Most people don’t know this, but my wife is a master of persuasion and champion debater. And being a graduate of a state college public speaking class, I am well aware of the tools used against me when we are forced to go toe-to-toe in a verbal sparing match. They are the 3 Greek elements of persuasion, as set forth by Aristotle himself, and I’m sure you will all agree that he was one deep thinking SOB.
The three elements are as follows:
Ethos (Credibility or Ethics) means convincing by the character of the speaker, or persuading by appealing to one’s ethics.
Pathos (Emotional) means persuading by appealing to one’s emotions.
Logos (Logical) means persuading by the use of reasoning.
My wife, like all females, has never tried to use Logos. Before you ladies freak out and blow an ovary, let me say it is not my intention to offend. Females cannot be faulted for this. It’s just that they are born without the part of the brain that produces the logic hormone. We can no more expect them to use logic as we can expect them to pee accurately standing up. They’re just not built that way.
She is also unable to use the element of Pathos. This time however it is not due to a lack, but rather an over production of the element. When she attempts its use, words and noises fly out of her mouth in an uncontrolled barrage of inflammatory nonsense, which undulate in pitch, volume, and intensity. It's like watching one of the mutants, from the X-Men movies, as they first discover their powers and unwittingly cause large amounts of destruction.
As for Ethos, well, she uses it on a very limited basis.
So how can she possibly be a persuasive speaker, you are probably wondering. It is because she has discovered and capitalized on the forth Greek element;
Hyperbolos: persuading by the use of ridiculous exaggeration.
Allow me to illustrate with an excerpt from our most recent debate.
Situation: We are at the local Dell Taco to appease my wife’s “cravings.” This locale is equipped with a play area for kids, which my daughter disappears into the moment we arrive. Halfway through our meal…
Wife: Where’s Maggie?
Me: She’s playing.
Wife: Where? I can’t see her. Can you see her?
Me: She in one of those tubes. She’s fine.
Wife: Go find her.
Me: Go find her? Honey, there’s like 50 miles of tubing in there. It could take days. She’ll come out when she gets hungry.
Wife: There’s an outside exit in the play area. How can you be sure she didn’t open the door and run out into the street and is about to get splattered by a giant semi from Hell?
Me: What?
Wife: She’s probably in the back of a windowless van, gagged, bound, drugged, and helpless, with you sitting here stuffing your face, while her captors are forcing her to shoot up heroin and smoke crack and do acid.
Me: That’s a lot of drugs.
Wife: She could be getting high and watching pornography right now.
Me: Huh?
Wife: Maybe she’s in a shipping crate, on her way to war-torn Africa where she’ll be given a gun and forced to participate in the latest ethnic cleansing campaign and kill mindlessly while, simultaneously being forced into a life of child prostitution as the tribe passes her around like some kind of soulless plaything, and pushed to the brink of existence till she is nothing more than an empty shell, a vague memory of the cute, rosy-cheeked girl we once knew and one day, as she teeters on the edge of a monstrous African cliff, before she leaps to her own demise upon the jagged rocks below, she will utter one… last… word.
“DAAAADDYYYYY!!!”
Me: *gulp*
Wife: You’d never be able to forgive yourself. You’ll sit around in a constant state of morbid depression, getting old, fat, ugly, bald, stupid, and retarded. Unmovable. Slug-like, and crapping yourself, like a giant freakish baby. Nothing. You’ll burst into uncontrollable, seizure-like, fits of weeping every time you think about the day you chose a burrito over your own daughter. Hmmph.
And with that last “hmmph,” I was defeated; once again bested by the Queen of Rhetoric. I promptly ran to the play place certain I was too late.
As it turns out, she was only playing on the slide. Not a windowless van in sight.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Born With a Greasy Spoon in His Mouth
If the Burger King married the Dairy Queen and they had a child together, do you think that child would grow up and go into the food service industry or do you think he would pick another field of expertise? Personally, I don't think it's fair to pigeon hole a person into any one area but I also think that he or she would just be wasting the huge resource of knowledge that are his parents. But whatever.
