the look of you too. It's more than a smile, less than "I love your blurpy beauty."

I realize this is less likely to work when you are a) on a train; b) by yourself when he's with a crowd; and c) near tears. But it's still a useful trick in other circumstances, if you want to turn a handsome stranger into an acquaintance, without coming off as too eager/desperate/a ho. I'm sure you don't have a problem meeting people, but it's specifically for that particular instance of "hey, this person looks interesting, but I don't know him or have any connection to him at all, I'm just seeing him in passing."

As for whether things work out with one's type, well, by now you probably have some idea of my theories on that. But I wasn't being entirely discouraging on that score - as may or may not have been clear.

I'd say this really only works for women. I don't know that I'd encourage guys to go around saying hi to people.

Sometimes our body rhythm just tells us it's time to cry, especially if we're used to dealing with our emotions.

Thomas Merton described his "conversion experience" in similar fashion. He was in Louisville on the corner of Fifth and Walnut (now Muhammed Ali) on a busy afternoon and was struck suddenly that he "loved all these people." It was a life-changing moment. He realized how unique and lovable they all were and described everyone as "shining like the sun."

He went on to be one of the most compassionate men in history.

"It's better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all."

It's also better to have driven off a cliff than never driven a car at all.

Well, men out there should know that blurpiness is nothing to be ashamed of. Many women are driven to tears by it. And long to be crushed in the blurpy arms of a blurpy man.

I could do an entire essay about the word blurpy, and what it actually means. But I think I'll spare you all that.

"I'd say this really only works for women. I don't know that I'd encourage guys to go around saying hi to people."

This strikes me as intensely funny.

That's right guys, better not say hi. Better to just stare. Preferably from very close.....

Living in New York City, though, it is a pretty good rule. Anne's right.

I suspect that if I were to reside in NYC for any length of time, I would end up bearing a disturbing resemblance to Jack Nicholson's character in As Good As It Gets. Interpersonal relations are difficult enough for me as it is - the omnipresent, stifling pressure of an extremely high population density and the complex web of rules it engenders would most likely turn me into a crazy old hermit.

On the whole issue of types, I think we all have them to varying degrees. You can't force it out of existence through an assertion of will, but it is possible to control how much weight you give it in the whole process. It's dangerous to cravenly search for one's type because if we allow that factor to have an exaggerated importance, we're unavoidably giving short shrift to other, more substantive characteristics.

It is absolutely true that we can't force ourselves to be attracted to someone to whom we're just not attracted. However, from my personal experience, there have been many cases where I met someone I didn't find particularly attractive initially, but nevertheless did become attracted to the person over time as I got to know her. Obviously there are limits - I don't think I'll ever be attracted to someone who is greatly overweight. But generally, in terms of both philosophy and real-world experience, I think it's wise to strive to keep as much of an open mind as possible regarding physical parameters, so as to avoid disqualifying people who may have other qualities that could eventually lead one to see them as highly desirable.

Well, Mike, I agree with all you said.

There's searching for your type, and turning down someone who is blonde because your "type" is brunette ... This is not good.

But then sometimes your type just BANGS YOU OVER THE HEAD WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER. This is, I believe, a pheromonal connection.

I spend 85% of my energy now shutting out pheromonal messages because I've been hurt and disappointed so many times. (Hence, the tears. The tears, I think, just came from how unfamiliar I am anymore with feeling stuff like that in any way, shape or form ... if you get my meaning.) I want no more messages from the pheromones. But Blurpy Man on the train must have had one HELL of a strong set of pheromones.

It's kind of an interesting thing to contemplate, anyway. The chemistry issue, the meeting of particles ... what is it? Who can really say what it is?

I felt attraction to Blurp-Man in my toes, and in my deepest corners of my heart. This can only be pheromones.

Most of my actual boyfriends have had nothing to do with what I say is my "type". And those relationships were disasters anyway. But the loves of my life? The triumvirate?? These guys were all pretty much Blurpy Guys with big laughs, crazy hair, and a beautiful way of listening.

So who knows. Who knows!!!

The tears have now dried. I can be a BIT more rational!! :)

I think I was keying on "sometimes I feel hesitant about posting certain things here on my blog. Even though it's my blog, my space...But having a larger readership has also, in a weird way, made me a little bit self-conscious, at times."

I think my point is that blogging, well, it seems to go in a few stages.

1) I'm going to put something out there and hope someone sees it.
2) Someone saw it! Wow! That's exciting! A connection!
3) Wow, I'm making connections. Lots of 'em. Wheeeeee!
4) Whoohoo! Attention! Yay! Man this is fun!
5) Hmm. Okay. This is cool. Now what?
6) Oh shit, if I say this, what are they going to think?

Then you get to this:

7) Why the fuck am I doing this anyway?

When I hit that last one, I damn near quit. Because that, to me, is when it really gets weird.

hahaha I know what you mean, Dean.

We all have to answer that "why am I doing this" thing in our own way.

It's for the babes.

Cuz the babes love bloggers.

And if the blogger also happens to be "blurpy"? fuggedaboutit....

You're right, red. In this realm, there is no defined path that one can reasonably assume will lead to success. I think the best we can do is hope for an extraordinarily fortunate accident. Trying to consider the widest possible pool of potentials may only marginally increase our chances for success, but I'm not sure there's much else to be done to improve the odds.

Unless one goes to one of those matchmaking services and lets a computer select possible mates based on "124 crucial measures of compatibility" or some such. Arrgghhh.