POST, VIRATE, REPEAT

I just finished demolishing an ottoman. Just reaffirming my manliness. I was going to say I just finished disassembling an ottoman, but that sounds like I used my brain. I was just out there smacking stuff with a hammer. I smell like man.

I’ve been thinking a lot about country music lately (should country be capitalized? Am I being disrespectful to the whole genre by lowercasing it?). I don’t think about country very often, as I have never much cared for it. It’s not like it’s the worst thing ever (I’m looking at you Ke$ha), it’s just not my favorite type of music. I admit, I am not-so-secretly in love with Taylor Swift’sTrouble, and she counts as country, right? It’s just that I could never stand the whole slide guitar/twang thing. And I never really understood this:

Lawnmower and snowblower and classical music. See, I can do it too.

Or this:

I mean, that takes Marcia-Brady-nightly hair brushing.

And especially not this:

I’ve never seen a saxophonist so excited just to be included, let alone get a blue jacket.

But, I listen to punk, so I guess that means I understand this:

But really, we can ALL identify with this. In fact, I almost put this on my business card.

I haven’t been reflecting on Country (capital C, nothing but respect) music because I think I’ve made poor life choices, but I have heard one song a lot lately. It’s by a dude named Aaron Tippin. Now, for all you country music fans out there who can’t recall who Aaron Tippin is, allow me to refresh your memory with this all-too-classic pic:

Hey babe, I gotta go pump some iron. Can you help me tie on my Mickey Mouse tank?

If that doesn’t jar your memory (then something’s wrong with you), he is the dude who sings “You’ve Got to Stand for Something (or You’ll Fall for Anything).” The local ESPN radio station here in Austin plays clips of that song a lot during the B & E show, so I’ve been hearing it a lot lately. You know me, demolishing stuff, listening to sports radio, punchin’ nerds…dude stuff.

I agree completely with Mr. Tippin (sounds like a failed British sitcom). You have to stand for something. Each of us needs to know where our principles lie and stand up for those principles. We need to have integrity, honesty, and conviction for the things in which we believe.

The problem is, lately, we stand for everything. There are a lot of blogs, articles, and videos going viral lately. Each one of them has an incredibly important message that must be shared: genetically modified food is killing all of us, Miley Cyrus is psychotic so I need to write a letter to my kids, Mitt Romney was right all along. Unfortunately, the more we buy in and virate (that’s the verb for viral) these videos/blogs/etc., the less meaning and substance everything has. Everything is a big deal! Hannah Montana has us in an outrage this week, and with Facebook as our guide, we won’t stand for it…until next week when we are viraled (past tense) by something else. We spend so much time in outrageous support/opposition of the most recent viralion (that’s the noun version), that we have little time left to figure out or understand what is truly of lasting significance to us. We lose focus of what matters most and become unsure of what’s worth standing for. Suddenly, everything is passing; nothing is permanent.

So this week, spend a little less time in viralation and a little more time discovering what really matters. Spend more time understanding your own principles and values and make them mean more than they already do; don’t worry so much what Amanda Bynes is teaching your kid, worry what you are teaching your kid. Ignore the next “must read” post you see (except this one…it really is a must-read). Worry less about all the outrageous info on the internet/news/etc. and a little more about immovable and unchangeable values: honesty, integrity, character, kindness, compassion, charity. Stand for those principles, or continue to, but leave Miley Cyrus out; we don’t have to devote time and attention to the vice in order to stand for our virtues. So, stand for something, not everything, or you may fall for everything.

Now, go put on a little Country Music and make this post go viral.

Rob Porter, Ph.D., LMFT

Marriage and Family Therapist and country music lover?, Austin TX

Ah, Home Crap Home

It's been a while since I have graced the pages of another blog, much to the disappointment of at least 13 people. In fact, I have had literally 2 requests that I return to the pages of the internet (they have it on computers now). You can only ignore such demands so long ("Hey Rob. You haven't blogged in a while." I get it. You need me).

It has been 4 months since I posted anything...I'm not sure how anyone's relationship is surviving. To be honest, I did make numerous attempts to blog. Unfortunately for you, my attempts usually went from this:

Marty, I always wear a tie while I work my abs.

To this:

Oh Margie, well you came and you found me a turkey.

To this:

How does he get his hair so feathered?

I would generally get about 1 or 2 paragraphs into a decent blerg, only to realize that I was veering off course. Nothing I was writing was coming out funny or helpful and I would spend a good 20 minutes looking at random pictures on the internet (there has to at least 1,000 pictures on the interweb nowadays) only to give up in frustation that I had lose my touch, man...did you ever have a touch to lose, man? (warm hug to whomever can name that movie without google). Ultimately, I reached a point where I avoided my blog like
the plague a Dave Matthews Band concert.

