Hmmm. Still looking for a job. Just tried searching job service, and something about the site cause my browser to shut down. Twice. OK, well, then how about the local paper? Man, that can't be right. The list is only about ten ads long... I tell you, this is not my night. It looks like I might get on at the local grocery store, eventually, but I really need something immediate and that pays better.
Apartments are on hold, since I now have to earn enough money first, which could take a month or two. :arrrrgh!: By that time I suppose the apartment will no longer be available- convenient, isn't it?
Still planning on college in the fall, it's been agony to put it off that long, but this does give me time to get all the ducks in a row.
I'm beginning to wonder why any man would even want a purely domestic woman with no pursuit or real identity of her own, how a guy could want a dependent woman. Seems to me like it'd be a drag. If I were a man or in the market for a gal, I'd want one that was intelligent and had a life and talents of her own. If she said she didn't want that, that she wanted to stay at home, I'd be like...'Whoa, are you *sure*? Why do you want that? Don't you want to *do* something? What's the matter with you, anyway?' and so on... Heh. :-P How could anyone be happy with someone so docile and boring? I've wondered that a lot, but I suppose in a way, it's the measure of a man.
I don't know how much validity there is to astrology, but this passage seems apt: "If you're one of those men who doesn't think it's appropriate for a woman to be skilled in anything except pleasing a man, you're courting real trouble with a Virgo woman....Isn't it nice to be able to appreciate someone who is capable of being her own person? While all woman, and all people, ultimately strive for this, Virgo makes a career and sometimes an art of it. Virgo won't adore you blindly. She'll more likely love you for your flaws and imperfections, because she's a realist...And it can either terrify a man into running eighty miles an hour in the opposite direction, or it can be a wonderful cooling bath to actually be able to be yourself. But then, it depends on the sort of man you are, doesn't it?"
Hehehe.
Sunday, February 15, 2004
Friday, February 13, 2004
The rap CD turned out to be OutKast. I like it. Perhaps that seems odd- here I am a white girl...but I can't help my color, and the fact is that I spent a good chunk of my childhood in the ghetto of Chicago, where my peers and friends were either black or latino, for the most part. Man, how I hated being so white, it was not a benefit in that context. I always envied the natural sense of rhythmn and movement, the style that the black girls had. And then, there I was, shy skinny little tomboy with no mother, surrounded by fuller figured, outgoing girls who had a strongly maternal culture...it really sucked, to tell the truth. Anyway, a portion of one of the songs:
Nigga, you need to git up, git out and git somethin
Don't let the days of your life pass by
You need to git up, git out and git somethin
Don't spend all your time tryin to get high
You need git up, git out and git somethin
How will you make it if you never even try
You need to git up, git out and git somethin
Cuz you and I got to do for you and I
-----------------------------------------------------
Yeah. That's about it. Hey, I'm trying... really I am.
Nigga, you need to git up, git out and git somethin
Don't let the days of your life pass by
You need to git up, git out and git somethin
Don't spend all your time tryin to get high
You need git up, git out and git somethin
How will you make it if you never even try
You need to git up, git out and git somethin
Cuz you and I got to do for you and I
-----------------------------------------------------
Yeah. That's about it. Hey, I'm trying... really I am.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
I have a big stack of books that I'm debating whether or not should be listed on Ebay. He's threatening to discontinue the internet service. As I see it, I have three options:
After Christmas, this is a bad time of year for me. There are three problematic days within a two week period:
- Pay the bill myself- I could do that.
- Beg him to pay it- offends my sense of dignity, and capitulation would come at a price.
- Let it all slide, and be forced to go to the library two or three times a week, for a 30 minute session with library hags hanging over my shoulder- ugh...
After Christmas, this is a bad time of year for me. There are three problematic days within a two week period:
- The 7th- my anniversary. Fraught with awkwardness this year.
- The 14th- don't even get me started. I *hate* Valentines Day. What's wrong with me, that I'm surrounded by women who are apparently worth buying boxes of candy, flowers and cards for, while I never have been? Yes, I KNOW!! I'm being childish. It's just a physical phony display, and I'd feel dismayed if I received such a show and couldn't put my heart into returning the sentiments. But it's sort of like my birthday and the tone of my life in general- every year just highlights that I'm essentially a failure.
- The 17th- My first fiance proposed to me on this day, and declared his love for me. He was the only one who was ever really able to make me believe it, and then (a year later) I discovered I'd been duped, that he was shallow and a ladies man. So every time the 17th rolls around, I'm thinking "please, please, will someone prove that Daniel Haugen wasn't the closest to the real thing I'll ever have, that I was worth more than that?" Nobody ever does.
Had a really good day today, all things considered. Nothing earthshaking, just good. I've found some work drawing patterns for a professional quilter. This gal has had books published by Debby Mumm, and one of them was the best seller in Europe by that (very successful) company. It's fun work, decent pay, the work will be credited to me in the books, and mayeb it'll be a leg up onto more work in the field. I like quilting but lack the follow through, because I prefer hand work, but by the time I've finished hand piecing and quilting a bed size quilt, I can hardly bear to look at it. I'm the sort who always has more ideas than time to do them, and shackling myself to one prject for years on end, long after it's stale, isn't fun anymore. So this job is just perfect. If only I could do more of it and support myself with it...I have an idea that getting a graphic design background will help. Probably I could design and sell my own ideas and patterns.
I hit several stores today and found some great books:
Speaking of Beardsley and such things, I still haven't gotten the book I ordered, in fact there are now two like that (the second one is by Taschen) supposedly in the mail. Ugh, I hate waiting, finding the mailbox empty each day.
Seems like something else happened...ah, I was given four CD's without cases. I had no idea what they were. So far one is Rap, and I like it; reminds me of Chicago. I haven't listened to the others yet, but hey, they were free! Anyway, I'm having so much fun with books right now that I'm considering applying for work at a used book store; failing that, possibly the library.
I hit several stores today and found some great books:
- Art of the Amazon cool feathered headdresses and other neat stuff...
- The great Artists- Van Gogh Thin, cheap book but big full color pictures of his work
- Made in Illinois- An Artisan Gallery What I've glimpsed so far is beautiful- hand blown glass, wood carvings, pottery, and so on
- The Elements of Style Classic, didn't have it yet. Now I do.
- Brave New World I've read this already, but wanted to get it. I've been assembling a library of must-read type books to loan to friends and to generally have around.
- The Art of Kissing Prize of the day. Strangely enough, more erotic than the Hite Report or maybe even Beardsley.
Speaking of Beardsley and such things, I still haven't gotten the book I ordered, in fact there are now two like that (the second one is by Taschen) supposedly in the mail. Ugh, I hate waiting, finding the mailbox empty each day.
Seems like something else happened...ah, I was given four CD's without cases. I had no idea what they were. So far one is Rap, and I like it; reminds me of Chicago. I haven't listened to the others yet, but hey, they were free! Anyway, I'm having so much fun with books right now that I'm considering applying for work at a used book store; failing that, possibly the library.
Sunday, February 08, 2004
Men
I've realized anew that I feel very comfortable and at ease in the company of men, moreso by far than that of women. It makes sense: I was raised by a single dad from 7-14. Before that, from 3-7, I lived with his parents and younger brothers. My uncles were only seven and eight years older than me, so they were more like brothers. I avoided the women in the family and spent the bulk of my time alone or tussling with my favorite person in the world, uncle Charlie. I loved him with the sort of fervour that I've felt for very few since.*
All my life, I've preferred men. They seem simpler and more straightforward than women, but it's more than that. I'm out of my element with other women, even those that I like. They seem unstable and emotional, and prone to change loyalties based on feelings or whims. They look down on me, because I'm not feminine. No, I'm not, and I don't particularly want to be. The only time I do feel feminine is when I'm in love, and I don't know that it's so much feminine as it is female- and perhaps a bit more domestic than usual. The rest of the time, I'm fairly androgynous, or feel that way. It's a little inconvenient, because people read me as small, vulnerable girl, (ick!) and not an intelligent one at that. Dealing with people's expectations is such a fricking pain....ugh. The women friends that I do have, have some pretty definite similarities: they all tend to be no-nonsense, blunt, outspoken types who are physically capable and down to earth- traits typically thought of as masculine, and all traits that I prefer men for.
So far, so good. Decent, intelligent men are pleasant. So are forthright, strong women. The problem comes when a man decides that he wants to own me and that I'm unhappy being the way I am, that what I need is someone to shelter and coddle me and give me the chance to bring out all the lacy dresses and ruffly curtains they're so sure I'd love to have, and wait dotingly for him to return each night while I attend to household delights. :excuse me while I get sick: I've gone through this several times now: "When you marry me, you won't ever have to split wood or work outside again, you can stay in the house" "I'll take care of you and you can stay at home and...." "I found something for you- (frilly, beribboned piece of sentimental crap, when I wanted a book)". Do they mistake quietness for meekness and therefore a pliable, womanly nature? That's a mistake, alright...and boy, are they mad and upset when they find it out!
I want to be an equal, a person in my own right, not some sort of an advanced pet. Trying to reform me into the feminine ideal is futile...forget it. No, what it'd take is for someone to like and accept me the way I am.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*footnote- I've thought about Uncle Charlie a lot lately. They say that people typically use the same sex parent as a role model and the opposite sex parent as the one from which they select traits they desire in a mate. Obviously I had problems with this- l had only one parent for the most part, and finding men like him has been disastrous. I've come to think that any prominent same or opposite sex figure the child is attached to can be used as a template. I emulated several aunts and a grandmother besides my mom and dad as role models, so it actually makes a good deal of sense that I'd look beyond my dad in other areas as well.
I've realized anew that I feel very comfortable and at ease in the company of men, moreso by far than that of women. It makes sense: I was raised by a single dad from 7-14. Before that, from 3-7, I lived with his parents and younger brothers. My uncles were only seven and eight years older than me, so they were more like brothers. I avoided the women in the family and spent the bulk of my time alone or tussling with my favorite person in the world, uncle Charlie. I loved him with the sort of fervour that I've felt for very few since.*
All my life, I've preferred men. They seem simpler and more straightforward than women, but it's more than that. I'm out of my element with other women, even those that I like. They seem unstable and emotional, and prone to change loyalties based on feelings or whims. They look down on me, because I'm not feminine. No, I'm not, and I don't particularly want to be. The only time I do feel feminine is when I'm in love, and I don't know that it's so much feminine as it is female- and perhaps a bit more domestic than usual. The rest of the time, I'm fairly androgynous, or feel that way. It's a little inconvenient, because people read me as small, vulnerable girl, (ick!) and not an intelligent one at that. Dealing with people's expectations is such a fricking pain....ugh. The women friends that I do have, have some pretty definite similarities: they all tend to be no-nonsense, blunt, outspoken types who are physically capable and down to earth- traits typically thought of as masculine, and all traits that I prefer men for.
