Old Men Ought To Be Explorers

Has spring yet to visit the the wonderful, wet forests of the Pacific Northwest? It has come here, or so it would seem, giving the days a warmth and a brightness that is very welcome. On Sunday Sasha and I did our kata out in the back yard for nearly two hours. I was wearing just shorts and the sun on my back felt so good.

I've been wondering around in some very delightful intellectual spaces: big fun. I've been trying to make some positive changes in my life. I really do feel like an alcoholic trying to get sober. The stuff at work that I had been increasing my focus on (technical marketing) is seeming very wrong for me. I have some ideas about what propelled me in that direction. And it just seems to me that I don't really want to cultivate that in my life.

Perhaps I wish that I could find a better happiness in my marriage. Wouldn't that be nice. The unhappiness that I have in my marriage is complex and defies any simple explanation. I don't even really get what the problem is. I'm just not happy here. Even though part of me really believes that I should be. I feel like I'm enduring this marriage. And, perhaps, that is natural and one ought to be able to endure something like a marriage because that is required at times. But part of me doesn't like to endure things at all. Life is too short. And I dream. And I can imagine being with a woman I love in the "Sacrad Marriage" or "Heiros Gamos". So I'm a little caught between two different philosophies.

You know when you think of enduring things you tend to think of things like concentration camps, illnesses or at least very bad weather. What I have to endure is this: a caring, dedicated mother for my children, energetic beauty with enjoyable passion, wonderful healthy food cooked just the way I like. I'm just not sure how much more of it I can take. In all honesty, something is wrong. I just can't seem to figure out what it is.

Am I going to be one of these old men spending every available ounce of energy and character making whatever money, fame, or intellectual curiosity will keep him in fresh supply of 23 year old women? I hope that the good lord will have enough pity (or might I have the character???) to save me from that. I am not one of the Clinton haters, far from it, but I do see the damage that his behavior has done to the quality of his life (his daughter's, his family's).

I have been dating two 23 year old women. I haven't slept with either of them. But I've been going to restaurants every week with them (seperately) and having very fun, very vibrant and lively conversations. Last week L and I began kissing in the car and then talking about whether or not we wanted to "complicate our lives". From my perspective now it just seems so sad and shallow. I felt no need to explain to her that my life was already way too complicated and that being with her was a refuge from that complexity.

With both of these relationships we have what is essentially pornographic, i.e., something which has all the flavor of reality, but has non of the things that makes reality worthwhile. They are empty of meaning. And for me the problem is that these things have an incredibly powerful draw. I feel sometimes like a heroin addict must feel: I don't want to do it, I wish I didn't do it, when I'm done doing it I hate myself, and, of course, I do it again.

I don't mind things that are addictive if they are not destructive and destructive things when they are not addictive. Things which are addictive and destructive worry me. To me it seems like this my own emptyness (my inability to see, touch, something real inside of myself) drives me toward these things. I don't know if it is the emptyness itself which makes these things addictive. I suppose it must be.

What makes them so destructive (the root of their insidiousness) is the vicious way they attack your decision making process. Like the geezer in the sports car. Pathetic old fart trying to appeal to young women. Pouring resources into pornographic persuits. I am finding myself slipping into that. Making big decisions about my life's direction based on how attractive it makes me to young women. That's what this whole direction at work has been about. Doing that kind of work, bragging about the meetings, conferences, shows, dinners, parties, do, in fact, seem to impress some women. The satisfaction of that lust was compelling and pushed me hard in that direction.

The mysterious tragedy here is that with respect to my wife there is no remorse. The remorse begins with my children. When I show affection for my wife the faces of my children reflect a joy and security not found in the affection itself. And Wendy, I can't let myself take that away from them. Especially since I don't know what's wrong. It's not like I can't get along with my wife. If I couldn't it would be simple: divorce and everyone deals with it. I seem caught in a land of shadows where something is most definately wrong, but I just can't grasp it.

The (temporary) solution that I've come up with is this: 1) romance with 23 year old women is not interesting, even if I was single. 2) turning my carrer into new red sports car for a pathetic old fart is idiocy, and, most importantly, 3) the most important

The night before had been a mixture of pleasure and pain. Not that either was all that intense. I might even say that it was more a mixuture of pleasant distraction and minor irritation. We went to Masha's birthday party at the Boulder Broker. There were some people I didn't know there. There tend to be few Americans who speak Russian and even fewer who speak it well. At a party full of Russians it can be very impressive. And there's nothing like being able to be very impressive to a very beautiful 23 year old woman. Which was the case on Saturday. So there I was playing the role of some Mr. Smarty Pants and probably impressing myself a lot more than her. But she was quite smitten. Natalya was enjoying herself dancing with a number of other people. It seemed to me that we were both having a good time.

As we were getting ready to go home Lena, the pretty 23 year old, wanted my phone number. She wanted to send me her rusume so that I could forward it on to the people in marketing department.

When I was at the Supreme Court in North Carolina there was