Then, after a month or two of not even acknowledging my blog, I went back and read over some previous posts. I don't know if you guys realize this, but I think I am really funny. I don't mean like slight chuckle funny, I mean grab your neighbor and punch him in the eye funny. As I read over my blogs, I was so impressed with myself. My humor really spoke to me. It motivated me to get out there and try again to make me laugh. And then it occurred to me. I write my blog for me. 

No offense. I like people reading my blog, but when I write it to make other people laugh or to inspire other people, I get too in my head. I lose focus on what really matters. Like this: 

There is so much right in this photo.

Or this: 

"Oh Roger. How can I resist that dimple....or that sparkly, opened-chested collar-shirt thingy. Wait, is that a cape?"

My efforts to write something really amazing made me stop saying anything at all. And let's not forget, there is an alarming shortage of blogs on the internet. So this blog is a return to excellence in my own mind. And I've got to tell you, it feels great. As far as I'm concerned, this is the best blog I have ever written. Yup. Best ever.

Now, if you have not yet been able to relate to my condescending arrogance, allow me to tie together Dawson's Creek, Homer Simpson, and Roger Troutman for you. Sometimes, we get too in our heads. When we talk with our partners or spouses, we worry how what we say will be received. So, we fumble around with our words, or we don't say anything at all. Our anxiety immobilizes us and we end up crying in the corner (Dawson's Creek style...that guy is from Dawson's Creek, right?). 

When we have arguments with our significant others, we are responsible for our own feelings. If we can't express them honestly (not meanly...like you're an idiot), then we will eventually end up avoiding our relationship like a Dave Matthews Band concert. We stop talking all together because anger or frustration becomes something terrible, rather than an acceptable emotion we all experience. 

So, in your next argument, be more open...not mean, open. Tell your partner what's going on for you, because it's what's going on for you; not to try and get some sort of response from them. They can like or not like what you said, but you got your Luke Perry and Roger Troutman out there. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go see if I can find some random photos to tie into a blog....Hey! There's an idea. You send me some random photos and I'll see if I can work them into some sort of therapeutic/relationship message. 

Rob Porter, Ph.D., LMFT

Marriage Therapist, Couple Counselor, Family Therapist, Man of Excellence

robportermft@gmail.com

The Cure for the Sickness of El Dorado

This week, I am posting an article by a personal friend, Stephen Palmer; an inspired and talented man. This article by Stephen Palmer is an issue of his “Inspiration Weekly” newsletter.

*********************

When the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés arrived in the Americas in 1504, the territory governor offered him a land grant. He scoffed, “I came to get gold, not to till the soil like a peasant.”

He, like hundreds of adventurers and treasure-seekers, was bedazzled by tales of gold and treasure. Over the next two centuries, invaders obsessed with finding the legendary kingdom of El Dorado combed the Amazon. Most of them died of disease and hunger.

El Dorado has never been found, but the legend has not died, nor will it ever.

El Dorado is an idea, a twisted hope embedded in the soul of man. It is the incessant quest for a free lunch, the foolish search for greener pastures, the deluded yearning for quick and easy shortcuts, the childish desire to get something for nothing.

As Cortés sneered at the offer of land, we reject exercise and nutrition in favor of drugs and liposuction. Preferring overnight riches to earned wealth, we buy lottery tickets, gamble in the stock market, speculate in risky ventures promising high returns.

The illusory gold of romance gleaming in our wandering eyes, we pursue one relationship after another, only to become disenchanted with each when it becomes hard work. We abandon the fields of marriage to muck around in the mines of superficial passion and selfish lust.

Anxious for something new and exciting to enliven our daily routine, we frantically comb Facebook and check email. Wanting an easy path to open up for us, we wait for inspiration before acting.

For all such malcontent treasure-seekers, happiness, fulfillment, and success lie always around the next bend in the road, ever slipping through their fingers. They may not die of disease or starvation, but their hunger is never satiated and the sickness of El Dorado rots their soul.

We have been given soil to till, a purpose to fulfill. Our fields of purpose lie fallow as long as El Dorado makes our hearts beat faster and lifts our eyes to distant horizons.

The beginning of success is the realization that El Dorado has not, does not, will not ever exist except as dark and perverted fantasies posing as glamorous legends — the acceptance that there are no shortcuts, that nothing worthwhile comes quick and easy.

