My friend and once classmate, Susan Issacs, has written a book called Angry Conversations With God. And I can't wait to read it. I loved it the minute I opened the box from Amazon.com It looks snarky and funny! And I love that word, snarky. I don't even know what it means. I don't even want to know. I just want to hear it and believe it's kind of tongue in cheek humor, or dry and witty humor, or it's a kind of alien humor, you know, those Snarks. I love the Snarks. But they use this word to describe Susan's humor in the book and I'd have to say that they are right.
Susan's hilarious. She's got this uncanny ability to play the deadpan around her witty looks at life and religion. I've seen many of her performances and work based on the work that she presents in this ACWG and it always makes me laugh and think.
I've had many ACWG and I think that's okay. I think he can take it, after all he's omniscient right, so he knew it was coming and he knows when it will end. How are we supposed to take all this suffering that this life is about so we can become better people. He set up the system so why shouldn't he hear about it every now and then. It's good to let it out and I think he likes it as whenever we are severely challenged by something in our lives it means we are getting closer to another level and or change.
I've let him have it over my career many times and the way he's kept me almost getting what I want. Due to this struggle I've managed to rack up many film and television roles, a slew of commercials, and write my most exciting project to date, my One Person Show, Loveswell. Loveswell opens May 1st for it's Hollywood Premiere at the prestigious Hudson Theatre. I also got married and had a baby with my wife actress Christie Lynn Smith. These two women are the loves of my life and if it hadn't been for challenges in my life they would not exist to me as I know them.
I wanted to be a pro surfer but my Dad nixed that with the ole', "What is a trophy on the wall going to do for you? How will you pay the rent? How will you feed your family?" So I stalled and didn't move forward. I kept surfing but not competing. I had no real role model at that time but I did have acting and acting had me. It found me in the way of a well known acting teacher, Kathryn Laughlin, who took me under her wing to get me into class and on my way to LA. If I hadn't taken her seminar when I graduated college as a result of not wanting to become an advertising exec, I would of never met my wife who as an actress, living in the same town, Jacksonville, Florida, called me to ask, "I hear that you drive down to Tampa to take Kathy's class. Do you think I could ride with you sometime?" Of course I said and the rest is history.
Now married 11 years almost and a 1 year old baby. I look back and think wow if I had had it easy I'd never be surrounded in the love I am now. If we hadn't admired each other's acting and friendship right away. If the long drive, 3 1/2 hours each way from Jacksonville to Tampa, had been shorter, maybe Christie wouldn't of ridden with me. Then we wouldn't of become great friends. Then when I moved to California, I wouldn't of asked her to be my roommate, which I did and we were for 3 years, just as friends. Then as I was ultimately fed up with her being my roommate and looking for my own place - I was always having ACWG at this time as she never cleaned a thing always frustrating me, pushing me to get my own place - she booked a job that would take her away for a soap opera for a year. If that hadn't happened then I wouldn't of been so introspective about what I really wanted that year and thus when she came back I might not of saw her in a new light and asked her to be my girlfriend and lover, then wife.
Now with a baby and 11 years almost under our belt. I'm happiest when I'm wrapped up in her love. I can't imagine it any other way. And all the ACWG's I had - why did you put me with her? Why bring her into my life? Why doesn't she clean a thing? This is ridiculous! God must of just been laughing knowing she and I were meant to be.
Ultimately he knows and has to have the last laugh at all of us trying to figure out and make sense of this world of half knowledge and truths. I can't wait to see how Susan brought together all her stories into what is ACWG. Just the cover makes me laugh. I'll let you know how it goes.
Best, John
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
I want to be...
Kissing my wife, making out with her, holding her, lying naked with her, feeling her body, making love. I want to hold her hand and lie in a hammock together or walk around the street. I want to hear those words, I miss you. You are handsome. I want you.
I'm staring over at my wife and seeing those sweet little delicious lips dissecting the day, but I'm only thinking how my lips would feel pressed up against hers. I hope she doesn't quiz me as she does sometimes. Are you listening? Yes. What did I just say? I usually make something up here based on the couple of words I did hear, or I just am silent. Either way she gets upset.
But now it doesn't matter, I yearn for her. But with a mountain of stuff between her and I on this kitchen table, how could we ever come together. I wish we could be in a movie for a while where we throw everything off the table, reaching and grabbing for each other, dying to make love. The way it was the night I asked her to be my girlfriend, on the beach, in the mouth of that cave in LaJolla, San Diego, the ocean lapping up against our feet in celebration of her saying yes.