Friday, October 19, 2007
5 Years of Chess
My wife and I are one of those couples of which you hear people say, “If they can make it, anybody can.” Like magnets of a similar polarity our being together defies the laws of nature itself. I used to be jealous of couples who have everything in common and an easy go of marriage; passing the time without contention as all their moments together are filled with an air of pleasant ease. I would ask myself, what are they doing that we are not, to make it seem so easy? My conclusion, nothing; they were just born that way. Some combinations just have to work harder than others. And my feelings about that fact are ambiguous because I have also concluded that our relationship is a great benefit to all contrasting personalities that become entwined in the bonds of matrimony. An observation of our lives provides the observer with an opportunity for growth and education that just can’t be gleaned from those “perfect” couples.
My wife’s sister and her husband, whom we occasionally tease because of how easy AND cheesy their relationship sometimes seems, do not know contention or difficulty and if they did ever have an argument it would sound something like this:
Him: “I love you.”
Her: “I love you more.”
Him: “No, I love you more.”
Her: “No, I love you more.”
Him: “Nuh-uh. I do.”
Her: (affectionately) “Oh honey, I’m sorry for arguing.”
Him: (passionately) “By golly, your peace-making gets me hot.”
(kiss kiss kiss hug hug kiss kiss)
Him: “Go sit down right now! I’m rubbing your feet.”
Her: “Not before I rub yours.”
Not that my wife and I haven’t enjoyed similar exchanges, but ours sounded more like this:
Her: “I love you.”
Me: “I love you more.”
Her: “Yeah, you’re probably right. Now rub my feet!”
Allow me to explain why I’ve been thinking about this.
Before marriage I was one of those idealistic romantics that thought marriage came as a packaged challenge, like a video game, and all people experienced that game at the same level of difficultly. It was supposed to be like Super Mario Brothers on Nintendo. (My choice of metaphor should illustrate how long it’s been since I’ve played video games.) Everyone would have to advance through the same levels to progress to the end and save the princess, which, in this analogy, would represent mastering the art of marriage and never experiencing a hint of trouble again. However, after a few years of marriage and a large amount of interaction with other married couples I learned this is not the case. It is more like playing chess against your computer, but instead of being able to pick which level you wish to begin (beginner, intermediate, or advanced), the computer chooses the level for you.
Let’s stick with this analogy a moment. Once I entered adolescence I began to notice that I liked computers. I knew I liked them but at the same time was fully aware of my incompetence when it came to their inner workings (both hardware and software). I did not understand them and visa versa. Still, I enjoyed being with computers; it felt good. By my mid-twenties I had some limited experience with computers. I used them to type papers for school, checked the occasional email, and searched the net on a very shallow basis. Beyond that I was pretty much computer illiterate. Also, I had always been aware that there were some men out there who were quite well versed in the binary language and some of these men were so familiar with computers that they started playing a game called chess with them. From what they described, chess was a difficult game, but one well worth playing. As it turned out, the levels of success and happiness these men were having at playing their various computers at chess were varied and irregular. Some of them loved the game vowing to never play any other games with any other computers ever again, while some of them didn’t take to the game of chess as well as they thought they might and they gave up and went back to using computers on a limited basis. Some men attempted to trade in their old computers hoping to secure a newer model while they, the men, were still young enough to understand and use new technology. And still some men got angry with their computers claiming their computers were cheating at the game and that it was too hard. “I’ll never play chess again. It costs too much both monetarily and emotionally,” they would say. Some of these men even threw their computers out, and then screamed at them from the window while throwing the computer’s belongings into the street. That said, I was always intrigued with the prospect of one day playing chess with some special computer. And then one day that opportunity presented itself. I had been working with a certain computer for about six months, felt comfortable with it and decided to become a chess player. When I began my game I naïvely thought the computer would start out easy, helping me understand what to do along the way. I told the computer that I wanted to start at the beginner level but to my surprise it said “No. I only play advanced.”
