I have some posts I keep on draft for nights like this, but even they couldn't be worked through tonight. I'm just not in a good mood. I'm drained and really emotionally exhausted. I'm also upset because I'm trying to live my life in a more positive manner and the heat is just destroying all of that for me.
We learned so much about how to handle the fleas last year that I really thought we'd have a handle on them this year. Ohhhh but we don't. They're everywhere. And all the vacuuming and spraying and washing doesn't seem to be making a dent. It's so discouraging.
And potentially deadly. My roommate's blood work came up wonky. The only thing about his routine that has changed is that he's been spraying bug poison and using flea shampoo on the cats. It's probably poisoning him as well. So not only are the fleas hurting my cats, they're hurting my friend.
Sometimes, I really hate nature.
And, I hate really hating nature. Because I should like nature. I do like nature, in theory. But in my theory, nature doesn't have fleas or temperature in three digits. Oh, or birds that wake me up at six in the morning. Asshole birds.
Anyway, I got to get back at nature a little this evening. We needed to trim some of the bushes in the front yard. They're near the porch so I could sit on the railing and do it. Hah! Take that nature! Lopped off your leafy head!
Wow, even writing that, I enjoyed it way too much for it to be healthy.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Fear and Loathing in Flips
Today we lost one of the cats for a few hours. We knew, logically, she had to be in the house, but we couldn't find her. Paranoia was trying to set in on me. I was fighting it so hard, trying to be rational and logical.
About 20 minutes into the cat panic, she came bounding out of one of the closets and meowed at us. Hah! Coming out of the closet during Pride Month. Awesome.
I'm trying to keep doing something good for myself this summer. I get really apprehensive about flipflops, mostly because I've stumbled in them quite a few times. Because of that, I will quite often stick to my shitty heavy hot shoes. They're safer and easier for me to keep balance.
I'm getting better at my balance though, so I promised myself I'd stop being afraid of the flips. I wore them to therapy today and to run errands. Later I wore them while I carried trash to the curb. No breaking open my skull or fracturing anything. Yay! If I can reclaim flips, I can make summer much easier.
Anxiety is always an issue for me. Paranoia and panic bubble just below my surface at all times. For many years, my tactic has been avoidance. Now, I'm trying to combat my panic with reason.
When I have no reason for the fears that are trying to consume me (OMG CAT IS OUTSIDE AND DEAD!), I take deep breaths and calmly speak logically about the issue (Cat cannot be outside. No access.) When there are good reasons for my fear (OMG FLIPFLOPS WILL MAKE YOU FALL THEY HAVE IN THE PAST), I try to see if there are ways I can alter the situation (working on strength and balance to be better able to walk in them).
This isn't easy. Anxiety, even when you have meds to help you, is a constant battle. Sometimes you get very tired of the battle and just want to shut down. And sometimes, that shut down is the best thing for you. Anxiety makes us miss out on so much though, it traps us in a million ways.
If you can find ways to get past your fears, even for just a little while, it is always worth doing so.
About 20 minutes into the cat panic, she came bounding out of one of the closets and meowed at us. Hah! Coming out of the closet during Pride Month. Awesome.
I'm trying to keep doing something good for myself this summer. I get really apprehensive about flipflops, mostly because I've stumbled in them quite a few times. Because of that, I will quite often stick to my shitty heavy hot shoes. They're safer and easier for me to keep balance.
I'm getting better at my balance though, so I promised myself I'd stop being afraid of the flips. I wore them to therapy today and to run errands. Later I wore them while I carried trash to the curb. No breaking open my skull or fracturing anything. Yay! If I can reclaim flips, I can make summer much easier.
Anxiety is always an issue for me. Paranoia and panic bubble just below my surface at all times. For many years, my tactic has been avoidance. Now, I'm trying to combat my panic with reason.
When I have no reason for the fears that are trying to consume me (OMG CAT IS OUTSIDE AND DEAD!), I take deep breaths and calmly speak logically about the issue (Cat cannot be outside. No access.) When there are good reasons for my fear (OMG FLIPFLOPS WILL MAKE YOU FALL THEY HAVE IN THE PAST), I try to see if there are ways I can alter the situation (working on strength and balance to be better able to walk in them).
This isn't easy. Anxiety, even when you have meds to help you, is a constant battle. Sometimes you get very tired of the battle and just want to shut down. And sometimes, that shut down is the best thing for you. Anxiety makes us miss out on so much though, it traps us in a million ways.
If you can find ways to get past your fears, even for just a little while, it is always worth doing so.
Monday, June 6, 2011
An Open Letter to Horny Politicians
Dear Horny Politicians,
You know what? I get it. I understand that you have an inch you want to scratch. I realize you come in contact with a lot of people, some of them turn you on, and you want to act on that. I also suspect this is just part of human nature. For centuries, the people in charge had the most access and often, even the most legal right, to having lots of sex with whomever they wanted. Beyond that, it's lonely at the top.
