Filters

I woke up wrecked for some reason, just a mess of fatigue and a strong urge to crawl up on the couch and lie there, waiting for the world to stop spinning. I've always had this half-joking theory that sometimes we're supposed to wake up sick, but the illnesses get mixed up. I seem to have gotten out of bed with someone's hangover, whereas someone who tied one on last night probably woke up with, say, the upper respiratory infection I should have had.

***

For lecture today we had to state our theory. That is, we had to tell the prof and the class what theoretical approach we mean to utilize this semester in our practicum work. Until my birthday, I'd thought I'd go with narrative therapy. I could write ten pages on how that theory resonates with me, how it's a natural fit with how I think, with my history, with my perspective, my filter.

But as I faced my first client, it wasn't narrative that came out of my mouth, but solution-focused brief therapy. Ultimately, narrative therapy requires a command of language that I simply do not have in Spanish.

[In my second session my client actually did provide me with a fine opportunity to use a classic narrative technique. I gave it a stab, but it doesn't change things. Solution-focused is what I have professed to be for the purposes of this practicum. The prof supported my choice, and pointed out some of the theory's commonalities with narrative]

And it almost felt like a cop-out. It's a good, useful approach, but it's not as highbrow as I'd hoped to be. I'm being honest here.

***

So I admitted all of this in class. I figured I'd go ahead and stick to this new plan yet pursue independent study of narrative technique on the side.

Lo and behold, for our book presentation the professor assigned a book about narrative to me. I may have actually pumped my fist.

Yes, I just got my nerd license renewed.

***

I was glad to get home from class, as THEGIRL and I were due to spend some time together today. I'd managed to not see her at all for three days this week, and that's heartbreaking. Just cases where my schedule had me departing before she rose and returning after she'd gone to bed.

So we headed out to one of my favorite noodle joints. That girl dives into a good spring roll like nobody's business. We talked about colors and princesses as we dined.

And as we left, the waitress, whom I know rather well since I go there so often, suddenly started telling me about her husband's issues. My filter kicked in. On the one hand, I felt like I had a ton of things to share with her, and she was eager to talk. On the other hand, I could hear my ethics prof in my head, telling me to tell her, "I can't act as your counselor here. I can only recommend that he seek professional help." And that's what I did. It's hard, harder than you'd think. It's quite an artful little dance you've got to do when you're talking to someone with whom you have a good rapport, yet you can't cross that boundary. I think I did just fine.

***

THEGIRL and I ran some errands. She gamely followed me around as I went to three book stores, and pretty much struck out.

And let me say, Waldenbooks is a pretty flippin' useless place. Wow.

***

I did buy Gish by the Smashing Pumpkins, and the new Chris Cornell CD. Man, the Pumpkins and Butch Vig were a pretty damn good match.

Haven't listened to much of the Cornell, though I've heard enough to know that "Finally Forever" has some gorgeous lyrics.

***

I had a good nap this afternoon, one of those affairs where you never go into a full-blown deep sleep, yet you rest and you dream, and you get to exercise just a pinch of conscious direction over dreams.

***

MOBB was kind enough to tuck in the kids tonight while the Fabulous Baums, my neighbors from down the street, went with me to hang out with Los Parletts del Coppell. That is, Ken and Ann came with me to watch some fights with Geoff and Mel.

First time I'd seen G-Par and Mel since they returned to Texas from DC! It was just like always, an easygoing, laid-back time just hanging out and shooting the breeze while watching some good MMA action.

And as I watched the wide shot before the Cro Cop/Kongo fight, the starlight filter effect was kind of overwhelming. Geoff said something like, "The 70s called and they want their filter back." Amen.

There were certainly some surprises, and there wasn't a bad fight in the bunch. I won't play spoiler here, but let me just say that as far as the result of the Michael Bisping/Matt Hamill fight, I'm calling bullshit. I didn't care for the outcome of that one.

And I like both of those guys.

***

The Baums have a bitchin' new black Acura (aka the "Blackura"), and we enjoyed listening to CDs mixed in 5.1. The Beatles' Love CD sounds pretty astounding.

And you know, as we drove back down 121, all singing out loud to Elvis Presley's "Suspicious Minds," I couldn't help but smile. And I couldn't help but sing.

***

Ah, 1:40am... time for Pop Tarts.

"Tart" is a mighty fine word. A funny word!

***

Steinbeck wrote about twilight as "a small, quiet gray time," a description which hardly seems fitting as part of the lead-in to a brief anecdote about a mystical "Chinaman" who walks through Cannery Row every evening.

Larry Brown wrote about twilight as "the gloam" if I recall, though I believe he was quoting or paraphrasing another author. Keats maybe? He wrote about reveling in the gloam in an old pickup truck, driving through the woods and using it as another meaningless excuse for beer-soaked revelry.

Man, revel and revelry must be related, though they're entirely different-feeling words, aren't they?

***

But they can have twilight. You can too. Take it. I'll throw in the sunrise, half-price for today only.

Give me the night, period. This is when my molecules hum, when the square waves make the hairs on my arms--and I've got lots of those--stand up and reach for the moon. "La luna--that's MY luna!" THEGIRL says.

This is when I wrote anything that meant anything to me. This is when I'd crank out chapter after chapter in Juke, which went nowhere as a book but enabled me to reframe, allowed me to adjust my filter a bit. No, not a bit... a lot. Narrative... no wonder that theory speaks to me, resonates within me. I could have created the theory.

It was real to me, it was. I killed two characters I loved, and even as I typed the words I doubled over at the typer, my insides yelling at me for daring to be so cruel to the products of my imagination.

I'm sorry, but they had to go.

***

And on that note, so must I. Ken gave me a coffee big enough to float a barge at about 8:00pm, and it may finally be wearing off. Good night. I hope that right now you are asleep with your partner, embracing each other, making each other feel safe and loved.