Whatever pagan came up with the idea of people living without harming anything clearly has never had fleas. I know I've been talking about them a lot, but dammit, it's not even quite June yet and the things are everywhere. It almost makes me regret writing a post about how well we did getting rid of them last year. Clearly, I know nothing. I think the fleas evolved or something with collective ancestor memory and now know what to avoid in our house. Bastards.
The cats have been avoiding the floor as much as possible and two of them chose a three level cart by me as their new sleep area. It was annoying. I kept a lot of stuff on this cart and they would knock it off . . .daily . . . sometimes many times daily. They would also always be on whatever I needed and, of course, generated tons of heat in the process. I let them stay though, because I love them and quite frankly, it wasn't worth the fight to keep them off.
Fleas though . . .fleas are living little creatures. This means they do all the usual things of living creatures, like shit and lay eggs. Lots and lots of shit and eggs. Oh, and the thing is, once the eggs hatch, the larvae feed off of the shit. Isn't that just . . . lovely?
Anyway, so today I scurry the cats off the cart and pick something up from it. This is when I notice that the whole surface was speckled with flea shit. I groan and decide it certainly needs to be cleaned AGAIN (I'd just cleaned it a few days before).
This is when I noticed that some of the black bits on the surface of the cart . . . . WERE. . . . MOVING!
The flea eggs had hatched and larvae were writhing on my cart . . . right by me.
There truly is no word for the level of revulsion I felt in this moment. I was horrified. Like, chamber full of rats horrified. Like maggots in someone's mullet horrified. I screamed. I got a little ill. And then I started scrubbing the bejesus out of everything.
The cart was taken outside, sprayed off, scrubbed, sprayed again, scrubbed, moved the hell away from me and the cats and other potential living things. My roommate and I honestly thought we had a better handle on the flea issue. Yeah, we were wrong. We'd been vacuuming and washing things and using spray and lavender and setting out plates and everything like before . . . and yet, MORE FLEAS AND THEIR NASTY FLEA BABIES.
Well, I tell you this, fleas, I saw your young and I destroyed them. I smashed out their little young lives and ended all chances they had at climbing on to me or a cat and sucking at our life's blood. I destroyed your young and I will destroy you.
And when you enter your collective ancestral memory, you will know my face and fear! Bwahahahaha!
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
The Dying Art of Compassion
So yesterday, I read this article about a woman who almost died because she was hemorrhaging and the ER doctor refused to do an abortion even though the baby was dying anyway. The doctor on duty never does abortions. Ever. No exceptions. Then today, I read about this mayor who refused to let people who lost their homes during tornadoes use FEMA trailers because they have a ban on singe-wide trailers in their area. They refuse to see this situation as one where they should make exceptions.
You know, I get that it is good to be firm and strong in your principles. I understand that rules and personal commitments are made for reasons. I know that many things in our country now suck because we have become lax in the rules and in our responsibilities
BUT COME ON!!!!!!
In both cases above, those who could have altered the rules were facing situations that are very rare and very extreme circumstances. The woman who was in horrible pain and losing tons of blood. There was no way the baby could survive. Had the nurse not called the other doctor, the woman would have died. This ER doctors actions were premeditated murder.
When this doctor saw what was wrong with her, he should have, himself, called someone who could help her. The unborn and dying baby inside her was not his patient. She was. That baby could not be saved. She could. But instead of showing compassion, not to mention professional responsibility, he sat on his hands and just waited it out.
The mayor and the city council in the next article are just as horrible. Because they don't want trailers uglying up their town, they are willing to let people survive in tents and other temporary shelters, even though the FEMA trailers are provided by the government. Now, let us keep in mind that tornado season isn't over. It is quite likely that these people may face more storms. And while we all know a trailer isn't the safest place to be in during bad weather, I'm guessing it's still better than a tent.
The mayor and the city council are risking the lives of their citizens. People they are supposed to be helping. It seems that these people are less important than maintaining the image of their town. I have news for you, due to your lack of compassion, the image of your town now is that of one giant prick.
I'm sure in the case of the doctor from the first article and the elected officials in the second, they're cool with what they are doing. They probably think they are good people, people of principle, who are doing the best they possibly can to make America a better place.
They're wrong though. What they are doing is putting their own values over the reality of the situations. They are putting people at risk for a lot of harm to come their way. They lack compassion. And without compassion, what do you really have?
You know, I get that it is good to be firm and strong in your principles. I understand that rules and personal commitments are made for reasons. I know that many things in our country now suck because we have become lax in the rules and in our responsibilities
BUT COME ON!!!!!!
In both cases above, those who could have altered the rules were facing situations that are very rare and very extreme circumstances. The woman who was in horrible pain and losing tons of blood. There was no way the baby could survive. Had the nurse not called the other doctor, the woman would have died. This ER doctors actions were premeditated murder.
When this doctor saw what was wrong with her, he should have, himself, called someone who could help her. The unborn and dying baby inside her was not his patient. She was. That baby could not be saved. She could. But instead of showing compassion, not to mention professional responsibility, he sat on his hands and just waited it out.
The mayor and the city council in the next article are just as horrible. Because they don't want trailers uglying up their town, they are willing to let people survive in tents and other temporary shelters, even though the FEMA trailers are provided by the government. Now, let us keep in mind that tornado season isn't over. It is quite likely that these people may face more storms. And while we all know a trailer isn't the safest place to be in during bad weather, I'm guessing it's still better than a tent.
The mayor and the city council are risking the lives of their citizens. People they are supposed to be helping. It seems that these people are less important than maintaining the image of their town. I have news for you, due to your lack of compassion, the image of your town now is that of one giant prick.
I'm sure in the case of the doctor from the first article and the elected officials in the second, they're cool with what they are doing. They probably think they are good people, people of principle, who are doing the best they possibly can to make America a better place.
They're wrong though. What they are doing is putting their own values over the reality of the situations. They are putting people at risk for a lot of harm to come their way. They lack compassion. And without compassion, what do you really have?
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Grinding my Ax Because Sometimes I need to
On Facebook, a friend posted something about how his fellow Christians should learn to live and let live when it came to the issue of homosexuality. This caused quite a stir, including one person who said she would never accept her child if he was gay. The following is my response:
If the gay people aren't allowed to live freely, what then should they do? Pretend to be straight? Pretending is, in this case, in any case, a lie.
My roommate, who is also one of my best friends in the world and, also, consequently, a gay man, once told me that there is nothing more painful or dangerous than having to live closeted.
When people make it so socially unacceptable for you to live how you truly know you are, when you have to keep that kind of secret, it consumes you. You have to constantly be scared that everyone is going to find out that you're different. When you live with that kind of consistent fear, you can never be happy. You can never be at peace.
I know at this point, you'll probably argue that people don't HAVE to be gay. You'll tell me no one is born this way, it's just some perverse choice people make. You're wrong. I'm not even going to debate you on the issue.
I've known too many people of various sexual orientations to think the ones who truly self-identify as gay are any likely to change this or choose this than the ones who only desire the opposite sex. People don't choose this. And quite often until they can finally admit it to themselves and come out to others about it, they are miserable and they make others miserable as well.
Is it a sin? I don't believe it is. Yes, I know the Bible says otherwise, but the Bible also says that if a woman isn't a virgin when she gets married she can be stoned to death. I don't believe that's true either. But you know what, even if it is a sin, I don't care.
Because lying is a sin, and we don't tell two liars they can't marry each other. Borrowing money is a sin, but we don't tell people with house loans they can't adopt children. Gossip is a sin, but we don't have groups of people who target gossipers and beat them to death. People don't have to live in fear of losing their jobs because they have graven images of God hanging around. No one tries to pass laws against people who do any of these things.
There is another reason I don't care if it's a sin. And that reason is because I do know that if I don't show love for someone, show acceptance for someone, I am the one who is sinning. And so I will hug my gay brothers and sisters, I will let them eat at my table, I will march with them hand in hand, I will stand up for their rights, and I will defend them against those who would hurt them. I'm here to love people. Their salvation and the way to it is between them and Jesus.
As for your question about how one is to feel if their child is gay, let me ask you this . . .would you rather be the mother who welcomes her gay child into her home and prays for understanding or the mother who buries her child knowing her disapproval was the last straw before he killed himself?
If the gay people aren't allowed to live freely, what then should they do? Pretend to be straight? Pretending is, in this case, in any case, a lie.
My roommate, who is also one of my best friends in the world and, also, consequently, a gay man, once told me that there is nothing more painful or dangerous than having to live closeted.
When people make it so socially unacceptable for you to live how you truly know you are, when you have to keep that kind of secret, it consumes you. You have to constantly be scared that everyone is going to find out that you're different. When you live with that kind of consistent fear, you can never be happy. You can never be at peace.
I know at this point, you'll probably argue that people don't HAVE to be gay. You'll tell me no one is born this way, it's just some perverse choice people make. You're wrong. I'm not even going to debate you on the issue.
I've known too many people of various sexual orientations to think the ones who truly self-identify as gay are any likely to change this or choose this than the ones who only desire the opposite sex. People don't choose this. And quite often until they can finally admit it to themselves and come out to others about it, they are miserable and they make others miserable as well.
Is it a sin? I don't believe it is. Yes, I know the Bible says otherwise, but the Bible also says that if a woman isn't a virgin when she gets married she can be stoned to death. I don't believe that's true either. But you know what, even if it is a sin, I don't care.
Because lying is a sin, and we don't tell two liars they can't marry each other. Borrowing money is a sin, but we don't tell people with house loans they can't adopt children. Gossip is a sin, but we don't have groups of people who target gossipers and beat them to death. People don't have to live in fear of losing their jobs because they have graven images of God hanging around. No one tries to pass laws against people who do any of these things.
There is another reason I don't care if it's a sin. And that reason is because I do know that if I don't show love for someone, show acceptance for someone, I am the one who is sinning. And so I will hug my gay brothers and sisters, I will let them eat at my table, I will march with them hand in hand, I will stand up for their rights, and I will defend them against those who would hurt them. I'm here to love people. Their salvation and the way to it is between them and Jesus.
As for your question about how one is to feel if their child is gay, let me ask you this . . .would you rather be the mother who welcomes her gay child into her home and prays for understanding or the mother who buries her child knowing her disapproval was the last straw before he killed himself?
Friday, May 27, 2011
Friday List: Weird Loves
Oh look, another Friday and another list. This has been a week of somewhat dragging frustrations so I decided to end things on a high note.
In every life, there are the things that make us happy that, yeah, everyone gets and it's easy to understand why we like them. But in other cases, the things that make us happy are inexplicable and very subjective. I wanted to talk about some of my strange little loves today.
THINGS THAT I LOVE FOR SOME WEIRD REASON
1. I love to see footprints in carpet.
I did some major cleaning on my room the other day. Okay, I've been in the house for three years, and I still haven't completely unpacked. I'm getting there, dammit! Anyway, I got more of the boxes off of my floor and once it was vacuumed, I walked over to check on something and left a footprint in the carpet. I noticed this later and just grinned about it for like five minutes.
I have no idea why seeing footprints in carpet makes me so happy. My guess is that when I was really young, someone pointed it out to me and I latched onto the idea that it's neat. I don't remember, but whenever I see them, I get that kind of gooshy, happy childlike feeling that you get when you think about stuff from your past. Well, you know, the good stuff. Not the suck. But yeah, it's that kind of happy, all innocence and rainbows.
2. I love the way my roommate talks to animals.
By this, I do not mean the way he talks to them when they annoy him. I mean the way he talks to them the rest of the time. His voice takes on a certain gentleness that I find to be just beautiful. It's very calming and soothing.
More than that, he speaks to the animal as if it is very special, very loved. There is a lot of respect for the animal in his tone, the kind of way you speak to something or someone when you truly care. It is a kind of individualized tone that shows the depth of how he views animals. He doesn't just like a cat because it is a cat. He likes it because it is that specific cat, with its own specific personality. It's a very beautiful thing to hear.
3. I love the feel of dishes right out of the dishwasher.
You know, like when they're still hot. Kind of like the dish version of clothes out of the dryer. There is a certain level of hot to them that just feels very good to the touch. Not so much to hurt you, but just enough to make you quite aware of the heat.
Oddly, as good as it feels to hold one dish when it is this hot, it makes me even happier to hold like a stack of them. And no, there is no "glad to be in the kitchen" bullshit to this. I just like the heat.
4. I like it in movies when people turn out to be secret androids.
Even though it is cheesy and often predictable, I weirdly love it when the quirky human in the group turns out to be an android. I think this might have to do with reading Asimov at a young age of how when I saw Bladerunner, I so, so wanted Harrison Ford to be a robot. It just made so much sense to me.
Maybe it's because with androids, you get all of the good parts of a human with none of the messy bits. And the irony always is that it's the messy parts that the androids wish for, the fluid imperfection of being human. The point being, even as much as we strive for perfection, it's never satisfying.
And so there you have it. Four odd little loves of my life. During the week, when you find yourself happy for no reason, think about the stuff around you. You'll soon discover strange little loves of your own.
In every life, there are the things that make us happy that, yeah, everyone gets and it's easy to understand why we like them. But in other cases, the things that make us happy are inexplicable and very subjective. I wanted to talk about some of my strange little loves today.
THINGS THAT I LOVE FOR SOME WEIRD REASON
1. I love to see footprints in carpet.
I did some major cleaning on my room the other day. Okay, I've been in the house for three years, and I still haven't completely unpacked. I'm getting there, dammit! Anyway, I got more of the boxes off of my floor and once it was vacuumed, I walked over to check on something and left a footprint in the carpet. I noticed this later and just grinned about it for like five minutes.
I have no idea why seeing footprints in carpet makes me so happy. My guess is that when I was really young, someone pointed it out to me and I latched onto the idea that it's neat. I don't remember, but whenever I see them, I get that kind of gooshy, happy childlike feeling that you get when you think about stuff from your past. Well, you know, the good stuff. Not the suck. But yeah, it's that kind of happy, all innocence and rainbows.
2. I love the way my roommate talks to animals.
By this, I do not mean the way he talks to them when they annoy him. I mean the way he talks to them the rest of the time. His voice takes on a certain gentleness that I find to be just beautiful. It's very calming and soothing.
More than that, he speaks to the animal as if it is very special, very loved. There is a lot of respect for the animal in his tone, the kind of way you speak to something or someone when you truly care. It is a kind of individualized tone that shows the depth of how he views animals. He doesn't just like a cat because it is a cat. He likes it because it is that specific cat, with its own specific personality. It's a very beautiful thing to hear.