However, no one really likes their political leaders to embarrass themselves. Doing weird shit to people, like sticking cigars in their hoohas or texting pictures of your whatevers or killing strippers or whatever thing you happened to be caught doing . . .it's creepy. And it doesn't inspire confidence in your ability to do anything. And not because you're human and weak. I think most of us will understand that.
It's because you're pathetic about it. You're like the dude at the laundry mat who is there washing his tiger print manthongs and smirking about it and saying, a bit too loudly, "Oh look, my leopard print sheets gots STAINS on em. Heh heh!" As much as you want to ignore this guy, he won't shut up. He hits on everyone, especially women who might be single mothers because he assumes a. they're DTF and b. the make poor life decisions. And after he's given everyone the skeeves and spent half an hour picking stuff out of his teeth, he has the nerve to try and bum people money so he can use the dryers.
And, I'm sure as your respectful politician self, you're thinking, "No, no....sleaze fest dude from the laundry is NOT how I am perceived! I'm a good politician and I do great things for my country and my hair is not in a mullet!" OH, but how wrong you are! You do come off as Master Skankspanksit.
Wait . . . no, actually you don't.
Because, even though Laundry Matt Dude is annoying and bothersome and you certainly don't want to sit in a chair after he has (because his cut off shorts are cut way too short and you've had to spend the last hour convincing yourself that it is NOT his ballsack you're seeing, it's just some trick of the light), he is more honest than you.
See, Horny Politicians, Laundry McBallsack doesn't pretend to be anything than what he is. He knows he's sleazy. He knows he's useless. He knows he's a grifter who plays on the ignorance and emotions of others to get by in life. You're all of these things too, of course . . . by the Laundry Matt Dude owns his nasty. He fesses up to it. He doesn't pretend to be anything except that, especially when he's been caught red handed.
So how about you try and learn from his example.
Instead of saying, "No, that isn't my penis I texted . . . I don't think" say "Yeah, totes my junk. You jelly or what, dude?"
Instead of saying, "I think someone is trying to frame me," say "Wow, so I was stupid and this fell into the hands of people who HATE me."
Instead of saying, "We're working very hard to try and do the best for the American people," say, "I have no idea what is going on here. Why is all this crap written so long? Where are the cliff notes at?"
Instead of saying, "I did not mean to embarrass my family, my wife, myself, and my country," say "Crap, I SO got busted. This sucks. I'm still charming, right? You'll forgive me?"
Now, will this get you elected again? Probably not. Will this help you to get laid? Maybe, but then again, probably not. Will this help you sleep at night because you're not having to remember all the lies and cover ups and sound bites? Certainly.
And honestly, a good night's rest might do you jackaninnies some good.
Sincerely,
BHB
You know what? I get it. I understand that you have an inch you want to scratch. I realize you come in contact with a lot of people, some of them turn you on, and you want to act on that. I also suspect this is just part of human nature. For centuries, the people in charge had the most access and often, even the most legal right, to having lots of sex with whomever they wanted. Beyond that, it's lonely at the top.
However, no one really likes their political leaders to embarrass themselves. Doing weird shit to people, like sticking cigars in their hoohas or texting pictures of your whatevers or killing strippers or whatever thing you happened to be caught doing . . .it's creepy. And it doesn't inspire confidence in your ability to do anything. And not because you're human and weak. I think most of us will understand that.
It's because you're pathetic about it. You're like the dude at the laundry mat who is there washing his tiger print manthongs and smirking about it and saying, a bit too loudly, "Oh look, my leopard print sheets gots STAINS on em. Heh heh!" As much as you want to ignore this guy, he won't shut up. He hits on everyone, especially women who might be single mothers because he assumes a. they're DTF and b. the make poor life decisions. And after he's given everyone the skeeves and spent half an hour picking stuff out of his teeth, he has the nerve to try and bum people money so he can use the dryers.
And, I'm sure as your respectful politician self, you're thinking, "No, no....sleaze fest dude from the laundry is NOT how I am perceived! I'm a good politician and I do great things for my country and my hair is not in a mullet!" OH, but how wrong you are! You do come off as Master Skankspanksit.
Wait . . . no, actually you don't.
Because, even though Laundry Matt Dude is annoying and bothersome and you certainly don't want to sit in a chair after he has (because his cut off shorts are cut way too short and you've had to spend the last hour convincing yourself that it is NOT his ballsack you're seeing, it's just some trick of the light), he is more honest than you.
See, Horny Politicians, Laundry McBallsack doesn't pretend to be anything than what he is. He knows he's sleazy. He knows he's useless. He knows he's a grifter who plays on the ignorance and emotions of others to get by in life. You're all of these things too, of course . . . by the Laundry Matt Dude owns his nasty. He fesses up to it. He doesn't pretend to be anything except that, especially when he's been caught red handed.
So how about you try and learn from his example.
Instead of saying, "No, that isn't my penis I texted . . . I don't think" say "Yeah, totes my junk. You jelly or what, dude?"