So far, so good. Decent, intelligent men are pleasant. So are forthright, strong women. The problem comes when a man decides that he wants to own me and that I'm unhappy being the way I am, that what I need is someone to shelter and coddle me and give me the chance to bring out all the lacy dresses and ruffly curtains they're so sure I'd love to have, and wait dotingly for him to return each night while I attend to household delights. :excuse me while I get sick: I've gone through this several times now: "When you marry me, you won't ever have to split wood or work outside again, you can stay in the house" "I'll take care of you and you can stay at home and...." "I found something for you- (frilly, beribboned piece of sentimental crap, when I wanted a book)". Do they mistake quietness for meekness and therefore a pliable, womanly nature? That's a mistake, alright...and boy, are they mad and upset when they find it out!
I want to be an equal, a person in my own right, not some sort of an advanced pet. Trying to reform me into the feminine ideal is futile...forget it. No, what it'd take is for someone to like and accept me the way I am.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*footnote- I've thought about Uncle Charlie a lot lately. They say that people typically use the same sex parent as a role model and the opposite sex parent as the one from which they select traits they desire in a mate. Obviously I had problems with this- l had only one parent for the most part, and finding men like him has been disastrous. I've come to think that any prominent same or opposite sex figure the child is attached to can be used as a template. I emulated several aunts and a grandmother besides my mom and dad as role models, so it actually makes a good deal of sense that I'd look beyond my dad in other areas as well.
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
More Apprehension
It used to be that when my dad got mad, he never yelled. He just got very, very quiet and cold and unresponsive. And then his hand would fly out. It could be quite unexpected. Now whenever a guy gets very quiet or seems cold and silent, I get all uneasy. Inwardly, I'm flinching already.
My sted-dad was even more unpredictable: he didn't have to be angry to do something mean. Indeed, some of his cruelest moments were when his fat face was wreathed in a sadistic smile and his potbelly rumbled with evil chuckles. Eating dinner next to him was nerve wracking. You never knew if he'd steal the food from your plate, or ridicule the way you shook the salt, or puncture your leg with a toothpick, or zap you with a stun gun. Only one thing was for certain- that *something* would happen. I still hate scenes at the dinner table. You never know what might happen...
Snakes- I'm absolutely, positively, irrationally phobic about them. I've finally gotten to the point where a photograph of one doesn't make my heart jump unexpectedly. I don't know why I hate them, but I do. I hate the sound their bodies make, slithering through dry grass. I hate the graceful, sinous curves of them, even as I admire their beauty. I hate their heads and souless eyes. MOST OF ALL I HATE THE WAY THEY SNEAK OUT OF NOWHERE AND SURPRISE YOU! Why? Because- I can't go into any area where I've recently seen a snake, or where a snake might be, without worrying about it. There doesn't have to be a snake present. The knowledge that there may be is enough to ruin the experience for me, because I'm constantly dreading encountering one at close range. If there was a warning, if they were neon orange or two feet tall so I could see them, I wouldn't be half as afraid of them as I am.
Conspiracy theories: I used to waste a lot of time worrying about these. Now that was a strain. I decided to save the fear for things that I could *do* something about. But think about it for a moment. The big factor in a conspiracy theory is the fear, the apprehension of what 'they' might do to you, and who 'they' might be, and when they'll do it. If you knew who it was, what they were going to do, and when, much of the fear would evaporate, and people would simply prepare or take action until they could feel secure again, like they did for Y2K.
Nightmares- think about it: which kinds are the scariest? The ones where you never see your stalker or monster or whatever, right? Or where you see it, but it never catches you, you're afraid of what'll happen when it does, or in falling dreams- I never land- the expectation of splatting on the ground is what's so scary.
Yeah. It looks like apprehension is the scariest thing of all. (note: the next time you watch the news, keep this in mind. Notice how they milk the viewers for a fearful reaction. Effective, aye?)
It used to be that when my dad got mad, he never yelled. He just got very, very quiet and cold and unresponsive. And then his hand would fly out. It could be quite unexpected. Now whenever a guy gets very quiet or seems cold and silent, I get all uneasy. Inwardly, I'm flinching already.
My sted-dad was even more unpredictable: he didn't have to be angry to do something mean. Indeed, some of his cruelest moments were when his fat face was wreathed in a sadistic smile and his potbelly rumbled with evil chuckles. Eating dinner next to him was nerve wracking. You never knew if he'd steal the food from your plate, or ridicule the way you shook the salt, or puncture your leg with a toothpick, or zap you with a stun gun. Only one thing was for certain- that *something* would happen. I still hate scenes at the dinner table. You never know what might happen...
Snakes- I'm absolutely, positively, irrationally phobic about them. I've finally gotten to the point where a photograph of one doesn't make my heart jump unexpectedly. I don't know why I hate them, but I do. I hate the sound their bodies make, slithering through dry grass. I hate the graceful, sinous curves of them, even as I admire their beauty. I hate their heads and souless eyes. MOST OF ALL I HATE THE WAY THEY SNEAK OUT OF NOWHERE AND SURPRISE YOU! Why? Because- I can't go into any area where I've recently seen a snake, or where a snake might be, without worrying about it. There doesn't have to be a snake present. The knowledge that there may be is enough to ruin the experience for me, because I'm constantly dreading encountering one at close range. If there was a warning, if they were neon orange or two feet tall so I could see them, I wouldn't be half as afraid of them as I am.
Conspiracy theories: I used to waste a lot of time worrying about these. Now that was a strain. I decided to save the fear for things that I could *do* something about. But think about it for a moment. The big factor in a conspiracy theory is the fear, the apprehension of what 'they' might do to you, and who 'they' might be, and when they'll do it. If you knew who it was, what they were going to do, and when, much of the fear would evaporate, and people would simply prepare or take action until they could feel secure again, like they did for Y2K.
Nightmares- think about it: which kinds are the scariest? The ones where you never see your stalker or monster or whatever, right? Or where you see it, but it never catches you, you're afraid of what'll happen when it does, or in falling dreams- I never land- the expectation of splatting on the ground is what's so scary.
Yeah. It looks like apprehension is the scariest thing of all. (note: the next time you watch the news, keep this in mind. Notice how they milk the viewers for a fearful reaction. Effective, aye?)
Geez. Whatever happend to my resolution to have *fun* this year? :sigh: :-(
To say that I feel hostile would be just a little bit of an understatement. I feel enraged, cornered, trapped, like an animal that'll chew its limb off to get free, even if it subsequently bleeds to death.
I put in an application at the local grocery store. If that isn't incentive to get off my ass and find a good job, I don't know what is. I do _not_ particularly want to work at that place. People, people, noise and more people all day long :shudder: and then probably a low wage on top of it. You know, maybe I should move. I mean out of state. This just isn't working. There are no jobs to speak of here. I guess after the school year ends, I could. School is one of the few positive things in the boy's life right now, and I'm not going to take that from them. I reallyreallyreallyreally need to get the hell out of here, even for a week or two, to get a breather. I don't know what I'd do with the boys, who'd watch them for me...maybe ummm.....yeah. That might work. If I had a destination in mind. Ha. Pipe dreams.
:flutters like a worn, tattered leaf towards the ground:
To say that I feel hostile would be just a little bit of an understatement. I feel enraged, cornered, trapped, like an animal that'll chew its limb off to get free, even if it subsequently bleeds to death.
I put in an application at the local grocery store. If that isn't incentive to get off my ass and find a good job, I don't know what is. I do _not_ particularly want to work at that place. People, people, noise and more people all day long :shudder: and then probably a low wage on top of it. You know, maybe I should move. I mean out of state. This just isn't working. There are no jobs to speak of here. I guess after the school year ends, I could. School is one of the few positive things in the boy's life right now, and I'm not going to take that from them. I reallyreallyreallyreally need to get the hell out of here, even for a week or two, to get a breather. I don't know what I'd do with the boys, who'd watch them for me...maybe ummm.....yeah. That might work. If I had a destination in mind. Ha. Pipe dreams.
:flutters like a worn, tattered leaf towards the ground:
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Still bleak. Going through The Courage to Heal Workbook right now. Does it help? *shrug* I'm not sure yet. It makes me think though.
Apprehension
Have you ever gotten an injection and cringed at the needle? I used to be positively phobic of shots and needles; it took a nurse or two to keep me from instinctively pulling away just as the nurse was going to jab me. I still don't like them; I'd be a poor diabetic. The nurses everywhere I've been have this terrifying technique: they poise with the needle or syringe, all ready to go, and then they just freeze, about an inch from your flesh. Alright...you'll feel something cold...(alcohol swab)....I'm moving the needle towards your arm...you're going to feel a prick....it'll sting just a little bit...okay....hold still...I'm about to do it.......Arrgh!!! By the time they finally get it over with, I'm a nervous wreck!! Another thing, they tend to want you to watch. Why in the hell I'd want to watch is beyond me. These days I look away, hold very still, and tell them _not_ to tell me, just to do it and get it over with as quickly as possible. They're always surprised at this!
Them- "You don't want to know before I do it?" :look of total disbelief:
Me- "No. Just do it."
Them-(doubtfully) "Well, if you say so..."
I guess they think I'll move at the last minute. The thing is, I expect the pain, but it really isn't much. I can deal with it. It's the anticipation that kills me. Once I feel the needle, it's over, and I don't mind anymore. Anyway, I'm realizing that this dread of bad/painful/unpleasant things happening paralyzes me in a lot of other areas. When I was a kid, I goofed off in church one day. My dad said he'd belt me when we got home. I was in a state of terror. We got home. No spanking...yet. I dreaded that spanking for a day or two. He apparently forgot. I tell you, that incident was far more traumatic than any spanking or other discipline he ever dished out. I couldn't enjoy anything, all I could think of was wondering when the spanking would come. Here are the lyrics to a song by Billy Joel that expresses it perfectly on another angle. All he can think of is the axe (or needle..heh.) Yep. Dread is often worse than the actual event. Maybe.
Apprehension
Have you ever gotten an injection and cringed at the needle? I used to be positively phobic of shots and needles; it took a nurse or two to keep me from instinctively pulling away just as the nurse was going to jab me. I still don't like them; I'd be a poor diabetic. The nurses everywhere I've been have this terrifying technique: they poise with the needle or syringe, all ready to go, and then they just freeze, about an inch from your flesh. Alright...you'll feel something cold...(alcohol swab)....I'm moving the needle towards your arm...you're going to feel a prick....it'll sting just a little bit...okay....hold still...I'm about to do it.......Arrgh!!! By the time they finally get it over with, I'm a nervous wreck!! Another thing, they tend to want you to watch. Why in the hell I'd want to watch is beyond me. These days I look away, hold very still, and tell them _not_ to tell me, just to do it and get it over with as quickly as possible. They're always surprised at this!
Them- "You don't want to know before I do it?" :look of total disbelief:
Me- "No. Just do it."
Them-(doubtfully) "Well, if you say so..."
I guess they think I'll move at the last minute. The thing is, I expect the pain, but it really isn't much. I can deal with it. It's the anticipation that kills me. Once I feel the needle, it's over, and I don't mind anymore. Anyway, I'm realizing that this dread of bad/painful/unpleasant things happening paralyzes me in a lot of other areas. When I was a kid, I goofed off in church one day. My dad said he'd belt me when we got home. I was in a state of terror. We got home. No spanking...yet. I dreaded that spanking for a day or two. He apparently forgot. I tell you, that incident was far more traumatic than any spanking or other discipline he ever dished out. I couldn't enjoy anything, all I could think of was wondering when the spanking would come. Here are the lyrics to a song by Billy Joel that expresses it perfectly on another angle. All he can think of is the axe (or needle..heh.) Yep. Dread is often worse than the actual event. Maybe.