3. I love the feel of dishes right out of the dishwasher.
You know, like when they're still hot. Kind of like the dish version of clothes out of the dryer. There is a certain level of hot to them that just feels very good to the touch. Not so much to hurt you, but just enough to make you quite aware of the heat.
Oddly, as good as it feels to hold one dish when it is this hot, it makes me even happier to hold like a stack of them. And no, there is no "glad to be in the kitchen" bullshit to this. I just like the heat.
4. I like it in movies when people turn out to be secret androids.
Even though it is cheesy and often predictable, I weirdly love it when the quirky human in the group turns out to be an android. I think this might have to do with reading Asimov at a young age of how when I saw Bladerunner, I so, so wanted Harrison Ford to be a robot. It just made so much sense to me.
Maybe it's because with androids, you get all of the good parts of a human with none of the messy bits. And the irony always is that it's the messy parts that the androids wish for, the fluid imperfection of being human. The point being, even as much as we strive for perfection, it's never satisfying.
And so there you have it. Four odd little loves of my life. During the week, when you find yourself happy for no reason, think about the stuff around you. You'll soon discover strange little loves of your own.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Of Wasps and Fleabie Jeebies
Oh look! I lived through last night. I knew I would. I almost wrote, "I never get that lucky." Is that wrong? Probably. Anyway, right now I'm sitting here between two cats who have fleas. We're WORKING on the flea issues, but we've not conquered them yet. Give us time. Until then, I have an intense case of heebie jeebies every time I have to touch one of my cats. Seriously, why can't you bitches stay away from the bugs?
Because of the storms, my therapist was out today so I didn't get my head shrunk. Damn, it needed that too. Okay, maybe not as much as usual, but some. I've been in an oddly good mood, aside from suicidal storm tendencies and fleabie jeebies.
I've been really good about staying hydrated. Props to my roommate for keeping me in tea and whatnot drinks. That helps a lot. We're also going into summer eating mode, which means less during the heat of the day and more in the morning. It simplifies things and keeps us from being overly hot.
My roommate did some maintaining on the gutters today. I sat on the porch and handed him stuff as needed. It looks like the gutters were put up by crazy people who wanted to make life difficult on anyone who came after them. And of course, it was windy as hell while we were out there, but not windy enough to keep the wasps away.
Wasps, as in the bugs. Not WASPS as in the people who would be standing out there in sunglasses holding glasses of wine and making comments about how we poors never call the proper people to handle things. The ones we were dealing with sting, but the pain goes away quicker than the stings of the other kind.
Because of the storms, my therapist was out today so I didn't get my head shrunk. Damn, it needed that too. Okay, maybe not as much as usual, but some. I've been in an oddly good mood, aside from suicidal storm tendencies and fleabie jeebies.
I've been really good about staying hydrated. Props to my roommate for keeping me in tea and whatnot drinks. That helps a lot. We're also going into summer eating mode, which means less during the heat of the day and more in the morning. It simplifies things and keeps us from being overly hot.
My roommate did some maintaining on the gutters today. I sat on the porch and handed him stuff as needed. It looks like the gutters were put up by crazy people who wanted to make life difficult on anyone who came after them. And of course, it was windy as hell while we were out there, but not windy enough to keep the wasps away.
Wasps, as in the bugs. Not WASPS as in the people who would be standing out there in sunglasses holding glasses of wine and making comments about how we poors never call the proper people to handle things. The ones we were dealing with sting, but the pain goes away quicker than the stings of the other kind.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
The Not So Calm before the Storm
So I'm sitting here about 30 minutes away from major storms hitting. I won't seek shelter. I never do. For one thing, refer to post on how much my cellar sucks. For another thing, I just have this compulsion to ride the storms out. I know it's dangerous. I know people die in these things. However, dying in a tornado doesn't upset me that much. And I in no way mean that as a casual statement against those who have lost loved ones in the storms. I don't want other people to die in the storms; I'm just okay about me dying in one.
Not that I want to die in a tornado tonight (or ever). I've just made peace with the idea if I do. Like being taken down by a serial killer or random shooting, there is honestly little I can do to stop it, so why worry?
I guess it's a Leaf in the Wind kind of thing with me. There is so much stuff the world is trying to make us worry about. How we look, how we smell, how successful we are, how much we weigh, okay, so everything, really. It sucks. We have to constantly fight against this crap. The worry keeps us from being happy. Hell, it keeps us from actually living in any kind of celebratory way.
So whatever happens, happens. I accept it. I'll survive it. Or I won't. Either way, I'm going to enjoy the next half hour and not panic.
Not that I want to die in a tornado tonight (or ever). I've just made peace with the idea if I do. Like being taken down by a serial killer or random shooting, there is honestly little I can do to stop it, so why worry?
I guess it's a Leaf in the Wind kind of thing with me. There is so much stuff the world is trying to make us worry about. How we look, how we smell, how successful we are, how much we weigh, okay, so everything, really. It sucks. We have to constantly fight against this crap. The worry keeps us from being happy. Hell, it keeps us from actually living in any kind of celebratory way.
So whatever happens, happens. I accept it. I'll survive it. Or I won't. Either way, I'm going to enjoy the next half hour and not panic.
Monday, May 23, 2011
And Thusly Real Life Kidnapped her and Took her to Its Vile Castle
You know, I have posts that I plan to write. It's just not happening right now due to certain rather annoying factors. As a writer of any sort, you always face these moments when life overwhelms you and suddenly the crisis at the moment is all you can handle.
Of course, I've gone through this before. You'll notice quite often real life overtakes blog life. It sucks, but as I am committed to writing, even if it isn't what I want to be writing, you get to hear about this stuff.
Because I live in the boonies, if a bird even looks at the cables, the whole internet goes off for hours. I end up spending time listening to condescending jackasses tell me to reset my cable box . . . as if that would do any good when the net is out all over town. I know I bitch about this a lot, but I pay for a service, dammit, not the idea of a service. Anyway, last night the cable was out again. It's on now, ovs, but only just in the last couple of hours.
We're also back in Flea Hell, which means all of the stuff I wrote in the post about flea hell is back in play. And while this works, it takes time, can be exhausting, is certainly frustrating, and tends to set my teeth on edge.
Teeth on edge doesn't bode well for a happiness project, now does it?
All that aside, as I said, I do have ideas festering in my wicked brain. Expect better posts in the coming days. Hopefully.
Of course, I've gone through this before. You'll notice quite often real life overtakes blog life. It sucks, but as I am committed to writing, even if it isn't what I want to be writing, you get to hear about this stuff.
Because I live in the boonies, if a bird even looks at the cables, the whole internet goes off for hours. I end up spending time listening to condescending jackasses tell me to reset my cable box . . . as if that would do any good when the net is out all over town. I know I bitch about this a lot, but I pay for a service, dammit, not the idea of a service. Anyway, last night the cable was out again. It's on now, ovs, but only just in the last couple of hours.
We're also back in Flea Hell, which means all of the stuff I wrote in the post about flea hell is back in play. And while this works, it takes time, can be exhausting, is certainly frustrating, and tends to set my teeth on edge.
Teeth on edge doesn't bode well for a happiness project, now does it?
All that aside, as I said, I do have ideas festering in my wicked brain. Expect better posts in the coming days. Hopefully.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Friday List: Things I Happily Left
Well would you look at that! It's Friday night again, which means I'll be making a list of some crap. In honor of the possible Rapture, but more importantly, in honor of high school graduations going on, I will be devoting this list to thinks I am so, so happy I have left.
Because many Americans suffer from both Protestant Work Ethic and abandonment issues, we tend to think leaving things is horrible. It isn't though. Sometimes walking away from something is just the natural thing to do. It is your moment. Other times, walking away from something is the most healthy thing you can do. It's the only way to save your sanity.
THINGS I HAVE LEFT AND AM BETTER FOR IT
1. Organized religion.
You know, I am still a very spiritual person. Often devotedly so. I may not act much like it on this blog, but that is because I believe religion to be very, deeply private and something you should only share with a few people. Kind of like your crotch!
Walking away from organized religion was important to me because it was the first time I really took responsibility for what would happen with my own faith. I could no longer hide behind the ideas of others or the look to others to guide me. I would have to find my own path. Sometimes, this has been really difficult. This is something I actually take seriously, so it tends to be an ongoing conversation in my head all the time.
Come to think of it, I've actually left at least a couple of organized religions. I was of one faith, walked away, joined another, walked away, and then spent years arriving to where I am now. And this place I'm in now isn't about complicating my spiritualism with the bullshit of others.
2. My mother.
When I was 14, I decided I had enough of my mother's endless drama and drew a line in the sand. When she crossed it, I moved in with my grandparents. I have to say it was the best decision I made as a young person.
My mother and I had a toxic relationship. She was hellbent on destroying any semblance of sanity in our lives and I just couldn't handle that any more.
When you tell people that you left your mom when you were a teen, they react . . . badly. They always assume it is something wrong with you, that you were spoiled or selfish or willful. I hope that anyone who has ever made that judgement reads this and realizes that quite often, people leave their parents because they aren't being parented. There is no protection, love, or security in the house. You have to walk away from that.
3. Toxic friendships.
Again, many people will give the negatives on this one. They will say friends should be devoted and loyal. They're right, of course. However, you should never been devoted and loyal at the expense of your own well-being. I've been in situations where friends were hurting me or draining me to the point where I was losing who I was. I've had people say they were my friends and then betray every secret when they needed to use it against me.
Quite often, it's not that you have to cut this person completely from your life. Usually it's just a matter of establishing boundaries of what is acceptable and what isn't. However, with some toxic friendships, the only way to keep yourself safe is to go away.
4. My grandmother's house.
When I came home from college, I moved in with my grandmother and lived there until I was 28. At that point, my current roommate and I decided to move in together. My grandmother wasn't happy about this because she liked how things were with me in the house (mostly) and feared being alone.
The thing is, when I moved out, she suddenly got far more socially active. She started going on a more regular basis to the senior center. She made friends there and had people to hang with during their music shows. She started going to karaoke and met even more people through that.
Sometimes when we leave a situation, the main benefit isn't to us. It isn't always that our presence in the situation is negative as much as it creates a certain social pattern that shakes up when we leave. As humans, we can become so devoted to our routines and comfort zones that we never explore the possibilities beyond them. When the patterns change, suddenly we see all the other options.
5. Society.
I think it was around 31 or 32 when I really had my nervous break and more or less retreated into the house. Unless I was forced to do so, I avoided people at all costs and didn't leave my home. I tried not to talk to others (except via computer) or go outside at all. Other than going to see one friend and my grandmother, I didn't go out at all.
Okay, so I've gotten a lot of therapy since this and I've slowly started rejoining society. I'll go see friends now. I'll hang out on my porch and I even go with my roommate to shop or run errands. I'll smile at people when I see them and even stop to talk. I'm happier now and I know my level of social interaction is healthier than it was.
However, I still do not and can not regret the time I spent in retreat. I needed that. I had to pull back and hide. It was quite possibly the only thing that kept me from going into total insanity at the time. In all of our lives, we are going to have moments when we just need to pull a blanket over our heads and pretend like the rest of the world doesn't exist. And this is perfectly okay . . . so long as you give yourself permission to come out when you're ready.
Wow, so I feel all happy and purged and healthier now after writing this. It's good to look back and see the moments when you made decisions to make your life better, even if those decisions involved walking away from things.
You know, if you find yourself in an impossible situation, you owe it to you to at least entertain and consider the possibility of walking away. If you think it through, you may just find the answers to the problems you're facing.
Or you may just find that the best thing you can do is leave and never look back.
Because many Americans suffer from both Protestant Work Ethic and abandonment issues, we tend to think leaving things is horrible. It isn't though. Sometimes walking away from something is just the natural thing to do. It is your moment. Other times, walking away from something is the most healthy thing you can do. It's the only way to save your sanity.
THINGS I HAVE LEFT AND AM BETTER FOR IT
1. Organized religion.
You know, I am still a very spiritual person. Often devotedly so. I may not act much like it on this blog, but that is because I believe religion to be very, deeply private and something you should only share with a few people. Kind of like your crotch!
Walking away from organized religion was important to me because it was the first time I really took responsibility for what would happen with my own faith. I could no longer hide behind the ideas of others or the look to others to guide me. I would have to find my own path. Sometimes, this has been really difficult. This is something I actually take seriously, so it tends to be an ongoing conversation in my head all the time.
Come to think of it, I've actually left at least a couple of organized religions. I was of one faith, walked away, joined another, walked away, and then spent years arriving to where I am now. And this place I'm in now isn't about complicating my spiritualism with the bullshit of others.
2. My mother.
When I was 14, I decided I had enough of my mother's endless drama and drew a line in the sand. When she crossed it, I moved in with my grandparents. I have to say it was the best decision I made as a young person.
My mother and I had a toxic relationship. She was hellbent on destroying any semblance of sanity in our lives and I just couldn't handle that any more.
When you tell people that you left your mom when you were a teen, they react . . . badly. They always assume it is something wrong with you, that you were spoiled or selfish or willful. I hope that anyone who has ever made that judgement reads this and realizes that quite often, people leave their parents because they aren't being parented. There is no protection, love, or security in the house. You have to walk away from that.
3. Toxic friendships.
Again, many people will give the negatives on this one. They will say friends should be devoted and loyal. They're right, of course. However, you should never been devoted and loyal at the expense of your own well-being. I've been in situations where friends were hurting me or draining me to the point where I was losing who I was. I've had people say they were my friends and then betray every secret when they needed to use it against me.
Quite often, it's not that you have to cut this person completely from your life. Usually it's just a matter of establishing boundaries of what is acceptable and what isn't. However, with some toxic friendships, the only way to keep yourself safe is to go away.
4. My grandmother's house.
When I came home from college, I moved in with my grandmother and lived there until I was 28. At that point, my current roommate and I decided to move in together. My grandmother wasn't happy about this because she liked how things were with me in the house (mostly) and feared being alone.
The thing is, when I moved out, she suddenly got far more socially active. She started going on a more regular basis to the senior center. She made friends there and had people to hang with during their music shows. She started going to karaoke and met even more people through that.
Sometimes when we leave a situation, the main benefit isn't to us. It isn't always that our presence in the situation is negative as much as it creates a certain social pattern that shakes up when we leave. As humans, we can become so devoted to our routines and comfort zones that we never explore the possibilities beyond them. When the patterns change, suddenly we see all the other options.