Now it's a baby highchair and a baby reaching up for me. Abby wants me to hold her and she's pretty upset about it as an eleventh month old can be. On the table sits my lunch, on top of scripts and notes for my current show, Loveswell, bills, junk mail, an alarm clock, a camera, an organizer, a box of pasta, The Baby Book, and a half dozen other things collaging up my eating space and creating a list of to dos that's keeping me from those lips on my wife.
I pick up Abby. She reaches for my lunch as I pull her away. Christie hands me a green bean and I destring and nibble off a tiny bit, then playfully poke my tongue out at my daughter, the been dangling off. As usual she would reach up and take off the bean with her fingers, but she must of been hungry, she leaned in and mouthed it off my tongue before I even knew what happened.
It was one of the sweetest things she's done, so innocent, so wanting the food and seeing it there just went for it. My wife sighed, Oh, that's so sweet, she french kissed you. Don't say that. No, no, I'm kidding, that was so sweet. Oh, she's so cute. Everyday my daughter endears herself to us in some new way that blows our minds. This was one more on the list.
But part of me thought, I wonder if that would work on Christie? Maybe if I chewed up her food on her plate and sat close enough to her on the other side of this messy table, maybe she'd just go for me, if at least just to eat her dinner. I want to french kiss my wife.
The days just get so busy now, having a kid, working on shows, writing a play, auditioning, working, working out, cooking food, doing chores, and it's all so exhausting that I'm looking for her at the end of the day, only when I find my wife, we both just want to crash.
I want to be...hmmmm...so much.
I'm staring over at my wife and seeing those sweet little delicious lips dissecting the day, but I'm only thinking how my lips would feel pressed up against hers. I hope she doesn't quiz me as she does sometimes. Are you listening? Yes. What did I just say? I usually make something up here based on the couple of words I did hear, or I just am silent. Either way she gets upset.
But now it doesn't matter, I yearn for her. But with a mountain of stuff between her and I on this kitchen table, how could we ever come together. I wish we could be in a movie for a while where we throw everything off the table, reaching and grabbing for each other, dying to make love. The way it was the night I asked her to be my girlfriend, on the beach, in the mouth of that cave in LaJolla, San Diego, the ocean lapping up against our feet in celebration of her saying yes.
Now it's a baby highchair and a baby reaching up for me. Abby wants me to hold her and she's pretty upset about it as an eleventh month old can be. On the table sits my lunch, on top of scripts and notes for my current show, Loveswell, bills, junk mail, an alarm clock, a camera, an organizer, a box of pasta, The Baby Book, and a half dozen other things collaging up my eating space and creating a list of to dos that's keeping me from those lips on my wife.
I pick up Abby. She reaches for my lunch as I pull her away. Christie hands me a green bean and I destring and nibble off a tiny bit, then playfully poke my tongue out at my daughter, the been dangling off. As usual she would reach up and take off the bean with her fingers, but she must of been hungry, she leaned in and mouthed it off my tongue before I even knew what happened.
It was one of the sweetest things she's done, so innocent, so wanting the food and seeing it there just went for it. My wife sighed, Oh, that's so sweet, she french kissed you. Don't say that. No, no, I'm kidding, that was so sweet. Oh, she's so cute. Everyday my daughter endears herself to us in some new way that blows our minds. This was one more on the list.
But part of me thought, I wonder if that would work on Christie? Maybe if I chewed up her food on her plate and sat close enough to her on the other side of this messy table, maybe she'd just go for me, if at least just to eat her dinner. I want to french kiss my wife.
The days just get so busy now, having a kid, working on shows, writing a play, auditioning, working, working out, cooking food, doing chores, and it's all so exhausting that I'm looking for her at the end of the day, only when I find my wife, we both just want to crash.
I want to be...hmmmm...so much.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Fun Developments for Loveswell
Have to blog about a great recent development for my one person show, Loveswell. In developing the material I tried out using surfing and the ocean as a backdrop, for metaphors, for my relationship. Loveswell is about relationship, but uses surfing and the ocean in a way that anyone can relate. And people really loved it, thus I had confidence in using it in the show.
This run starting May 1st at the Hudson Theatre here in LA, Loveswell will have the privilege of having famed surf artist, Meegan Feori, along for the ride. I had the instinct when I first saw her work on a site online. One of the first paintings I saw was Night Flyin Femlin and I was immediately taken.