Current mood? I dunno. Umm, maybe loopy and black at the same time, if that makes any sense. In other words, weird. Yeah, big news huh? Not really.
A line from a song by Depeche Mode keeps running through my head in a continous loop.
-------------------------
Oh, girl..
Lead me into your darkness
when this world
is trying its hardest to leave me unimpressed
just one caress
from you and I'm blessed...
----------------------------
Danged if I know why *this* song. I have noooo idea. I kind of like this CD though; the songs are all parodies of Christian rock and sentiments.
You know, I think it's the line about the world leaving him unimpressed. I can definitely relate to that. Whatever. It's a stupid song.
A line from a song by Depeche Mode keeps running through my head in a continous loop.
-------------------------
Oh, girl..
Lead me into your darkness
when this world
is trying its hardest to leave me unimpressed
just one caress
from you and I'm blessed...
----------------------------
Danged if I know why *this* song. I have noooo idea. I kind of like this CD though; the songs are all parodies of Christian rock and sentiments.
You know, I think it's the line about the world leaving him unimpressed. I can definitely relate to that. Whatever. It's a stupid song.
Monday, February 02, 2004
I've been doing OK with Ebay- selling books there, I mean. Throughout my life, I've been the sort of person who could talk someone out of buying something they were determined to have until I came along trying to sell it. Don't ask me how that was possible, but somehow, I managed to do just that, until Ebay. In the last week I've sold, oh, maybe six or seven books? They all went for very modest prices, but still, I'm pleased about it. This is so painless I can't believe it. I have an idea that I could use a shift to another product or else more profitable books. Records are a dime a dozen here. I even saw some old 45's the other day. Wonder if they're in any sort of demand?
I bought a really cool book there this evening (yeah, yeah...I know, I can see how this is going to work...sell books, spend all the dough buying more..). I can hardly wait to get it. Nope. I'm not telling what it is, until it gets here at least. A clue: art. Think Beardsley. Klimt. Schiele. Rodin..... hehehehe....
I awoke this morning thinking of two things: goats, specifically bucks, and the breeding program; that I need to get my act together. When Sprite and Song both died, it kind of took the heart out of it for me. I'll have to see if there's another doe that I can get attached to, I guess. *sigh*...That isn't the way to go about things at all. It has all the authenticity of someone going to a bar and planning to find someone to fall in love with that same night. Which is to say, none. Whatever. Maybe a doe will be born this spring that I'll love. Until then, I need to pay more attention to them, I hardly look at them any more.
I'm working through a book, the sort you answer questions and write in. It asked me to name places where I feel safe. Upstairs, and...I used to feel that way in the barn. It used to be that when I was upset I'd go and visit with Sprite. It's not the same now. Now it's just a smelly old barn. I'm sitting here wondering what I'll do when I move. There won't be an upstairs. I'll have to make a new nest. Moving on-
The other thing running through my early morning mind: knights. As in chess. If you drew a grid, and highlighted the squares the knight travels over, with the ones it actually landed on brighter or darker, would there be some kind of a pattern possible, as in a repeating pattern that would link back up with itself seamlessly? It seem like this would be possible. I ran the mental image of the knight through series of moves and different patterns. There's probably a program that would crunch this question up in no time flat and take all the fun out of it, because I want the pattern to be *attractive*, or at least intriguing.
Started another book about Japan- The Concubines Tattoo, read about a chapter and chucked it away into the thrift store bag. This is the kind of a book that I'd expect from an occidental mind. The differences between it and Memoirs of a Geisha are glaring. There is no subtlety, the thought pattern is direct and blatant, like an American's. Bleah. I persist in thinking that at least some of the geisha book was actually dictated by a real Japanese woman. An American man couldn't have pulled it off. Anyway, back to the more recent one- not only it is culturally wrong, it also seems historically wrong, many of the details are anglicized, and on top of all trhat, it's homophobic and portrays homosexual men as effeminate, scheming predators (and of course the straight men are the honest ones). Puh-lease!!! Aren't the stereotypes well circulated enough already? For the sake of originality, would it be possible for someone to try a different portrayal? It's not that I have any personal reason to care, but the whole book is full of stupid banalities and overworn points of view. Well, the part that I read. I couldn't hack reading any more of it; my brain rebelled. Oy! It's getting late. Time to turn in.
I bought a really cool book there this evening (yeah, yeah...I know, I can see how this is going to work...sell books, spend all the dough buying more..). I can hardly wait to get it. Nope. I'm not telling what it is, until it gets here at least. A clue: art. Think Beardsley. Klimt. Schiele. Rodin..... hehehehe....
I awoke this morning thinking of two things: goats, specifically bucks, and the breeding program; that I need to get my act together. When Sprite and Song both died, it kind of took the heart out of it for me. I'll have to see if there's another doe that I can get attached to, I guess. *sigh*...That isn't the way to go about things at all. It has all the authenticity of someone going to a bar and planning to find someone to fall in love with that same night. Which is to say, none. Whatever. Maybe a doe will be born this spring that I'll love. Until then, I need to pay more attention to them, I hardly look at them any more.
I'm working through a book, the sort you answer questions and write in. It asked me to name places where I feel safe. Upstairs, and...I used to feel that way in the barn. It used to be that when I was upset I'd go and visit with Sprite. It's not the same now. Now it's just a smelly old barn. I'm sitting here wondering what I'll do when I move. There won't be an upstairs. I'll have to make a new nest. Moving on-
The other thing running through my early morning mind: knights. As in chess. If you drew a grid, and highlighted the squares the knight travels over, with the ones it actually landed on brighter or darker, would there be some kind of a pattern possible, as in a repeating pattern that would link back up with itself seamlessly? It seem like this would be possible. I ran the mental image of the knight through series of moves and different patterns. There's probably a program that would crunch this question up in no time flat and take all the fun out of it, because I want the pattern to be *attractive*, or at least intriguing.
Started another book about Japan- The Concubines Tattoo, read about a chapter and chucked it away into the thrift store bag. This is the kind of a book that I'd expect from an occidental mind. The differences between it and Memoirs of a Geisha are glaring. There is no subtlety, the thought pattern is direct and blatant, like an American's. Bleah. I persist in thinking that at least some of the geisha book was actually dictated by a real Japanese woman. An American man couldn't have pulled it off. Anyway, back to the more recent one- not only it is culturally wrong, it also seems historically wrong, many of the details are anglicized, and on top of all trhat, it's homophobic and portrays homosexual men as effeminate, scheming predators (and of course the straight men are the honest ones). Puh-lease!!! Aren't the stereotypes well circulated enough already? For the sake of originality, would it be possible for someone to try a different portrayal? It's not that I have any personal reason to care, but the whole book is full of stupid banalities and overworn points of view. Well, the part that I read. I couldn't hack reading any more of it; my brain rebelled. Oy! It's getting late. Time to turn in.
Thinking about- the paradox of blue jeans. Visually, tight jeans are appealing and somewhat erotic, no? Don't the advertisements depict women with shirts unbuttoned, red lips slightly parted, and a pair of jeans so tight they look glued-on? Close-fitting jeans have a very sexy image. This is odd, because they're made of such stiff, thick, tough material. Tight jeans cramp and pinch sensitive places. They're hard to remove. They have all the softness and tactile sensuality of a coat of armor. They weren't intended, originally, to be tempting. They were utilitarian dungarees for gold miners that'd last and wear like rawhide. Strangely enough, they still feel that way even in their chic, tempting, mutation.
They should make them of something thinner or softer, easier on the body and more sensuous to the touch, like silk, or a thin, fine chenille. Yeah.
They should make them of something thinner or softer, easier on the body and more sensuous to the touch, like silk, or a thin, fine chenille. Yeah.
Sunday, February 01, 2004
Hey, cool; they finally vanished. I didn't think they were going to.
I finished Catcher in The Rye some time ago. It's funny: at first I thought he was a moron and a loser, but as the story went on, I realized that he deserved a little more credit, that he was just a lonely kid searching for someone to care about and something to live for. In fact, by the time I was through, I felt really sorry for him (I really did...) and upset with the clueless obtuse adults in his life. I began to wonder who was really nuts and screwed up- Holden, who sees through the ritualized phoniness all around him, or the so called 'normal people' that he's always feeling sorry for and depressed about.
I discovered another thrift store that has a steady supply of worthwhile books. I found (to name a very few) at least three by Pearl S. Buck, a variety of sci-fi, and I don't know what else; oh, some classics like Shakespeare and Bronte, etc.. also a Far Side book. I laughed so hard over this last night that I resolved to save the rest of it for the next time I'm feeling deeply, darkly depressed. I mean, there is just no way one could read it and not lighten up!! Gary Larson is great. :-)
I finished Catcher in The Rye some time ago. It's funny: at first I thought he was a moron and a loser, but as the story went on, I realized that he deserved a little more credit, that he was just a lonely kid searching for someone to care about and something to live for. In fact, by the time I was through, I felt really sorry for him (I really did...) and upset with the clueless obtuse adults in his life. I began to wonder who was really nuts and screwed up- Holden, who sees through the ritualized phoniness all around him, or the so called 'normal people' that he's always feeling sorry for and depressed about.
I discovered another thrift store that has a steady supply of worthwhile books. I found (to name a very few) at least three by Pearl S. Buck, a variety of sci-fi, and I don't know what else; oh, some classics like Shakespeare and Bronte, etc.. also a Far Side book. I laughed so hard over this last night that I resolved to save the rest of it for the next time I'm feeling deeply, darkly depressed. I mean, there is just no way one could read it and not lighten up!! Gary Larson is great. :-)
Thursday, January 29, 2004
I've been trying to delete the last two posts; the editing page shows them as absent, but here they remain. Ugh... So do me a favor, and don't read them, OK?
I finally procured some St.John's wort that works- man, what a difference. I feel sane again.
What do you think of this? Transhumanism My initial response- arrogant, idealisitic, and short sighted, in a way.
I finally procured some St.John's wort that works- man, what a difference. I feel sane again.
What do you think of this? Transhumanism My initial response- arrogant, idealisitic, and short sighted, in a way.
Sunday, January 25, 2004
Well. It must seem that I was a little obsessed with the subject, and I have to admit that I found the pictures and accounts very disturbing. Here is more info. The thing is, I honestly had no idea it was such a major deal. But now I'm wondering whether (and how much of) the difficulties between the sexes are related to the trauma of having their genitals mutilated. No wonder some guys wear such an air of bravado- they're insecure. I think it's just a matter of time before the practice becomes outdated and that it will be looked upon with horror by future generations.
I'm reading The Catcher in the Rye. I feel a little sorry for the main character. He seems like such a loser, and the saddest part of it is that he's fairly oblivious to the fact. He's decent at heart and has a definite sympathy for people, and this seems to be his main redeeming feature. He doesn't seem to have any dreams, any goals, any aspirations in life, or....or even any curiosity to speak of. I get the impression that he just sort of floats along, taking in sensory data and responding to it with feelings. Maybe the book changes later on, but the guy just doesn't seem to have any depth of thought going on, though he has to be given credit for feelings. He seems determined to like people when given the slightest chance; I don't know, there's a sort of innocence about him, even though I think he's kind of a moron.