The end of success is the harvest gleaned from cultivating our fields of mission over years of dedicated, persistent effort.

Far too many naïve whippersnappers have been set to a frenzy by the old man’s breathless declaration, “There’s gold in them thar hills.” They should have listened to Napoleon Hill instead, who said,

“More gold has been mined from the thoughts of men than has been taken from the earth.”

Wealth is not found in gold and treasure, but rather in the satisfaction of a job well done, the knowledge that we are fulfilling our unique purpose to the best of our ability, the joy of blessing the lives of others.

We need not travel to exotic destinations to encounter adventure. We need not discard our spouse to find passion and romance.

Adventure, passion, and romance are not found out in the world, around the bend, over the horizon. They are chosen and created in our hearts.

Your wife is an awe-inspiring, worship-worthy goddess — if you choose to perceive her as such. Under his work clothes and mild-mannered alter ego, your husband is an amazing superhero just waiting to be discovered.

Your home is a gold-encrusted kingdom bursting with knights in shining armor, princesses worth dying for, battles to fight, dragons to slay, conquests to win.

Gaze not at the horizon yearning for a mythical El Dorado. Look inside your heart, till the land you’ve been granted, and in every mundane day, discover the adventure.

**************************

Stephen Palmer is a New York Times best-selling writer and the founder of Life Manifestos, which creates inspirational posters and products for people who live with passion and purpose. Subscribe to his Inspiration Weekly newsletter to get his articles every Monday morning.

Tonight...I Celebrate My Love

I've been spending a lot of time lately getting myself ready for Valentine's Day. Nothing out of the ordinary--picking out my favorite outfit, manscaping, honing my Rick Astley (that sounds dirty fella)--you know, dude stuff. I like Valentine's Day. Of course I like it. What's not to like? There's candy, love, flowers, this:

...You're welcome 

Unfortunately, I have been noticing a lot of hatred towards V-Day going around lately. For the past couple of years, I have noticed friends, articles, news reports that focus on why we should stop celebrating the holiday d'amour (that's sounds romantic, right? I am dreamy). The main argument seems to be that we shouldn't need a special holiday to show each other we love each other, that if we truly loved each other, we would show each other every day of the year. Love is not about chocolate hearts, flowers, and John Cena, it's about truly expressing our love for each other as often as possible.

Sure, they have a point; we shouldn't wait until February 14th to show our love to those we care about most. We shouldn't need Hallmark to be our voice in expressing how much we love our significant others. We shouldn't wait until Valentine's Day to treat our partners to a fancy dinner followed by Kenny G and rose petals. But just because we shouldn't wait until then to do it, does that mean we should cease all celebration of the holiday? If my wife never questioned that I loved her--if she always knew how much she meant to me because I was constantly showing her--does that mean I should protest a day when it's expected that I show her a little more?

See, I guess I take some offense to some of the anti-valentine-ist propaganda. Every time I read one of the articles or hear someone speak out, they tend to say it like this, "My husband doesn't need a holiday. He dotes on me every day of the year." The problem with that is, it implies they are above showing their love on V-day, that those of us who do are affectionately moronic and need the calendar to tell us when to buy flowers. Just because I celebrate Valentine's Day, that doesn't mean I don't love my wife every other day. If I celebrate Christmas, does that mean I don't think about Christ every other day? If I celebrate Festivus, does that mean I don't air my grievances the other 364 days of the year?

Yes, we should focus on how much we love each other every day; that should be our baseline. But a holiday can create opportunity to express it in a way that might be a little more special. I think there cannot be enough holidays that remind us to focus on how much we love each other. Sure, Valentine's Day is a little commercialized (luckily, otherwise I may not know that every kiss begins with Kay...or how creepy love can be...), but it can still be a holiday that can give us the opportunity to strengthen our relationships. It helps us focus on making our relationship a little bit better. It can make us a little more aware. Plus, it can provide us lots of romantic moments:

It was then that I knew it was meant to be.

I can't tell where your face ends and mine begins.

  

I...um...I got nothin.

So please, celebrate Valentine's Day.  Take some time to be a little more focused on your relationship. A full commitment's what I'm thinking of. You wouldn't get this from any other guy...Curse you Rick Astley. So poetic, and so true.

Rob Porter, Ph.D., LMFT

Therapist/Marriage Therapist/Couple Counselor/Romantic Dude, Austin TX

We Wish You A Merry Aerosmith

"It wouldn't be the Christmas season if the stores were any less hooter than they HOTTER than they are." It's finally Christmas; the time of year when we care a little more; the time of year when we are a little more giving; the time of year when we can watch Chevy Chase and not feel dumber for it. And so, in honor of the season, I spent an evening pondering the true meaning of Christmas, warming myself by the fire with a warm cup of hot cocoa...