All of Meegan's paintings share the ocean and surfing in a way that anyone can enjoy. It's not in the flashy maneuvers that surfing can easily take on, only appealing to surfers, but it's in her representations of the ocean as a playful place, of a connection place, of a meaningful place where we, as man or woman, share time bathing in the beauty of one of our most important natural worlds, the ocean.
As she says, “I am a bella niña bruja ocean-loving dreamer compelled to create what my heart and mind envision. While my work represents surfing, it is not exclusive to surfing. It transcends the act of surfing becoming a visual representation of human emotion and experience.”
After talking and meeting with Meegan recently at The Hudson Theatre on Santa Monica Blvd, in LA, she happily agreed to have a showing of her work coinciding with our Loveswell run. Then I had the idea to ask her to paint the set and use her own colors and interpretive talent to create the world where Loveswell will take place. And Meegan said yes.
So Loveswell is proud to bring Meegan aboard for what will be a wonderful and fun run of Loveswell, my one person show about a man fighting for his relationship through the ups and downs of marriage as seen through the eyes of a surfer.
Hope you can make it down to see both of these fabulous works. www.loveswell.com
This run starting May 1st at the Hudson Theatre here in LA, Loveswell will have the privilege of having famed surf artist, Meegan Feori, along for the ride. I had the instinct when I first saw her work on a site online. One of the first paintings I saw was Night Flyin Femlin and I was immediately taken.
All of Meegan's paintings share the ocean and surfing in a way that anyone can enjoy. It's not in the flashy maneuvers that surfing can easily take on, only appealing to surfers, but it's in her representations of the ocean as a playful place, of a connection place, of a meaningful place where we, as man or woman, share time bathing in the beauty of one of our most important natural worlds, the ocean.
As she says, “I am a bella niña bruja ocean-loving dreamer compelled to create what my heart and mind envision. While my work represents surfing, it is not exclusive to surfing. It transcends the act of surfing becoming a visual representation of human emotion and experience.”
After talking and meeting with Meegan recently at The Hudson Theatre on Santa Monica Blvd, in LA, she happily agreed to have a showing of her work coinciding with our Loveswell run. Then I had the idea to ask her to paint the set and use her own colors and interpretive talent to create the world where Loveswell will take place. And Meegan said yes.
So Loveswell is proud to bring Meegan aboard for what will be a wonderful and fun run of Loveswell, my one person show about a man fighting for his relationship through the ups and downs of marriage as seen through the eyes of a surfer.
Hope you can make it down to see both of these fabulous works. www.loveswell.com
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Writing Loveswell
Hey John Fortson here. I'm back to blogging. Thought it would be fun as my One Person Show Loveswell is hitting the stage soon.
Someone asked me why I wrote Loveswell today. My one person show. It's not a new question but one that gets refined everytime I answer it.
I simply had to do it. I suppose like most writers, creators of things, these ideas come to you as if you were an antenna. Loveswell, sat in me for almost 10 years in another form, as another story. After a series of dead ends, I heard these bits and pieces of the story bumping around inside of me and finally had to listen. I've been very interested and challenged by the relationships in my life, with my relationship with even myself and so through my acting and my writing, Loveswell came to be.
The hilariously uplifting story of a man fighting for his relationship through the ups and downs of marriage as seen through the eyes of a surfer. It's a story about relationship, about grey areas of life, about all of us. Through telling our stories we all connect no matter how personal.
People said of Loveswell, "I felt as if I was at an intimate dinner party with you and found out things I never knew." I say to that I'm not embarrassed or ashamed to tell the things I feel insecure about because we all feel the same. We all have the same lives, just yours is in a different state and you go by a different name, but we are all the same.
I'm excited to share Loveswell again. It's been so fun to work with my director, Terrie Silverman again. To improv and dig deep to find the gold of stories lying beneath my skin. I look forward to Loveswell hitting the Hudson Theatre, here in Los Angeles, May 1st-June 7th.
Take care, John
Someone asked me why I wrote Loveswell today. My one person show. It's not a new question but one that gets refined everytime I answer it.
I simply had to do it. I suppose like most writers, creators of things, these ideas come to you as if you were an antenna. Loveswell, sat in me for almost 10 years in another form, as another story. After a series of dead ends, I heard these bits and pieces of the story bumping around inside of me and finally had to listen. I've been very interested and challenged by the relationships in my life, with my relationship with even myself and so through my acting and my writing, Loveswell came to be.