Latest visual interests- seashells. Nothing I could say with my clumsy words would do them justice. I wish they were easier to find around here.
Also- parakeets. They're such cheery little birds. I'm thinking about getting one when I move into town. Maybe.
I'm reading The Catcher in the Rye. I feel a little sorry for the main character. He seems like such a loser, and the saddest part of it is that he's fairly oblivious to the fact. He's decent at heart and has a definite sympathy for people, and this seems to be his main redeeming feature. He doesn't seem to have any dreams, any goals, any aspirations in life, or....or even any curiosity to speak of. I get the impression that he just sort of floats along, taking in sensory data and responding to it with feelings. Maybe the book changes later on, but the guy just doesn't seem to have any depth of thought going on, though he has to be given credit for feelings. He seems determined to like people when given the slightest chance; I don't know, there's a sort of innocence about him, even though I think he's kind of a moron.
Latest visual interests- seashells. Nothing I could say with my clumsy words would do them justice. I wish they were easier to find around here.
Also- parakeets. They're such cheery little birds. I'm thinking about getting one when I move into town. Maybe.
Friday, January 23, 2004
Wait a minute here: did I say "pro's and con's"? From what I could tell, there aren't any pro's. Not one. There is just no justification for doing that kind of a thing. And why anyone in their right mind would worship a god who commanded it just baffles me.
Also backtracking to the book about the geisha. I'm still scratching my head over this, because- well, because. The author is a man, and probably a white man at that (Arthur Golden- sounds white, definitely not Asian). Now here is the thing that makes me wonder if it is at least based on transcriptions of a real woman's experiences: I've read men's accounts of what it's like for a woman to have sex. They're funny. They're insane. They're ludicrous. I invariably end up throwing the book down in disgust and muttering to myself as to why the man even tried writing this. After all, I would *never* *ever* presume to know what it's like for a man, but it seems that all too many male authors simply write down what must be a female rendition of the male experience. But in this book, the geisha's account was right on. She described the kind of things that I honestly don't think most men could even begin to fathom, not because they're obtuse or stupid, but only because they've never been a woman. The motives, the feelings, the misgivings, the sort of things that men puzzle over and grumble about because they don't understand...some woman somewhere composed at least this section. I'm telling you, there is just no way a man could have written it.
For an example of a very poorly written, laughable account of a woman's side of things, read Gap Creek. I kept on wondering why he didn't find a woman and ask her what it's like, for godssake.
As long as I'm incriminating myself talking about these things, a friend called yesterday. She was chortling about a new purchase she'd made; she likes weird christmas lights, she has a set of chili pepper lights that are up year round in her home. She found a set with, *ahem*, penises. (!) The thought suddenly struck me- THIS is the sort of thing that would be covered in the clause of embarrassing the other tenants, hanging a string or two of these in the window! :wicked grin: I can just see the look on the landlord's face... Oh, it would be so perfect... Yes, I'm bad, I know it. So bite me.
Also backtracking to the book about the geisha. I'm still scratching my head over this, because- well, because. The author is a man, and probably a white man at that (Arthur Golden- sounds white, definitely not Asian). Now here is the thing that makes me wonder if it is at least based on transcriptions of a real woman's experiences: I've read men's accounts of what it's like for a woman to have sex. They're funny. They're insane. They're ludicrous. I invariably end up throwing the book down in disgust and muttering to myself as to why the man even tried writing this. After all, I would *never* *ever* presume to know what it's like for a man, but it seems that all too many male authors simply write down what must be a female rendition of the male experience. But in this book, the geisha's account was right on. She described the kind of things that I honestly don't think most men could even begin to fathom, not because they're obtuse or stupid, but only because they've never been a woman. The motives, the feelings, the misgivings, the sort of things that men puzzle over and grumble about because they don't understand...some woman somewhere composed at least this section. I'm telling you, there is just no way a man could have written it.
For an example of a very poorly written, laughable account of a woman's side of things, read Gap Creek. I kept on wondering why he didn't find a woman and ask her what it's like, for godssake.
As long as I'm incriminating myself talking about these things, a friend called yesterday. She was chortling about a new purchase she'd made; she likes weird christmas lights, she has a set of chili pepper lights that are up year round in her home. She found a set with, *ahem*, penises. (!) The thought suddenly struck me- THIS is the sort of thing that would be covered in the clause of embarrassing the other tenants, hanging a string or two of these in the window! :wicked grin: I can just see the look on the landlord's face... Oh, it would be so perfect... Yes, I'm bad, I know it. So bite me.
Thursday, January 22, 2004
The current topic on the INTP list - what happens during circumcision. I feel sick. I can't believe anyone would do this to a baby, especially if they loved him. Oh, my god. (Yeah, God, if you're there, why in the hell would you give males something that makes perfect sense and then tell your chosen people to hack it off their week old babies? Huh??? Nice god....) It's just sick, barbaric, and cruel. Reading about the pro's and con's didn't help either- now I can see why some men are brutal. Hell yes... Man in his infinite folly- screw around with nature, fuck it up, and then blame it on an imaginary god. :stomach churning:
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
Yeah, lame I know. I just posted a few hours ago and here I am again. Oh well! I actually do have something else to do but obviously I'm not doing it yet.
I finished the book about the geisha. The story was so poignant that I was practically in tears by the last page of it (not really. I never cry, right? This is the cold hearted bitch, after all..) and it had an unexpectedly happy ending. All through the book I kept shaking my head and thinking, 'man...I can relate to this, but she's nuts, this is never going to work...' and then, in the last four or five pages, it all works out perfectly. So you can imagine just how pissed I was to discover that it is apparently a novel and not based on any true occurences, despite the so-called 'translator's note' in the introduction saying that he'd tape recorded the reminiscenses of an elderly geisha. The story was incredibly convincing, and when I found out i'd been duped, well....I wasn't happy about it, that's all. It's still a good read. Just don't get fixated on its being a true story.
Music- my Dire Straits CD hasn't arrived yet. This song keeps rolling through my head. All right- I'm going to admit something- Elton John is very F (feeling, emotional) in the tone of his music. Generally that kind of crap turns me off. But he has a way of expressing it perfectly- whatever it is he's trying to express in a particular song, I mean- and the songs tend to be a perfect marriage of lyrics and music. In that sense, I think he's a genius. The thing of it is, when it comes to feelings, I don't know what to do with them. Half the time I don't even realize they're there or what they are until it's too late and they're staring me in the face. Expressing them? Verbally??? You've got to be kidding. Besides, once I identify that there *is* a feeling of some sort and exactly *what* it is, I analyze it for hours (or days or months) and try to figure out just what it means, why it's there, etc etc...in other words I move it from feeling into thinking mode in order to deal with it.
That's why I like Elton John. He expresses things that I can't, eloquently. I'll be listening to his music, and eventually a song will play where I'll say- "hey, yeah. That's exactly it." So, back to the song. I recognized that particular feeling the first time I heard it. You'd sort of have to hear it though, the lyrics aren't enough. But it feels like a kid cowering in a corner from an angry father, wanting his dad's approval and love, wondering what in the hell he did wrong and what he's got to do to be loved again. This is the most perfect expression of an abused child that I've ever heard. I have more to say on this note but the night is wearing on rather fruitlessly and there are some things I need to work on.
I finished the book about the geisha. The story was so poignant that I was practically in tears by the last page of it (not really. I never cry, right? This is the cold hearted bitch, after all..) and it had an unexpectedly happy ending. All through the book I kept shaking my head and thinking, 'man...I can relate to this, but she's nuts, this is never going to work...' and then, in the last four or five pages, it all works out perfectly. So you can imagine just how pissed I was to discover that it is apparently a novel and not based on any true occurences, despite the so-called 'translator's note' in the introduction saying that he'd tape recorded the reminiscenses of an elderly geisha. The story was incredibly convincing, and when I found out i'd been duped, well....I wasn't happy about it, that's all. It's still a good read. Just don't get fixated on its being a true story.
Music- my Dire Straits CD hasn't arrived yet. This song keeps rolling through my head. All right- I'm going to admit something- Elton John is very F (feeling, emotional) in the tone of his music. Generally that kind of crap turns me off. But he has a way of expressing it perfectly- whatever it is he's trying to express in a particular song, I mean- and the songs tend to be a perfect marriage of lyrics and music. In that sense, I think he's a genius. The thing of it is, when it comes to feelings, I don't know what to do with them. Half the time I don't even realize they're there or what they are until it's too late and they're staring me in the face. Expressing them? Verbally??? You've got to be kidding. Besides, once I identify that there *is* a feeling of some sort and exactly *what* it is, I analyze it for hours (or days or months) and try to figure out just what it means, why it's there, etc etc...in other words I move it from feeling into thinking mode in order to deal with it.
That's why I like Elton John. He expresses things that I can't, eloquently. I'll be listening to his music, and eventually a song will play where I'll say- "hey, yeah. That's exactly it." So, back to the song. I recognized that particular feeling the first time I heard it. You'd sort of have to hear it though, the lyrics aren't enough. But it feels like a kid cowering in a corner from an angry father, wanting his dad's approval and love, wondering what in the hell he did wrong and what he's got to do to be loved again. This is the most perfect expression of an abused child that I've ever heard. I have more to say on this note but the night is wearing on rather fruitlessly and there are some things I need to work on.
Went and looked at (counting...) five apartments today, and inquired about a number of others. The five I looked at are al owned by the same guy. I've met this man before, he's seems decent enough. I think he's a mormon. All the places were really nice. The most appealing one is about to have a lease signed on it, the most affordable one is way too small, the others are OK. The one I liked second best is expensive, I'd just about need a rommate to rent it with.
The apartment policies crack me up. A sampling: Profane, obscene, loud or boisterous language or unseemly behavior and conduct, is absolutely prohibited, and tenant obligates himself, and those under him, not to do or permit anything that will annoy, harass, embarrass,or inconvenience any of the other tenants or occupants in the subject or adjoining premises.
Landlord has the right to immediately remove combustible material from the premises. Say what??
Now, understand me here. It isn't that I would go right out and break all the rules just for the sake of being perverse, though it's tempting when there are so many rules. I always like to read the rules wherever I go and see what all is prohibited so that I'll know what I'm getting into. These rules are lenient compared to those at a homeless shelter, where you cannot even kiss, hug, or hold hands unless you've got a signed marriage license. Also generally outlawed- eating your own food. If whatever they give you at the communal meals isn't enough or you can't eat it, tough luck. In fact, you're not even allowed to have your own food in your backpack, but I always did. I couldn't very well get rid of it knowing I'd be back on the streets in a day or two.
Why am I talking about homelessness again? I guess because my position at this point is tenous. The prospect of falling on hard times and possibly ending up on the streets scares the hell out of me. I'll do my damnedest to make sure that doesn't happen, and it shouldn't, but it's sort of the same uneasy, anxious feeling I get when the fridge and cupboards start to look empty. The strange thing is that I don't even have an appetite to speak of anymore. It's typical for me not to eat much of anything until 3-4 PM, at which point I'll have something small, and then dinner a few hours later. If I didn't get shaky and lightheaded about that time, chances are I'd skip out on eating at all. Yet if the food gets low I start to panic and given the opportunity, would probably stockpile food. Weird.