Is that him skiing on the sweater? I know what my wife is getting for Christmas.

To get myself fully in the Christmas mood, I was listening to the Michael Buble Christmas station on Pandora. It was working perfectly. I was feeling all jolly and seasonal. I listened to Martina McBride scoop her notes more than humanly possible (ruining a perfectly good Dean Martin song) while I was wrapped in my Snuggie:

Leopard Snuggie! For those who want to be warm, but still look sexy.

I was just about to break into a round of O Holy Night, when out of nowhere, I hear faint violins. "OOOO," I thought, "A Christmas song I haven't heard before. Maybe it's Bieber (lot's of dude's have that thought, right?)." As the song continued, I hear, "I could lie awake, just to hear you breathing."

Wait. Is this a Christmas song? Because if it is, it's putting the wrong spin on the whole Santa thing. No. This isn't Christmas; how come all I can picture is too many long scarves on a microphone stand? And a giant mouth? Why the mouth?

Then, it hits me like a sweaty tour-bus:

How come nobody stops HIM when he's walking on stage in his bathrobe?

Admittedly I might be in the minority on this, but Steven Tyler doesn't usually conjure up Christmas memories for me. I mean, there was that one Christmas when my dad and I sang Silent Night back-to-back like rock-stars sharing the same mic, but that's not really the same thing.

Nope. No Christmas here. Pandora sucker-punched me. They got me feeling all nice and warm, all seasony and yule-loggy, and then they slapped me right in the face. You don't come back from that. Do they think I'm a moron? I know that I Don't Want to Miss a Thing makes us all think about Ben Affleck and the end of the world, contemplating the meaning of life....wait, maybe that's it. Pandora figures that if I think about the meaning of life, I'll remember the true meaning of Christmas?  ...No. That makes no sense. They just wanted to ruin my Christmas. They backloaded all the good feelings we were having together. Where are you now Buble?

I guess I can't really be mad at Pandora for this. We all do this from time to time. We backload. We'll tell someone something really nice about themselves, and then hit em with some Aerosmith. Boom! "I love the way you always take out the trash! I just wish you would try and remember to put a new bag in the can." "You are such a good mother, but you're always short with the kids."

We backload because we don't want to fight. We figure if we say something nice first, our partner/spouse/child will be a little more receptive. "I don't think you're a complete idiot, but could you put a trash bag in the can when you are done?" Or maybe we worry that if we just compliment someone, they will think we're OK with all the dumb stuff they do. But by the time the backload comes out, the first part is missed completely. Suddenly, a moment of genuine kindness and connection turns into a fight; all we can hear is Aerosmith ringing in our ears. Even worse, we start to expect every compliment and 'genuine moment' to have a 'but' attached. Then we wonder why we can't even give someone a compliment anymore.

So, 'tis the season to be a little less sneaky. Just compliment your spouse/partner/child with no other motive other than making them feel better about themselves. Backload a little less. Give a few more compliments with a little less Aerosmith aftertaste.

You better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout, I'm telling you why. Steven Tyler's coming to town

....See. Ruined.

Rob Porter, Ph.D., LMFT

Marriage Counselor, Austin TX

Um...I Think I'm Going To Take Off My Pants

There are rare moments in life when you hear, read, or see something something truly poignant; something that shifts your worldview perhaps providing renewed purpose. For many (if not most) of us, one such moment occurred in 1987:

Do you realize that in the 80's, we basically wore denim suits...and not ironically?

Unfortunately, such lycanthropically-inspired events are few and far between. It's much more likely that most of us will read something on Pinterest or Facebook that, however inaccurate, will make us stop and think briefly, perhaps reposting to indicate we are one of the few who truly care. Still, these moments generally cause some degree of reflection.

I had such a moment the other day, early in the morning. Upon waking and greeting my wife with the customary, "Good morning lovely. You are truly the core of my life. You are a queen," I made my way to the kitchen. My wife, whom we shall call Whiteboard Siri, is an organized person. She relies heavily on a whiteboard to stay on top of things that need to get done each day (I'm pretty sure this smartphone thing is just a fad). Occasionally, she will leave reminders for me to, say, call the dentist, or get an oil change (psh. GET an oil change? I think she means change the oil...cause I'm a MAN and that's what men do...). These messages for me are often separated from the others, making it obvious they are for me. So, when I approached the whiteboard on this particular morning, there was no question the message she was trying to send:

I wasn't aware there was a requirement.

