tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195616894993495285.post1201298501453183632..comments2024-02-16T18:19:13.539-08:00Comments on Ramblings From Yet Another Stranger on the Bus: Back to the Future, or Everything Old Is New AgainLeslie Morganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15702472429383639709noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195616894993495285.post-16680030021466655442010-04-17T12:04:51.733-07:002010-04-17T12:04:51.733-07:00@ Kirk ~ I completely agree with you. The intense ...@ Kirk ~ I completely agree with you. The intense pressure begins when we are very young. It was twisted for me (what WASN'T twisted for me?). My parents provided everything needed and many things wanted. Piano lessons and a camera and my own phone and good clothes and schools. They can't be faulted. But my father is an extreme individualist. If I uttered the words, " . . because the other kids . . " I was guaranteed not to get it. That wasn't good and sufficient reason to buy anything. By the time I was about 11, I bought many of the things I wanted with babysitting money. They didn't object to my owning some pop culture things, music, etc. They just weren't going to buy it. It taught me a lot of things. Like a person has to work and earn money and a person has to go find the things they want on their own time and money. I used to work with a woman who said I am part pink poodle and part plain Jane. I guess that's how one would turn out having developed in the dynamic where I came up.Leslie Morganhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15702472429383639709noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195616894993495285.post-77037113937675991402010-04-17T11:38:43.965-07:002010-04-17T11:38:43.965-07:00Just want to add something to your last comment. I...Just want to add something to your last comment. I was much more materialistic as a kid than I am as an adult. It wasn't just wating a certain toy for its own sake, though that was certainly part of it, but that other kids who did have the toy wouldn't let you forget it. the concept of "keeping up with the Joneses" is beat into your head at the very beginning in this blessed country of ours.Kirkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02155991693956178030noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195616894993495285.post-69265836227171484872010-04-17T07:33:03.458-07:002010-04-17T07:33:03.458-07:00@ Miss Rachel ~ I'd invite you to a party if y...@ Miss Rachel ~ I'd invite you to a party if you'd demonstrate farting out your nose. Seriously, though, I'm likely a little too freaked out by the punctuality thing. Both parents were extremely uptight that way and I clearly took it on. I'd like to be more balanced about it. Once in awhile everyone has some reasonable cause to be late for something.<br /><br />Your Reebok story made me twinge/cringe. First, it's beautifully expressed - the image of your feet trying to run in the opposite direction from those boastful Reeboks, and the sneaks faded to the color of an old lady's cheek . . . But I also thought of how it feels when we are young and want to have something some other young person has. My parents could afford to provide most things I asked them to buy. And, don't get me wrong, they provided many wonderful things. But sometimes, if they didn't understand WHY I wanted something, they weren't motivated to produce it. If I still wanted whatever it happened to be at that moment, I felt stung by them and envious of the young people who had it. It's funny. As an older adult, I don't long for things other people have, typically.Leslie Morganhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15702472429383639709noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195616894993495285.post-74894360764008099832010-04-16T21:16:44.425-07:002010-04-16T21:16:44.425-07:00Punctuality is the thing that makes me so tense I ...Punctuality is the thing that makes me so tense I can fart out my nose!<br /><br />Hate being late. Though I would never arrive on time for a party - hell, I'd have to be invited to one for starters! <br /><br />Reebok story made me laugh. I had a frienemy at school who owned two pairs - one black, one white and if ever feet boasted hers did! I used to turn up for PE (gym class) and I swear my feet would try to run the opposite direction to hide my tennis shoes from sight...tennis shoes faded to the colour of an old lady's cheek from being sat out in the bargain box for so long before my mother finally gave them a new adoptive parent - me! I pretended to forget them until the humiliation of being made to borrow even worse sneakers became too much! What I would have done for a pair of Reeboks....Rachel Fentonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10046917627054462214noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195616894993495285.post-50672559173491496662010-04-16T14:57:03.166-07:002010-04-16T14:57:03.166-07:00@ Kirk ~ Well, if they happen to be Miami Vice Ree...@ Kirk ~ Well, if they happen to be Miami Vice Reeboks, Kirk, you could be in trouble! Who you gonna call?<br /><br />That's a really good question about the marriage, Kirk. It pleases me you gave it that much thought. Round-about answer: in the 70s, we lived very traditionally like most married people live. By the mid-80s, enough pressure had built up in the marriage that the odd working/living situation provided a nice steam valve. After Amber was born (1990), we purposely returned to a more traditional way of life. It lasted 12 more very difficult years. We didn't do well when we were in day-to-day contact. So being separated didn't contribute to the split up. Being together did.<br /><br />About our differences. They were enourmous and fundamental. I just haven't written about all of them (yet). So far you've only read about the ones I can joke around about. What I've not revealed (and I may or may not sometime) are the deal breakers and heart breakers. By the way, I was absolutely 50% of the problem. I don't believe I've ever been guilty of painting him as the blackguard and myself as the rose. We were just two mismatched humans who had ups and downs. And when the crash came, it was as mighty a one as I've ever heard about.Leslie Morganhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15702472429383639709noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195616894993495285.post-16830963637917768722010-04-16T14:01:50.043-07:002010-04-16T14:01:50.043-07:00I wish you hadn't posted this. I'm wearing...I wish you hadn't posted this. I'm wearing Reeboks, and I feel my foot going numb...<br /><br />You might decide to answer this in some future post, but if Ex had had a job where you would have seen him seven days a week, do you think the marriage would have worked out? The differences between you two seem kind of minor.Kirkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02155991693956178030noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195616894993495285.post-21606540613585994002010-04-16T08:04:25.034-07:002010-04-16T08:04:25.034-07:00@ Kass-erole ~ Fortunately we made a good living i...@ Kass-erole ~ Fortunately we made a good living in those days. And shitty sneakers probably cost more today than good ones did then. Miami Vice kicks, indeed! Ex also sometimes did the pastel T-shirt with a sport jacket thing a la Don Johnson. Yeah ~ I like the 80s. The 60s were profound and the 70s were embarrassing. The 80s were fun and quirky.Leslie Morganhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15702472429383639709noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7195616894993495285.post-66891808534077303762010-04-15T20:13:02.322-07:002010-04-15T20:13:02.322-07:00What a great story. I'm trying not to obsess a...What a great story. I'm trying not to obsess about how expensive those shoes were and how horrible it must have been to see them get cut up. Ghostbusters is a funky good song. Weren't the 80's great?Kasshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05233330248952156754noreply@blogger.com