The apartment policies crack me up. A sampling: Profane, obscene, loud or boisterous language or unseemly behavior and conduct, is absolutely prohibited, and tenant obligates himself, and those under him, not to do or permit anything that will annoy, harass, embarrass,or inconvenience any of the other tenants or occupants in the subject or adjoining premises.
- Profane- does this mean I can't say 'God is dead' or somesuch? It must, because swearing is covered next.
- Obscene- assuming it isn't loud and noone can hear me, why not? It is going to hurt anyone if I sit quietly cussing while I'm on the computer?
- Loud- OK, I can see that.
- Boisterous- is this different from loud? How?
- Unseemly behavior and conduct- I'm not sure I want to know what's covered by this....
- Absolutely Prohibited- Wow.
- Tenant obligates himself- Oh, wait.. That doesn't include me, then. ;-)
- annoy- what if the other tenant is easily annoyed by perfectly ordinary and unobtrusive behavior?
- Harass- I can see that..
- Embarrass-Like walking around the apartment in the nude? Or would that be unseemly behavior? Maybe this means you have to be silent if you have sex? Huh.
- inconvenience- This is reasonable.
Landlord has the right to immediately remove combustible material from the premises. Say what??
Now, understand me here. It isn't that I would go right out and break all the rules just for the sake of being perverse, though it's tempting when there are so many rules. I always like to read the rules wherever I go and see what all is prohibited so that I'll know what I'm getting into. These rules are lenient compared to those at a homeless shelter, where you cannot even kiss, hug, or hold hands unless you've got a signed marriage license. Also generally outlawed- eating your own food. If whatever they give you at the communal meals isn't enough or you can't eat it, tough luck. In fact, you're not even allowed to have your own food in your backpack, but I always did. I couldn't very well get rid of it knowing I'd be back on the streets in a day or two.
Why am I talking about homelessness again? I guess because my position at this point is tenous. The prospect of falling on hard times and possibly ending up on the streets scares the hell out of me. I'll do my damnedest to make sure that doesn't happen, and it shouldn't, but it's sort of the same uneasy, anxious feeling I get when the fridge and cupboards start to look empty. The strange thing is that I don't even have an appetite to speak of anymore. It's typical for me not to eat much of anything until 3-4 PM, at which point I'll have something small, and then dinner a few hours later. If I didn't get shaky and lightheaded about that time, chances are I'd skip out on eating at all. Yet if the food gets low I start to panic and given the opportunity, would probably stockpile food. Weird.
Monday, January 19, 2004
Current reading list
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Still reading Faust now and then, and enjoying it. To be honest though, Memoirs of a Geisha is so captivating that I've neglected all other reading material, even seed and flower catalogs. The bittersweet portrait of a girl trying her best to better her lot in life (and so far not having any love or real closeness) is told with such sadness intermingled with an almost poetic style of expression....and it's all true.
After these two are finished, I have Catcher in the Rye and one by Asimov. I bought not one but TWO copies of Stranger in a Strange Land, only to find out that neither one is the uncut version, which is what I want. I can't see any reason to read these since I want the whole thing! Man that makes me feel like a dork.
Movies
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I LOVED The Meaning of Life. Man, that movie is funny! It's just great. :-) This one gets added to my top ten favorite movies.
Haven't watched the next two yet. There are a bunch of books and movies I want to find, as well as music. Found Dire Straits, it's now in the mail on its way to me. I'll have to compile a list of the stuff I'm looking for. Definitely Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, The Handmaiden by Ursula Leguin (a favorite author) and if I could find them I'd probably get more books on art...hmmm, maybe Modigliani? Love those long ovoid heads with their almond eyes...
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Every day that goes by I think I should paint or draw something but the time just sllips away or gets all befuddled with so much noise and commotion and upset, by the time I wind down on the computer it's well past time to go to bed. If I don't do something, my life is going to slip away just like that, one day at a time- one futile, hectic day after another until there's nothing left of me- or nothing worth preserving anyhow.
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- Faust- Goethe
- Memoirs of a Geisha- Arther Golden
Still reading Faust now and then, and enjoying it. To be honest though, Memoirs of a Geisha is so captivating that I've neglected all other reading material, even seed and flower catalogs. The bittersweet portrait of a girl trying her best to better her lot in life (and so far not having any love or real closeness) is told with such sadness intermingled with an almost poetic style of expression....and it's all true.
After these two are finished, I have Catcher in the Rye and one by Asimov. I bought not one but TWO copies of Stranger in a Strange Land, only to find out that neither one is the uncut version, which is what I want. I can't see any reason to read these since I want the whole thing! Man that makes me feel like a dork.
Movies
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- The Meaning of Life (Monty Python)
- The Search for Bobby Fischer
- Pirates of Silicon Valley
I LOVED The Meaning of Life. Man, that movie is funny! It's just great. :-) This one gets added to my top ten favorite movies.
Haven't watched the next two yet. There are a bunch of books and movies I want to find, as well as music. Found Dire Straits, it's now in the mail on its way to me. I'll have to compile a list of the stuff I'm looking for. Definitely Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, The Handmaiden by Ursula Leguin (a favorite author) and if I could find them I'd probably get more books on art...hmmm, maybe Modigliani? Love those long ovoid heads with their almond eyes...
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Every day that goes by I think I should paint or draw something but the time just sllips away or gets all befuddled with so much noise and commotion and upset, by the time I wind down on the computer it's well past time to go to bed. If I don't do something, my life is going to slip away just like that, one day at a time- one futile, hectic day after another until there's nothing left of me- or nothing worth preserving anyhow.
Thursday, January 15, 2004
I'm thinking about discontinuing this blog. It occurs to me that having it might not be such a bright idea. This is coupled with the fact that I truly doubt anyone reads it, making the risk fairly pointless, if you know what I mean... It's just stupid to write the things that I do here, when a diary would do just as well.
What else- I went through a photo album the other day, and I noticed a few things.
About my sister- she's younger but I've always lived in her shadow. She's glamorous and cute and pretty and well, she has that something...charisma? that I totally lack. She's got style and confidence. We look pretty much the same, it isn't that I'm homely, it's that she presents herself as though she's a beauty queen and utterly secure about it. I wouldn't want to be her, I wouldn't be happy living her life, and I prefer who I am, yet there is this nasty green streak of envy. Everybody likes her. She's sweet and outgoing and amiable. She gets what she wants. Cuteness goes a long, long way in life, and at time I have to admit to resenting that. She and I are such a contrast in almost every way despite the fact that we had the same upbringing. It's hard to blame my lack of success on a rough start when she's done so well. I asked her once how she did it, why everything seems to work out so well for her. She said that long ago, she'd seen how I was and the results of my weird unconventional ways, and decided that whatever I did, she'd do the exact opposite, and that it'd worked out pretty well. OUCH!
About the goats and I: the fact that the only pleasing pictures of me invariably include a goat says something significant. I've been thinking about drastically or completely reducing the number of goats in the herd. I can't enjoy them as I'd like to- when I've got to be tied down with so many little kids, dealing with them becomes more of a chore than a joy. Then I looked at these pictures and I realized- ya know, the goats make me happy. Life is about trying to be happy. Maybe I don't need so many, and perhaps I will eventually sell them off, but there are precious few things in this life that put a smile on my face and dammit, the goats are one of them.
What else- I went through a photo album the other day, and I noticed a few things.
- It would be useful to organize the photos by person or possibly time period. Having all sorts of family friends and whatnot from a span of 20-30 years jumbled together is confusing, a mishmash.
- I've got a lot of pictures of my full sister, and I do mean a LOT! It would not surprise me if a third or more of them had her in them.
- I don't photograph well....at all.... But the pictures that are decent generally have me smiling happily with a goat or two.
About my sister- she's younger but I've always lived in her shadow. She's glamorous and cute and pretty and well, she has that something...charisma? that I totally lack. She's got style and confidence. We look pretty much the same, it isn't that I'm homely, it's that she presents herself as though she's a beauty queen and utterly secure about it. I wouldn't want to be her, I wouldn't be happy living her life, and I prefer who I am, yet there is this nasty green streak of envy. Everybody likes her. She's sweet and outgoing and amiable. She gets what she wants. Cuteness goes a long, long way in life, and at time I have to admit to resenting that. She and I are such a contrast in almost every way despite the fact that we had the same upbringing. It's hard to blame my lack of success on a rough start when she's done so well. I asked her once how she did it, why everything seems to work out so well for her. She said that long ago, she'd seen how I was and the results of my weird unconventional ways, and decided that whatever I did, she'd do the exact opposite, and that it'd worked out pretty well. OUCH!
About the goats and I: the fact that the only pleasing pictures of me invariably include a goat says something significant. I've been thinking about drastically or completely reducing the number of goats in the herd. I can't enjoy them as I'd like to- when I've got to be tied down with so many little kids, dealing with them becomes more of a chore than a joy. Then I looked at these pictures and I realized- ya know, the goats make me happy. Life is about trying to be happy. Maybe I don't need so many, and perhaps I will eventually sell them off, but there are precious few things in this life that put a smile on my face and dammit, the goats are one of them.
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
Current mood- Not so good. Pretty crummy actually. But there isn't a lot that can be done about it, so.... there are a lot of other thoughts rolling through my head. Such as:
Originality- It's something I've always placed a very high value on. I used to go out of my way to be just as weird and unconventional as I could possibly be and get away with. It's on par with intelligence as far as importance goes, though I suppose there's some crossover between the two, because it seems to me that intelligence requires at least some originality in the thought processes. I'm digressing. What I wonder every so often is whether we have the capacity to be truly original, or do we simply blend and tweak the familiar and known slightly beyond what is expected? Take plagarism (sp?) : don't most artists mimic and copy something they've seen? If not other art, then nature, the shapes of architecture, etc? Ah- there is the abstract; but isn't this influenced as well by the input that has already entered our minds? It has to be, right? How much of what we come up with is truly unique? I'm thinking not much. Then again- Salvador Dali comes to mind. I love this quote of his- "The only difference between me and a madman is that I'm not mad."
So anyway, back to what I was saying, I think that maybe the deal is that even though a particular train of thought may not be truly original (i.e. it has been thought of before by others), it becomes so when you make it your own by having thought it through and aligning or contrasting it with the other data in your mind. What 's really dangerous are the people who simply take in what they've heard or been taught without assimilating it or even being aware.
Now, this leads me to another tangent. How many people *are* aware, in the sense that they question and think about stuff? My main gripe with TV is the propensity that people have to rely on it for entertainment (rather than imagination) and information (which they rarely critique). Even books can take on this role. Nothing irritates me in quite the same way as to hear someone spouting off quotes from some book as though it's the blessed truth, even a book that has merit. I mean, if they quote from it because they found some passage interesting or personally meaningful, that's one thing, but to say; "well, Edgar Cayce says....." or, "The book of New Age Enlightenment says...." just irks the heck out of me. It's nigh impossible to have a good conversation with such people. They don't really *think*.