5. Society.
I think it was around 31 or 32 when I really had my nervous break and more or less retreated into the house. Unless I was forced to do so, I avoided people at all costs and didn't leave my home. I tried not to talk to others (except via computer) or go outside at all. Other than going to see one friend and my grandmother, I didn't go out at all.
Okay, so I've gotten a lot of therapy since this and I've slowly started rejoining society. I'll go see friends now. I'll hang out on my porch and I even go with my roommate to shop or run errands. I'll smile at people when I see them and even stop to talk. I'm happier now and I know my level of social interaction is healthier than it was.
However, I still do not and can not regret the time I spent in retreat. I needed that. I had to pull back and hide. It was quite possibly the only thing that kept me from going into total insanity at the time. In all of our lives, we are going to have moments when we just need to pull a blanket over our heads and pretend like the rest of the world doesn't exist. And this is perfectly okay . . . so long as you give yourself permission to come out when you're ready.
Wow, so I feel all happy and purged and healthier now after writing this. It's good to look back and see the moments when you made decisions to make your life better, even if those decisions involved walking away from things.
You know, if you find yourself in an impossible situation, you owe it to you to at least entertain and consider the possibility of walking away. If you think it through, you may just find the answers to the problems you're facing.
Or you may just find that the best thing you can do is leave and never look back.
Mild, Mellow, and Blah
I honestly planned on writing last night, but I just couldn't. The weather made me feel like shit and I was oddly emotional. When my roommate came to pick me up, I almost hugged him just because I was so happy he was still alive. What the fuck is up with that? I spent half the evening in tears, slow, weird tears, and I'm not sure where they came from either.
So I didn't write shit. I think I mostly just stared at videos and let my mind wonder. I think it's good to have nights like that and there may be more of them to come. It's just part of the process of dealing with what I'm dealing with in therapy.
Today it's overcast and rainy. This is kind of nice because it means the hot weather is staying away at least for a little while longer. It also means things are dark and I like the dark. I always feel more protected. We also got to go to the grocery store that is not Walmart, and that's always nice because it has a calmer vibe. Then we got annoyed because we can never find the stuff we need in town.
The Rapture is supposed to happen tomorrow. Even if it does, I don't want to go. I hate the idea of leaving everyone with no hope. That would totally suck.
So I didn't write shit. I think I mostly just stared at videos and let my mind wonder. I think it's good to have nights like that and there may be more of them to come. It's just part of the process of dealing with what I'm dealing with in therapy.
Today it's overcast and rainy. This is kind of nice because it means the hot weather is staying away at least for a little while longer. It also means things are dark and I like the dark. I always feel more protected. We also got to go to the grocery store that is not Walmart, and that's always nice because it has a calmer vibe. Then we got annoyed because we can never find the stuff we need in town.
The Rapture is supposed to happen tomorrow. Even if it does, I don't want to go. I hate the idea of leaving everyone with no hope. That would totally suck.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
And Now She's Her Own Caretaker
I've been having trouble sleeping. Or, more to the point, I'm having trouble making myself go to bed. I'm doing this on purpose, putting off my sleep, but I'm not sure why. Like I said in the last post, I've been trying to curb a rebellion of anxiety. Something is brewing and I think it's because of the therapy stuff.
Today was draining. I think both my therapist and I were emotionally wrecked by the end of it. She actually apologized to me because the session had to end. It didn't end in a good way. There was no type to unwind from where we were. She's usually good about that but I think I had us both caught in my process. We lost track of time.
Okay, have you ever had a cat with ear mites? If you haven't, you're lucky. For those of you who have, that is about the best metaphor I can give you for what dealing with long buried abuse is like.
Cleaning out a cat's ears when they have mites is gross. You go through layer upon layer of nasty, with large chunks coming out and getting on you, dark brown horrors that seem to have no end. All the while, the cat is writhing, howling, clawing at you. You're getting cut. You're in pain. You're frustrated as hell because you're just trying to make the situation better and it's almost impossible to do so. And at the same time, you're having to be careful, so so careful, because you don't want to hurt the animal.
Yup. That's about where I am with this. Some protective part of my brain is the writhing, confused, and angry cat who is clawing and howling with all her power to keep everything buried and matted nasty. And the other part of me is the caretaker, trying to do her best not to get anyone hurt in the process of getting all that gross shit out.
And I know there isn't a way I can avoid the hurt. As I go through this, I'm going to get clawed, I'm going to bleed, and I'm going to get things jabbed into the uncomfortable areas inside my psyche. That IS the process.
When you have a cat, you push on with this process of getting the healed because you love them. You have committed to the responsibility to make sure they are as healthy as possible. This is how I have to see myself right now. I am the caretaker of me. I am the one who loves me and the one who is trying to get me healed.
I'll do whatever it takes.
Today was draining. I think both my therapist and I were emotionally wrecked by the end of it. She actually apologized to me because the session had to end. It didn't end in a good way. There was no type to unwind from where we were. She's usually good about that but I think I had us both caught in my process. We lost track of time.
Okay, have you ever had a cat with ear mites? If you haven't, you're lucky. For those of you who have, that is about the best metaphor I can give you for what dealing with long buried abuse is like.
Cleaning out a cat's ears when they have mites is gross. You go through layer upon layer of nasty, with large chunks coming out and getting on you, dark brown horrors that seem to have no end. All the while, the cat is writhing, howling, clawing at you. You're getting cut. You're in pain. You're frustrated as hell because you're just trying to make the situation better and it's almost impossible to do so. And at the same time, you're having to be careful, so so careful, because you don't want to hurt the animal.
Yup. That's about where I am with this. Some protective part of my brain is the writhing, confused, and angry cat who is clawing and howling with all her power to keep everything buried and matted nasty. And the other part of me is the caretaker, trying to do her best not to get anyone hurt in the process of getting all that gross shit out.
And I know there isn't a way I can avoid the hurt. As I go through this, I'm going to get clawed, I'm going to bleed, and I'm going to get things jabbed into the uncomfortable areas inside my psyche. That IS the process.
When you have a cat, you push on with this process of getting the healed because you love them. You have committed to the responsibility to make sure they are as healthy as possible. This is how I have to see myself right now. I am the caretaker of me. I am the one who loves me and the one who is trying to get me healed.
I'll do whatever it takes.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Blahdeblah
I started working on the second post about my childhood and found that I couldn't finish it tonight. The whole thing was far more emotional than I could handle so I'm tabling it until it can be touched on again. I'm sure that won't be long. I got some business-y stuff handled today and have a cold cat sitting under a blanket by my feet. Oh, and now she's licking my toes. Not fun.
I had some trouble breathing today and have been fighting down anxiety. I'm not really sure what's going on with that. I don't think my breathing was any more weight related than usual. This was something else. I think maybe too much dust stirred up or something. Or maybe it's just the backlash from the chapter I worked on for therapy.
The chapter keeps crashing into me. I don't want it to, but it does. It's lurking at the edges of my thoughts and I keep trying to push it back down. Not because I don't want to face it, but just so I can function. Or, hell, maybe because I don't want to face it. I'm even sure at this point.
I know a lot of this is my brain trying to protect me from things. The level of rationalization I'm doing over the book and its contents is astounding. And to think I was sure there were no doors I'd left shut off and locked. Amazing what one finds, as one ages.
The book suggested doing art therapy about my state of mind as a child. We have painting supplies and I'm almost considering this. I don't know yet. I want it to be a positive and healing experience. Not something that just turns into more stress. We'll see.
Anyway, I think that's all for tonight. I need to get some sleep. I hope you have good dreams.
I had some trouble breathing today and have been fighting down anxiety. I'm not really sure what's going on with that. I don't think my breathing was any more weight related than usual. This was something else. I think maybe too much dust stirred up or something. Or maybe it's just the backlash from the chapter I worked on for therapy.
The chapter keeps crashing into me. I don't want it to, but it does. It's lurking at the edges of my thoughts and I keep trying to push it back down. Not because I don't want to face it, but just so I can function. Or, hell, maybe because I don't want to face it. I'm even sure at this point.
I know a lot of this is my brain trying to protect me from things. The level of rationalization I'm doing over the book and its contents is astounding. And to think I was sure there were no doors I'd left shut off and locked. Amazing what one finds, as one ages.
The book suggested doing art therapy about my state of mind as a child. We have painting supplies and I'm almost considering this. I don't know yet. I want it to be a positive and healing experience. Not something that just turns into more stress. We'll see.
Anyway, I think that's all for tonight. I need to get some sleep. I hope you have good dreams.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Childhood: Part One
For the last few days, I've spent some time working on my stuff for therapy. I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I'm happy I'm doing the work in a reasonable manner, spacing it out over a period of days so that I will get all of it caught up. On the other hand, doing work of this nature is the emotional equivalent of beating yourself with a hammer and waiting for the bruises to show.
Today's work was particularly frustrating because most of it was about childhood family dynamics. Because I spent some years living with my mother and some living with my grandparents, I sort of see myself as having two sets of childhood dynamics. It gets confusing and I think a lot of it is why I can flow so fluidly from one type of person to the other, and feel comfortable being both.
The Childhood of Lilly, living with Vicki.
Okay, I put "raised" but then changed it to "living with," because I can't really consider what Mom did as "raising." Raising implies some kind of slightly active teaching and/or nurturing of a younger person. That just simply was never the case.
My mother is 19 years older than me. I was born in wedlock, but she was pregnant when she got married. She did drugs when she was pregnant with me, smoked, and drank. I'm not sure but I get the impression that being pregnant was never something she was thrilled about, just something she was going through.
My mother didn't like me. She resented me, felt I was a burden to her, and never gave my thoughts, feelings, or safety any regard in her activities. To be fair, she did feed me. I was given a room in her home. On her good days, she was charming enough to make me feel special. I kind of hate that last part. My mother could be so enchanting. I think my life could have been a lot easier and less frustrating if I just could have not loved her. I did love her though. It just never mattered.
Life with her was chaotic and unpredictable. She was an alcoholic, sometimes a drug addict. She managed to marry badly and find even worse husbands past that. Her husbands were always abusive dicks. She always took their side. Any protesting I or my brother made against said husbands was met with resentment.
The house was rarely clean. I can remember being young and shoved into a chair to stand on to do dishes. Said dishes would have piled up over several weeks and only be washed because there literally was nothing else to use. So I would stand there in the chair, for hours, washing and washing, then walking around on the counters to put the dishes away. Oh and then I would get yelled at because they weren't clean enough. If only I would have had the articulation to point out that this is probably the best you can get from having someone under ten wash your filthy dishes.
We were poor and sometimes bills didn't get paid. However, though we might go for a while without power, we did have beer and smokes. Oh yes, always that. So I was one of those poor kids, the ones who received the pitying looks from teachers and snobbery from other children. We lived in a small area and everybody knew what kind of crazy my mom was. And even though this shouldn't be reflected onto the kids, it always is.
One time I was listening to someone discuss how quite often older children are resentful of late in life babies, because they take resources from the family. The person speaking said that it was perfectly justifiable for the older siblings to ignore this younger one and they should never be forced to take it places of help with it. At the time, these statements bothered me on a very deep and personal level. I didn't understand why at first, but finally realized that I was getting so emotional about it because this was exactly how my mother treated me.
Really, that is what it was like. She treated me like I was some little sister her parents were forcing her to hang out with. A little sister, one that she was, in no way, responsible for, but saddled with, because her parents were too old to handle the new baby. She acted like I was robbing her of her resources, taking up her time and energy, and that I had no right to do any of this.
So most of my childhood with my mom was spent in my room, reading books to escape and entertain myself so that I wouldn't be noticed or resented any more than necessary. The things we did bond over were usually music or movies, and then no more than two sisters would. She routinely told me I was selfish, bitchy, calling attention to myself, unattractive, and strange.
And even though she added that compliment of "strange," I still always caught on to how much she wished I wasn't there.
Today's work was particularly frustrating because most of it was about childhood family dynamics. Because I spent some years living with my mother and some living with my grandparents, I sort of see myself as having two sets of childhood dynamics. It gets confusing and I think a lot of it is why I can flow so fluidly from one type of person to the other, and feel comfortable being both.
The Childhood of Lilly, living with Vicki.
Okay, I put "raised" but then changed it to "living with," because I can't really consider what Mom did as "raising." Raising implies some kind of slightly active teaching and/or nurturing of a younger person. That just simply was never the case.
My mother is 19 years older than me. I was born in wedlock, but she was pregnant when she got married. She did drugs when she was pregnant with me, smoked, and drank. I'm not sure but I get the impression that being pregnant was never something she was thrilled about, just something she was going through.
My mother didn't like me. She resented me, felt I was a burden to her, and never gave my thoughts, feelings, or safety any regard in her activities. To be fair, she did feed me. I was given a room in her home. On her good days, she was charming enough to make me feel special. I kind of hate that last part. My mother could be so enchanting. I think my life could have been a lot easier and less frustrating if I just could have not loved her. I did love her though. It just never mattered.
Life with her was chaotic and unpredictable. She was an alcoholic, sometimes a drug addict. She managed to marry badly and find even worse husbands past that. Her husbands were always abusive dicks. She always took their side. Any protesting I or my brother made against said husbands was met with resentment.
The house was rarely clean. I can remember being young and shoved into a chair to stand on to do dishes. Said dishes would have piled up over several weeks and only be washed because there literally was nothing else to use. So I would stand there in the chair, for hours, washing and washing, then walking around on the counters to put the dishes away. Oh and then I would get yelled at because they weren't clean enough. If only I would have had the articulation to point out that this is probably the best you can get from having someone under ten wash your filthy dishes.
We were poor and sometimes bills didn't get paid. However, though we might go for a while without power, we did have beer and smokes. Oh yes, always that. So I was one of those poor kids, the ones who received the pitying looks from teachers and snobbery from other children. We lived in a small area and everybody knew what kind of crazy my mom was. And even though this shouldn't be reflected onto the kids, it always is.
One time I was listening to someone discuss how quite often older children are resentful of late in life babies, because they take resources from the family. The person speaking said that it was perfectly justifiable for the older siblings to ignore this younger one and they should never be forced to take it places of help with it. At the time, these statements bothered me on a very deep and personal level. I didn't understand why at first, but finally realized that I was getting so emotional about it because this was exactly how my mother treated me.
Really, that is what it was like. She treated me like I was some little sister her parents were forcing her to hang out with. A little sister, one that she was, in no way, responsible for, but saddled with, because her parents were too old to handle the new baby. She acted like I was robbing her of her resources, taking up her time and energy, and that I had no right to do any of this.