Instead of saying, "I think someone is trying to frame me," say "Wow, so I was stupid and this fell into the hands of people who HATE me."
Instead of saying, "We're working very hard to try and do the best for the American people," say, "I have no idea what is going on here. Why is all this crap written so long? Where are the cliff notes at?"
Instead of saying, "I did not mean to embarrass my family, my wife, myself, and my country," say "Crap, I SO got busted. This sucks. I'm still charming, right? You'll forgive me?"
Now, will this get you elected again? Probably not. Will this help you to get laid? Maybe, but then again, probably not. Will this help you sleep at night because you're not having to remember all the lies and cover ups and sound bites? Certainly.
And honestly, a good night's rest might do you jackaninnies some good.
Sincerely,
BHB
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Rants about Writing
I am consistent only in my inconsistency. I am a fickle obsessive. I am a slacker perfectionist. I am a deeply focused woman with no attention span. And yet, somehow, I've managed to keep blogging for almost five months. And not as in "Oh, yeah, I write a blog post once every few weeks or so." No, I'm actually writing almost every day. Not that there is anything wrong with writing every few weeks. If that's what you want to do, cool.
The thing is, if I tried to write "just every few weeks, " would write once, maybe twice, then stop. I'd make excuses or get bored or just think I had nothing to say and quit. So really, instead of thinking people who just write a few blog posts have less dedication, I actually think they have more dedication than I do. After all, they don't flake out after having so much time off. That's amazing to me.
No, for me to do this, I actually have to make the commitment every day to write. And, while I don't always publish a post every day (though, I do most days), I still write on those days. Just not anything that is a complete post. Sometimes this is because I'm just kind of biding my time and forcing myself to write down ideas to see where they go.
Other times, it's because I have blog posts that take a lot out of me emotionally. I can only stand to be near them for so long before I have to pull myself away and go heal for a while. Eventually, like the one last night, they do get posted. It just takes a while for me to face and/or understand what it is that I want and perhaps even need to say.
There are also posts that require more than just one writing session. Sometimes I will just free write about a topic, letting my mind go where ever it needs to. Often this leads to things that expand into their own blog posts. Free writing is something people often dismiss as hokey, but I've always found it helpful. In fact, when I was writing papers back in college, I would often keep a working set of statements about the subject. I would write on them without structure for a while until I found how to narrow my topic and frame my thesis. Often the other concepts from the free write would become essays at a later date.
And if you never take anything else from my blog, take this advice. Narrowing your subject to a very focused, central idea will always make it stronger.
You run into this problem a lot when people try and make political arguments. People will try to make a political statement that possibly sounded sane and/or valid at one point, but because they lack the skill to narrow their topic (and the skills to spell and form ideas into sentences), it just becomes a sticky mess. Oh yes, and I know I don't always spell things properly or use proper grammar, but my blogging style is conversational. When I talk, I tend to speak in fragments and often make up words as I go along.
Anyway, to demonstrate how these rants usually work, I will avoid the usual sound and fury and go for something funner . . . the Smurfs!
HOW NOT TO MAKE A POLITICAL ARGUMENT IN WRITTEN FORM:
do u think them smurfs are of devil and against god becaz they are nazis and socialist and anti-jews because garamel is a jew and so is his cat and maybe the cat is the devil because it has a demon name and maybe the show is trying to say that jews r in leg with the devil and also smurfs are commonists as well papa smurf he has a red pants and hat becuaze all communis naizis where red and its the color of commonism and also smurfs dont get to have a free market papa smurf controls all just like obama and pellowsee and them guys who are running our government illegally and against god and also no smrfs ever go to church y dont they show chruch on cartoons becauze god is everywhere nd if u denny hiim then you will go to hell and be with hitler and so the smrfs shud be taken off the air! go amercia #1!!!11!!!
The thing is, if I tried to write "just every few weeks, " would write once, maybe twice, then stop. I'd make excuses or get bored or just think I had nothing to say and quit. So really, instead of thinking people who just write a few blog posts have less dedication, I actually think they have more dedication than I do. After all, they don't flake out after having so much time off. That's amazing to me.
No, for me to do this, I actually have to make the commitment every day to write. And, while I don't always publish a post every day (though, I do most days), I still write on those days. Just not anything that is a complete post. Sometimes this is because I'm just kind of biding my time and forcing myself to write down ideas to see where they go.
Other times, it's because I have blog posts that take a lot out of me emotionally. I can only stand to be near them for so long before I have to pull myself away and go heal for a while. Eventually, like the one last night, they do get posted. It just takes a while for me to face and/or understand what it is that I want and perhaps even need to say.
There are also posts that require more than just one writing session. Sometimes I will just free write about a topic, letting my mind go where ever it needs to. Often this leads to things that expand into their own blog posts. Free writing is something people often dismiss as hokey, but I've always found it helpful. In fact, when I was writing papers back in college, I would often keep a working set of statements about the subject. I would write on them without structure for a while until I found how to narrow my topic and frame my thesis. Often the other concepts from the free write would become essays at a later date.