So- can people actually be original? If you took someone and alienated them from all human data, what kind of things would they think, assuming they lived and weren't so dysfunctional as to be non-human...would that be possible? I don't think so. All we can do is to take what we have and add it together, or subtract, etc. But from whence do the leaps of genius come? Those, are they simply stretching what's available beyond what most are accustomed to (which actually wouldn't be hard, if you think about it..)?? Or?
Originality- It's something I've always placed a very high value on. I used to go out of my way to be just as weird and unconventional as I could possibly be and get away with. It's on par with intelligence as far as importance goes, though I suppose there's some crossover between the two, because it seems to me that intelligence requires at least some originality in the thought processes. I'm digressing. What I wonder every so often is whether we have the capacity to be truly original, or do we simply blend and tweak the familiar and known slightly beyond what is expected? Take plagarism (sp?) : don't most artists mimic and copy something they've seen? If not other art, then nature, the shapes of architecture, etc? Ah- there is the abstract; but isn't this influenced as well by the input that has already entered our minds? It has to be, right? How much of what we come up with is truly unique? I'm thinking not much. Then again- Salvador Dali comes to mind. I love this quote of his- "The only difference between me and a madman is that I'm not mad."
So anyway, back to what I was saying, I think that maybe the deal is that even though a particular train of thought may not be truly original (i.e. it has been thought of before by others), it becomes so when you make it your own by having thought it through and aligning or contrasting it with the other data in your mind. What 's really dangerous are the people who simply take in what they've heard or been taught without assimilating it or even being aware.
Now, this leads me to another tangent. How many people *are* aware, in the sense that they question and think about stuff? My main gripe with TV is the propensity that people have to rely on it for entertainment (rather than imagination) and information (which they rarely critique). Even books can take on this role. Nothing irritates me in quite the same way as to hear someone spouting off quotes from some book as though it's the blessed truth, even a book that has merit. I mean, if they quote from it because they found some passage interesting or personally meaningful, that's one thing, but to say; "well, Edgar Cayce says....." or, "The book of New Age Enlightenment says...." just irks the heck out of me. It's nigh impossible to have a good conversation with such people. They don't really *think*.
So- can people actually be original? If you took someone and alienated them from all human data, what kind of things would they think, assuming they lived and weren't so dysfunctional as to be non-human...would that be possible? I don't think so. All we can do is to take what we have and add it together, or subtract, etc. But from whence do the leaps of genius come? Those, are they simply stretching what's available beyond what most are accustomed to (which actually wouldn't be hard, if you think about it..)?? Or?
Sunday, January 11, 2004
I think my dad has disowned me. I didn't hear a peep from him this holiday season. I don't care about the presents, but on the other hand it is nice to feel as though you exist to your parents and they're happy you're around. Actually his wife always handled the presents; I kind of think I wouldn't have heard from him most years if she weren't around. Maybe he read the blog and got mad. Or maybe it was the bit on my website that hinted I don't believe in God anymore. It's hard to say for sure. He's at least as uncommunicative as I am (wonder where I learned it?).
I didn't hear from my mom either, despite trying to contact her both by phone and email several times. So between the two of them, I was feeling pretty orphaned. :-(
My mom finally called yesterday. In the course of the hour or two long conversation, I think I figured out why my dad might be put out with me. His birthday is close to Christmas (as is hers, they're the same age), and my mom mentioned offhand that she'd just hit the big 5-0. This was a shock- I thought they were turning 49 this year. In fact, I was planning to go out and visit my dad and do something really special for his fiftieth. I can't believe this. Since when does someone forget their parent's age, especially someone who has a whole battery of phone and other long numbers memorized? Geez.
I still can't figure this out though. I'm 31 and a virgo. She says I was conceived on his birthday, and she was eighteen when she was pregnant with me. They're both Sagittarius, so the conception story holds some water. By this math, they both should have been 18 when I was born, yet she says they were 19? I am seriously confused....I was sure they were both born in 1954... I don't know how I am going to admit that I had no idea he was 50 this year...but on the other hand I don't want him to think I ignored it. My mom didn't care (she didn't want to be reminded of the fact!) but he's so sensitive and easily offended...man, have I ever screwed up this time.
I didn't hear from my mom either, despite trying to contact her both by phone and email several times. So between the two of them, I was feeling pretty orphaned. :-(
My mom finally called yesterday. In the course of the hour or two long conversation, I think I figured out why my dad might be put out with me. His birthday is close to Christmas (as is hers, they're the same age), and my mom mentioned offhand that she'd just hit the big 5-0. This was a shock- I thought they were turning 49 this year. In fact, I was planning to go out and visit my dad and do something really special for his fiftieth. I can't believe this. Since when does someone forget their parent's age, especially someone who has a whole battery of phone and other long numbers memorized? Geez.
I still can't figure this out though. I'm 31 and a virgo. She says I was conceived on his birthday, and she was eighteen when she was pregnant with me. They're both Sagittarius, so the conception story holds some water. By this math, they both should have been 18 when I was born, yet she says they were 19? I am seriously confused....I was sure they were both born in 1954... I don't know how I am going to admit that I had no idea he was 50 this year...but on the other hand I don't want him to think I ignored it. My mom didn't care (she didn't want to be reminded of the fact!) but he's so sensitive and easily offended...man, have I ever screwed up this time.
Saturday, January 10, 2004
Friday, January 02, 2004
I'm still trying to think of something profound to start the New Year off with. Mainly, I'd like to have fun and actually *enjoy* life for a change. Isn't that deep and thought provoking? No? Oh. Sorry. Not really...sorry that is...being sorry all the time isn't fun. ;^)
OK. Well how about this: The Meaning of Life (As I see it).
--------------------------------------------------------------------
For the past two years or more, I've been trying to figure out why we're here. Once I had faith in some kind of a higher meaning; after I discarded that, it all seemed more meaningless than ever. The concept of a meaningless and futile life was unacceptable- my life isn't happy enough that I can tolerate the notion that all this struggling and surviving has been done for its own sake...I mean, if that were the case, why bother at all? It really tormented me, because I just can't handle the idea that it's always going to be this way and worse, that there wasn't and isn't a reason for me to be here at all. (and then sometimes I think....what? I'm so important??? There's a *reason* for my being here? get real...) But I'm getting sidetracked.
I think the deal is this: we have to create a meaning for ourselves. It isn't something that's out there in the cosmos or higher being somewhere, waiting to be discovered by some profound enlightenment. We have to make it. And if we don't, then hell yes, our lives will in fact be meaningless.
OK. Well how about this: The Meaning of Life (As I see it).
--------------------------------------------------------------------
For the past two years or more, I've been trying to figure out why we're here. Once I had faith in some kind of a higher meaning; after I discarded that, it all seemed more meaningless than ever. The concept of a meaningless and futile life was unacceptable- my life isn't happy enough that I can tolerate the notion that all this struggling and surviving has been done for its own sake...I mean, if that were the case, why bother at all? It really tormented me, because I just can't handle the idea that it's always going to be this way and worse, that there wasn't and isn't a reason for me to be here at all. (and then sometimes I think....what? I'm so important??? There's a *reason* for my being here? get real...) But I'm getting sidetracked.
I think the deal is this: we have to create a meaning for ourselves. It isn't something that's out there in the cosmos or higher being somewhere, waiting to be discovered by some profound enlightenment. We have to make it. And if we don't, then hell yes, our lives will in fact be meaningless.
Monday, December 29, 2003
Here is a fragmant of an e mail I received today.
--------------------------------------------
Fw: lets show there is a bunch of us!
Hello, everyone. It will be interesting to see who
>responds! I told this guy that I could find 300
people
>who believe in God before he could find 300 people
>who do not believe in God. If you believe in God,
please
>copy and paste this onto a blank e-mail form (leaving
>off the headers). Add your name, and send it to your
>friends and family. If you happen to be the 300th
>person signing this, please send it back to: Dorothy
>Wiser. Her e-mail address is: dwiser@serv.net
(and there follows a list with some 142 names along
with a (nearly identical) list with 141 names.
---------------------------------------------
First of all, it's spam from a person I barely know.
Secondly, "lets show there is a bunch of us!" ??? Just
looking at that sort of grammar makes me irritable. If
I was a Xtian it'd drive me nuts- is the whole point
to prove how obnoxious and illiterate one can be?
Besides, what is the objective and purpose of the
exercise? Majority opinion wins in a very personal
matter? If 99.9% of the people believe in God, he must
exist?
But what really got my goat ;-) was the fact that
there is no list for those who do not believe, and
this makes the whole thing seem even more pointless
than it already did.
I guess...whatever makes someone's day...::shrug::
My two best friends are agnostic and atheist, and I
never get this sort of equivalent spam from them. My
Jewish friends don't send anything like this. Nearly
every Christian person I've corresponded
with has sent me this kind of stuff at least once.
I suppose the goal is to make sure that everyone hears
the TRUTH whether they wanted to or not...but wouldn't
a little curiosity make it more interesting?
--------------------------------------------
Fw: lets show there is a bunch of us!
Hello, everyone. It will be interesting to see who
>responds! I told this guy that I could find 300
people
>who believe in God before he could find 300 people
>who do not believe in God. If you believe in God,
please
>copy and paste this onto a blank e-mail form (leaving
>off the headers). Add your name, and send it to your
>friends and family. If you happen to be the 300th
>person signing this, please send it back to: Dorothy
>Wiser. Her e-mail address is: dwiser@serv.net
(and there follows a list with some 142 names along
with a (nearly identical) list with 141 names.
---------------------------------------------
First of all, it's spam from a person I barely know.
Secondly, "lets show there is a bunch of us!" ??? Just
looking at that sort of grammar makes me irritable. If
I was a Xtian it'd drive me nuts- is the whole point
to prove how obnoxious and illiterate one can be?
Besides, what is the objective and purpose of the
exercise? Majority opinion wins in a very personal
matter? If 99.9% of the people believe in God, he must
exist?
But what really got my goat ;-) was the fact that
there is no list for those who do not believe, and
this makes the whole thing seem even more pointless
than it already did.
I guess...whatever makes someone's day...::shrug::
My two best friends are agnostic and atheist, and I
never get this sort of equivalent spam from them. My
Jewish friends don't send anything like this. Nearly
every Christian person I've corresponded
with has sent me this kind of stuff at least once.
I suppose the goal is to make sure that everyone hears
the TRUTH whether they wanted to or not...but wouldn't
a little curiosity make it more interesting?
Saturday, December 27, 2003
I must be seven shades of red right now. I think I've mentioned before that my husband has a habit of referring webpages to me by leaving them open on my browser. Generally he does this with sites that he believes warrant my attention. This annoys me- his idea of what I should see often isn't congruent with mine. Besides, I'm an adult and I'll think whatever the heck I want to!!
I think the idea this time might have been to shock or embarrass me...(it worked)
Genital art
Traumatic Masturbatory Syndrome
Actually....*blushing mightiliy*.....I agree with Betty Dodson. People need to quit being ashamed of their genitalia and the associated activities. I really believe that if this could happen, there would be a dramatic improvement in our society as a whole: less exploitation, healthier interactions between men and women, less unhealthy sublimation. There isn't anything dirty, shameful, or wrong about the sexual organs. Maybe sex was regarded as mysterious and therefore magical by primitive man and a whole range of superstitions arose that we still haven't outgrown.