So most of my childhood with my mom was spent in my room, reading books to escape and entertain myself so that I wouldn't be noticed or resented any more than necessary. The things we did bond over were usually music or movies, and then no more than two sisters would. She routinely told me I was selfish, bitchy, calling attention to myself, unattractive, and strange.
And even though she added that compliment of "strange," I still always caught on to how much she wished I wasn't there.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Happiness: An Ongoing Essay Part Two
THE ACT OF DAILY HAPPINESS
I really didn't plan to write sections of this close together, save that I got inspired about some things. I must say that I love being inspired, especially after this many months of blogging. It's a nice kind of feeling to know that I'm still finding stuff to write.
Anyway, this morning I was thinking about how happiness is not only a choice, but, like anything else, needs to be practiced on a daily basis. As I've stated, happiness isn't something we can arrive at passively. Or, at least, not something we should arrive at passively. Happiness should be the end goal of at least three activities every day. Hopefully more.
As simple as this statement is, I know a lot of people will disagree. In our society, we are geared towards and encouraged to have goals with tangible results. If we like gardening, it's not enough that we spend time doing it, but that the plants grow and look great. If we like a craft, we should make sure we produce things from said craft that have value. No matter what it is, for many people, if they are doing something for their own simple pleasure, it is a waste of our time.
It isn't though. In fact, not only do I believe that you should allow yourself to do things just to make you happy, but that you should see it as a responsibility. As I have stated before, your happiness is up to you. And every day, you should do something about it. Now, there is a potential trap here. Don't start things and let them turn into a chore. If you dread your "Daily Happiness Activity," then it is not making you happy. It is just something you're doing to go through the motions.
Now, a bit of advice.
There are some basic tips for daily happiness.
1. Choose activities that are not dependent on other people. Other people may not be around to help you. They may be tired or not into what you want to do. They may not be in the mood. Your Happiness Activities are best when they involve things that only need you to be accomplished.
2. Choose things that don't cost you a lot of money. Now, there may be some money in the start of things. I knit, and if you don't watch how you are spending, knitting can get very expensive. However, if I keep in mind I only have a limited allowance of funds for it, I can still enjoy my knitting without making it a burden on my life.
3. Choose things you really WANT to do. A lot of the time, we choose our hobbies or activities because we think it is what we are supposed to like. When we find these things aren't making us happy, we think we're doing something wrong or there is something wrong with us. That isn't the case. It simply means this activity isn't for you.
4. I'm listening several ways you can do daily happiness activities below, but keep in mind quite often these can overlap. For instance, for me, blogging is something an intellectual thing and a creative thing. Sometimes, it is purely emotional. Activities can have different results and different ways they affect you.
Ideally, I would like to see people hit all of these points when pursuing happiness. However, I know that there are only so many hours in the day, people have other things they have to do. But I think if you get at least three of these in a day, you'll be doing well. Hell, even doing one thing to make you happier is great.
DO SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU PHYSICALLY HAPPY.
No, I'm not just talking about sex. Though, I'm sure for a lot of people, that qualifies. But it isn't the only path to physical happiness. Sleep is also good and something you should not neglect. Also, consider massages, work outs, walks, or even just taking a few minutes to stretch.
Perhaps it is interesting that Ye Olde Fat Bitch would start with physical happiness needs. However, as I've blogged about in the past, I tend to ignore my body and what's going on with it, but things are still going on. When I am well rested, not tense, have worked out, and my blood sugar levels are good, I feel better. Happy body goes along way towards happy life.
DO SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU EMOTIONALLY HAPPY.
"Emotionally happy" may seem redundant, but, like the physical, I think it is primary. Taking a few minutes every day to boost our emotions to a happier state does wonders. This is a place where I think a lot of people fall into the trap of relying on others. Look, I'll talk more about this in a later post, but the more independent we can be in our happiness, the better.
To achieve some emotional happiness, set aside time each day to focus. Then actively pursue a positive and pleasurable emotion. During this time, make yourself laugh by recalling funny events. Make yourself feel proud by talking about what you have achieved. Think about someone you care for and bask in that love.
Okay, yes, I know, this sounds a little hokey. It works though. It's kind of a nice, free, legal high.
DO SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU INTELLECTUALLY HAPPY.
Activities that make our brain pleased go a long way towards our overall happiness. A nice side benefit to this is the more we use our brains, the more inspired and creative we become.
I spent this weekend reading a series of blog posts about Isaac Asimov's Foundation novels. The posts were long critiques of the works and I had one of the best times with I've had in a while. Mind you, book discussion is one of my things. As is, well, discussion and analysis of just about everything. I'm sure you've noticed.
I would think that just about all of us have intellectual activities that make us happy. For some people, it may be doing crossword puzzles or other word searches. For others, it is organizing things and solving spacial problems. For others, it may be listening to people speak about topics of interest. Reading, learning about nature, studying history, of any millions of other things that make our brains happy.
If you don't know what this is for you, take some time and explore. If you do, take some time and enjoy these activities. Your brain will thank you with happy chemicals.
DO SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU SPIRITUALLY HAPPY.
Of all of these, I think this one is the most personal because each of us approaches the idea of the spiritual in a different way. For some people, making their spirit happy might involve praying or reading a holy book. For others, it might be singing or meditation. For some people, the path to spiritual happiness might involve watching birds or gardening. This is honestly something you have to discover for yourself.
While I won't go into all the ways I pursue spiritual happiness, I will share something I try to do every day before sleeping. I give myself a few minutes to look at all the blessings I have been given during the day. For instance, right now, I am thankful because I have a working computer and internet access so I can write this post. I am thankful for the good meals my roommate cooked and for the little cat's paws against my leg. I'm thankful I have a working oxygen machine, that I'm not in a lot of pain, that I have a playdate tomorrow with a friend.
Being thankful for what you have always makes you happier. Sometimes we forget, in the overwhelming hell of all of the bad, just how many ways in which everything can be good.
DO SOMETHING TO MAKE YOUR SENSES HAPPY.
I think this one is probably the easiest. You do, after all, have a lot of senses to work with. So, listen to some good music, look at something that pleases you, take some time to savor a smell you love. Touch some things. Touch scratchy things. Enjoy a good meal.
And you know, don't just do these things. Really focus on them. Don't just let the song play....let it move you. Don't just eat the food, really concentrate on the flavors. Really LOOK at that sunset. Really commit that glorious scent to memory.
Like I said, I know everyone can't spend their whole day pursuing happiness. Okay, I'm sure some people do, but for a lot of us, it's impractical. But I will tell you this. I committed myself to working out for at least 20 minutes every day. Twenty minutes isn't very long. Anyone can probably handle it. However, over the weeks since I started, I feel stronger, I'm in less pain, and I'm sleeping better. With that in mind, think about the way your overall mood could change if you take 20 minutes a day to really actively and consciously pursue your own happiness. I'm betting the results will please you.
I really didn't plan to write sections of this close together, save that I got inspired about some things. I must say that I love being inspired, especially after this many months of blogging. It's a nice kind of feeling to know that I'm still finding stuff to write.
Anyway, this morning I was thinking about how happiness is not only a choice, but, like anything else, needs to be practiced on a daily basis. As I've stated, happiness isn't something we can arrive at passively. Or, at least, not something we should arrive at passively. Happiness should be the end goal of at least three activities every day. Hopefully more.
As simple as this statement is, I know a lot of people will disagree. In our society, we are geared towards and encouraged to have goals with tangible results. If we like gardening, it's not enough that we spend time doing it, but that the plants grow and look great. If we like a craft, we should make sure we produce things from said craft that have value. No matter what it is, for many people, if they are doing something for their own simple pleasure, it is a waste of our time.
It isn't though. In fact, not only do I believe that you should allow yourself to do things just to make you happy, but that you should see it as a responsibility. As I have stated before, your happiness is up to you. And every day, you should do something about it. Now, there is a potential trap here. Don't start things and let them turn into a chore. If you dread your "Daily Happiness Activity," then it is not making you happy. It is just something you're doing to go through the motions.
Now, a bit of advice.
There are some basic tips for daily happiness.
1. Choose activities that are not dependent on other people. Other people may not be around to help you. They may be tired or not into what you want to do. They may not be in the mood. Your Happiness Activities are best when they involve things that only need you to be accomplished.
2. Choose things that don't cost you a lot of money. Now, there may be some money in the start of things. I knit, and if you don't watch how you are spending, knitting can get very expensive. However, if I keep in mind I only have a limited allowance of funds for it, I can still enjoy my knitting without making it a burden on my life.
3. Choose things you really WANT to do. A lot of the time, we choose our hobbies or activities because we think it is what we are supposed to like. When we find these things aren't making us happy, we think we're doing something wrong or there is something wrong with us. That isn't the case. It simply means this activity isn't for you.
4. I'm listening several ways you can do daily happiness activities below, but keep in mind quite often these can overlap. For instance, for me, blogging is something an intellectual thing and a creative thing. Sometimes, it is purely emotional. Activities can have different results and different ways they affect you.
Ideally, I would like to see people hit all of these points when pursuing happiness. However, I know that there are only so many hours in the day, people have other things they have to do. But I think if you get at least three of these in a day, you'll be doing well. Hell, even doing one thing to make you happier is great.
DO SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU PHYSICALLY HAPPY.
No, I'm not just talking about sex. Though, I'm sure for a lot of people, that qualifies. But it isn't the only path to physical happiness. Sleep is also good and something you should not neglect. Also, consider massages, work outs, walks, or even just taking a few minutes to stretch.
Perhaps it is interesting that Ye Olde Fat Bitch would start with physical happiness needs. However, as I've blogged about in the past, I tend to ignore my body and what's going on with it, but things are still going on. When I am well rested, not tense, have worked out, and my blood sugar levels are good, I feel better. Happy body goes along way towards happy life.
DO SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU EMOTIONALLY HAPPY.
"Emotionally happy" may seem redundant, but, like the physical, I think it is primary. Taking a few minutes every day to boost our emotions to a happier state does wonders. This is a place where I think a lot of people fall into the trap of relying on others. Look, I'll talk more about this in a later post, but the more independent we can be in our happiness, the better.
To achieve some emotional happiness, set aside time each day to focus. Then actively pursue a positive and pleasurable emotion. During this time, make yourself laugh by recalling funny events. Make yourself feel proud by talking about what you have achieved. Think about someone you care for and bask in that love.
Okay, yes, I know, this sounds a little hokey. It works though. It's kind of a nice, free, legal high.
DO SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU INTELLECTUALLY HAPPY.
Activities that make our brain pleased go a long way towards our overall happiness. A nice side benefit to this is the more we use our brains, the more inspired and creative we become.
I spent this weekend reading a series of blog posts about Isaac Asimov's Foundation novels. The posts were long critiques of the works and I had one of the best times with I've had in a while. Mind you, book discussion is one of my things. As is, well, discussion and analysis of just about everything. I'm sure you've noticed.
I would think that just about all of us have intellectual activities that make us happy. For some people, it may be doing crossword puzzles or other word searches. For others, it is organizing things and solving spacial problems. For others, it may be listening to people speak about topics of interest. Reading, learning about nature, studying history, of any millions of other things that make our brains happy.
If you don't know what this is for you, take some time and explore. If you do, take some time and enjoy these activities. Your brain will thank you with happy chemicals.
DO SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU SPIRITUALLY HAPPY.
Of all of these, I think this one is the most personal because each of us approaches the idea of the spiritual in a different way. For some people, making their spirit happy might involve praying or reading a holy book. For others, it might be singing or meditation. For some people, the path to spiritual happiness might involve watching birds or gardening. This is honestly something you have to discover for yourself.
While I won't go into all the ways I pursue spiritual happiness, I will share something I try to do every day before sleeping. I give myself a few minutes to look at all the blessings I have been given during the day. For instance, right now, I am thankful because I have a working computer and internet access so I can write this post. I am thankful for the good meals my roommate cooked and for the little cat's paws against my leg. I'm thankful I have a working oxygen machine, that I'm not in a lot of pain, that I have a playdate tomorrow with a friend.
Being thankful for what you have always makes you happier. Sometimes we forget, in the overwhelming hell of all of the bad, just how many ways in which everything can be good.
DO SOMETHING TO MAKE YOUR SENSES HAPPY.
I think this one is probably the easiest. You do, after all, have a lot of senses to work with. So, listen to some good music, look at something that pleases you, take some time to savor a smell you love. Touch some things. Touch scratchy things. Enjoy a good meal.
And you know, don't just do these things. Really focus on them. Don't just let the song play....let it move you. Don't just eat the food, really concentrate on the flavors. Really LOOK at that sunset. Really commit that glorious scent to memory.
Like I said, I know everyone can't spend their whole day pursuing happiness. Okay, I'm sure some people do, but for a lot of us, it's impractical. But I will tell you this. I committed myself to working out for at least 20 minutes every day. Twenty minutes isn't very long. Anyone can probably handle it. However, over the weeks since I started, I feel stronger, I'm in less pain, and I'm sleeping better. With that in mind, think about the way your overall mood could change if you take 20 minutes a day to really actively and consciously pursue your own happiness. I'm betting the results will please you.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Happiness: An Ongoing Essay Part One
It has been said many times that while we have the right to pursue happiness, not the right to guaranteed happiness. Most of the time when people say this, they're being snide, trying to "get someone off their ass" or whatever. It's never meant as a nice statement.
Except that, it is a nice statement. It's a good statement, a strong statement.
You see, if we were guaranteed happiness, it would be through no action of our own. Happiness would just happen, like they would send it in the mail along with your SSI check or something. Or government cheese. Yup, here's your monthly government cheese and your bucket of happiness.
But the idea of pursuing happiness is far better. This puts the responsibility for our happiness in our hands. This isn't just a semantics game either. Fundamentally, our happiness, like our safety, is ours to have or not to have. It is up to us and within our power to find.
Okay, I'm not saying that you can be happy all the time. That's just....well, creepy. And there are certainly moments when no happiness can or even should be found. However, for the rest of the time, your misery is your choice.
An example:
When I was a wee child, my grandparents lived about 12 miles from the nearest town with larger grocery stores. My grandmother hated this and complained every day, seriously, every day, about how how she was isolated from civilization and they should move to the town. Around the early 80s, they did move to said town. And she was . . . absolutely no happier. Instead of enjoying all of the advantages she had wanted from being in town, now she was miserable because she was away from all of her old friends and the town was too populated.
From that day on, every day, she would complain about how she wished they never moved. She wanted to go back where she was. She painted a blissful and beautiful metal portrait of her time on the farm and contrasted that with all of the problems (many of which she exaggerated) about living in town.