And if you never take anything else from my blog, take this advice. Narrowing your subject to a very focused, central idea will always make it stronger.
You run into this problem a lot when people try and make political arguments. People will try to make a political statement that possibly sounded sane and/or valid at one point, but because they lack the skill to narrow their topic (and the skills to spell and form ideas into sentences), it just becomes a sticky mess. Oh yes, and I know I don't always spell things properly or use proper grammar, but my blogging style is conversational. When I talk, I tend to speak in fragments and often make up words as I go along.
Anyway, to demonstrate how these rants usually work, I will avoid the usual sound and fury and go for something funner . . . the Smurfs!
HOW NOT TO MAKE A POLITICAL ARGUMENT IN WRITTEN FORM:
do u think them smurfs are of devil and against god becaz they are nazis and socialist and anti-jews because garamel is a jew and so is his cat and maybe the cat is the devil because it has a demon name and maybe the show is trying to say that jews r in leg with the devil and also smurfs are commonists as well papa smurf he has a red pants and hat becuaze all communis naizis where red and its the color of commonism and also smurfs dont get to have a free market papa smurf controls all just like obama and pellowsee and them guys who are running our government illegally and against god and also no smrfs ever go to church y dont they show chruch on cartoons becauze god is everywhere nd if u denny hiim then you will go to hell and be with hitler and so the smrfs shud be taken off the air! go amercia #1!!!11!!!
I know we would all love to think I'm making this level of bad writing up. Sadly, we know I'm not. By this point, I think everyone has seen something like this from every political faction out there. And I only stopped because my brain was threatening to pull out my eggs from their sockets. Usually this kind of thing goes on for a far larger block than this.
All of this could have been avoided with a concise, focused thesis. "Smurfs culture runs counter to the ideals and values of American culture." You can expound on it later.
Be sure to talk a lot about the "naiizies."
All of this could have been avoided with a concise, focused thesis. "Smurfs culture runs counter to the ideals and values of American culture." You can expound on it later.
Be sure to talk a lot about the "naiizies."
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Childhood: Part Two
It's taken me quite a while to get back to this. The post about my childhood as I was raised by my mother happened quite a while ago. I started the part two the next day, didn't finish, stepped away, and had to stay away until now. There are reasons for this, but I think it may take me a while to really delve into all of them. For now, it is enough that I post this.
In part one, I talked about my time with my mom and how this shaped me. There were good aspects to it and bad ones. Most often, the bad outweighed the good. My mother wasn't the only one I lived with during my childhood. There was a lot of time spent with my grandparents, and after I turned 14, I lived with them exclusively.
First of all, I have to say that I do not doubt, even for a second, that my grandparents loved me. I felt their love. I am certain of their love. Love, after all, is far more than words. Love is body language, it is tone of voice. Love is the light in the eyes and the involuntary smile that can not be forced.
When my grandfather would tell the story about the first time he ever saw me, he would hold his hands out to show me how long I was . . . he would always look down and smile. His hands were always the same length apart, as if he was lost in that moment of meeting me for the first time. Even now, typing this, I can recall him speaking of my birth. Everything about this memory is happiness and love to me.
At the same time, as much as I knew they loved me, I was just as aware of their resentment. I realize this resentment wasn't directed towards me on purpose. They resented my mother for screwing up her life and I was the physical representative of that. Focusing on me was easier than thinking that my mother's issues might have had something to do with them.
There was a lot of frustration in living with them. This really couldn't be helped though. By the time I moved in with them, by the time I was 14, so much damage had been done to me already. I had my patterns and my defenses. I had my coping devices. The tragic thing is, the little baby, whose length her grandfather could recall from body memory, was long past dead. Whatever happy, stable person I could have become was gone. In return, they received someone far darker. Someone secretive. Someone who had to keep up her shields. Always.
I relate a lot of my behavior during these years to those of a benign sociopath. I was a sullen and twisted creature, but I loved my grandparents and knew a sullen and twisted creature was not what they wanted. So I would pretend to be otherwise. I would pretend to be sunny and cheery and happy. I would fake being in a good mood, that things were well, that I was okay. After a few hours of this a day, I would hide myself in my room and cut gashes into my feet and lower legs. I would escape into the worlds in my head. I would do anything to not BE there.
Sometimes I just couldn't fake it though. I guess I was like in my second year of high school when this particular instance happened. I'd been on some bus trip for some school function. Band or something else, I don't even remember what. The trip was rough on me emotionally. My teenagery feelings were destroyed and by the time Grandpa picked me up from school, it was all I could do to walk. When we got to the house, I told him I just needed a moment. I sat in the car, trying to regain my composure, trying to force myself to be ON, to be in Good Granddaughter mode.
I just couldn't do it. I sat in the car, paralyzed by wave after wave of emotion. After a while, the tears came and I wept and wept, trying to make myself get out of the car, get into the house, and act reasonably sane. But as much as I wanted to do this, I couldn't. I just couldn't.