“But I don’t want to play at the advanced level yet. I’m just a beginner.” I explained.
“Well too bad. It’s your own damn fault for asking me to play with you.” It said with finality. And that was that. I was now stuck in a game I barely understood for what was supposed to be forever.
After hearing this analogy some people might say that the energy we’ve had to expend to stay happily married could have been saved had we chosen people more compatible to ourselves in the first place. And to them I say, that it is a moot point since my wife is the girl I fell head-over-heels in love with and when it comes to these types of dilemmas the mind is ill equipped to do battle with the heart. I think our relationship is that much better AND stronger due to the energy we've put into it. Somethings are worth fighting for, and the love of your life should be one of them.
We just celebrated our five-year anniversary this past Friday (Oct. 12th). Wars have been fought, educational degrees have been declared and completed, and hundreds of Hollywood relationships have been born and expired in less time, but it is only the beginning. There will be plenty of time for other young, struggling, passionate couples to look to us and say - “If they can make it, we can too.”
My wife’s sister and her husband, whom we occasionally tease because of how easy AND cheesy their relationship sometimes seems, do not know contention or difficulty and if they did ever have an argument it would sound something like this:
Him: “I love you.”
Her: “I love you more.”
Him: “No, I love you more.”
Her: “No, I love you more.”
Him: “Nuh-uh. I do.”
Her: (affectionately) “Oh honey, I’m sorry for arguing.”
Him: (passionately) “By golly, your peace-making gets me hot.”
(kiss kiss kiss hug hug kiss kiss)
Him: “Go sit down right now! I’m rubbing your feet.”
Her: “Not before I rub yours.”
Not that my wife and I haven’t enjoyed similar exchanges, but ours sounded more like this:
Her: “I love you.”
Me: “I love you more.”
Her: “Yeah, you’re probably right. Now rub my feet!”
Allow me to explain why I’ve been thinking about this.
Before marriage I was one of those idealistic romantics that thought marriage came as a packaged challenge, like a video game, and all people experienced that game at the same level of difficultly. It was supposed to be like Super Mario Brothers on Nintendo. (My choice of metaphor should illustrate how long it’s been since I’ve played video games.) Everyone would have to advance through the same levels to progress to the end and save the princess, which, in this analogy, would represent mastering the art of marriage and never experiencing a hint of trouble again. However, after a few years of marriage and a large amount of interaction with other married couples I learned this is not the case. It is more like playing chess against your computer, but instead of being able to pick which level you wish to begin (beginner, intermediate, or advanced), the computer chooses the level for you.
Let’s stick with this analogy a moment. Once I entered adolescence I began to notice that I liked computers. I knew I liked them but at the same time was fully aware of my incompetence when it came to their inner workings (both hardware and software). I did not understand them and visa versa. Still, I enjoyed being with computers; it felt good. By my mid-twenties I had some limited experience with computers. I used them to type papers for school, checked the occasional email, and searched the net on a very shallow basis. Beyond that I was pretty much computer illiterate. Also, I had always been aware that there were some men out there who were quite well versed in the binary language and some of these men were so familiar with computers that they started playing a game called chess with them. From what they described, chess was a difficult game, but one well worth playing. As it turned out, the levels of success and happiness these men were having at playing their various computers at chess were varied and irregular. Some of them loved the game vowing to never play any other games with any other computers ever again, while some of them didn’t take to the game of chess as well as they thought they might and they gave up and went back to using computers on a limited basis. Some men attempted to trade in their old computers hoping to secure a newer model while they, the men, were still young enough to understand and use new technology. And still some men got angry with their computers claiming their computers were cheating at the game and that it was too hard. “I’ll never play chess again. It costs too much both monetarily and emotionally,” they would say. Some of these men even threw their computers out, and then screamed at them from the window while throwing the computer’s belongings into the street. That said, I was always intrigued with the prospect of one day playing chess with some special computer. And then one day that opportunity presented itself. I had been working with a certain computer for about six months, felt comfortable with it and decided to become a chess player. When I began my game I naïvely thought the computer would start out easy, helping me understand what to do along the way. I told the computer that I wanted to start at the beginner level but to my surprise it said “No. I only play advanced.”