She chose to be miserable. Both locations had advantages and disadvantages. Instead of looking at the advantages and finding ways how to work around the disadvantages, she chose to be unhappy and sour about both experiences. And, honestly, she could have been living anyway, even Happytown of Blissland and she still would have found reasons to hate it.
As for me, I don't want to be unhappy. I know sometimes my meds can't fight the brain-nasties and sometimes shit justs sucks, but in all those other times of my life, I want to be happy. I choose to be happy. And I am going to blog about ways to get to this happiness, as an ongoing study.
Yup, this is me, pursuin some happiness.
Except that, it is a nice statement. It's a good statement, a strong statement.
You see, if we were guaranteed happiness, it would be through no action of our own. Happiness would just happen, like they would send it in the mail along with your SSI check or something. Or government cheese. Yup, here's your monthly government cheese and your bucket of happiness.
But the idea of pursuing happiness is far better. This puts the responsibility for our happiness in our hands. This isn't just a semantics game either. Fundamentally, our happiness, like our safety, is ours to have or not to have. It is up to us and within our power to find.
Okay, I'm not saying that you can be happy all the time. That's just....well, creepy. And there are certainly moments when no happiness can or even should be found. However, for the rest of the time, your misery is your choice.
An example:
When I was a wee child, my grandparents lived about 12 miles from the nearest town with larger grocery stores. My grandmother hated this and complained every day, seriously, every day, about how how she was isolated from civilization and they should move to the town. Around the early 80s, they did move to said town. And she was . . . absolutely no happier. Instead of enjoying all of the advantages she had wanted from being in town, now she was miserable because she was away from all of her old friends and the town was too populated.
From that day on, every day, she would complain about how she wished they never moved. She wanted to go back where she was. She painted a blissful and beautiful metal portrait of her time on the farm and contrasted that with all of the problems (many of which she exaggerated) about living in town.
She chose to be miserable. Both locations had advantages and disadvantages. Instead of looking at the advantages and finding ways how to work around the disadvantages, she chose to be unhappy and sour about both experiences. And, honestly, she could have been living anyway, even Happytown of Blissland and she still would have found reasons to hate it.
As for me, I don't want to be unhappy. I know sometimes my meds can't fight the brain-nasties and sometimes shit justs sucks, but in all those other times of my life, I want to be happy. I choose to be happy. And I am going to blog about ways to get to this happiness, as an ongoing study.
Yup, this is me, pursuin some happiness.
Friday List: Apocapossiblities.
Ahh, it is Friday again and Blogger is back online. I have some other stuff I need to write about, but I wanted to stay with my Friday thingamabob. Wow, "thingamabob" doesn't set off spellcheck. Awesome. Anyway, I've had a shitastic week and feel rather fatal about things. Also, there is supposed to be some big planet alignment and lots of religious types are saying the world will end on May 21st. With that in mind, I will present a list of ways I would love for the world to end.
1. INVASION OF REALLY HOT ALIENS.
Honestly, if the world has to end, why not have it done by really great looking aliens? You know, the ship lands, a bunch of really beautiful naked men appear. They have musical voices and sing songs to us....then kill us softly with their songs.
Maybe they will even find some of us amusing because humor is a new thing to them and they'll keep us alive. I can dream!
2. GIANT WHITE METEOR HITS US
Then we slam into the side pocket and some vast space giant wins the pool game! Yay!
Okay, here is the thing about a giant meteor hit. We will know about it in advance. We will also know, fairly quickly past that, whether or not we can DO anything about it. More than likely, we can't. So, while the world will be ending, I think we would have this huge sense of relief. We would truly live just for the day, for the moment. It would be an amazing party.
3. THE RAPTURE
This end of the world scenario would be awesome for two reasons. One, a lot of trippy stuff happens after. Two, SO MANY PEOPLE who thought they would get to go................won't. Hah!
Okay, I know that last statement is very, very spiteful . . . but I really do not care. I think it would be a great eye opener for people, to really understand where their hearts have been at this whole time. And I hope this is what changes them. Though again, yeah. Spiteful.
4. SKYNET
I've actually loved this idea every since I was a young BHB and watch my first terminator step on that skull. Actually, I think this one is probably already happening. *waves to robot masters* Though, seriously, the Skynet thing is great because as bad as humans are at running things, you will notice from the scenes of the future that robots do a really horrible job. This means we get to feel smug for a change!
Also . . . I just love the idea of someone screaming and running from their Roomba.
5. ZOMBIES
After all the movies we have seen and all the books and TV shows and discussions, I think of all the possible paths to DOOM, humans are best prepared for zombies. People even build houses now that can withstand zombies.
I have a very dear friend who always leaves her car door unlocked and a spare key in it. That way, if zombies attack and she is dead, someone can use her car and get away from them.
I know I'd become a zombie quickly.....which means I won't have to look, smell, or deal with the other zombies. I think it will be funny watching me waddle down the road, trying to eat someone's brain.
And....so there you have it. Doom and gloom....with upsides!
Look, I don't think the world will end on the 21st. Of course, if I'm wrong, we won't exactly know, will we? Maybe we should live like it will though. Maybe we should do things we've been putting off or get things off our chests or tell someone we love them, just to make sure they understand. We get so caught up in preparing for the future or dreading the consequences that most of the time, we forget to actually just live. Live for a while. Live and enjoy what is around you.
You never know when the zombies will come knocking.
1. INVASION OF REALLY HOT ALIENS.
Honestly, if the world has to end, why not have it done by really great looking aliens? You know, the ship lands, a bunch of really beautiful naked men appear. They have musical voices and sing songs to us....then kill us softly with their songs.
Maybe they will even find some of us amusing because humor is a new thing to them and they'll keep us alive. I can dream!
2. GIANT WHITE METEOR HITS US
Then we slam into the side pocket and some vast space giant wins the pool game! Yay!
Okay, here is the thing about a giant meteor hit. We will know about it in advance. We will also know, fairly quickly past that, whether or not we can DO anything about it. More than likely, we can't. So, while the world will be ending, I think we would have this huge sense of relief. We would truly live just for the day, for the moment. It would be an amazing party.
3. THE RAPTURE
This end of the world scenario would be awesome for two reasons. One, a lot of trippy stuff happens after. Two, SO MANY PEOPLE who thought they would get to go................won't. Hah!
Okay, I know that last statement is very, very spiteful . . . but I really do not care. I think it would be a great eye opener for people, to really understand where their hearts have been at this whole time. And I hope this is what changes them. Though again, yeah. Spiteful.
4. SKYNET
I've actually loved this idea every since I was a young BHB and watch my first terminator step on that skull. Actually, I think this one is probably already happening. *waves to robot masters* Though, seriously, the Skynet thing is great because as bad as humans are at running things, you will notice from the scenes of the future that robots do a really horrible job. This means we get to feel smug for a change!
Also . . . I just love the idea of someone screaming and running from their Roomba.
5. ZOMBIES
After all the movies we have seen and all the books and TV shows and discussions, I think of all the possible paths to DOOM, humans are best prepared for zombies. People even build houses now that can withstand zombies.
I have a very dear friend who always leaves her car door unlocked and a spare key in it. That way, if zombies attack and she is dead, someone can use her car and get away from them.
I know I'd become a zombie quickly.....which means I won't have to look, smell, or deal with the other zombies. I think it will be funny watching me waddle down the road, trying to eat someone's brain.
And....so there you have it. Doom and gloom....with upsides!
Look, I don't think the world will end on the 21st. Of course, if I'm wrong, we won't exactly know, will we? Maybe we should live like it will though. Maybe we should do things we've been putting off or get things off our chests or tell someone we love them, just to make sure they understand. We get so caught up in preparing for the future or dreading the consequences that most of the time, we forget to actually just live. Live for a while. Live and enjoy what is around you.
You never know when the zombies will come knocking.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Simulated Activities are Not the Same as Actual Activities
So I've been doing my little work out for a few weeks now. One of these days, I'll take pictures of my makeshift equipment and explain the whole thing. Not tonight though. Too tired.
One of the things I do works out the same muscle groups one works when mopping. This is a pretty important thing because it's both arm and torso. I'm rather good at the exercise and feel I'm getting a lot of strength in these areas. Or so I thought.
Yesterday, I decided to mop the bathroom and hallway. Just the bathroom and hall. Two very small spaces that are right next to each other. I reasoned that after all the nifty exercise I'd been doing, this would be a piece of cake.
Hah!
Okay, keep in mind, it's hot as hell and I'm not used to that yet. Also, the bathroom door was closed during part of this, which makes it even hotter. But still. STILL. It was horrible. I had to sit through most of it. I was out of breath. I was sweaty and hurting and so, so hot.
My roommate saw me about half way through mopping the hallway after the bathroom was finished. His first comment was, "Wow, you really look like hell." Which means, I probably looked flushed two seconds before heat stroke or something.
The worst part was, when I lated hobbled to the bathroom, I noticed the floor still wasn't even all THAT clean. I'd missed a lot. Which annoyed me to no end.
It didn't annoy me as much as the fact that this whole thing was such an ordeal. I honestly believed it wouldn't be. I thought, after working those muscle groups, it would be a lot easier. Of course, I hadn't counted on weather conditions or the floor's resistance, or just how dirty it was.
It's okay though. I made it through the chore. It was far easier than it used to be, even if it was still harder than expected. And yes, I KNOW, it probably seems very pathetic to many that just the simple act of mopping two small spaces would wear me out so much. If you feel that way, next time you mop, strap what will make you weigh about 500 lbs onto you and see how it goes. It's not fun.
However, on the bright side, I did do it. The floor was clean (er-ish) when the plumbers got here. Well, they at least didn't stick to it or anything. The hallway didn't look questionable. And I recovered from the whole ordeal a lot quicker than I used to. So I will choose to be proud of myself and happy that progress is being made.
I will also choose to see this whole thing as a life lesson. Simulation doesn't equal real life. But it does help.
One of the things I do works out the same muscle groups one works when mopping. This is a pretty important thing because it's both arm and torso. I'm rather good at the exercise and feel I'm getting a lot of strength in these areas. Or so I thought.
Yesterday, I decided to mop the bathroom and hallway. Just the bathroom and hall. Two very small spaces that are right next to each other. I reasoned that after all the nifty exercise I'd been doing, this would be a piece of cake.
Hah!
Okay, keep in mind, it's hot as hell and I'm not used to that yet. Also, the bathroom door was closed during part of this, which makes it even hotter. But still. STILL. It was horrible. I had to sit through most of it. I was out of breath. I was sweaty and hurting and so, so hot.
My roommate saw me about half way through mopping the hallway after the bathroom was finished. His first comment was, "Wow, you really look like hell." Which means, I probably looked flushed two seconds before heat stroke or something.
The worst part was, when I lated hobbled to the bathroom, I noticed the floor still wasn't even all THAT clean. I'd missed a lot. Which annoyed me to no end.
It didn't annoy me as much as the fact that this whole thing was such an ordeal. I honestly believed it wouldn't be. I thought, after working those muscle groups, it would be a lot easier. Of course, I hadn't counted on weather conditions or the floor's resistance, or just how dirty it was.
It's okay though. I made it through the chore. It was far easier than it used to be, even if it was still harder than expected. And yes, I KNOW, it probably seems very pathetic to many that just the simple act of mopping two small spaces would wear me out so much. If you feel that way, next time you mop, strap what will make you weigh about 500 lbs onto you and see how it goes. It's not fun.
However, on the bright side, I did do it. The floor was clean (er-ish) when the plumbers got here. Well, they at least didn't stick to it or anything. The hallway didn't look questionable. And I recovered from the whole ordeal a lot quicker than I used to. So I will choose to be proud of myself and happy that progress is being made.
I will also choose to see this whole thing as a life lesson. Simulation doesn't equal real life. But it does help.
Theme Song of the Rage Monkeys
This is not a poem. It's just a series of statements set up to look like a poem. I do not write poetry.
Today sucked.
It was hot.
It was humid.
People died.
Everyone was angry.
The plumbers were supposed to come this morning.
Instead of putting on the shorts and tank I would have normally worn to keep less-hot, I stayed in pants and a shirt.
They didn't show up until almost four.
The water heater is broken beyond repair.
To tell us this, it cost money.
We drove to get a new water heater.
It was even hotter than before.
We were both angry, sad, upset, frantic.
We are tired of feeling like this.
We have no way out, not right now.
He went inside to get it.
I waited outside because I am too fat to waddle through the stores.
It was so hot and I was so emotional.
I cried.
I wondered why we stay alive.
I wondered if it would always be like this.
I reasoned that if this stress will not end, why bother?
What is the point?
He came outside with the new water heater.
It cost a lot of money.
It was heavy and awkward.
He called for me to help him.
I burned my feet on the pavement.
He hurt his shoulder.
We were too tired to still be angry.
I was too tired to feel or function.
He is worn out, aching, spent from emotion.
We drive home, numb.
Tomorrow, we will wait for the plumbers.
It will be hot and I will be in hot clothes.
It will cost more money for them to install it.
And I worry . . .
I worry that the new water heater will somehow not work.
I worry it will be installed incorrectly.
I worry that it will cost more money than we have.
I worry that this won't end.
I worry that nothing will go right.
I worry that there will be more stress, more anger, more ranting.
I am tired. I am tired. I am tired.
I still am not sure this is worth it. I still am not sure.
Today sucked.
It was hot.
It was humid.
People died.
Everyone was angry.
The plumbers were supposed to come this morning.
Instead of putting on the shorts and tank I would have normally worn to keep less-hot, I stayed in pants and a shirt.
They didn't show up until almost four.
The water heater is broken beyond repair.
To tell us this, it cost money.
We drove to get a new water heater.
It was even hotter than before.
We were both angry, sad, upset, frantic.
We are tired of feeling like this.
We have no way out, not right now.
He went inside to get it.
I waited outside because I am too fat to waddle through the stores.
It was so hot and I was so emotional.
I cried.
I wondered why we stay alive.
I wondered if it would always be like this.
I reasoned that if this stress will not end, why bother?
What is the point?
He came outside with the new water heater.
It cost a lot of money.
It was heavy and awkward.
He called for me to help him.
I burned my feet on the pavement.
He hurt his shoulder.
We were too tired to still be angry.
I was too tired to feel or function.
He is worn out, aching, spent from emotion.
We drive home, numb.
Tomorrow, we will wait for the plumbers.
It will be hot and I will be in hot clothes.
It will cost more money for them to install it.
And I worry . . .
I worry that the new water heater will somehow not work.
I worry it will be installed incorrectly.