After a while, my grandmother came outside and tapped on the window. I looked at her through my tears and suddenly I felt this rush of relief. I thought this was going to be one of those moments like on TV or movies where the wise old person sees the crying teenager and offers up advice and makes them feel better. I remember feeling suddenly excited, like this was some kind of rite of passage.
Instead, Gran frowned disapprovingly at me and hissed, "You GET in the house!"
When I managed to get my sad, weepy ass inside, they had me to sit in the living room and both proceeded to yell at me for being so ungrateful and weird. I was bitched at for not being nice and kind to Grandpa when he came to pick me up. I was yelled at for sitting in the car and scaring them, for not acting like a sane human. They never asked me why I did these things. They never asked about my tears. Because it wasn't about me. This was about them. And as much as they loved me, when emotional or stressful situations happened, it was about them and my feelings were to be kept in check.
When grandparents are forced to raise you, you never really get them to function as parents and you never really get them to function as grandparents. They're damaged by what your parents did and so are you. Suddenly all the broken people are trying to live together and it just isn't going to work in a non-messy way.
Here's the thing . . . grandparents should get to be grandparents. They should see kids on occasion . . . weekends and holidays, special afternoons. The time should be fun and positive. Grandparents should be an escape from the day to day hell. They should be a comfort to you. It shouldn't be about the mundane day to day of your life. It shouldn't be arguments about how much time you spend on the phone.
Time with your grandparents should always be the love and the stories. It should always be the memory of your grandfather's smile as he holds his hands out to show you how tiny you were when he first held you.
My grandparents were respectable people who felt they were doing the right things.
In part one, I talked about my time with my mom and how this shaped me. There were good aspects to it and bad ones. Most often, the bad outweighed the good. My mother wasn't the only one I lived with during my childhood. There was a lot of time spent with my grandparents, and after I turned 14, I lived with them exclusively.
First of all, I have to say that I do not doubt, even for a second, that my grandparents loved me. I felt their love. I am certain of their love. Love, after all, is far more than words. Love is body language, it is tone of voice. Love is the light in the eyes and the involuntary smile that can not be forced.
When my grandfather would tell the story about the first time he ever saw me, he would hold his hands out to show me how long I was . . . he would always look down and smile. His hands were always the same length apart, as if he was lost in that moment of meeting me for the first time. Even now, typing this, I can recall him speaking of my birth. Everything about this memory is happiness and love to me.
At the same time, as much as I knew they loved me, I was just as aware of their resentment. I realize this resentment wasn't directed towards me on purpose. They resented my mother for screwing up her life and I was the physical representative of that. Focusing on me was easier than thinking that my mother's issues might have had something to do with them.
There was a lot of frustration in living with them. This really couldn't be helped though. By the time I moved in with them, by the time I was 14, so much damage had been done to me already. I had my patterns and my defenses. I had my coping devices. The tragic thing is, the little baby, whose length her grandfather could recall from body memory, was long past dead. Whatever happy, stable person I could have become was gone. In return, they received someone far darker. Someone secretive. Someone who had to keep up her shields. Always.
I relate a lot of my behavior during these years to those of a benign sociopath. I was a sullen and twisted creature, but I loved my grandparents and knew a sullen and twisted creature was not what they wanted. So I would pretend to be otherwise. I would pretend to be sunny and cheery and happy. I would fake being in a good mood, that things were well, that I was okay. After a few hours of this a day, I would hide myself in my room and cut gashes into my feet and lower legs. I would escape into the worlds in my head. I would do anything to not BE there.
Sometimes I just couldn't fake it though. I guess I was like in my second year of high school when this particular instance happened. I'd been on some bus trip for some school function. Band or something else, I don't even remember what. The trip was rough on me emotionally. My teenagery feelings were destroyed and by the time Grandpa picked me up from school, it was all I could do to walk. When we got to the house, I told him I just needed a moment. I sat in the car, trying to regain my composure, trying to force myself to be ON, to be in Good Granddaughter mode.
I just couldn't do it. I sat in the car, paralyzed by wave after wave of emotion. After a while, the tears came and I wept and wept, trying to make myself get out of the car, get into the house, and act reasonably sane. But as much as I wanted to do this, I couldn't. I just couldn't.
After a while, my grandmother came outside and tapped on the window. I looked at her through my tears and suddenly I felt this rush of relief. I thought this was going to be one of those moments like on TV or movies where the wise old person sees the crying teenager and offers up advice and makes them feel better. I remember feeling suddenly excited, like this was some kind of rite of passage.
Instead, Gran frowned disapprovingly at me and hissed, "You GET in the house!"
When I managed to get my sad, weepy ass inside, they had me to sit in the living room and both proceeded to yell at me for being so ungrateful and weird. I was bitched at for not being nice and kind to Grandpa when he came to pick me up. I was yelled at for sitting in the car and scaring them, for not acting like a sane human. They never asked me why I did these things. They never asked about my tears. Because it wasn't about me. This was about them. And as much as they loved me, when emotional or stressful situations happened, it was about them and my feelings were to be kept in check.