The hilariously uplifting story of a man fighting for his relationship through the ups and downs of marriage as seen through the eyes of a surfer. It's a story about relationship, about grey areas of life, about all of us. Through telling our stories we all connect no matter how personal.
People said of Loveswell, "I felt as if I was at an intimate dinner party with you and found out things I never knew." I say to that I'm not embarrassed or ashamed to tell the things I feel insecure about because we all feel the same. We all have the same lives, just yours is in a different state and you go by a different name, but we are all the same.
I'm excited to share Loveswell again. It's been so fun to work with my director, Terrie Silverman again. To improv and dig deep to find the gold of stories lying beneath my skin. I look forward to Loveswell hitting the Hudson Theatre, here in Los Angeles, May 1st-June 7th.
Take care, John
Monday, August 11, 2008
Director Terrie Silverman Coming Back On Board
Hi all. I'm excited to say that my director, Terrie Silverman, was happy to come back on board to direct the second installment of LOVESWELL, my critically acclaimed and audience loved one person 
show.
Director Terrie Silverman is an amazing artist, storyteller, teacher and director. Writing, play writing, performance art, she is an extremely dedicated visionary who works intimately and intricately to bring out every pearl of a story. She's able to bring humor and see the big picture as a director, always putting the show first, the journey of the audience. I so look forward to working together again. You can find out more about Terrie and what she does at http://www.creativerites.com/
This time Loveswell will be put up in Hollywood and we are currently looking for just the right theatre in which to do this. And we are looking at putting the show up sometime toward the end of March 2009. So lots of fun work to do.
Again Loveswell will dedicate all earnings and work to raise awareness for charitable causes. Last time we raised awareness to thousands of people for The Surfrider Foundation and The Roy and Patricia Disney Cancer Center in Burbank, California.
Again I look forward to working with The Surfrider Foundation. They work so hard not just for surfers and the waves, but for all our beaches around the world and the health of our oceans and everyone who loves the ocean.
The second charity I'll be teaming up with hasn't been decided yet, but I'll let you know as we'll make an announcement as the show gets closer.
Loveswell was a great success with over 400 people coming to enjoy the show during it's run. The greatest thing was that it truly sparked conversation about what relationships are all about, what it takes to maintain one, and what people would put up with, not put up with, and how they deal with each other. That was my greatest satisfaction.
What will you say? I can't wait to hear what you will say when you see Loveswell. Here I'll be posting reviews, quotes, and conversations about Loveswell and the run. So come to the show, support a great cause and let's hear what you have to say.
Loveswell is about man's view of how to make his relationship work through all the ups and downs of marriage as seen through the eyes of a surfer. It's hilariously, nakedly, honest. Is that a word, nakedly - it is now. If you've ever been in a relationship and who hasn't then you'll love the show.
It's exciting for me and scary at the same time, just as it was the first run, just as it was the first day I sat down to write, Loveswell, just as it was walking into Terrie's workshop for the first time, as it was calling Terrie and announcing my intentions. But a year and a half after that phone call I was on stage in a critically acclaimed show that I had written and in which I was starring. So I set out tonight on this journey again, knowing that if there is a degree of fear I'm heading in the right direction.
Find out more at http://www.loveswell.com/ and the site is constantly being updated so hang in there if the info reflects the first run.
Best John
show.Director Terrie Silverman is an amazing artist, storyteller, teacher and director. Writing, play writing, performance art, she is an extremely dedicated visionary who works intimately and intricately to bring out every pearl of a story. She's able to bring humor and see the big picture as a director, always putting the show first, the journey of the audience. I so look forward to working together again. You can find out more about Terrie and what she does at http://www.creativerites.com/
This time Loveswell will be put up in Hollywood and we are currently looking for just the right theatre in which to do this. And we are looking at putting the show up sometime toward the end of March 2009. So lots of fun work to do.
Again Loveswell will dedicate all earnings and work to raise awareness for charitable causes. Last time we raised awareness to thousands of people for The Surfrider Foundation and The Roy and Patricia Disney Cancer Center in Burbank, California.
Again I look forward to working with The Surfrider Foundation. They work so hard not just for surfers and the waves, but for all our beaches around the world and the health of our oceans and everyone who loves the ocean.
The second charity I'll be teaming up with hasn't been decided yet, but I'll let you know as we'll make an announcement as the show gets closer.
