Bad Habits

The noise grows crescendo,

gathers force little by little,

runs its course from place to place,

seems the thunder of the tempest

which from the depths of the forest

comes whistling, muttering,

freezing everyone in horror.

Finally with crack and crash,

it spreads afield, its force redoubled,

and produces an explosion

like the outburst of a cannon,

an earthquake, a whirlwind,

a general uproar,

which makes the air resound.

And the poor slandered wretch,

vilified, trampled down,

sunk beneath the public lash,

by good fortune, falls to death.

Cesare Sterbini

The Barber of Seville

I thought I was not going to have anything to write about today. But, praise be, I was presented with a whole nest of emotional red ants. I always say, be careful what you ask for, you just might get it. I asked for something to write about….

I’ll jump right into it. Recep decided that he had the right roughy push my arm because I bite my nails. Yes, I know it is an annoying habit. Yes, I would like not to do it., just as I am sure smokers want to stop and alcoholics want to stop and fidgeters would like to stop and people that blurt out stupid things would like to stop, and people that are messy would like to have a clean house and people that are late would like to be on time, and people that forget things would like to remember them. There are hundreds and thousands of bad habits, and yes, everyone has something. If you don’t, then yours is probably narcissism or vanity or something:)

However, this is my bad habit. Obviously it annoyed him, but Recep does not have the right to impose physical discipline on me. He would have never done this to another man, that I am quite sure of. As any man, as any woman. Most woman will be able to imagine something like that happening. Most women, have had something like that happen. Men just can’t imagine it.

It dredged up so many bad memories from my past that I turned and backed off horrified, and left him on the deck alone. Where do you go when you are alone on a boat, and coming into anchor for the night? Luckily, there are only one or two days left on the trip. Last night, I would have packed up and left if we had come into dock. I was so angry. I feel more uncomfortable and frankly, a little scared to be out in the ocean with someone who would hit me. And no, he didn’t hit me hard, really just a rough grab/shove of my arm. but rough. Rough enough to not be in the least bit amusing. rough enough to be done in anger. It opens the question of how far would that anger take him if he would do that to someone he has known for less than two weeks.

I am torn. I really would prefer to walk away from the boat the moment we touch shore, However, my professional integrity wants me to finish the job I started. It will only be a couple of days. Part of me is a bit greedy too. I know that if I do not go, I will probably never see Kas in my life, as I will have no reason to go there. Although, I have a few days, and could just take the bus.

I have not spoken to him since, except for completely work related words required to anchor the boat, eat and pack things up.

Several years ago, I was at the Canadian Opera Company. We had four front seats in the balcony. Greg was beside me. Greg was, as Greg does, fidgeting with his foot, scraping the leather sole back and forth across the wooden floor very gently. It made a thin raspy noise and I had stopped even noticing it. sometime after the intermission, out of the blue, I felt a smack across the side of my head and face and heard the owner of the hand sneer “Stop filing your nails”. I leapt out of my seat and left the theatre to get an usher to have him removed from the building. They were aghast and said that it was unacceptable and they would deal with it immediately. They took him out. At the end I enquired about what had happened when they asked him to leave. The ushers stared at me with consolement in their eyes. The management decided just to move him to another seat since you two were not getting along. I called the manager. Yes, he said, he told us about you making noise so he could not enjoy the opera. He said he tapped you on the shoulder to ask you to be more polite. I got the two 15 year old girls that were sitting beside him, “No they said, no, he really belted her”. He looked at the two little girls condescendingly. I need his name, I said, I am reporting this to the police, I should have when it first happened. The manager said, we can’t give his name, that is personal information. We went to the police station. It just happens that it is in the same building, around the back. The officers laughed at me. “We have more important things to deal with, like shootings and deaths,… just because you had a bad night at the opera… “ dismiss, dismiss, make to feel unsubstantial, made to feel unimportant. They kept me there until after midnight with two little tired kids, messing around, shuffling papers, “getting to” my report. I filed it, but I know they just tossed it in the “ignore” pile, and nothing ever did come of it. The opera did, on the other hand, after I spoke with someone quite high up who was aghast, give me a box, with seats for 6 people for one of their upcoming shows. But still, it felt unresolved. Could I have done things differently? Should I have done things differently? Would there have been a better outcome if i had? The movie Groundhog day, one of Aodhan’s (my autistic son) favourite movies, is about someone who tries things over and over, and still has basically the same outcome. Anyone who plays D & D knows that the DM could give you another chance, and you will still fall into the same traps, just another way. Life is like that. It is just a game, where all the pieces are shuffled and tossed on the table. You get the cards you were dealt, and some people might as well just fold their hand immediately and sit the round out. The people that get dealt a great hand, jump up and down about what great players they are. Most of us are just somewhere in the middle, drawing cards and discarding, and doing the best that we can.

It is morning, and Recep has said good morning. He tried to make comments about the beautiful sunset last night. “um hum, I mumbled, barely looking up from my book”. This morning, I made his breakfast and set it out for him. But I sat inside typing and eating mine. He has gotten me two cups of tea, and asked if I am writing a blog. “I write a lot of things, I answered, right now, I am writing about the opera”