When grandparents are forced to raise you, you never really get them to function as parents and you never really get them to function as grandparents. They're damaged by what your parents did and so are you. Suddenly all the broken people are trying to live together and it just isn't going to work in a non-messy way.
Here's the thing . . . grandparents should get to be grandparents. They should see kids on occasion . . . weekends and holidays, special afternoons. The time should be fun and positive. Grandparents should be an escape from the day to day hell. They should be a comfort to you. It shouldn't be about the mundane day to day of your life. It shouldn't be arguments about how much time you spend on the phone.
Time with your grandparents should always be the love and the stories. It should always be the memory of your grandfather's smile as he holds his hands out to show you how tiny you were when he first held you.
My grandparents were respectable people who felt they were doing the right things.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Happiness: An Ongoing Essay Part Three--Sometimes this shit is hard
Okay, so it's summer. Not officially of course, but in reality, yes. By "reality," I mean we had to turn on the AC. We didn't want to because that shit is expensive, but it's hot and humid and suck here, so yeah, AC goes on. I know there are people out there, a lot of people, who love summer. To them, this is the best time of year.
I'm very happy for you. I am. For me, however, summer is the hell.
The thing is, I don't want it to be. I want to be happy. You know, I have this whole project thing going on. I'm trying to do the things to keep myself in positive spirits. It's just not easy at the moment.
I thought I would tackle that tonight. Oh, and also do a list, because it is Friday. Two birds, one stone, awesome. So, with that in mind:
How to keep yourself happy, even in trying circumstances.
1. Tend to your needs.
Keeping our Maslow's list in mind, remember that happiness is fairly high up there. If your more basic needs aren't being met, happiness becomes difficult. If you find yourself in a state of misery, look for physical ways you can change it. Using summer heat as an example, there are several ways you can improve your mood just by altering a few things. Lower your temperature. Hydrate your body. Make sure you have a cool place to sleep so that you actually get sleep.
If our physical needs are being neglected, happiness isn't going to happen.
2. Don't let others get you down.
Other people can't make us happy, but we can certainly find ourselves in situations where other humans are draining us emotionally. Summer heat can make everyone shitty. There are people who literally wake up in bad moods, bitch about everything all day long, and then go to bed just as miserable as they were when they woke.
The best thing to do is avoid these people. My grandmother could be quite draining and when I was miserable or tired in other ways, I would quite often let her calls go to voicemail. I'm sure some people see this as horrible, but I don't. Remember, you are under no obligation to answer a phone or a door (yes, I know I've said this before and yes, I know there are circumstances where you are kinda legally bound to answer, but you get the idea).
Sometimes, however, you can't avoid the Debbie Downers or the Cantankerous Charlies. They may be your boss or a co-worker. They may be your spouse or your child. Yes, I went there. Come on, let's all admit to it. Some kids can be really difficult to be around. You may also find yourself, especially in times of intense weather, where you can't just relocate to somewhere else in the house. You may only have this one space that is tolerable.
If you can't avoid the difficult person, see if you can set ground rules with them. "You can only complain to me three times today." "If something can't be done about what is making you unhappy, I don't want to hear it." "If you have told me this complaint before, like millions of times before, you can't tell me again."
I'll tell you now, this will piss people off. No one wants to believe the precious and important words tumbling from their lips should be limited. Many of them will even look at you and scream "freedom of speech." If they do this, remind them they are free to talk all they wish . . . just not to you any more past the limits you have set. Often there will be a lot of even more negative from them at this point. Stand firm. You owe it to yourself to be as comfortable as possible. Eventually, they will either comply or get angry and go away. Either way, you don't have to listen to them anymore.
Again though, sometimes we are in situations where we just aren't allowed to set ground rules with people. With bosses, with coworkers, and even in certain domestic situations, setting limits isn't an option. In this case, you have to ask yourself a very tough question, "Which is more important to me . . . my peace of mind or what I am getting out of this situation?"
If you decide that the situation is more important, you may still be dealing with the same level of annoyance, but at least you will be doing so knowing that said annoyance is minor compared to what you will get out of this. That, in and of itself, should improve your outlook.
If the annoyance is not worth the situation, start making plans to leave it. As you know, I am a firm believer in walking away from something that isn't good for you. This may not be something you can do all at once, but if you realize it isn't worth your misery, you can start putting plans together. And once you have plans, again, your outlook should improve.
3. Try to see the bigger picture.
Again, to use my example of summer, as hard as it can be on me, I know that it will only last for a few months. By mid-September or so, the weather should start to chill down again. Mind you, it's June 4th, so that seems like forever from now. Really though, it's just a few months. I can handle anything if it's temporary.
I guess what I keep coming back to with this is the idea that often while we can't change a situation, we can change how we relate to that situation. We may not be able to control it fully, but there are always aspects, however, small, that we can change. Alter enough small things and the big horrible picture starts to become manageable.