Loveswell was a great success with over 400 people coming to enjoy the show during it's run. The greatest thing was that it truly sparked conversation about what relationships are all about, what it takes to maintain one, and what people would put up with, not put up with, and how they deal with each other. That was my greatest satisfaction.
What will you say? I can't wait to hear what you will say when you see Loveswell. Here I'll be posting reviews, quotes, and conversations about Loveswell and the run. So come to the show, support a great cause and let's hear what you have to say.
Loveswell is about man's view of how to make his relationship work through all the ups and downs of marriage as seen through the eyes of a surfer. It's hilariously, nakedly, honest. Is that a word, nakedly - it is now. If you've ever been in a relationship and who hasn't then you'll love the show.
It's exciting for me and scary at the same time, just as it was the first run, just as it was the first day I sat down to write, Loveswell, just as it was walking into Terrie's workshop for the first time, as it was calling Terrie and announcing my intentions. But a year and a half after that phone call I was on stage in a critically acclaimed show that I had written and in which I was starring. So I set out tonight on this journey again, knowing that if there is a degree of fear I'm heading in the right direction.
Find out more at http://www.loveswell.com/ and the site is constantly being updated so hang in there if the info reflects the first run.
Best John
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Looking forward to blogging
I've been missing writing, constantly working on my feature script, Loveswell of late. So I am writing, but not the daily bloggy stuff I set this up to do. Having a baby four months ago has added to that as well.
Life seems to be such a tear. I would be so happy just being with my baby and my wife if there weren't this whole making money and even worse freedom to work towards a passion and career that I want to work toward. Because that's what I've got reeling in the back of my head everyday. I need to write, I have to get my new reel together, I have to submit headshots, I have to go for a run, I need to work out, I have to put in new sprinklers, I have to put the gutters up on the house, I have to get my office together, I have to make phone calls, I have to go to work.
These things seem to run up my spine and make my body tremble with angst as I hear my baby cry again and I sigh having to get in there to pick her up. Then I look into that little beautiful face of light smiling up at me and I want feel pulled away from it all. I envision lying on a hammock near the beach...forever...with her and my wife, just living...just living.
The indians did it, you know, hang with your wife and baby all day, plant a crop, eat, live, but no I gotta be anything. They thought, we need to find more buffalo, or it's time to migrate to warmer climates or not, or let's go hunting, but not a daily 21st century grind of modern gadgets and made up careers eating away at their being.
I'm up at 1am writing this, home from work, the house is quiet, and it's the only time I have. I feel like I should give up sleeping all together then I would have tons of time to get everything done. But I can't do it. I can for a few days but I start feeling on edge. I get fiesty and angry over stupid things. I just look at the pile of dishes in the sink and could easily just angrily throw them all away, smashing them into the garbage can, as I could clean them. Get it out of me, get out this angst, this modern world and just let me be.
When I'm done here, I'll collapse into bed, but this blog is really just a deterence to not write the real blog I've been thinking about. And I'll find many other things to do to block writing it so that I'll just continue with the angst. No I'll do it. Now that this one is done.
Life seems to be such a tear. I would be so happy just being with my baby and my wife if there weren't this whole making money and even worse freedom to work towards a passion and career that I want to work toward. Because that's what I've got reeling in the back of my head everyday. I need to write, I have to get my new reel together, I have to submit headshots, I have to go for a run, I need to work out, I have to put in new sprinklers, I have to put the gutters up on the house, I have to get my office together, I have to make phone calls, I have to go to work.
These things seem to run up my spine and make my body tremble with angst as I hear my baby cry again and I sigh having to get in there to pick her up. Then I look into that little beautiful face of light smiling up at me and I want feel pulled away from it all. I envision lying on a hammock near the beach...forever...with her and my wife, just living...just living.
The indians did it, you know, hang with your wife and baby all day, plant a crop, eat, live, but no I gotta be anything. They thought, we need to find more buffalo, or it's time to migrate to warmer climates or not, or let's go hunting, but not a daily 21st century grind of modern gadgets and made up careers eating away at their being.
I'm up at 1am writing this, home from work, the house is quiet, and it's the only time I have. I feel like I should give up sleeping all together then I would have tons of time to get everything done. But I can't do it. I can for a few days but I start feeling on edge. I get fiesty and angry over stupid things. I just look at the pile of dishes in the sink and could easily just angrily throw them all away, smashing them into the garbage can, as I could clean them. Get it out of me, get out this angst, this modern world and just let me be.