I worry that it will cost more money than we have.
I worry that this won't end.
I worry that nothing will go right.
I worry that there will be more stress, more anger, more ranting.
I am tired. I am tired. I am tired.
I still am not sure this is worth it. I still am not sure.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Your Reality is Shopped.
Today I'm going to be culturally insensitive and controversial. Okay, maybe I'm always controversial, but probably not the other.
The Hasadic newspaper Der Tzitung, as per their policy of never showing women in print, photoshopped out all the women in the now historic photo of the US national security team watching as bin Laden was assassinated. This means they removed US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and Director of Counterterrorism Audrey Tomason. You can see the comparison here.
The reasons behind women not being in print is that images of women may insight men to lustful thoughts. Or, I dunno, make them explode into billions of points of light after the deep core fire of lust ignites within them. Hmm, that might just be how new universes are made. Making new universes would be deeply irresponsible, of course, so we can't have that happen.
Except . . . except . . . wait, none of that is really true.
Okay, so when I was like 11 or so, my step-grandparents went to England and came back with some newspapers where big eyed girls were showing their breasts. When I saw this, I was shocked and perhaps scandalized. I can see how someone who saw das nakkid boobies as a sexy thing might steal the newspaper and take it home for "alone time." And so yes, if you value censorship over potential masturbation, I can see why pictures of sexy girls in your newspapers might be a bad idea.
However . . .
Both Clinton and Tomason were fully clothed. Both women were in very serious, candid shots, expression only emotion of a grave nature. Both women looked professional and dignified and neither displayed what anyone could misconstrue as something even close to being provocative.
Because, and I guess this is the part that people have such a hard time wrapping their brains around, women can be in a room and in a photo where they are simply people like everyone else.
Wait wait wait? THE HELL I SAY?
Yup. That's right. Women can be in a room with others and the fact that they have breasts and vaginae can never even become an issue. Ever. It honestly is possible. The men in the room can look at these women and just consider their statements and let them do their jobs and never once to they think anything lustful.
This is because of this crazy thing where people can treat each other just as people and behave like professionals. The fact that both sexes are in a room together does not mean they have to rip off each others' clothes and behave as genderdy-potential-sinful-lusted-up-bangbangs!
And here is the irony. Because of the intellectual equality that exists when people treat each other with this type of respect, everyone realizes that lustful feelings and thoughts would be inappropriate. So they just don't have them. Which means no sin, which is what the Hasadic dearies wanted in the first place. Funny how that works.
Though, I guess if we peeled back the blood and bones and looked into the marrow of this issue, we would find that equality is exactly what most people really fear. The idea that men and women can work together in a professional manner and achieve great things is still frightening to many. So they want to hide it away, pretend like it isn't possible. They continue to promote the idea that men and women are alien from each other, with no common ground save for moments of most likely sinful involvements.
I would honestly be more angry about this, but my soul is contented knowing at the end of the day, the people who altered this picture, the ones who made the decisions to make this alteration necessary, know they had to change reality to suit their needs. They know that every time they have to alter something like this, everything they believe in is a lie. A lie they have to work harder and harder every day to maintain.
The Hasadic newspaper Der Tzitung, as per their policy of never showing women in print, photoshopped out all the women in the now historic photo of the US national security team watching as bin Laden was assassinated. This means they removed US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and Director of Counterterrorism Audrey Tomason. You can see the comparison here.
The reasons behind women not being in print is that images of women may insight men to lustful thoughts. Or, I dunno, make them explode into billions of points of light after the deep core fire of lust ignites within them. Hmm, that might just be how new universes are made. Making new universes would be deeply irresponsible, of course, so we can't have that happen.
Except . . . except . . . wait, none of that is really true.
Okay, so when I was like 11 or so, my step-grandparents went to England and came back with some newspapers where big eyed girls were showing their breasts. When I saw this, I was shocked and perhaps scandalized. I can see how someone who saw das nakkid boobies as a sexy thing might steal the newspaper and take it home for "alone time." And so yes, if you value censorship over potential masturbation, I can see why pictures of sexy girls in your newspapers might be a bad idea.
However . . .
Both Clinton and Tomason were fully clothed. Both women were in very serious, candid shots, expression only emotion of a grave nature. Both women looked professional and dignified and neither displayed what anyone could misconstrue as something even close to being provocative.
Because, and I guess this is the part that people have such a hard time wrapping their brains around, women can be in a room and in a photo where they are simply people like everyone else.
Wait wait wait? THE HELL I SAY?
Yup. That's right. Women can be in a room with others and the fact that they have breasts and vaginae can never even become an issue. Ever. It honestly is possible. The men in the room can look at these women and just consider their statements and let them do their jobs and never once to they think anything lustful.
This is because of this crazy thing where people can treat each other just as people and behave like professionals. The fact that both sexes are in a room together does not mean they have to rip off each others' clothes and behave as genderdy-potential-sinful-lusted-up-bangbangs!
And here is the irony. Because of the intellectual equality that exists when people treat each other with this type of respect, everyone realizes that lustful feelings and thoughts would be inappropriate. So they just don't have them. Which means no sin, which is what the Hasadic dearies wanted in the first place. Funny how that works.
Though, I guess if we peeled back the blood and bones and looked into the marrow of this issue, we would find that equality is exactly what most people really fear. The idea that men and women can work together in a professional manner and achieve great things is still frightening to many. So they want to hide it away, pretend like it isn't possible. They continue to promote the idea that men and women are alien from each other, with no common ground save for moments of most likely sinful involvements.
I would honestly be more angry about this, but my soul is contented knowing at the end of the day, the people who altered this picture, the ones who made the decisions to make this alteration necessary, know they had to change reality to suit their needs. They know that every time they have to alter something like this, everything they believe in is a lie. A lie they have to work harder and harder every day to maintain.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Pixel People and the Joys of Imperfection
Today was lackluster and hot. Actually, it wasn't really hot, it just seemed that way because we're not used to it being in the 80s yet. In a month or so, 80s will feel like paradise compared to the ungodly three digit temperatures that will be radiating down upon us. Expect lots of bad moods and bitchery from that. Something to look forward to!
But today, it felt like hell. Bring back my 70s. Bring back my 60s. Again, what on earth possessed me to be a fat woman who lives in the humid and hot South? Oh yeah. Insanity.
Aside from working out, I managed to do nothing of significance. Oh wait. I installed my Sims 3 on the new comp. So let the wickedness begin again.
I love Sims because it allows me to do several things I love at once. I get to play with dolls, build houses, and pretend to be god. Sometimes my little sim people get a nice god. Most of the time, they get an evil god.
Well, maybe not evil. I tend to not kill them just for the fun of it . . . not anymore, at least. More often than not these days, I just let them play out their wants and desires.
A lot has changed since how I used to play Sims 3. When I first got the game, I would design my sims with personalities that made it easy for me to handle them. Artistic geniuses who were brave and lucky and liked to work out. And while I didn't name all of them Mary Sue, that is about what they were.
Then one day I randomly rolled traits and got a coward. That was the funnest sim ever. He would pass out when he saw ghosts. He would freak out when it was dark. He got electrocuted all the time. In fact, he was so pathetic that when he finally died, Death told him he was so amusing, he was going to let him keep living. Ahh, how I loved this sim!
Since then, I always roll random on my sims. Whatever traits they end up with is what I go with. Most of the time, this makes them a very difficult challenge for me, which is far more fun. And while yes this means I may have to coax them into water or watch as they sabotage every electronic they come into contact with, it's still way more interesting than watching them just roll up a want to paint yet another masterpiece.
I think a lot of the time, we do look for the more perfect and easy things. It makes so much sense, in the beginning, to no want a real challenge. But over time, just dealing with the same easy, simple thing over and over gets boring. That's when we realize that something a little more complex and difficult is what we wanted in the first place.
Wait, did I just answer my own question about why, as a fat woman, I choose to live in hot and humid land? I guess I did. Yup. Challenge.
And insanity.
But today, it felt like hell. Bring back my 70s. Bring back my 60s. Again, what on earth possessed me to be a fat woman who lives in the humid and hot South? Oh yeah. Insanity.
Aside from working out, I managed to do nothing of significance. Oh wait. I installed my Sims 3 on the new comp. So let the wickedness begin again.
I love Sims because it allows me to do several things I love at once. I get to play with dolls, build houses, and pretend to be god. Sometimes my little sim people get a nice god. Most of the time, they get an evil god.
Well, maybe not evil. I tend to not kill them just for the fun of it . . . not anymore, at least. More often than not these days, I just let them play out their wants and desires.
A lot has changed since how I used to play Sims 3. When I first got the game, I would design my sims with personalities that made it easy for me to handle them. Artistic geniuses who were brave and lucky and liked to work out. And while I didn't name all of them Mary Sue, that is about what they were.
Then one day I randomly rolled traits and got a coward. That was the funnest sim ever. He would pass out when he saw ghosts. He would freak out when it was dark. He got electrocuted all the time. In fact, he was so pathetic that when he finally died, Death told him he was so amusing, he was going to let him keep living. Ahh, how I loved this sim!
Since then, I always roll random on my sims. Whatever traits they end up with is what I go with. Most of the time, this makes them a very difficult challenge for me, which is far more fun. And while yes this means I may have to coax them into water or watch as they sabotage every electronic they come into contact with, it's still way more interesting than watching them just roll up a want to paint yet another masterpiece.
I think a lot of the time, we do look for the more perfect and easy things. It makes so much sense, in the beginning, to no want a real challenge. But over time, just dealing with the same easy, simple thing over and over gets boring. That's when we realize that something a little more complex and difficult is what we wanted in the first place.
Wait, did I just answer my own question about why, as a fat woman, I choose to live in hot and humid land? I guess I did. Yup. Challenge.
And insanity.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Friday List: Thank you, Mom! List
I write a lot of posts about how frustrating my mother was. I realize this. My mother was an alcoholic, difficult, sad, too young to have had me, and frustrating. She's also dead now, so there is no way I can really process my feelings for her with her. So when I do process them, it's from this place of knowing there is no way I can ever get to a better place than where our relationship was. This can get me angry sometimes. Often, even.
Having said that, there are a lot of things about my mother for which I am grateful. Mother's Day is Sunday so I thought I would take time to do a list of these things.
1. My mother gave me music.
One of my earliest memories is of being in the back seat of one of my mom's friend's cars and listening to Fleetwood Mac's Rumors album. She always had music around us and it was always playing. It may have just been the radio, but it was there.
When I was six, we lived with my aunt and uncle for a while. When they would go out, my mom would entertain my cousins and me by playing albums for us. So yes, in 1980, there was a house in Colorado where a young woman, three little kids, and two babies were all dancing to Off the Wall. It was glorious.
2. My mother inspired me to art.
I won't say she encouraged my art, because even when I was very young she was deeply critical of it, but she did inspire it. I started drawing because of Mom. She was an artist as well and when I was little, her paintings hung all over the house. I loved them and loved the idea of creating art. It was something she did and therefore, something I wanted to do as well.
3. Because of Mom, I got my first taste of weird.
Another one of my earliest memories concerns one of my mom's college art books. I remember being very young and standing at this cradle bookshelf in our dining room and looking at pictures of Hieronymus Bosch and being so drawn to the writhing and twisty figures. I think I fell in love with all things ghastly in that very moment.
4. Because of Mom, I am a feminist.
I will never in any moment say my mom was the best example of a feminist. She tended to give over to the menz and always needed to have one around. She basically walked away from her children for a manz and had done so emotionally many times over before even that. However, despite her inability to embrace her own independence, I saw it shine through anyway. Mom's menz were losers, so she did have to do everything herself. She could work on cars, handle a farm, build things, work any job, and live by relying on her own wits and skills. She was awesome in that way. I just wish she could have seen it.
5. Because of Mom, I learned to embrace being a freak.
When I was seven, my mom brought a refuge from Cuba into the house to live with us. Have I talked about this already? I might have. I repeat myself a lot. Anyway, there is a huge population of KKK in the area where we lived, and they would shoot guns at us at night.
We lived too far out for the police to bother to show up, so we were more or less on our own. Mom's solution, of course, was to get guns and shoot back. We also spent many nights sleeping on the floors on mattresses so we would be below the level of the windows.
It is a curious thing to be someone who others wish death upon. Curiouser still to be someone who had spent all of their life in an area, but suddenly be so unwanted. Whenever we would go places, people would stare at us. As a little kid, I always wondered how many of the people in the crowd were some of the ones who would drive by our house with guns once the sun set.
And while I really wish I didn't have to live through that, I know it helped to shape my outlook on life. It ripped away so many myths about what people were like and how life would be. A lesson perhaps taught to me too young, but a valuable one.
As much as my time with my mother could be dangerous, frustrating, heartbreaking, and stupid, she is still the person who gave birth to me. I can't change that, so I might as well embrace it. There are horrible things about it, but also very good ones. And even the horrible aspects can be something I transform into facets of myself that are strong, positive, and deeply ME.
Having said that, there are a lot of things about my mother for which I am grateful. Mother's Day is Sunday so I thought I would take time to do a list of these things.
1. My mother gave me music.
One of my earliest memories is of being in the back seat of one of my mom's friend's cars and listening to Fleetwood Mac's Rumors album. She always had music around us and it was always playing. It may have just been the radio, but it was there.
When I was six, we lived with my aunt and uncle for a while. When they would go out, my mom would entertain my cousins and me by playing albums for us. So yes, in 1980, there was a house in Colorado where a young woman, three little kids, and two babies were all dancing to Off the Wall. It was glorious.
2. My mother inspired me to art.
I won't say she encouraged my art, because even when I was very young she was deeply critical of it, but she did inspire it. I started drawing because of Mom. She was an artist as well and when I was little, her paintings hung all over the house. I loved them and loved the idea of creating art. It was something she did and therefore, something I wanted to do as well.
3. Because of Mom, I got my first taste of weird.
Another one of my earliest memories concerns one of my mom's college art books. I remember being very young and standing at this cradle bookshelf in our dining room and looking at pictures of Hieronymus Bosch and being so drawn to the writhing and twisty figures. I think I fell in love with all things ghastly in that very moment.
4. Because of Mom, I am a feminist.
I will never in any moment say my mom was the best example of a feminist. She tended to give over to the menz and always needed to have one around. She basically walked away from her children for a manz and had done so emotionally many times over before even that. However, despite her inability to embrace her own independence, I saw it shine through anyway. Mom's menz were losers, so she did have to do everything herself. She could work on cars, handle a farm, build things, work any job, and live by relying on her own wits and skills. She was awesome in that way. I just wish she could have seen it.