“But I don’t want to play at the advanced level yet. I’m just a beginner.” I explained.
“Well too bad. It’s your own damn fault for asking me to play with you.” It said with finality. And that was that. I was now stuck in a game I barely understood for what was supposed to be forever.
After hearing this analogy some people might say that the energy we’ve had to expend to stay happily married could have been saved had we chosen people more compatible to ourselves in the first place. And to them I say, that it is a moot point since my wife is the girl I fell head-over-heels in love with and when it comes to these types of dilemmas the mind is ill equipped to do battle with the heart. I think our relationship is that much better AND stronger due to the energy we've put into it. Somethings are worth fighting for, and the love of your life should be one of them.
We just celebrated our five-year anniversary this past Friday (Oct. 12th). Wars have been fought, educational degrees have been declared and completed, and hundreds of Hollywood relationships have been born and expired in less time, but it is only the beginning. There will be plenty of time for other young, struggling, passionate couples to look to us and say - “If they can make it, we can too.”
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Mom
In the spirit of the holiday I want to write something about my mom. That said, I really feel like It’s hard to write about moms without sounding cliché or like every other guy who thought he had the greatest mom in the world. But I’ve concluded that it doesn’t matter how cliché it comes off because this time I’m saying it about my mom. I’m not going to say everything because I anticipate her being around for many more Mothers Days and if I say it all now I’ll have to spend money next year.
When I was an early adolescent I stopped calling my mom mom and started calling her ma. There was no good reason. It just fell into my vernacular like all other youthful slang does. It became a term of endearment and never said with a country drawl, but with more of a Brooklyn… uh… drawl. Pretty soon my siblings unconsciously caught on and before long mom became ma. As my older brothers grew and started having kids of their own the title was naturally passed on from everyday use but now it sounded appropriate since ma was a natural substitute for grandma.
Ma, the only female in my immediate family, is the unassuming one, the one that wouldn’t stand out if you met us in passing or were privy to a 5 minute exhibition of the family. To me, that is one of the things that is endearing about her; her deceptively diminutive quietness. In passing she would only come off as your average mother. You might never realize that you’ve just met one of God’s finest. A few qualities you would miss; she has a work ethic that is unparalleled in most men and never has a complaint about the time that she has to put in; literally not one lament about under appreciation. You wouldn’t witness family conversations around the dinner table or the campfire and hear her defend those the rest of us may have a certain dislike for, even if they’re real dirt bags. I mean the kind of people that only deserve a “Tanya Harding” to the shins. She is incapable of slander. She is also the slowest to heavy laughter so you may never know of her completely contagious laugh. She attempts jokes the least, but at the most unlikely of times she says something that makes only herself laugh until she attempts to defend her high standard of humor by saying, “now that was funny” which sets everyone off. Once she has started, she usually can’t stop until tears are running or pants are soiled, literally. Once, at a family gathering, chicken races were suggested and all of the sudden she wanted to compete. She awkwardly attempted to mount my father’s shoulders and started laughing so hard that she was unable to tell him she had just urinated down his back. But with or without wet pants her kindness and charity are boundless and her influence in my life, even into my adult years, cannot be measured or repaid.