So why am I blushing and acting all uptight about this?!
I think the idea this time might have been to shock or embarrass me...(it worked)
Genital art
Traumatic Masturbatory Syndrome
Actually....*blushing mightiliy*.....I agree with Betty Dodson. People need to quit being ashamed of their genitalia and the associated activities. I really believe that if this could happen, there would be a dramatic improvement in our society as a whole: less exploitation, healthier interactions between men and women, less unhealthy sublimation. There isn't anything dirty, shameful, or wrong about the sexual organs. Maybe sex was regarded as mysterious and therefore magical by primitive man and a whole range of superstitions arose that we still haven't outgrown.
So why am I blushing and acting all uptight about this?!
Thursday, December 25, 2003
Fed and milked the goats, started the generator-we're on solar power and the voltage was alarmingly low- and walked up through the greenhouse to come inside. As I did so, a smell wafted past me...it was like parsnips, but I know it can't be. We haven't grown parsnips for a few years, and there never were enough to dig and store in the greenhouse, at any rate. Still, the scent filled me with nostalgia and a sort of wistfulness. This- living in the country- is what I thought I really wanted. For years I dreamt and planned and fantasized about it and thought I'd be soooo happy if only I could live on a self sufficient homestead and have lots of goats, a nice garden, home-schooled kids, homegrown food, you know, the works.
- THE SIMPLE LIFE - (or, death of a dream)
I've got the goats- better than I ever thought I'd own, from the same bloodlines I used to drool over. I taught myself- from a little booklet- to A.I. them and in time became successful at that. I can now breed the does to bucks that I'd once have been thrilled to get a grandson from at great cost. I've won at a show or two. Heck, I even have a website and a dairygoat forum for crying out loud. Who'd of thought?
For several years, I had the sort of garden I'd always wanted. It was lush, fantastic. I grew pumpkins so large they had to be moved in a car. Then, for whatever reason, it apparently became impossible to get water to the garden. I watched as my indivually planted and carefully spaced seeds (sown into beds I'd dug and shaped myself- completely with hand tools) germinated and then curled up and died in the dry soil. Did this enough times until one day I couldn't bear to do it again. Now I plant flowers and bulbs that can do without much more water than the rain and ground provide. Even these die sometimes, but enough live to make it worthwhile.
The kids- Three was great. Four was a handful. Five????? Some women are cut out to be mothers and they do a really spectacular job of it even with a number of children. My husband's first wife was/is such a woman. I've never achieved her level of excellence, and I'm tired of trying to be something other than myself. Homeschooling went well with the first kid. The second one had a mind I couldn't get through to. Then there were the power struggles about schoolwork. Sent them both to school. They love it. Otherwise...I've failed my kids. One of these days they're all going to grow up and hate me; unless I change things, dramatically.
Home-grown food- it's nice. Nothing like homegrown, for sure. If you have kids who can't drink cow's milk, fresh goat milk is just the ticket. But at this point, I'm really happy for food in general, any food...as long as it's not oatmeal, venison, or beans. Even pasta and potatoes have grown a little old.
So sometimes I look at this place, at the trees and gardens and ground that I love intensely...at the goats...at five cute expectant little faces...and I wonder what's the matter with me. Why can't I be happy with this?
I'll tell you: THE DREAM IS FLAWED. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE SIMPLE LIFE.
The so-called simple life isn't simple, it isn't cheap, and the food certainly isn't free unless you go and pick it out of the woods. It isn't easy, it isn't euphoric, and it isn't the ideal way to forge a relationship. It's a whole lot of hard work, everything is complicated and interconnected so that whatever you do affects several other aspects of the homestead, there are always umpteen tasks and chores that should be done even though you put in 12-16 hour days, the rewards are not always forthcoming, and if you want something that'll test and strain a relationship to it's breaking point, try having a whole bunch of little kids under these conditions and then being asked what you did all day long when he comes home from work!!
-------------------
I'd still like to live in the country. But I don't want to do it like this. I wouldn't even try to grow/make everything we need. I'd just grow what I wanted to, what I enjoy having, and buy the rest. Idealism is great, but it can't supersede reality and human limits. Allow it to do so, and you'll have to deal with the cold hard facts of life pretty danged soon.
- THE SIMPLE LIFE - (or, death of a dream)
I've got the goats- better than I ever thought I'd own, from the same bloodlines I used to drool over. I taught myself- from a little booklet- to A.I. them and in time became successful at that. I can now breed the does to bucks that I'd once have been thrilled to get a grandson from at great cost. I've won at a show or two. Heck, I even have a website and a dairygoat forum for crying out loud. Who'd of thought?
For several years, I had the sort of garden I'd always wanted. It was lush, fantastic. I grew pumpkins so large they had to be moved in a car. Then, for whatever reason, it apparently became impossible to get water to the garden. I watched as my indivually planted and carefully spaced seeds (sown into beds I'd dug and shaped myself- completely with hand tools) germinated and then curled up and died in the dry soil. Did this enough times until one day I couldn't bear to do it again. Now I plant flowers and bulbs that can do without much more water than the rain and ground provide. Even these die sometimes, but enough live to make it worthwhile.
The kids- Three was great. Four was a handful. Five????? Some women are cut out to be mothers and they do a really spectacular job of it even with a number of children. My husband's first wife was/is such a woman. I've never achieved her level of excellence, and I'm tired of trying to be something other than myself. Homeschooling went well with the first kid. The second one had a mind I couldn't get through to. Then there were the power struggles about schoolwork. Sent them both to school. They love it. Otherwise...I've failed my kids. One of these days they're all going to grow up and hate me; unless I change things, dramatically.
Home-grown food- it's nice. Nothing like homegrown, for sure. If you have kids who can't drink cow's milk, fresh goat milk is just the ticket. But at this point, I'm really happy for food in general, any food...as long as it's not oatmeal, venison, or beans. Even pasta and potatoes have grown a little old.
So sometimes I look at this place, at the trees and gardens and ground that I love intensely...at the goats...at five cute expectant little faces...and I wonder what's the matter with me. Why can't I be happy with this?
I'll tell you: THE DREAM IS FLAWED. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE SIMPLE LIFE.
The so-called simple life isn't simple, it isn't cheap, and the food certainly isn't free unless you go and pick it out of the woods. It isn't easy, it isn't euphoric, and it isn't the ideal way to forge a relationship. It's a whole lot of hard work, everything is complicated and interconnected so that whatever you do affects several other aspects of the homestead, there are always umpteen tasks and chores that should be done even though you put in 12-16 hour days, the rewards are not always forthcoming, and if you want something that'll test and strain a relationship to it's breaking point, try having a whole bunch of little kids under these conditions and then being asked what you did all day long when he comes home from work!!
-------------------
I'd still like to live in the country. But I don't want to do it like this. I wouldn't even try to grow/make everything we need. I'd just grow what I wanted to, what I enjoy having, and buy the rest. Idealism is great, but it can't supersede reality and human limits. Allow it to do so, and you'll have to deal with the cold hard facts of life pretty danged soon.
Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Add to current readng list: Faust by Goethe. I was warned that it would be difficult reading...don't know why. If you can make sense of a King James Bible, even Shakespeare isn't hard. Actually...I never did suceed in making sense of the bible. But I suppose that's another subject.
It's Christmas Eve, and I was feeling kind of down about that. I hate Xmas. It's just a big, phony display of sentiments and materialism. Even so, other than a card from my mom, and a box from my Filipino Grandma (she sent me ramen noodles for the New Year- long noodles are lucky and portend a long life- heh), I haven't heard a peep from any of my family. Oh, wait. There was a form letter from my sister that informed me of how fortunate I was to receive it. (I love my sis, but this is a bit much!!) My dad emailed me about a month ago with a one sentence question. I could call him, but really, what would be the point? I mean, I've got this huge family, and I don't even feel close to any of them. I don't care about presents. I'd just like to be more connected than I am.
And then, when I look at myself through their eyes, I can see why. They're all middle class, professional white collar people and here I am, the loser. I never seem to follow through on most of the great ideas I come up with, because they're so much more interesting to think about than to *do*. Once you start *doing* them, the parameters become more fixed. When it's all in your head, it's still plastic and flexible. I suppose this accounts for part of why I've hung on to the goats although it'd make more sense to have just 3 or 4 of them. The breeding program is one of the few things that I've stuck out and actually *done*. I can always point to them and feel that I'm not a total loser.
So enough of all that. Something lighthearted from The Book of Lists #2:
11 Physical attributes men imagine women admire most about them out of 100%
11 Physical attributes women really admire most about men---out of 100%
You know, I'm beginning to wonder about these lists. The attributes are the same for both of them. Were there no other options? Like eyebrows, for instance. Can't imagine a nice looking guy without strong or expressive eyebrows. I think eyes would be pretty close to the top of my list. But neck? Lips, yes. Ears, even. But neck? I mean, if I love a guy I guess I'll find a reason to love just about every physical attribute he has, including his neck. But I wouldn't put it on a list. And very muscular chests scare me, but a nice angular muscularity is nice. But really, none of it is even half as important as a good mind. Eh...what a silly survey......
It's Christmas Eve, and I was feeling kind of down about that. I hate Xmas. It's just a big, phony display of sentiments and materialism. Even so, other than a card from my mom, and a box from my Filipino Grandma (she sent me ramen noodles for the New Year- long noodles are lucky and portend a long life- heh), I haven't heard a peep from any of my family. Oh, wait. There was a form letter from my sister that informed me of how fortunate I was to receive it. (I love my sis, but this is a bit much!!) My dad emailed me about a month ago with a one sentence question. I could call him, but really, what would be the point? I mean, I've got this huge family, and I don't even feel close to any of them. I don't care about presents. I'd just like to be more connected than I am.
And then, when I look at myself through their eyes, I can see why. They're all middle class, professional white collar people and here I am, the loser. I never seem to follow through on most of the great ideas I come up with, because they're so much more interesting to think about than to *do*. Once you start *doing* them, the parameters become more fixed. When it's all in your head, it's still plastic and flexible. I suppose this accounts for part of why I've hung on to the goats although it'd make more sense to have just 3 or 4 of them. The breeding program is one of the few things that I've stuck out and actually *done*. I can always point to them and feel that I'm not a total loser.
So enough of all that. Something lighthearted from The Book of Lists #2:
11 Physical attributes men imagine women admire most about them out of 100%
- Muscular chest and shoulders---21%
- Muscular arms------------------18%
- Penis---------------------------15%
- Tallness------------------------13%
- Flat Stomach--------------------9%
- Slimness-------------------------7%
- Hair (texture, not length)--------4%
- Buttocks-------------------------4%
- Eyes-----------------------------4%
- Long Legs-----------------------3%
- Neck-----------------------------2%
11 Physical attributes women really admire most about men---out of 100%
- Buttocks(usually described by women as "small and sexy")---39%
- Slimness-----------------------------------------------------15%
- Flat Stomach-------------------------------------------------13%
- Eyes----------------------------------------------------------11%
- Long legs------------------------------------------------------6%
- Tallness--------------------------------------------------------5%
- Hair------------------------------------------------------------5%
- Neck-----------------------------------------------------------3%
- Penis-----------------------------------------------------------2%
- Muscular Chest and Shoulders----------------------------------1%
- Muscular Arms--------------------------------------------------0%
You know, I'm beginning to wonder about these lists. The attributes are the same for both of them. Were there no other options? Like eyebrows, for instance. Can't imagine a nice looking guy without strong or expressive eyebrows. I think eyes would be pretty close to the top of my list. But neck? Lips, yes. Ears, even. But neck? I mean, if I love a guy I guess I'll find a reason to love just about every physical attribute he has, including his neck. But I wouldn't put it on a list. And very muscular chests scare me, but a nice angular muscularity is nice. But really, none of it is even half as important as a good mind. Eh...what a silly survey......
