amywithlemon

I owe you one Walter.

Some of you on here are familiar with SST: Super Sexy Thursdays. It’s a tumblr meme, and like most memes, it can be fun to play along. For me, while I do on occasion enjoy sharing what I find to be a “nice” picture of me, I also like to be silly with it. The picture I used in the post prior to this one for SST is one I’ve had for a few weeks, just waiting for some inspiration to go with it. Finally, last night I thought, this would be a funny picture for a woman to send a jerk from her past. Like most things I write, it starts with that little idea. Next thing, I’m wondering how did this woman come to write him, and who is it exactly that she’s writing: all these little mundane nuances that add up to something real. At first I was going to have her write to him, out of nowhere, and then I thought, “Well, that would just be bizarre.” So that didn’t set well. Then I thought… what if he wrote her? What if, as so often happens in the realm of the internet, some guy, newly divorced, wrote her to “reconnect”? This had to be a guy that was incredibly hot and cool in high school, but that walked all over her, and now he’s going to get his comeuppance. (And yes, both men and women do this, I know.)

As I started writing (and there was editing, always is), I remember misspelling “divorce” so that the line became, “Sorry to hear about your divorces.” That was the first thing that made me crack up. It’s so vague, but such a great jab (it would be a great greeting card). At first, I was even more cruel about his apparent loss of good looks, but I decided to tone that down. No need to be really awful. Also, before I started writing, when I had first come home, I had noticed my husband had cleaned the kitchen and made my coffee for the morning (even setting out my mug and spoon, sha), so feeling smitten, I curled up next to him offering him my, ahem, services. Being very much asleep, he said he wanted to rest. (Oh well, I owe him.) So that part of the letter really did happen, and I thought it would be really funny to share along with, “Just think if you had remembered my birthday!” It just went perfectly. Finally, I referenced the “attached” picture (that started the whole thing) and made a point to make him really check it out, while at the same time, pointing out that, hey-who’s the dumb one, now?

So who is Walter? Well, he’s a conglomerate of all the dicks any of us knew from high school (we all know some we can quickly think of). Did a guy actually stand me up for homecoming? Yep. I figure he probably ended up a decent guy, just like the guy who was convinced I was an idiot because I was 14 and he was 17. (Seriously, what 14 year old girl isn’t an idiot? Or for that matter, what 17 year old boy?) He thought he was brilliant because he was going to go to UCLA, and he did… for a year. The “wanting me to talk dirty on the phone but not acknowledging me in public guy”? Pretty much every hot boy in the 9th-12th grade. I was a nerd in high school (still am, by any standard), but believe me, even the hot guys would gladly have taken anything they could get from a nerdy girl in high school. So Walter was that guy. That awful idiot that drove a blue Geo Metro convertible and thought it was the shit (eh). The guy who was so amazing in high school, only to become just an average dude as an adult (this is 99.9% of all people). He’s an average divorced dude who’s thinking, “Hey, I wonder what happened to that girl that liked me so much back in the day?” (This happens, believe me.)

I do still know some of the guys I once dated in high school and college. To give you an idea of just how bitter I truly am (as many, many people repeatedly insisted), I am actually on great terms with my ex-fiance. He broke it off. He had cheated on me, with several women, and he was, well, a jerk. While we don’t go out of our way to stay in touch, our paths do cross once a year or so, and I am happy to say that he’s a really nice guy now. I cut the 20 year old him a lot of slack. (As I hope he does for me, because I was probably crazy.) What is the point of carrying anger over something that was so long ago? I’m very happy he broke it off, we would have been awful together. And I’m happy for him, because his wife is a really beautiful and kind person, just as my husband is to me. I’m happy for both of us, just as I am for any of the people (female or male) I knew in high school and college- I hope they are all living lives that are full and happy (unless they are serial rapists or something, then I hope their lives aren’t full and happy).

So, a link to my “Dear Walter” post was shared on reddit.com, and I was overwhelmed by the amount of people that really responded to it. Whether it resonated because of some personal issue they had, or just because they are the sort of people who like to troll (and believe me, reddit is excellent for this), plenty of people went off on the letter to Walter. Forget that Walter was a jerk and a douchebag (let alone, not real), they were incensed over me appearing so bitter after all those years. Several people suggested I get counseling. Many chose to make fun of my picture, which, frankly I found funny because- well, I’m not trying to say I’m all that (I’m not), but shit, I look just fine, dammit, duh. Some went so far as to make fun of me starting back at grad school so “late.” (Which, really? Come on.) But mostly, people just went off on the girl who harbored such a bitter attitude towards Walter for 18 years…

At first I tried really hard to get across that “This is a JOKE. Walter is NOT a real person.” I explained this continually and I did my best to share appropriately and kindly (even when the poster was being an ass). I even thanked some of the really awful posters, because if anything, they were just damn funny. (Helped me pass 3 very boring hours earlier, so thanks.)

But after awhile… I realised… for some, Walter was real to them. The letter became real. As one person put it when I tried to explain that it wasn’t a real letter, “People dont [sic] usually write letters that are so inspired… you can say what you want…” Even when I explained how far from actually being bitter towards anyone I truthfully am, and how funny I thought the whole thing was (I still think it’s funny as shit)- they were convinced that somehow, deep down, there was bitterness and angst that needed serious counseling.