When I'm done here, I'll collapse into bed, but this blog is really just a deterence to not write the real blog I've been thinking about. And I'll find many other things to do to block writing it so that I'll just continue with the angst. No I'll do it. Now that this one is done.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Pet Me
Pet Me: As Performed for the Comedy Cetral Show Sit n' Spin created by Jill Soloway and Maggie Rowe at the Hudson Theatre in Los Angeles
I know what my wife wants. She wants to be petted. “Pet me. Pet me, pet me to sleep,” she asks. “I can’t sleep.” I open up my right arm as she lifts her pillow up and onto my chest. My arm runs under her pillow bending up at my elbow, then over with my hand to gently pet her forehead. I know how she likes it, because she has told me. “No not like that, not the eyebrows,” she says. “No that’s too fast, this isn’t a race. Soft, don’t rub my skin off. That’s it, that’s right, nice and soft right on my forehead, yes, soft strokes up toward the hair.” My hand strokes and pets her soft skin as quiet hits and she lies there looking foreword to the sleep coming her way.
Does petting work? Yes, and I have found that it actually does feel good on the three occasions she has petted me. Once when I was sick, once when I was trying to nap on the couch, and once when, well, I just give it to her that it has happened one other time. Actually, I don’t know why I don’t get petted more, except that maybe it’s like Valentine’s Day when she gets gifts and dinners and I get her saying, “It’s a girl’s holiday.” Sometimes, I’ll lay next to her, place her hand on my head and move it up and down myself, as if she was one of those wooden back scratchers. When I do, wow, her cool fingers brushing my forehead puts me into a kind of trance. A happy trance where tranquil surrounds my head and all is right and, yes I think I could fall asleep. So I can understand why she wants it, and I don’t mind. I am happy to do it when I am awake and feeling loving, but really I’ve found it to be just a horrible trap.
See, in one scenario, I softly pet her when she is tired, over and over. My arm and hand petting fifty, sixty, seventy times in a row, quietly getting burnt out when all of a sudden I hear loud breathing. Is she asleep, I wonder? That sounds like asleep. So I gently and carefully slow my pettings down until I am just barely touching her head, then I delicately lift up my hand and wait. Is she asleep? She is still breathing hard and hasn’t said anything. But my arm is trapped under her and my hand is frozen in a type of, well, “curling back toward me, suspended in mid air,” position. Not comfortable right? No, not at all and even worse. I know that as soon as I try to just let my arm fall to the bed, which I do as quietly as possible without making any squuking, rubbing sounds like a pillow can make, as soon as it hits the bed, her head will move and “mmmmhhhmmmmmm?” There it was. She said it. “Mmmmmhhmmmm?” Like a whining puppy.
So I put my hand back to work petting her forehead until I hear the breathing start up again, then I slowly stop. With my arm frozen, straight up in the air, trying not to move, I start to think. What can I do? How can I let her sleep and rescue my arm? I think, I’ll just let my arm hang there like a tree until I fall asleep and then I won’t hear the, “mmmmmhhhmmmmm?” and it won’t matter, but I don’t fall asleep at all. Just my arm falls asleep and it hurts as it turns numb. I twist it to wake it up and her head turns and, “mmmmmhhmmmm?” I pet her again and while I send her to dreamtime, I strategize about the next pet-stop. I try to scoot my arm out from underneath the pillow while I am petting her so it will be easy to pull away when she falls asleep. She breathes hard and I slowly stop and as I carefully pull my hand away from the wall, “mmmmmmhmmmmm?” I say, “Christie I can’t pet you anymore, you keep falling asleep, and…” “No I don’t,” she says. “Yes you did,” I say. “I have petted you three different times and you keep falling asleep.” “John, I haven’t fallen asleep,” she barks. “Christie you’re snoring,” I reply. “How can you not be asleep?” She doesn’t answer, then, “mm…” “Honey my arm is going to fall off. I can’t pet you anymore, please get off me!”
I feel bad. I want so bad to fall asleep next to her in some sweet, “movie bed”, laying position, all spooned and smiling, but let’s face it, that’s for the movies. It’s hot, and my arm, I wish I could take it off and throw it on the floor next to my shirt, only to put it back on when I wake up. It’s always in the way. Her hair is tickling and poking my face as I cuddle on her. Then she’ll say, “Get your arm off me.” “What does it weigh? Is it a gorilla arm?” Apparently, all my body parts weigh the same as a gorilla, because they all almost kill her. Oh, except my head. “John, get your head off me,” she’ll say. “What is it a bowling ball head?” So I lay Egyptian style, arms crossed, looking straight up, as if in a coffin. She lies next to me and we try not to touch.