If you don’t mind, I also want to mention something of my wife, since my kids are still young, and clueless of their responsibility on this holiday. Since I got married I’ve been guilty of saying things men should never say to their wives like, “my mom never… ” or “my mom always…” which I know isn’t fair just like it wouldn’t be fair for my wife to compare me to her father. I would fall short at every measurement. (Except physical height. He’s like a member of the Lollipop Guild.) I have to remind myself that my mother too was young once and is who she is because four boys put her through the refiners fire in young adulthood. My wife isn’t my mom and that’s okay. She is completely unique and I thank God she is mine. She has brought into my life many new qualities and continues to improve on the work, myself, that my mother began years ago. She is different, but when I watch her cradle my son while feeding or read my daughter bedtime stories I have no doubts my kids will someday look at their mother the way I look at mine. I just hope she never has to urinate down my back.
Happy Mothers Day to the two most important women in my life. I love you both.
When I was an early adolescent I stopped calling my mom mom and started calling her ma. There was no good reason. It just fell into my vernacular like all other youthful slang does. It became a term of endearment and never said with a country drawl, but with more of a Brooklyn… uh… drawl. Pretty soon my siblings unconsciously caught on and before long mom became ma. As my older brothers grew and started having kids of their own the title was naturally passed on from everyday use but now it sounded appropriate since ma was a natural substitute for grandma.
Ma, the only female in my immediate family, is the unassuming one, the one that wouldn’t stand out if you met us in passing or were privy to a 5 minute exhibition of the family. To me, that is one of the things that is endearing about her; her deceptively diminutive quietness. In passing she would only come off as your average mother. You might never realize that you’ve just met one of God’s finest. A few qualities you would miss; she has a work ethic that is unparalleled in most men and never has a complaint about the time that she has to put in; literally not one lament about under appreciation. You wouldn’t witness family conversations around the dinner table or the campfire and hear her defend those the rest of us may have a certain dislike for, even if they’re real dirt bags. I mean the kind of people that only deserve a “Tanya Harding” to the shins. She is incapable of slander. She is also the slowest to heavy laughter so you may never know of her completely contagious laugh. She attempts jokes the least, but at the most unlikely of times she says something that makes only herself laugh until she attempts to defend her high standard of humor by saying, “now that was funny” which sets everyone off. Once she has started, she usually can’t stop until tears are running or pants are soiled, literally. Once, at a family gathering, chicken races were suggested and all of the sudden she wanted to compete. She awkwardly attempted to mount my father’s shoulders and started laughing so hard that she was unable to tell him she had just urinated down his back. But with or without wet pants her kindness and charity are boundless and her influence in my life, even into my adult years, cannot be measured or repaid.
If you don’t mind, I also want to mention something of my wife, since my kids are still young, and clueless of their responsibility on this holiday. Since I got married I’ve been guilty of saying things men should never say to their wives like, “my mom never… ” or “my mom always…” which I know isn’t fair just like it wouldn’t be fair for my wife to compare me to her father. I would fall short at every measurement. (Except physical height. He’s like a member of the Lollipop Guild.) I have to remind myself that my mother too was young once and is who she is because four boys put her through the refiners fire in young adulthood. My wife isn’t my mom and that’s okay. She is completely unique and I thank God she is mine. She has brought into my life many new qualities and continues to improve on the work, myself, that my mother began years ago. She is different, but when I watch her cradle my son while feeding or read my daughter bedtime stories I have no doubts my kids will someday look at their mother the way I look at mine. I just hope she never has to urinate down my back.
Happy Mothers Day to the two most important women in my life. I love you both.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Separate Vacations
Recently my wife expressed the desire to take the kids alone to visit her family or on some other excursion without me. I think the conversation came up during or immediately following an argument while her words and actions were still totally dictated by emotion. “It will be more relaxing and fun for me” she said, “I won’t have to constantly be worrying if you are having a good time. I can sit around and talk to my mom all day about babies and glass wares and won’t have to endure your eye rolling, plus it will be easier to take care of the kids with my family around.”
Well, soon after that conversation we were supposed to be in Northern Utah (five hours away) for the wedding of a family friend. I couldn’t go due to work and told her this was the perfect opportunity to test her theory of a better time without me. (No, we are not experiencing marital problems. No more problems than the average marriage between two headstrong people, that is.) The following are samples of phone conversations that took place between when she drove away to when she got back.
