Tales from the Steppes

2005-04-29

11:01 a.m.
Here name was Lola, She was a showgirl

I had a major fuck up yesterday that was not large enough to cause the ending of the world but pretty damn close. Apparently. I fell asleep yesterday afternoon and awoke to a telephone call from hte school secretary saying that my daughter had been waiting for half an hour for me to pick her up and take her to her therapist's appointment. Which started in 5 minutes. The traffic gods were with me and she was only 20 minutes late. Or $75 worth of therapy. I had called en route so the therapist knew the situation and was not calling me. The EM appeared ok with this and made fewer than expected recriminating remarks. I suspect she was just happy to be leaving school.

I do not usually do the therapist gig on Thursdays, leaving that one to the SU. I went the first couple of times and sat in the office with my daughter as she talked to the doctor and got to know her, so sitting in the waiting room was a new experience for me. I had brought my own book so I was pretty much set but out of curiousity I went over and checked out the bookcase. Because that is what one does when confronted with a new bookcase or cd rack. To hell with what is in your medicine chest - let me see what is on your shelves.

In this case, it was self-help books galore. Maybe not self-help exactly but definitely of the "Dance of Intimacy" variety. Ugh. This would explain why the SU has been remarking on topics like what happens when an INTP marries an INTJ and career options for INTJs. Now the Myers-Briggs is the only test of that ilk I have ever had any use for, probably because it described an aspect of me better than I am comfortable with. But the take-home message I got from it is fairly simple: don't be such an arrogant asshole. Perhaps worded more elegantly but that would be the crux if one were to think proactively. It isn't quite a whole book's worth. Regardless whether I pay any attention or not.

Disclaimer: If you have ever read a self-help book and it has done something for you, then I am happy for you. And I am not talking about that book then. It is all of the other ones I am referring to.

I personally have a pet peeve about the proliferation of self-help books. Are we really so bad that we need a book to help us? Ok, none of us are perfect. Not even close to perfect. And that is ok. It's just not that big a deal. If you have an issue, think about it, deal with it, talk to a friend about it, don't bother with a stupid book. The book does not know you, your friend does.

It really says something about our culture that the self-help section is bigger than the poetry section in most bookstores.

Now, the SU is a believer and reader of these books. I have spent a long time perfecting the art of making caring noises when he starts telling me about what he has read, without actually listening to what he is saying with more than a quarter of my brain. I know, I am such a bitch. But really, there is just a limit to what I am capable of caring about. So we actually own a bunch of these books, which greatly embarasses me. It's like having a Barry Manilow cd prominently displayed. Or KC and the Sunshine Band. Do a little dance. Make a little love. Get down tonight. Woo! While it might suck as a song, as far as philosophies go, I've heard worse. I am sure I have books that he feels the same way about. But I have a plan.

We own too much stuff for our smaller house. We have an entire storage cube stuffed with crap. So we are having a yard sale next month and will divest of some fine furniture, excess books, and outgrown children's stuff. And in those books, I am hoping to include some of the self-help variety, as well as 30 year old textbooks. Don't you need a genetics text that does not cover DNA? I find our copy to be quite useful.