5. Because of Mom, I learned to embrace being a freak.
When I was seven, my mom brought a refuge from Cuba into the house to live with us. Have I talked about this already? I might have. I repeat myself a lot. Anyway, there is a huge population of KKK in the area where we lived, and they would shoot guns at us at night.
We lived too far out for the police to bother to show up, so we were more or less on our own. Mom's solution, of course, was to get guns and shoot back. We also spent many nights sleeping on the floors on mattresses so we would be below the level of the windows.
It is a curious thing to be someone who others wish death upon. Curiouser still to be someone who had spent all of their life in an area, but suddenly be so unwanted. Whenever we would go places, people would stare at us. As a little kid, I always wondered how many of the people in the crowd were some of the ones who would drive by our house with guns once the sun set.
And while I really wish I didn't have to live through that, I know it helped to shape my outlook on life. It ripped away so many myths about what people were like and how life would be. A lesson perhaps taught to me too young, but a valuable one.
As much as my time with my mother could be dangerous, frustrating, heartbreaking, and stupid, she is still the person who gave birth to me. I can't change that, so I might as well embrace it. There are horrible things about it, but also very good ones. And even the horrible aspects can be something I transform into facets of myself that are strong, positive, and deeply ME.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
The Basic Problem with Relationship Status
My roommate stated his opinion to someone today and they attacked him. Not in real life, of course. I know that happens, but not nearly as often as it does online. In fact, one will find far many more people who will attack others online than perhaps would face to face. Or . . . perhaps not. Maybe instead I should say there are people who will attack others online who would never say such crass and horrible thing to someone right in front of them. Yes, that.
Anyway, this woman (I assume it is a woman. You never can tell and people always snidely inform me that there are no girls on the internet, which, being female, confuses the hell out of me, but that's another post) gets offended at what he said and starts typing the crazytime things at him. He informs her he will be ignoring him and yet, she continues. The question was something about children and relationships and he had mentioned he had no children and, of course, his relationship status is listed as single.
She comes back with this very insulting comment and mentions that she is sure by his single status that he is a bitter, lonely person who no one loves and that he will never get married or be in a relationship or be important to anyone.
He, being a mature and rational person, honestly had stopped reading Trolly McTrollison's comments by this point. I, however, had not. And when I read the last vicious paragraph, I suddenly understood every braless, tube top wearing makeup caked jacked-up haired miniskirt clad hootchie who ever stood up, teetering in her high heels and screamed to the whole Jerry Springer audience, "YOU DON'T KNOW ME!"
I was so angry at this person, just seething at how she could insult him like this. I wanted to do things that would give the Springer show higher ratings and cause me to be dragged off kicking by the bouncers.
As I mentioned in my last post though, I'm more or less in a mentally good state right now, so I kept from doing any of this, even kept me from typing the angry crazy things back at the woman. I'm glad of this, because one really shouldn't feed the trolls. It's one of the basic rules of the zoo.
After I calmed down, I started thinking about my reaction and how, underneath all the trailer-park instincts, there lurked a certain deep frustration at the whole thing. It was more than just me wanting to defend my friend, something more basic. It wasn't just her attack, it was her choice of attack. Her words. Her ideas.
I finally understand now, and it has to do with the problem of relationship status options.
You see, even though you may not be married or in a romantic relationship, that doesn't mean you are alone. It doesn't mean you are lonely. There are many, many people who select to live their lives with others, sharing the joys and trials of daily continued existence, with people who they will never see as a lover. There are siblings to stay together. Friends who stay together. And many other instances where people have meaningful, important and life-long relationships that are not marriage-y.
There are also many people who, while never married or whatnot, feel loved every moment of their lives. They know they are loved and adored. They know they are valued and needed. They are loved.
The sad thing is, as a society, clearly, we don't seem to even want to recognize this. We don't want to accept that people can find life partners who they connect with in all levels . . . but not sexually. We don't want to accept that someone can look at another human and say "this is the one I love" and there not be a shred of romance connected to that statement. It scares society, far more even than the idea of gay marriage. After all, "them gays" may be going about it in a strange way, but at least they're embracing the tradition.
What I wanted to scream at this woman who attacked my roommate, as I was flinging my tacky pumps at her as was carried out by the bouncers, is that my roomie is loved. He is not alone. He is not on his own in the world and someone cares about him. When he gets ill, there is someone to drive him to the doctor. When he needs to tell a story, there is someone who listens because they love the way he narrates. And when he is making plans for the day, there is someone there making them with him. Is it conventional? Oh hell, of course not! But it works and it is what we have been blessed with, and it is wonderful.
Whenever you see someone's relationship status set to single, never make assumptions as to what that means in their lives. Of course, they could be the sad pathetic mass wallowing in their own self pity. More than likely, however, they have found a way to make the world work for them.
Eventually, the status options might catch up to reflect that.
Anyway, this woman (I assume it is a woman. You never can tell and people always snidely inform me that there are no girls on the internet, which, being female, confuses the hell out of me, but that's another post) gets offended at what he said and starts typing the crazytime things at him. He informs her he will be ignoring him and yet, she continues. The question was something about children and relationships and he had mentioned he had no children and, of course, his relationship status is listed as single.
She comes back with this very insulting comment and mentions that she is sure by his single status that he is a bitter, lonely person who no one loves and that he will never get married or be in a relationship or be important to anyone.
He, being a mature and rational person, honestly had stopped reading Trolly McTrollison's comments by this point. I, however, had not. And when I read the last vicious paragraph, I suddenly understood every braless, tube top wearing makeup caked jacked-up haired miniskirt clad hootchie who ever stood up, teetering in her high heels and screamed to the whole Jerry Springer audience, "YOU DON'T KNOW ME!"
I was so angry at this person, just seething at how she could insult him like this. I wanted to do things that would give the Springer show higher ratings and cause me to be dragged off kicking by the bouncers.
As I mentioned in my last post though, I'm more or less in a mentally good state right now, so I kept from doing any of this, even kept me from typing the angry crazy things back at the woman. I'm glad of this, because one really shouldn't feed the trolls. It's one of the basic rules of the zoo.
After I calmed down, I started thinking about my reaction and how, underneath all the trailer-park instincts, there lurked a certain deep frustration at the whole thing. It was more than just me wanting to defend my friend, something more basic. It wasn't just her attack, it was her choice of attack. Her words. Her ideas.
I finally understand now, and it has to do with the problem of relationship status options.
You see, even though you may not be married or in a romantic relationship, that doesn't mean you are alone. It doesn't mean you are lonely. There are many, many people who select to live their lives with others, sharing the joys and trials of daily continued existence, with people who they will never see as a lover. There are siblings to stay together. Friends who stay together. And many other instances where people have meaningful, important and life-long relationships that are not marriage-y.
There are also many people who, while never married or whatnot, feel loved every moment of their lives. They know they are loved and adored. They know they are valued and needed. They are loved.
The sad thing is, as a society, clearly, we don't seem to even want to recognize this. We don't want to accept that people can find life partners who they connect with in all levels . . . but not sexually. We don't want to accept that someone can look at another human and say "this is the one I love" and there not be a shred of romance connected to that statement. It scares society, far more even than the idea of gay marriage. After all, "them gays" may be going about it in a strange way, but at least they're embracing the tradition.
What I wanted to scream at this woman who attacked my roommate, as I was flinging my tacky pumps at her as was carried out by the bouncers, is that my roomie is loved. He is not alone. He is not on his own in the world and someone cares about him. When he gets ill, there is someone to drive him to the doctor. When he needs to tell a story, there is someone who listens because they love the way he narrates. And when he is making plans for the day, there is someone there making them with him. Is it conventional? Oh hell, of course not! But it works and it is what we have been blessed with, and it is wonderful.
Whenever you see someone's relationship status set to single, never make assumptions as to what that means in their lives. Of course, they could be the sad pathetic mass wallowing in their own self pity. More than likely, however, they have found a way to make the world work for them.
Eventually, the status options might catch up to reflect that.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
And the Fog Lifted and Our Heroine Saw the Light Once More
If you've never been crazy (and I will assume most of you haven't been), then you probably don't realize how, for many, it isn't a constant state. Crazy fluctuates. Sometimes it is intense and ever-present. Sometimes it sort of dances off in the next room. And sometimes, blissfully, the fog lifts and you can see again.
I'm in a point of clarity right now. Part of it is that Seasonal Affect Disorder Happynotfuntime is over. Part of it is that we're past the anniversary of my grandmother's death. It could also be me being really careful about taking my meds, working out, getting better sleep. Maybe it is me processing some things and finding closure and meaning.
Whatever the case, I'm in The Good Zone right now. Things are mentally easier. I feel more positive about writing and about, well, living. I can be assertive and rational. I can come to the end of the day and think, "Wow, I really had fun today." It's really great.
Except . . .
As I said, it fluctuates. Right now, I'm good. But I know things can always get bad again. I don't want it to get bad. I truly do not enjoy being a depressed and anxious mess. I would love to think that I'll never go back to that, things will just get better, life will improve and improve and improve.
I wish that were the case. And I always hope that it is the case. The thing is, people get blame-y. When they see you happy and good, they think it's something you're doing when you're down again. They think you're being indulgent. They think you can control it, you just won't.
Trust me, if I could control the crazies, I would. If I could keep myself feeling the way I do in this moment, I most certainly would.
Because I feel good right now. Not panicky-try-to-rationalize-yourself-into-a-better-mood good. Not OMG-please-please-nothing-go-wrong good. Not I-can't-cope-with-the-NOW-so-I'll-just-daydream good. No, I really feel very, very good. Very happy.
It's such a lovely feeling.
I'm in a point of clarity right now. Part of it is that Seasonal Affect Disorder Happynotfuntime is over. Part of it is that we're past the anniversary of my grandmother's death. It could also be me being really careful about taking my meds, working out, getting better sleep. Maybe it is me processing some things and finding closure and meaning.
Whatever the case, I'm in The Good Zone right now. Things are mentally easier. I feel more positive about writing and about, well, living. I can be assertive and rational. I can come to the end of the day and think, "Wow, I really had fun today." It's really great.
Except . . .
As I said, it fluctuates. Right now, I'm good. But I know things can always get bad again. I don't want it to get bad. I truly do not enjoy being a depressed and anxious mess. I would love to think that I'll never go back to that, things will just get better, life will improve and improve and improve.
I wish that were the case. And I always hope that it is the case. The thing is, people get blame-y. When they see you happy and good, they think it's something you're doing when you're down again. They think you're being indulgent. They think you can control it, you just won't.
Trust me, if I could control the crazies, I would. If I could keep myself feeling the way I do in this moment, I most certainly would.
Because I feel good right now. Not panicky-try-to-rationalize-yourself-into-a-better-mood good. Not OMG-please-please-nothing-go-wrong good. Not I-can't-cope-with-the-NOW-so-I'll-just-daydream good. No, I really feel very, very good. Very happy.
It's such a lovely feeling.
If I Was God: Ten Commandments Post Part 2
I know I would finish this last night, but that didn't happen. I was too tired. Anyway, on to the commandments.
6. THOU SHALT NOT ENGAGE IN CONSTANT BITCHERY.
While I have no real problem with witchcraft, bitchcraft is a whole other matter. If you find yourself doing nothing save complaining and bitching and moaning and ranting about how every little thing in your life is wrong, if I was your god, this would totes be a sin.
I'm not just talking about on a personal level either. If you feel the need to go in public and bitch or go on TV/radio/other media and just bitch, then that counts.
Punishment . . . I had to think a lot about this. I thought about doing something bad to the bitchers, but then they would bitch more, which means they would be happier. So instead, I think I'll just make it to where whenever they bitch, all everyone else head is positive stuff. HAH!
7. THOU SHALT NOT ANNOY OTHERS FOR THE MERE PLEASURE OF ANNOYING THEM.
If you feel the need to, I dunno, protest a funeral or post hateful shit on someone's message board (or any other non-charming form of trolling) then you are committing this sin.
Punishment will be a small plague of bugs that fly around you, buzz, and bite you. Always. Try to hold your shitty sign while that is going on.
8. THOU SHALT NOT VIOLATE OTHERS.
This counts for any type of violation, including violating someone else's privacy. Violating other humans is a very low thing to do.
Punishment will be that you are put in an isolation booth and left to watch everyone while never interacting with them again.
9. THOU SHALT BE GRATEFUL FOR WHAT THY HAS.
Goals are nice. Plans are great. But there are millions of things around you right now that are amazing. Pause for a bit each day and note these things. Be grateful for them.
There honestly won't be any punishment for this one, because I believe that lack of gratitude is its own punishment.
10. (and this one is most important) THOU SHALT ENTERTAIN THINE OWN DAMNED SELF.
I really sincerely think that most of the world's problems wouldn't exist if we spent more time entertaining ourselves. I know I live in my own head too much, but at least its an entertaining head.
The more we have to depend on others for entertainment, the more we begin to find that we are using these people. We take from them, bit by bit, until they really have nothing left to give us. But if we stop this and find ways to keep our own company, our relationships with others suddenly improve.
So if the person you life with is busy doing something and excluding you, don't sulk. Go watch tv, read a book, or find some hobby. You can do it.
Again, no punishment for this, because when you can't entertain yourself, you are punishing yourself.
Oh, you could also write some blog about being god. That's kind of entertaining as well.
6. THOU SHALT NOT ENGAGE IN CONSTANT BITCHERY.
While I have no real problem with witchcraft, bitchcraft is a whole other matter. If you find yourself doing nothing save complaining and bitching and moaning and ranting about how every little thing in your life is wrong, if I was your god, this would totes be a sin.
I'm not just talking about on a personal level either. If you feel the need to go in public and bitch or go on TV/radio/other media and just bitch, then that counts.
Punishment . . . I had to think a lot about this. I thought about doing something bad to the bitchers, but then they would bitch more, which means they would be happier. So instead, I think I'll just make it to where whenever they bitch, all everyone else head is positive stuff. HAH!
7. THOU SHALT NOT ANNOY OTHERS FOR THE MERE PLEASURE OF ANNOYING THEM.
If you feel the need to, I dunno, protest a funeral or post hateful shit on someone's message board (or any other non-charming form of trolling) then you are committing this sin.
Punishment will be a small plague of bugs that fly around you, buzz, and bite you. Always. Try to hold your shitty sign while that is going on.
8. THOU SHALT NOT VIOLATE OTHERS.
This counts for any type of violation, including violating someone else's privacy. Violating other humans is a very low thing to do.