And the other petting situation gone bad is worse than the first. Petting her over and over, stroke, stroke, stroke and sweetly, nicely, quietly heavy breaths are heard as I, yes, I have to fallen asleep and left my heavy gorilla hand sweating up her forehead. My eyes are hitting REM and colors and images are beginning to form as I happily drift off into lala land, “mmmmmhhmmm?” “John, you fell asleep,” she says. Quickly I am pulled back out of the light of dreamland and into reality of her voice. “Pet me, you fell asleep,” she asks. My hand moves up and then down. My eyes shut and my mouth opens and peace covers my face as I begin to breathe hard, falling to sweet sleep. “mmmmmhhhmmmm?” “Huh,” I mutter? I feel her head begging for petting on my chest, like a cat rubbing against your leg, and, “enough,” I think, pushing her over to her side of the bed. “Christie, I am falling asleep and can’t take this anymore,” I say. “Okay, okay,” she says. I lay back down try to reclaim my sleep, but of course now I can’t. I just get to listen to her instantly fall asleep, while I lay there feeling as restless as the undead.
Another petting problem is when I sit on the couch and I really want to take care of her because she isn’t feeling well. I rest her head on my lap and softly pet her. I look down at her sweet, restful face. Quiet, her closed eyes are still and she looks so calm. She’s asleep. I look outside at the birds; I look to the TV, then to the TV remote, but the noise. I look at the magazine….just out of reach. I look back to her head and think, how I could move it without her knowing. But I just can’t. I am bored stiff, she is asleep, and I am trapped sitting on the couch.
You see, these petting traps have made me a more aware man, a man who thinks ahead, who is more patient, a man who can say NO, sometimes. I mean, I always want to make her feel good, but if I am tired, she ain’t getting petted. If I’m falling asleep, I’m sorry honey you can, “mmmmhhmmmm?” all you want, but I’m going to sleep. I now ask myself how tired I am, then decide whether I can pet or not. If that’s what she wants and I feel good, then bring it on. I will pet her like my little lion cub, but if not, she is going to have to count sheep and bring visions of sugarplums dancing into her own head.
I know what my wife wants. She wants to be petted. “Pet me. Pet me, pet me to sleep,” she asks. “I can’t sleep.” I open up my right arm as she lifts her pillow up and onto my chest. My arm runs under her pillow bending up at my elbow, then over with my hand to gently pet her forehead. I know how she likes it, because she has told me. “No not like that, not the eyebrows,” she says. “No that’s too fast, this isn’t a race. Soft, don’t rub my skin off. That’s it, that’s right, nice and soft right on my forehead, yes, soft strokes up toward the hair.” My hand strokes and pets her soft skin as quiet hits and she lies there looking foreword to the sleep coming her way.
Does petting work? Yes, and I have found that it actually does feel good on the three occasions she has petted me. Once when I was sick, once when I was trying to nap on the couch, and once when, well, I just give it to her that it has happened one other time. Actually, I don’t know why I don’t get petted more, except that maybe it’s like Valentine’s Day when she gets gifts and dinners and I get her saying, “It’s a girl’s holiday.” Sometimes, I’ll lay next to her, place her hand on my head and move it up and down myself, as if she was one of those wooden back scratchers. When I do, wow, her cool fingers brushing my forehead puts me into a kind of trance. A happy trance where tranquil surrounds my head and all is right and, yes I think I could fall asleep. So I can understand why she wants it, and I don’t mind. I am happy to do it when I am awake and feeling loving, but really I’ve found it to be just a horrible trap.
See, in one scenario, I softly pet her when she is tired, over and over. My arm and hand petting fifty, sixty, seventy times in a row, quietly getting burnt out when all of a sudden I hear loud breathing. Is she asleep, I wonder? That sounds like asleep. So I gently and carefully slow my pettings down until I am just barely touching her head, then I delicately lift up my hand and wait. Is she asleep? She is still breathing hard and hasn’t said anything. But my arm is trapped under her and my hand is frozen in a type of, well, “curling back toward me, suspended in mid air,” position. Not comfortable right? No, not at all and even worse. I know that as soon as I try to just let my arm fall to the bed, which I do as quietly as possible without making any squuking, rubbing sounds like a pillow can make, as soon as it hits the bed, her head will move and “mmmmhhhmmmmmm?” There it was. She said it. “Mmmmmhhmmmm?” Like a whining puppy.