Day 1) She called 3 hrs after leaving.
Me: Hello.
Her: Why did we have children?
Me: It’s not going well?
Her: They’re screaming bloody murder and I got a speeding ticket.
Me: How fast were you going.
Her: I WASN’T SPEEDING! THE COP WAS A VINDICTIVE WANKER!
Day 2) Day of the wedding.
Me: Hello.
Her: You could have come if you really wanted to.
Me: How’s the wedding?
Her: Your kid has almost been run over four times now!
Me: So do the bride and groom look happy?
Her: How the crap should I know!? I want to tear the hair out of my head!
Me: I’m sorry they’re being difficult. How’s your family?
Her: What’s with the quiz? Did you call just to give me the third degree?
Me: Honey, you called me.
Her: You can't just let things go, can you?
Day 3) Hanging out with family and friends.
Me: Hello.
Her: I hope you’re happy. (hang up)
Day 4) More family and friends.
Me: Hi sweetie.
Her: You can take sweetie and shove it! I’m getting my tubes tied.
Me: Ok, I’ll make the arrangements.
Her: You would.
Day 5) On the way home, six hours after departure.
Me: Hi honey. Where are you?
Her: Where am I!? I’m only HALF WAY HOME!
Me: What’s taking so long?
Her: Your kids! They’ve got bladders like squirrels and stomachs like elephants! It’s a constant feeding, pooping, peeing, screaming, crying frenzy! I WANT TO RAM HOT REBAR INTO MY SKULL!
Me: I’m sorry. I’ll give you a long back rub when you get home.
(long pause)
Her: Get an adoption agency on the phone, and see if anyone is looking for a pair of siblings.
All in all I think she was quite satisfied with her time away and looks forward to doing it again.
Well, soon after that conversation we were supposed to be in Northern Utah (five hours away) for the wedding of a family friend. I couldn’t go due to work and told her this was the perfect opportunity to test her theory of a better time without me. (No, we are not experiencing marital problems. No more problems than the average marriage between two headstrong people, that is.) The following are samples of phone conversations that took place between when she drove away to when she got back.
Day 1) She called 3 hrs after leaving.
Me: Hello.
Her: Why did we have children?
Me: It’s not going well?
Her: They’re screaming bloody murder and I got a speeding ticket.
Me: How fast were you going.
Her: I WASN’T SPEEDING! THE COP WAS A VINDICTIVE WANKER!
Day 2) Day of the wedding.
Me: Hello.
Her: You could have come if you really wanted to.
Me: How’s the wedding?
Her: Your kid has almost been run over four times now!
Me: So do the bride and groom look happy?
Her: How the crap should I know!? I want to tear the hair out of my head!
Me: I’m sorry they’re being difficult. How’s your family?
Her: What’s with the quiz? Did you call just to give me the third degree?
Me: Honey, you called me.
Her: You can't just let things go, can you?
Day 3) Hanging out with family and friends.
Me: Hello.
Her: I hope you’re happy. (hang up)
Day 4) More family and friends.
Me: Hi sweetie.
Her: You can take sweetie and shove it! I’m getting my tubes tied.
Me: Ok, I’ll make the arrangements.
Her: You would.
Day 5) On the way home, six hours after departure.
Me: Hi honey. Where are you?
Her: Where am I!? I’m only HALF WAY HOME!
Me: What’s taking so long?
Her: Your kids! They’ve got bladders like squirrels and stomachs like elephants! It’s a constant feeding, pooping, peeing, screaming, crying frenzy! I WANT TO RAM HOT REBAR INTO MY SKULL!
Me: I’m sorry. I’ll give you a long back rub when you get home.
(long pause)
Her: Get an adoption agency on the phone, and see if anyone is looking for a pair of siblings.
All in all I think she was quite satisfied with her time away and looks forward to doing it again.
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