Punishment will be that you are put in an isolation booth and left to watch everyone while never interacting with them again.
9. THOU SHALT BE GRATEFUL FOR WHAT THY HAS.
Goals are nice. Plans are great. But there are millions of things around you right now that are amazing. Pause for a bit each day and note these things. Be grateful for them.
There honestly won't be any punishment for this one, because I believe that lack of gratitude is its own punishment.
10. (and this one is most important) THOU SHALT ENTERTAIN THINE OWN DAMNED SELF.
I really sincerely think that most of the world's problems wouldn't exist if we spent more time entertaining ourselves. I know I live in my own head too much, but at least its an entertaining head.
The more we have to depend on others for entertainment, the more we begin to find that we are using these people. We take from them, bit by bit, until they really have nothing left to give us. But if we stop this and find ways to keep our own company, our relationships with others suddenly improve.
So if the person you life with is busy doing something and excluding you, don't sulk. Go watch tv, read a book, or find some hobby. You can do it.
Again, no punishment for this, because when you can't entertain yourself, you are punishing yourself.
Oh, you could also write some blog about being god. That's kind of entertaining as well.
Monday, May 2, 2011
If I Was God: Ten Commandments Post Part 1
Today someone asked me about my religious beliefs and one of the things I forgot to mention was how I sometimes blog about what life would be life if I were god. I think I told him just about the rest of it, but given the shitnasty fuckstorm my life has been of late, I decided I would expound more on how your life would be were I your deity.
With that in mind, I shall present to you, mine ten commandments. Well, actually, the first five. For I am a lazy god and in need of sleep. The next five will come tomorrow.
1. THOU SHALT NOT MISQUOTE ME.
As god, I would be really annoyed when people misquoted me, especially when it was done to serve their own ends. Now, a little, accidental misquote I would be fine with. But the idea of say, I dunno, basing who sermons, sets of laws, or religions on misquotes? That gets you punishment.
In this case, punishment would be a polite note for the first offense, a very large volume of my writing dropped on you for the second offence, and for the third, I would burn whatever you misquoted into your forehead....but in that way you could read it in the mirror.
2. IGNORANCE OF WHAT I HAVETH SAIDETH, IS NO EXCUSE FOR MISQUOTING ME.
If there is a religious text out there and you say you follow that religion, READ THE TEXT. Read it, read it again, process it, discuss it, understand it.
Punishment for this offence is having a very annoying person with a sharp stick come and quiz you every day until you DO know it.
3. THOU SHALT MIND THINE OWN BUSINESS.
Look, most of you aren't perfect. Far from it! So work on that. Pay attention to the crap you're doing on a person level and try to stop it. Let everyone else take care of themselves.
4. THOU SHALT NOT BE AN ASSHOLE.
Punishments will vary. but be very creative, cruel, and situationally appropriate
.5. YES, THIS EVEN MEANS THOU SHALT NOT BE AN ASSHOLE TO PEOPLE WHO DO NOT-ETH WORSHIP ME.
In fact, these are the people you should be the NICEST to. These are the ones we want to JOIN US. Why would they ever do that if you're being a jerk to them. Idiots.
Punishment for this crime will also vary, though if enough of my worshipers were assholes to people who didn't follow me, I'd just make it to where the people who didn't follow were in the right. Hah!
And I could do that too! I would, after all, be god.
With that in mind, I shall present to you, mine ten commandments. Well, actually, the first five. For I am a lazy god and in need of sleep. The next five will come tomorrow.
1. THOU SHALT NOT MISQUOTE ME.
As god, I would be really annoyed when people misquoted me, especially when it was done to serve their own ends. Now, a little, accidental misquote I would be fine with. But the idea of say, I dunno, basing who sermons, sets of laws, or religions on misquotes? That gets you punishment.
In this case, punishment would be a polite note for the first offense, a very large volume of my writing dropped on you for the second offence, and for the third, I would burn whatever you misquoted into your forehead....but in that way you could read it in the mirror.
2. IGNORANCE OF WHAT I HAVETH SAIDETH, IS NO EXCUSE FOR MISQUOTING ME.
If there is a religious text out there and you say you follow that religion, READ THE TEXT. Read it, read it again, process it, discuss it, understand it.
Punishment for this offence is having a very annoying person with a sharp stick come and quiz you every day until you DO know it.
3. THOU SHALT MIND THINE OWN BUSINESS.
Look, most of you aren't perfect. Far from it! So work on that. Pay attention to the crap you're doing on a person level and try to stop it. Let everyone else take care of themselves.
Now, I'm not saying don't defend people when you see them in trouble. I'm talking about spreading gossip, rumors, and spying on your friends/neighbors.
Punishment for this will involve you revealing secrets about yourself at the worst time.
Punishment for this will involve you revealing secrets about yourself at the worst time.
4. THOU SHALT NOT BE AN ASSHOLE.
This oneshould be rather self-explanatory. If you have difficulty deciding if certain behavior is assholish, then I will, again, send polite notes....the first time around.
Punishments will vary. but be very creative, cruel, and situationally appropriate
.
In fact, these are the people you should be the NICEST to. These are the ones we want to JOIN US. Why would they ever do that if you're being a jerk to them. Idiots.
Punishment for this crime will also vary, though if enough of my worshipers were assholes to people who didn't follow me, I'd just make it to where the people who didn't follow were in the right. Hah!
And I could do that too! I would, after all, be god.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
An Ode to Saffron, May She Rest in Peace
With one long continuous BEEEEEEEEEEEEP my computer Saffron died today. All signs point to motherboard failure. Saffron was unwieldy and never quite altogether right, but she tried her best to be my faithful companion and she will be missed.
I'm honestly not kidding about that. I get oddly, strangely attached to things. Whenever I spend day after day touching and interacting with something, I bond with it. When I have to change purses for example, I always hold the last purse and thank it for its good service. I actually feel bad when this happens.
Losing a computer is devastating for me. For one thing, I rarely have the funds to replace it. It's always a hassle and even a little scary as the computer is basically one of my only outlets in life anyway.
But most of all, I am devastated because I will be losing my relationship with the computer. The sweet and faithful box of plastic and metal and cat hair that has been entertaining me and helping me produce my own special brand of weirdness is now gone. Oh, how it hurts.
And yes, I am aware of how crazy this makes me sound. Eh, it's still true.
Goodbye, Saffron. I hope in your next life, someone builds you with more stable parts. <3
I'm honestly not kidding about that. I get oddly, strangely attached to things. Whenever I spend day after day touching and interacting with something, I bond with it. When I have to change purses for example, I always hold the last purse and thank it for its good service. I actually feel bad when this happens.
Losing a computer is devastating for me. For one thing, I rarely have the funds to replace it. It's always a hassle and even a little scary as the computer is basically one of my only outlets in life anyway.
But most of all, I am devastated because I will be losing my relationship with the computer. The sweet and faithful box of plastic and metal and cat hair that has been entertaining me and helping me produce my own special brand of weirdness is now gone. Oh, how it hurts.
And yes, I am aware of how crazy this makes me sound. Eh, it's still true.
Goodbye, Saffron. I hope in your next life, someone builds you with more stable parts. <3
The Place Where We Plant my People
When I was very young, I lived at the bottom of a hill. If you've never lived at the bottom of a hill, let me tell you, it's not a great place to live, especially when a lot of drunk people come down that hill at all hours of the night. You'd be amazed at how often running into a fence seems like a good idea to people.
At the top of the hill is the cemetery for the surrounding communities. Everyone has people buried up there, and, perhaps most especially, I do. The majority of my mother's side of the family, both her mother's relatives and her father's, find their final rest in this one location. So I have a very strong connection to this place. There is now, actually, more ties to me in this cemetery than there are in the rest of the world, which is an odd concept.
There is a church building in front of graveyard and most of the time it sits empty. On occasion, some congregation will ask to meet there, but it never lasts for long. Whenever this would happen, my grandmother and her friends would always be very mistrustful of the situation. They tended to view any "start up churches" as cults, scam artists, or possibly devil worshipers. In the duration of these people being in the church, they would be a constant topic of conversation, usually spoken of in low and exasperated tones. Whenever they would finally pack up and go away, everyone in the community seemed far happier.
One of my earliest memories is of being at the cemetery with my grandmother as she showed me the various graves of people related to me. One of them was a child's grave, a brother my grandfather lost when he was young. As a very small kid, I would stare at that grave for a long time, somewhat both horrified and fascinated by the idea of the little skeleton buried in the box. That kind of thing makes one realize that even children are mortal at quite a young age.
There are three areas of extreme controversy in the graveyard. One of them is related to me! A have a second or third cousin who is given to drinking. When his wife died, he bought one of those double headstones with her name one one side and his on the other. It's kind of creepy to have your name on a headstone when you're still alive, but it's also rather pragmatic. The scandal comes from the fact that a few years after his wife died, he found a girlfriend. When she died, he had her buried on the other side of where he is to be buried, with her own smaller headstone. It is unclear where he will place further girlfriends past this point.
The second scandal has to do with a way a certain family processed losing their son. At the suggestion of a grief counselor, a mailbox was placed by his grave so that people could write him letters and put them in there. While this was a symbolic gesture, the old timers were just horrified by this. The explanation I was given, again in those hushed and exasperated tones, was that this was quite close to trying to commune with the dead. Which, bordered on evil and was certainly creepy.
However, no scandal will ever top the one created by a member of the local outlaw family. Said family (because into any isolated rural community, a Snopes-esque family shall fall), had, during the generation of my parents, found meaning and community in local biker gangs and drugs. This is quite a dangerous combination, as was most clearly seen when one of the biker's lost his life in a pretty nasty wreck. The funeral included a multi-motorcycle procession, horrified the strait-laced citizens of the area, as they road through the streets and up the hill to the cemetery.
As bad as this was, it was only one moment in time. The fact that his headstone has his biker name on it is what sends most people from that area back into those hushed and exasperated tones. You see, his biker name was "Little Jesus." To this day, people remain offended.
It's May now, which means people will be changing out the decorations in the cemeteries. And while I have an uncle on my mom's side still living, he doesn't live close, so it is our turn to be the ones who set down flowers.
In a couple of weeks, we'll buy some fake and pretty sprays of foliage and drive out to the graveyard to place them on the graves of my mother and grandparents. We'll push our pant legs down into our socks so that the Lyme-infested ticknasties can't bite us and we'll stand in front of stones with the names of people who are responsible for us being here and we'll smile a little, happy we could keep this promise.
You know, it's not like it was a spoken promise. I don't think Mom ever asked for us to put flowers on her grave. I don't even think my grandparents did. It was promised never-the-less. Each May, you will have flowers. You will be remembered. Not that you are ever forgotten.
I think of all the strange things about being human, having a connection with a graveyard is one of the strangest. There is a place in the world where everyone, most of the time, is dead. This place holds my history, it connects me to my childhood, and it has given me stories. This place is part of my past, but part of my present as well.
One day in the future, I will be part of it. One with the graveyard.
At the top of the hill is the cemetery for the surrounding communities. Everyone has people buried up there, and, perhaps most especially, I do. The majority of my mother's side of the family, both her mother's relatives and her father's, find their final rest in this one location. So I have a very strong connection to this place. There is now, actually, more ties to me in this cemetery than there are in the rest of the world, which is an odd concept.
There is a church building in front of graveyard and most of the time it sits empty. On occasion, some congregation will ask to meet there, but it never lasts for long. Whenever this would happen, my grandmother and her friends would always be very mistrustful of the situation. They tended to view any "start up churches" as cults, scam artists, or possibly devil worshipers. In the duration of these people being in the church, they would be a constant topic of conversation, usually spoken of in low and exasperated tones. Whenever they would finally pack up and go away, everyone in the community seemed far happier.
One of my earliest memories is of being at the cemetery with my grandmother as she showed me the various graves of people related to me. One of them was a child's grave, a brother my grandfather lost when he was young. As a very small kid, I would stare at that grave for a long time, somewhat both horrified and fascinated by the idea of the little skeleton buried in the box. That kind of thing makes one realize that even children are mortal at quite a young age.
There are three areas of extreme controversy in the graveyard. One of them is related to me! A have a second or third cousin who is given to drinking. When his wife died, he bought one of those double headstones with her name one one side and his on the other. It's kind of creepy to have your name on a headstone when you're still alive, but it's also rather pragmatic. The scandal comes from the fact that a few years after his wife died, he found a girlfriend. When she died, he had her buried on the other side of where he is to be buried, with her own smaller headstone. It is unclear where he will place further girlfriends past this point.
The second scandal has to do with a way a certain family processed losing their son. At the suggestion of a grief counselor, a mailbox was placed by his grave so that people could write him letters and put them in there. While this was a symbolic gesture, the old timers were just horrified by this. The explanation I was given, again in those hushed and exasperated tones, was that this was quite close to trying to commune with the dead. Which, bordered on evil and was certainly creepy.
However, no scandal will ever top the one created by a member of the local outlaw family. Said family (because into any isolated rural community, a Snopes-esque family shall fall), had, during the generation of my parents, found meaning and community in local biker gangs and drugs. This is quite a dangerous combination, as was most clearly seen when one of the biker's lost his life in a pretty nasty wreck. The funeral included a multi-motorcycle procession, horrified the strait-laced citizens of the area, as they road through the streets and up the hill to the cemetery.
As bad as this was, it was only one moment in time. The fact that his headstone has his biker name on it is what sends most people from that area back into those hushed and exasperated tones. You see, his biker name was "Little Jesus." To this day, people remain offended.
It's May now, which means people will be changing out the decorations in the cemeteries. And while I have an uncle on my mom's side still living, he doesn't live close, so it is our turn to be the ones who set down flowers.
In a couple of weeks, we'll buy some fake and pretty sprays of foliage and drive out to the graveyard to place them on the graves of my mother and grandparents. We'll push our pant legs down into our socks so that the Lyme-infested ticknasties can't bite us and we'll stand in front of stones with the names of people who are responsible for us being here and we'll smile a little, happy we could keep this promise.
You know, it's not like it was a spoken promise. I don't think Mom ever asked for us to put flowers on her grave. I don't even think my grandparents did. It was promised never-the-less. Each May, you will have flowers. You will be remembered. Not that you are ever forgotten.
I think of all the strange things about being human, having a connection with a graveyard is one of the strangest. There is a place in the world where everyone, most of the time, is dead. This place holds my history, it connects me to my childhood, and it has given me stories. This place is part of my past, but part of my present as well.
One day in the future, I will be part of it. One with the graveyard.
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