Apparently, I have really been dropping the ball. What kind of slouch husband have I been as of late? Have I really digressed so far as to leave the house sans pants? When I approached her to confront her about the message, fully panted I assure you, she claimed it was for her, reminding her that the kids needed pants under their costumes for the cold weather. Sure.....there's only one way that message can be taken.

Still, her message made me think; not only about the larger philosophical implications of the pants-wearing continuum, but also about being intentional about the little things. I can honestly say, I have thought of this message each time I have put on my pants, mentally checking it off the list each day. I'd like to think that I put my pants on a little more lovingly each day...thinking of Whiteboard Siri each time I do.

Okay, maybe I'm making too big a deal out of wearing pants (come on, how many other blogs are you going to read this year that will have that phrase in them?). But, like pretty much everything on my blog, wearing pants can compared to our relationships (How Rob? How?). A lot of us tend to think that once we get in a relationship, it should just work...you know, because we are MFEO...made for each other (name that movie!). We end up getting lazy and figuratively walking around our relationship without pants...or literally for some of us. We stop trying to make the relationship better. We assume it will continue on a forward course. We roll out of bed and go about our relationship making no effort to take care of the things that seem routine. Then we wonder why our relationships get stuck in a rut and we feel unhappy.

Make more of an effort in your relationship. When was the last time you did something to make it better? Think of something you can improve today. Don't wake up one morning with a reminder from your partner that you need to do better. Do better now. Make a big deal out of things. Dress up nice for your date. Say I love you more. Say thank you for the little things. Pay a little more attention. Go put on some pants.

Now for some Teen Wolf Too (Do you see what they did there with the title? Mind bending).

Rob Porter, Ph.D., LMFT
Marriage and Family Therapist / pants-wearer, Austin TX

The Great Peanut Butter Debacle of 1985

It's that time of year again. Kids are returning to school, the temperature's dropping, and presidential campaign's heating up. My daughter is going to school for the first time this year. I'm a little freaked out. Luckily during this time of year, I, like most of you, have one thing constantly on my mind to quiet the anxieties: REO Speedwagon.

Look at 'em, just pretending the bald dude doesn't look pedophilic.

Aside from marveling at the many wise style choices the band has made over the years,

"You promise? This doesn't come across as creepy?"

I miss my Grandma.

they have made some truly poignant statements on life (Case in point). One such view that has stuck with me (luckily) is the lead track on the Tuna album, Roll with the Changes. This is not something I have always been good at, rolling with the changes. I tend to get expectations in my mind of how things should go and I tend to fixate and get pouty when they don't go the way I planned. Let me give you an example.

When I was probably 5 or 6 years old, my sister Jen was babysitting me (that's probably not true, but it's how I remember it, so that's what you get). I asked her to make me a piece of bread with peanut butter and butter on it. Jen has to be one of the nicest people on the face of the planet, so she gladly made me a piece of bread exactly as I had described it; peanut butter with butter on top.

Holy crap! How could she screw up such a simple request? Who eats bread with butter on top of peanut butter? What are we, savages? Everyone knows you put the butter down as a foundation on which to build your peanut butter. Changing that would change the very balance of nature. It would taste absolutely horrible. I have never been so disappointed in my life.

Jennifer was so apologetic. She clearly felt terrible. She offered to make me a new one, but I was the bigger man and decided to choke down what was placed before me. I remember taking bites through tears and marveling that somehow this culinary monstrosity didn't taste any different than when the butter was on the bottom. Still, it was not what I had planned, so it was not as good.

I see a lot of couples and clients who sometimes struggle with the same problem. They become so set on what they think their relationship or life should look like that they fail to see the great things they already have going. They focus on the ideal (often unattainable) creating problems for themselves where they don't need to exist. My peanut butter bread was not what I was picturing, but it tasted exactly the same. I made sure I didn't really enjoy it and made my sister feel miserable in the process.

Too often our fixation on making sure we get exactly what we expect or what we planned comes at the expense of what matters more. I expect to have my driveway nice and clean after I mow, but when my daughter asked to sweep it for me yesterday, I knew I was giving up a clean driveway. It was worth it. The more open we are to changes that occur to mess up our expectations, the happier we will be; they are going to happen anyway.

"So if you're tired of the same old story, oh, turn some pages." Talk to me REO.

Rob Porter, Ph.D., LMFT
Couples Counselor, Austin TX