Here’s the thing:

I am a writer. Every writer draws from experience to create situations and characters, “Dear Walter” was essentially that. I write with characterization in mind. In fact, I try to hammer down all the little nuances of even the most minor characters in my writing because then “nameless receptionist” becomes “the receptionist that is overly chipper because she just got engaged and can’t stop bubbling over about life.” These little details add depth to a story, and if anything, allow you to develop your plot further should you need to add to it. Writer’s create characters: people that have something to experience and share. And these people and their stories that we create come from the many experiences (even small and seemingly insignificant ones) in our own lives. Just like Walter.

I’ve started to grow a bit attached to “Walter.” While in the letter “Dear Walter,” there is anger and pride in my writing, in real life, I’ve come to sympathise with him. The poor guy has seen his heyday. He’s divorced…twice. He’s fat and balding, and he’s a poor dresser. The girl he stood up in high school may be a “soccer mom,” but she’s still hot. How can you not sympathise with Walter? And based on the responses I’m getting to “Dear Walter”- from all the people taking it out on the letter writer (me, I know) for being this vindictive, bitter person while simultaneously sympathising with Walter, the poor schmuck, I’ve learned one thing: My characterization (and writer’s voice) is strong. Which is awesome! All their responses, some so genuine, finally made me realise that… whoa, wait… Walter just became real. And unless you are a writer, you just don’t know how amazing it feels to have a character you created become someone real. Maybe “Dear Walter” wasn’t that funny to some people, and that’s ok, not everyone likes everything I write. I don’t like a lot of things I read either. Such is life. (Again, I still thinks it’s funny. And, well, that’s all that matters to me.)

So Walter, I owe you one. You might still think those K-Swiss from 1995 are “da bomb” and you might still wear an overly large and faded Polo Shirt over your cargo jorts, but you are the man. You made it, Walter… And somewhere, wherever you are, I hope you’re getting the best hand job of your life.

Because you deserve it Walter, you deserve it.

Going by the smell coming from the to-go box in my car, I ate ass for dinner tonight.

Delicious moist ass.

Inception : Solipsism : Philosophical Poverty

“Philosophical poverty: Some philosophers, notably Bertrand Russell, hold the viewpoint that solipsism is entirely empty and without content. Like a ‘faith’ argument, it seems sterile, i.e., allows no further argument, nor can it be falsified. The world remains absolutely the same — so where could a solipsist go from there? Viewed in this way, solipsism seems only to have found a facile way to avoid the more difficult task of a critical analysis of what is ‘real’ and what isn’t, and what ‘reality’ means. The solipsist might hold in response that further argument is meaningless. She might explain that, granting only the most basic laws of thought, she has identified the real limits of what can be truly known about ‘reality’: cogito ergo sum.”

(from Wikipedia, Solipsism: Responses; see also: Dream Argument)

Allow me to paraphrase from above: “Inception seems only to have found a facile way to avoid the more difficult task of a critical analysis of what is ‘real’ and what isn’t, and what ‘reality’ means.”

Exactly. Now stop telling me that shit is deep.

(And how much do I love that my favorite mathematician/philosopher would have hated Inception?)

Now this film, Waking Life, appears to do what everyone thinks Inception is doing:

“Waking Life is about an unnamed young man in a persistent lucid dream-like state. He initially observes and later participates in philosophical discussions of issues such as reality, free will, the relationship of the subject with others, and the meaning of life. Along the way the film touches on other topics including existentialism, situationist politics, posthumanity, the film theory of André Bazin, and lucid dreaming itself. Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy reprise their characters from Before Sunrise in one scene.”

(Wikipedia, Waking Life)

Now that shit I’d gladly pay to see.

I just scored a bunch of University yearbooks from the late 1940s and early 1950s!

Related:

Some lady in the financial aid office is really excited to have some nasty old shitty books out of her office.

1:24 am

Sleepy-tired can’t sleep Amy is always full of simple worries and thoughts.

The night sky is so infinite. It makes me feel small. I like knowing the sunlight is just a few miles around the globe from me, and really, the sun is just a skip away.

But it’s late. And I hate wasting hours that feel unproductive. I imagine all my years ahead and worry I’ll never squeeze enough out of them.

Sometimes, I could cry just because I feel disjointed from the people around the world. It’s not fair to live such an easy life.

I miss the days I would visit my grandmother, and pick up the trash in the street while all the old ladies sat in their rockers and said what a nice child I was. The truth was I was bored, and I hated that they had nothing to see but litter. So I cleaned it.

I don’t know how to live without wanting to change things for the better. This leads to hurt pretty often, because lots of people are quite happy to be terrible to one another.

The best memories I have of a perfect peaceful moment are tied: the day I prayed with my elderly aunt as she died in ICU, just holding her hands, watching her, knowing I’d never see her alive again, but knowing that for a moment, it was perfect; and, the day I spent with a severely autistic boy as his substitute teacher, he and I spent hours outside, and he was a beautiful person that humbled me. I can’t describe those feelings, other than I’ve never had them before or since.

One Christmas, while helping at a homeless shelter, I saw one of my students. I had no idea he was homeless. He ran up to me with open arms, smiling and so excited.

I can’t ignore someone crying, even if I want to. Compassion is the strongest evidence I have experienced that indicates there is more to this life than just this. My son is very curious about death, and I remember being the same way. I feel tied to him more than any other person I know. I hope his heart is strong. He’ll need it.

I think about these things as I try to sleep, and wonder what people in Japan are doing for lunch.