To be perfectly honest, I win now because I fucked up so dramatically early on but eventually learned from it. I've worked hard, but I've also had some lucky breaks and God, whatever that may encompass, has smiled on me at some pivotal moments.
Tiger's wrong. I did give up. For about three years, give or take. I just didn't stay there.
I typed out a bunch of stuff, and then realized that it didn't matter and it didn't fit this thread. So, instead, just let me tell you a story Wayne Carter, a teacher who influenced me greatly in high school, once told me.
A traveling salesman approaches an old farmer on his porch. The saleman hears a dog whimpering and moaning, and as he steps on the porch he sees a hound pup laying on the porch near the old farmer's rocking chair. He ignores the pup and starts talking to farmer about his wares, but the dogs moaning and whimpering grow and grow. The farmer never mentions the dog or pays any mind to the sounds, but the salesman has finally had enough.
The salesman asks, "what's wrong with your dog, mister?"
The farmer replies, "he's laying on a tack."
The salesman mulls this over and says, "well, why doesn't he move off of it?"
The farmer replies, "I guess he hasn't experienced enough pain yet."
That's it. No moral was given. In the brashness of youth I thought the lesson was "stop bitching and moaning, fix the problem." I still think that's part of it. The other part took me some years and experience to truly grasp. How much pain will you put up with because the surroundings are familiar? Because its the status quo, because its the easiest course of action, because its all you know up to that point and you aren't willing to expand your horizons or upset the routine? Probably more than you think. Once you adapt your worldview its no longer about complain or fix it. Its discovering what the tacks are, if they are big enough to make you move, and what moving entails. Some tacks you'll live with. Some you won't. How much pain will it take you to move?
You know that thing where girls tell you about a problem, and then you want to help by coming up with advice and shit, but they get really mad because actually they wanted you to share in their misery instead of trying to solve it.
Doc... I need to get something off my chest. I really don't like cops. I despise them. But, damn it, you sure make it hard not to like you. Excellent post.
I just saw an ad on TV yesterday for Blacksingles.com Can you imagine if there were a white's only dating site? Or a White Entertainment Television channel like their BET... it's ridiculous. Black college funds. Really? How about college funds for ALL under privileged kids. WTF does the color of their skin have to do with anything. Poor ass white kids growing up out in the sticks have FEWER opportunities than minorities in the inner city. When I was growing up we were poor as shit. I had no where to go. I couldn't walk to a soup kitchen. I couldn't go to a local YMCA for guidance from a Big Brothers program. No... I went and walked through the woods at night to try to figure out what the fuck was wrong with my life. I didn't have shit to go to. I'm tired of hearing about inner city bullshit. They have opportunities that kids growing up out in the boonies don't have, but we don't hear about that.
Over identification with ANYTHING isn't healthy. When you define yourself by your hobbies, job, or whatever, it's not healthy. Police officers, doctors, lawyers, bronies, etc.
On Sept 13th, 2004, a man who had fled to a war zone to save himself from himself was able to marry a woman who was brave enough to go against her family and her culture in the name of love.
In the summer of 2003 the man had an epiphany. For reasons that are irrelevant to this story, he realized he needed to start over before his behaviors destroyed him. He remembered the last place he'd been happy was the military, but with his fucked up knee he'd probably not get far in trying to reenlist. He also wanted more freedom than an enlisted man had. So he became a security contractor, moved half way around the world away from all influences and alcohol, and before Christmas of that year he was in a foreign country watching the sand blow around.
She was living with her parents, as is the custom of her land for unmarried women, and working as a pharmacist. She'd had an arranged marriage planned, but it had fallen through when the man had immigrated to another country before they were actually married. She was young, beautiful, and with a respectable career. She had no shortage of suitors, she had taken to wearing a ring and pretending it was a wedding ring because she got so many proposals in a day. Wealthy men, men of local fame from the media and the government services attempted to catch her eye. None did. She originally thought he was Lebanese, as he was sundark from working in the desert heat and dressed in local fashion. He spoke Arabic poorly, though, and he was in fact an American. She had nothing against Americans, she'd lived in Kuwait during the Iraqi invasion, and like the native Kuwaitis remembered US soldiers as liberators. Still, Americans were an unknown quantity, often looking for a short term relationship that would destroy a woman's reputation and chances of a respectable marriage. She initially was leery of the American, but finally relented and went out with him for dinner and a beach visit. He invited her to his upcoming birthday party, she agreed to attend. They would have their first kiss. Love would blossom. They would consider marriage.