I'll say this again, and I'll keep saying it: Our happiness is our responsibility. It is something we have to work for, strive for, and often even fight for. However, while this does put the state of our happiness on our shoulders, it also gives us a lot of power.
It gives us the power to asses our situation, weigh our options, transform what we can, manage what we can't, and carve out a path to our own happiness. Though, yeah, sometimes that path is swarming with wasps.
I'm very happy for you. I am. For me, however, summer is the hell.
The thing is, I don't want it to be. I want to be happy. You know, I have this whole project thing going on. I'm trying to do the things to keep myself in positive spirits. It's just not easy at the moment.
I thought I would tackle that tonight. Oh, and also do a list, because it is Friday. Two birds, one stone, awesome. So, with that in mind:
How to keep yourself happy, even in trying circumstances.
1. Tend to your needs.
Keeping our Maslow's list in mind, remember that happiness is fairly high up there. If your more basic needs aren't being met, happiness becomes difficult. If you find yourself in a state of misery, look for physical ways you can change it. Using summer heat as an example, there are several ways you can improve your mood just by altering a few things. Lower your temperature. Hydrate your body. Make sure you have a cool place to sleep so that you actually get sleep.
If our physical needs are being neglected, happiness isn't going to happen.
2. Don't let others get you down.
Other people can't make us happy, but we can certainly find ourselves in situations where other humans are draining us emotionally. Summer heat can make everyone shitty. There are people who literally wake up in bad moods, bitch about everything all day long, and then go to bed just as miserable as they were when they woke.
The best thing to do is avoid these people. My grandmother could be quite draining and when I was miserable or tired in other ways, I would quite often let her calls go to voicemail. I'm sure some people see this as horrible, but I don't. Remember, you are under no obligation to answer a phone or a door (yes, I know I've said this before and yes, I know there are circumstances where you are kinda legally bound to answer, but you get the idea).
Sometimes, however, you can't avoid the Debbie Downers or the Cantankerous Charlies. They may be your boss or a co-worker. They may be your spouse or your child. Yes, I went there. Come on, let's all admit to it. Some kids can be really difficult to be around. You may also find yourself, especially in times of intense weather, where you can't just relocate to somewhere else in the house. You may only have this one space that is tolerable.
If you can't avoid the difficult person, see if you can set ground rules with them. "You can only complain to me three times today." "If something can't be done about what is making you unhappy, I don't want to hear it." "If you have told me this complaint before, like millions of times before, you can't tell me again."
I'll tell you now, this will piss people off. No one wants to believe the precious and important words tumbling from their lips should be limited. Many of them will even look at you and scream "freedom of speech." If they do this, remind them they are free to talk all they wish . . . just not to you any more past the limits you have set. Often there will be a lot of even more negative from them at this point. Stand firm. You owe it to yourself to be as comfortable as possible. Eventually, they will either comply or get angry and go away. Either way, you don't have to listen to them anymore.
Again though, sometimes we are in situations where we just aren't allowed to set ground rules with people. With bosses, with coworkers, and even in certain domestic situations, setting limits isn't an option. In this case, you have to ask yourself a very tough question, "Which is more important to me . . . my peace of mind or what I am getting out of this situation?"
If you decide that the situation is more important, you may still be dealing with the same level of annoyance, but at least you will be doing so knowing that said annoyance is minor compared to what you will get out of this. That, in and of itself, should improve your outlook.
If the annoyance is not worth the situation, start making plans to leave it. As you know, I am a firm believer in walking away from something that isn't good for you. This may not be something you can do all at once, but if you realize it isn't worth your misery, you can start putting plans together. And once you have plans, again, your outlook should improve.
3. Try to see the bigger picture.
Again, to use my example of summer, as hard as it can be on me, I know that it will only last for a few months. By mid-September or so, the weather should start to chill down again. Mind you, it's June 4th, so that seems like forever from now. Really though, it's just a few months. I can handle anything if it's temporary.
I guess what I keep coming back to with this is the idea that often while we can't change a situation, we can change how we relate to that situation. We may not be able to control it fully, but there are always aspects, however, small, that we can change. Alter enough small things and the big horrible picture starts to become manageable.
I'll say this again, and I'll keep saying it: Our happiness is our responsibility. It is something we have to work for, strive for, and often even fight for. However, while this does put the state of our happiness on our shoulders, it also gives us a lot of power.
It gives us the power to asses our situation, weigh our options, transform what we can, manage what we can't, and carve out a path to our own happiness. Though, yeah, sometimes that path is swarming with wasps.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Conversations with Inanna: Fear and Dread at the Nonparticipation
I think I just scratched my head with flea eggs on my fingers. No, no. I'm going to believe it is just cat dander. JUST CAT DANDER.