So I put my hand back to work petting her forehead until I hear the breathing start up again, then I slowly stop. With my arm frozen, straight up in the air, trying not to move, I start to think. What can I do? How can I let her sleep and rescue my arm? I think, I’ll just let my arm hang there like a tree until I fall asleep and then I won’t hear the, “mmmmmhhhmmmmm?” and it won’t matter, but I don’t fall asleep at all. Just my arm falls asleep and it hurts as it turns numb. I twist it to wake it up and her head turns and, “mmmmmhhmmmm?” I pet her again and while I send her to dreamtime, I strategize about the next pet-stop. I try to scoot my arm out from underneath the pillow while I am petting her so it will be easy to pull away when she falls asleep. She breathes hard and I slowly stop and as I carefully pull my hand away from the wall, “mmmmmmhmmmmm?” I say, “Christie I can’t pet you anymore, you keep falling asleep, and…” “No I don’t,” she says. “Yes you did,” I say. “I have petted you three different times and you keep falling asleep.” “John, I haven’t fallen asleep,” she barks. “Christie you’re snoring,” I reply. “How can you not be asleep?” She doesn’t answer, then, “mm…” “Honey my arm is going to fall off. I can’t pet you anymore, please get off me!”
I feel bad. I want so bad to fall asleep next to her in some sweet, “movie bed”, laying position, all spooned and smiling, but let’s face it, that’s for the movies. It’s hot, and my arm, I wish I could take it off and throw it on the floor next to my shirt, only to put it back on when I wake up. It’s always in the way. Her hair is tickling and poking my face as I cuddle on her. Then she’ll say, “Get your arm off me.” “What does it weigh? Is it a gorilla arm?” Apparently, all my body parts weigh the same as a gorilla, because they all almost kill her. Oh, except my head. “John, get your head off me,” she’ll say. “What is it a bowling ball head?” So I lay Egyptian style, arms crossed, looking straight up, as if in a coffin. She lies next to me and we try not to touch.
And the other petting situation gone bad is worse than the first. Petting her over and over, stroke, stroke, stroke and sweetly, nicely, quietly heavy breaths are heard as I, yes, I have to fallen asleep and left my heavy gorilla hand sweating up her forehead. My eyes are hitting REM and colors and images are beginning to form as I happily drift off into lala land, “mmmmmhhmmm?” “John, you fell asleep,” she says. Quickly I am pulled back out of the light of dreamland and into reality of her voice. “Pet me, you fell asleep,” she asks. My hand moves up and then down. My eyes shut and my mouth opens and peace covers my face as I begin to breathe hard, falling to sweet sleep. “mmmmmhhhmmmm?” “Huh,” I mutter? I feel her head begging for petting on my chest, like a cat rubbing against your leg, and, “enough,” I think, pushing her over to her side of the bed. “Christie, I am falling asleep and can’t take this anymore,” I say. “Okay, okay,” she says. I lay back down try to reclaim my sleep, but of course now I can’t. I just get to listen to her instantly fall asleep, while I lay there feeling as restless as the undead.
Another petting problem is when I sit on the couch and I really want to take care of her because she isn’t feeling well. I rest her head on my lap and softly pet her. I look down at her sweet, restful face. Quiet, her closed eyes are still and she looks so calm. She’s asleep. I look outside at the birds; I look to the TV, then to the TV remote, but the noise. I look at the magazine….just out of reach. I look back to her head and think, how I could move it without her knowing. But I just can’t. I am bored stiff, she is asleep, and I am trapped sitting on the couch.
You see, these petting traps have made me a more aware man, a man who thinks ahead, who is more patient, a man who can say NO, sometimes. I mean, I always want to make her feel good, but if I am tired, she ain’t getting petted. If I’m falling asleep, I’m sorry honey you can, “mmmmhhmmmm?” all you want, but I’m going to sleep. I now ask myself how tired I am, then decide whether I can pet or not. If that’s what she wants and I feel good, then bring it on. I will pet her like my little lion cub, but if not, she is going to have to count sheep and bring visions of sugarplums dancing into her own head.
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