Her father initially agreed, but due to pressure applied by the brothers for reasons that are unimportant to this story, withdrew his consent. This made marriage impossible in the country they were in, as his signature was required for a legal marriage. They created a plan that was both simple and devious. She would say she wanted to fly to Jordan, where they maintained a home, to forget about the American. He would fly to Jordan with all of the required paperwork. Jordan did not require the father's signature because of the earlier arranged marriage, he had already signed stating she could be married and Jordan didn't require him to say WHO she could marry, just that she could. Over the course of weeks she brought clothing and documents, he took them and stored them in his house. She flew out on the 8th of Sept. He flew out on the 10th. Her father would fly out on the 14th, which would greatly limit her movement, as he would want to spend the time with her. On the 9th he received a call from a lawyer in Jordan he'd hired to research and was told he needed many more documents than what they'd already gathered. The details are unimportant to this story, but he was hard pressed to gather them and there were some shady dealings, but he got it done.
The plan was almost destroyed due to bureaucrats and a religious holiday. They were unable to marry on the afternoon of the 10th, as had been the original plan. He hired a fixer. The fixer, The Chechnyan was very resourceful, drove them to multiple embassies to get required documents and stamps. He stole court documents, he may have kidnapped and/or bribed a sheik to do the ceremony, it was never quite clear which. Like I said, Jordan's not real picky as long as the right people get paid. The details are unimportant to this story. For the price of a lawyer who thought he could get it done in a few months, months they didn't have, he made it happen for the couple on the Express plan. They were married on the 13th of September, 2004, in the living room of a man they'd known for all of 3 days, in front of witnesses he'd hurriedly gathered from his neighbors. There were no pictures. They were in a hurry, she needed to return before her cousins grew suspicious. He had not thought to bring a camera, his nerves were raw. She returned to her home, he to his hotel, to await their marriage certificate.
The Chechnyan went to the court to get the certificate, knowing there were "irregularities" in the packet of documents but also knowing how Muslim cultures work he said this was best. He told them we'd already left on our honeymoon, which they would understand to mean if they revoked the marriage she would be unable to find a proper marriage again. The Chechnyan returned with the certificate, legally binding in any Muslim country and with it, one could get a civil certificate binding in the US. In gratitude, when The Chechnyan refused to take any additional money, he bought a mattress and box spring. He knew that the one The Chechnyan and his wife slept on was worn out and they suffered from back pain because of it. The Chechnyan had no choice but to accept, as he knew it would go to waste if he did not, and his honor was not impugned by accepting the gift.
He only had to get his bride away from her family to spirit her away. He was now familiar enough with Muslim culture to know there were places that unescorted women could go that no man could enter, such as a hair salon. He told her to make sure she had her passport and to go get her hair done. Sure enough, her father dropped her off with the understanding he would pick her up again in 3 hours. The Chechnyan pulled up, she came back out of the hair salon, and he drove her to the hotel where her groom was waiting, not willing to risk the father seeing him if he went to pick up his bride. The Chechnyan took the couple to the airport, where they would fly back to Qatar. He gave his cell phone to The Chechnyan. Just before the plane closed its doors and the no electronics message was read, she sent a text to her father telling him not to pick her up, that she was with The American in a private cab on the way to Syria to be married. The false trails were laid.
The Chechnyan would call him a few days later and say that yes, the father had called the phone. Yes, he'd told him that he'd bought the phone from an American at the airport in Damascus for a very good price because he was flying to the USA with his new bride. The false trails were complete.
In an abundance of caution, they would fly to Cyprus two months later and get married again in a civil ceremony. The documentation was cleaner, it was in English, it would be a much easier presentation for her visa to move to the US with him. They would continue to celebrate the 13th as their anniversary, though, because that's when they knew that the law, her family, and the culture couldn't keep them apart any longer.
The couple had a son. Once his contract was up, they moved to the US and built a life. It wasn't always easy. There were adjustments, there were misunderstandings, there were some tough times and some hard work, but they built a life.
He was forever changed. His anger subsided, he adjusted, he learned moderation. He had, quite frankly, been a gigantic dick for much of his life. He realized that she was much too good for him, and he strove to be who she deserved. He failed. He backslid. He still does, but he's a much better human being for the trying.
lepercolony got a reaction from Diddums in Agony Aunt.....or Uncle. Whatever, I'll help you
lepercolony got a reaction from Just Cal in Agony Aunt.....or Uncle. Whatever, I'll help you