Anyway, this week has proven to have a lot of sexual discussion to it. Often, not in a good way. Or, rather, not in a comfortable way. In some cases, the discomfort was even in my part. That isn't what this post is about, but it did inspire it. I am writing about that, but it's a lot to process, so it will post when it posts. In the meantime, I thought I'd start with one that challenges a lot of others.
Asexuality is the basic idea that you're just not interested in sex. Now, this isn't the same as being celibate, which means you have an interest in sex but don't participate (either by your own choice or otherwise). Asexuality means you really just don't care to participate at all. It's not important to you. This also isn't the same as being aromantic, where you have no interest in romantic relationships. Many asexuals have boyfriends/girlfriends and many also go on to marry. It's just that their marriages don't include sex.
Many more of these marriages have happened recently because asexuals have found kinship and community online. They have groups where they can discuss their non-sexual lives and find common bonds with others. Some people have wondered why finding communities is needed, but I get that.
The reason I get it is because of sports. People around me are really really into sports. A lot of them are into football, the majority of them, in fact. There are some who like soccer, but that number is far smaller. Some people like both. And while all of these groups may like different types of sports, they all like sports. I don't. At all. I don't even understand the appeal of it. So yes, if I can find people to talk to about how we don't like sports and why that's perfectly valid, I see nothing wrong with other people seeking out like-minded individuals about whatever they're not interested in that everyone else seems gaga over.
i09 ran an article about asexuality, especially how it relates to scifi. Some people in the comments were fairly responsive. Others, however, were dismissive to openly hostile to the idea of being asexual. Some argued that it has to be a disability. Others saw it as people being self-centered or maybe a mild mental disorder.
Others talked about how it was just flat out wrong. They argued that humans have a biological imperative to be sexual. To go against this, they said, was clearly in indication of hormonal imbalance or "something." And while I didn't specifically read this, I'm sure some people probably believe asexuality is a result of some kind of sexual trauma.
I'm not an asexual, but I understand the appeal. Being able to free yourself from the desire for others and the bullshit that goes along with that is a rather nice idea. And I do believe in rather nontraditional relationships. My chosen lifemate is someone with which I am both nonsexual and nonromantic. However, I am still committed to this person to the same depth that I would be were things sexual and or romantic. Hell, I'm probably more committed because of the lack of those things.
It's interesting, really, how much sexuality and non-hetronormative lifestyles upset people, especially when said concepts really have nothing to do with others. I know that statement sounds way judgy, but I really don't mean it to be. Like I said, I'll be delving into some of my own areas of discomfort. We'll see how it goes.
Anyway, this week has proven to have a lot of sexual discussion to it. Often, not in a good way. Or, rather, not in a comfortable way. In some cases, the discomfort was even in my part. That isn't what this post is about, but it did inspire it. I am writing about that, but it's a lot to process, so it will post when it posts. In the meantime, I thought I'd start with one that challenges a lot of others.
Asexuality is the basic idea that you're just not interested in sex. Now, this isn't the same as being celibate, which means you have an interest in sex but don't participate (either by your own choice or otherwise). Asexuality means you really just don't care to participate at all. It's not important to you. This also isn't the same as being aromantic, where you have no interest in romantic relationships. Many asexuals have boyfriends/girlfriends and many also go on to marry. It's just that their marriages don't include sex.
Many more of these marriages have happened recently because asexuals have found kinship and community online. They have groups where they can discuss their non-sexual lives and find common bonds with others. Some people have wondered why finding communities is needed, but I get that.
The reason I get it is because of sports. People around me are really really into sports. A lot of them are into football, the majority of them, in fact. There are some who like soccer, but that number is far smaller. Some people like both. And while all of these groups may like different types of sports, they all like sports. I don't. At all. I don't even understand the appeal of it. So yes, if I can find people to talk to about how we don't like sports and why that's perfectly valid, I see nothing wrong with other people seeking out like-minded individuals about whatever they're not interested in that everyone else seems gaga over.
i09 ran an article about asexuality, especially how it relates to scifi. Some people in the comments were fairly responsive. Others, however, were dismissive to openly hostile to the idea of being asexual. Some argued that it has to be a disability. Others saw it as people being self-centered or maybe a mild mental disorder.
Others talked about how it was just flat out wrong. They argued that humans have a biological imperative to be sexual. To go against this, they said, was clearly in indication of hormonal imbalance or "something." And while I didn't specifically read this, I'm sure some people probably believe asexuality is a result of some kind of sexual trauma.
I'm not an asexual, but I understand the appeal. Being able to free yourself from the desire for others and the bullshit that goes along with that is a rather nice idea. And I do believe in rather nontraditional relationships. My chosen lifemate is someone with which I am both nonsexual and nonromantic. However, I am still committed to this person to the same depth that I would be were things sexual and or romantic. Hell, I'm probably more committed because of the lack of those things.
It's interesting, really, how much sexuality and non-hetronormative lifestyles upset people, especially when said concepts really have nothing to do with others. I know that statement sounds way judgy, but I really don't mean it to be. Like I said, I'll be delving into some of my own areas of discomfort. We'll see how it goes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)