Monday, December 22, 2003
Current mood: empty, frustrated, and bleak...which translates into general crankiness. I'm listening to Simon and Garfunkel oldies- which I love- no mistake about it... but when I'm fertile and practically keening with loneliness and longing, it just makes me want to go and get stoned or drunk...which I never do...mostly because I'm afraid it'd become a habit. Now "I am a Rock" is playing. I've felt that way before..often...and when I don't it seems like I'm sort of weak...but I suppose that ultimately everyone needs to have a soft and vulnerable spot, an achilles heel....a heart...and being a rock is pretty damned lonely.
Sunday, December 21, 2003
I've got all kinds of thoughts snarling around in my head tonight. Perhaps my current reading list has something to do with it. (Note- this list is incomplete. )
-----------------------------------------------
The Male Myth This book is sort of the male version of The Hite Report. Apparently there is a Hite Report of Male Sexuality that's fairly recent, but I've only read the female version from back in the '70's. I suspect that women were quite a bit more prudish then but really don't know...Back to The Male Myth: It's pretty interesting stuff. There have been a few surprises although I haven't read much of it yet (the book was acquired just yesterday). I have mixed feelings about this sort of book that comes to conclusions based on polls and statistics though. First and foremost- who was polled? The sort of men who would answer the poll may not be an accurate cross section of American men. Also- they leave some of the most interesting questions unasked!! And, if the Hite Report (female version) is any indication, I'm not sure that it reflects reality. There have been so many times when I've read a portion of it and then shrugged... and said, well, I guess that's the way some women must feel. I think it's a mistake to read a book like this and then stereotype all men (or women) and to think that since 60% of men want women to lick their ears, you should go right out and lick your guy's earlobes because that's what he's wanted all along. I mean, what about *communication*? As far as I'm concerned, the majority really doesn't matter that much. But if I had a partner, *he* would matter, and he might not agree with the majority. ::Shrug::...whatever....
Losing Faith in Faith Biography of a born again Christian Evangelist turned atheist. Very good read except that the first part deals with Christian stuff which I find supremely boring. Skipping to the midsection of the book, he makes many sound points, some of which have already occurred to me.
Science Matters So far, a good comprehensible overview of science. Looking forward to reading more of it.
Georgia O'Keeffe Biography and picture book of the artist's works. I enjoy her deceptively simple and subtle style, sooo understated. Actually, I tend to enjoy understated things in general. American taste seems (to me anyway) to be rather garish, crass, in your face, and overstated much of the time. There's so much flash and hype and bragging going on that it doesn't allow for very much real appreciation or discovery. Geoergia's work was big, even oversized at times, yet it seems always to have retained some restraint and reserve. It has class. There never seems to be too much or too little of anything, always just enough.
While I'm talking about art, there are a couple of books about Aubrey Beardsley that I'm reading. Here again- economy of line, restraint, yet very expressive, graceful flowing lines. Besides, Beardsley had a sense of humor. :>)
The Last Great American Hobo I'm not sure about the title. There are still a lot of hobos out there. I've met them. Lots of black and white photos....you know, what irks me to no end about this book is that there isn't a single picture of any hobos, including the one featured, riding a train, or even hitchhiking for that matter. I'd have to look again, but I don't think there's even a picture of a freight train in the book. There are many, many pics of hobo jungles...but a jungle is merely a stopping place between rides. I mean, the main difference between a hobo and a bum is that the hobo rides trains. The bum just gets drunk, panhandles, and sleeps on the ground or inder bridges or whatever, all of which the hobo may also do, but he rides trains. How in the heck can a book about a hobo not feature guys getting on and off trains, the distinctions between different trains and cars and railroads, and so on? You can't. I guess the title sounded better than- The Last Great American Bum
The Secretariat Factor I picked this one up partly becuase I like horses, but mostly because it's about Secertariat's history as a stallion and his use in breeding programs. I wanted to compare this with dairy goat breeding programs. Unfortunately, the book was written while there were only two or three years worth of foals from him. Why didn't the author wait until more was known and there was something interesting to write about? It seems, so far, that the stallion wasn't as prepotent as they'd have liked him to be. None of his offspring really equalled him, at least not during the itme the book was written. Which begs the question- Hello? Linebreeding, anyone?? If I had had the opportunity, I'd have taken a granddaughter and breed her back to him, if not a daughter. I remember reading that after Secretariat died, they did an autopsy to try to determine what made him so great, and his heart was a LOT larger than normal, and they thought that must have been a key factor. Perhaps he was an anomaly and it wasn't a heritable trait. it certainly explains why colts who looked a lot like him didn't run as well as he did.
There are also a couple of philosophy books I've been flicking through, not exhaustively by any means.
Also The Sun magazine. I love this magazine. I picked up a stack of them from the library's free rack. They're great.
Oh! Not to forget- Chess in a Nutshell by Fred Reinfeld. I love Reinfeld's books. They demystify chess, and you don't have to decipher all sorts of obscure codes and reasoning to make sense of it. I never much enjoyed chess until someone gave me a few Reinfeld books several years ago. I've been working through the openings. There must be a book like this somewhere about Go. It irks me that I lose so consistentl and miserably at that game...it's like I'm missing some vital facet of the game.
Past midnight now...I need to go feed the goats and take a bath before turning in.
-----------------------------------------------
The Male Myth This book is sort of the male version of The Hite Report. Apparently there is a Hite Report of Male Sexuality that's fairly recent, but I've only read the female version from back in the '70's. I suspect that women were quite a bit more prudish then but really don't know...Back to The Male Myth: It's pretty interesting stuff. There have been a few surprises although I haven't read much of it yet (the book was acquired just yesterday). I have mixed feelings about this sort of book that comes to conclusions based on polls and statistics though. First and foremost- who was polled? The sort of men who would answer the poll may not be an accurate cross section of American men. Also- they leave some of the most interesting questions unasked!! And, if the Hite Report (female version) is any indication, I'm not sure that it reflects reality. There have been so many times when I've read a portion of it and then shrugged... and said, well, I guess that's the way some women must feel. I think it's a mistake to read a book like this and then stereotype all men (or women) and to think that since 60% of men want women to lick their ears, you should go right out and lick your guy's earlobes because that's what he's wanted all along. I mean, what about *communication*? As far as I'm concerned, the majority really doesn't matter that much. But if I had a partner, *he* would matter, and he might not agree with the majority. ::Shrug::...whatever....
Losing Faith in Faith Biography of a born again Christian Evangelist turned atheist. Very good read except that the first part deals with Christian stuff which I find supremely boring. Skipping to the midsection of the book, he makes many sound points, some of which have already occurred to me.
Science Matters So far, a good comprehensible overview of science. Looking forward to reading more of it.
Georgia O'Keeffe Biography and picture book of the artist's works. I enjoy her deceptively simple and subtle style, sooo understated. Actually, I tend to enjoy understated things in general. American taste seems (to me anyway) to be rather garish, crass, in your face, and overstated much of the time. There's so much flash and hype and bragging going on that it doesn't allow for very much real appreciation or discovery. Geoergia's work was big, even oversized at times, yet it seems always to have retained some restraint and reserve. It has class. There never seems to be too much or too little of anything, always just enough.
While I'm talking about art, there are a couple of books about Aubrey Beardsley that I'm reading. Here again- economy of line, restraint, yet very expressive, graceful flowing lines. Besides, Beardsley had a sense of humor. :>)
The Last Great American Hobo I'm not sure about the title. There are still a lot of hobos out there. I've met them. Lots of black and white photos....you know, what irks me to no end about this book is that there isn't a single picture of any hobos, including the one featured, riding a train, or even hitchhiking for that matter. I'd have to look again, but I don't think there's even a picture of a freight train in the book. There are many, many pics of hobo jungles...but a jungle is merely a stopping place between rides. I mean, the main difference between a hobo and a bum is that the hobo rides trains. The bum just gets drunk, panhandles, and sleeps on the ground or inder bridges or whatever, all of which the hobo may also do, but he rides trains. How in the heck can a book about a hobo not feature guys getting on and off trains, the distinctions between different trains and cars and railroads, and so on? You can't. I guess the title sounded better than- The Last Great American Bum
The Secretariat Factor I picked this one up partly becuase I like horses, but mostly because it's about Secertariat's history as a stallion and his use in breeding programs. I wanted to compare this with dairy goat breeding programs. Unfortunately, the book was written while there were only two or three years worth of foals from him. Why didn't the author wait until more was known and there was something interesting to write about? It seems, so far, that the stallion wasn't as prepotent as they'd have liked him to be. None of his offspring really equalled him, at least not during the itme the book was written. Which begs the question- Hello? Linebreeding, anyone?? If I had had the opportunity, I'd have taken a granddaughter and breed her back to him, if not a daughter. I remember reading that after Secretariat died, they did an autopsy to try to determine what made him so great, and his heart was a LOT larger than normal, and they thought that must have been a key factor. Perhaps he was an anomaly and it wasn't a heritable trait. it certainly explains why colts who looked a lot like him didn't run as well as he did.
There are also a couple of philosophy books I've been flicking through, not exhaustively by any means.
Also The Sun magazine. I love this magazine. I picked up a stack of them from the library's free rack. They're great.
Oh! Not to forget- Chess in a Nutshell by Fred Reinfeld. I love Reinfeld's books. They demystify chess, and you don't have to decipher all sorts of obscure codes and reasoning to make sense of it. I never much enjoyed chess until someone gave me a few Reinfeld books several years ago. I've been working through the openings. There must be a book like this somewhere about Go. It irks me that I lose so consistentl and miserably at that game...it's like I'm missing some vital facet of the game.
Past midnight now...I need to go feed the goats and take a bath before turning in.
Friday, December 19, 2003
First day of Chanukah! Umm, no I'm not Jewish. I'm not even religiously inclined anymore. But for some odd reason I'm still Jewishly oriented despite the preponderence of gentile blood in my veins. I've considered conversion, even recently. But then I had to sit down and ponder exactly what the point would be. I mean, we're talking about an ancient, 4,000 year old religion based on a patriarchal god and the people who wrote down what they thought he told them. I don't even particularly believe in god any longer, at least not in the conventional sense of a god with a personality who's interested in humans. So why the heady attraction to Judaism? Danged if I know, but there is something about it that feels like coming home, it *feels* familiar. Isn't that irrational? At any rate, I celebrate Chanukah, menorah and all.
Tangents: I figured out a way (at last!) to deal with my long hair without shaving my head. Long hair is nice. It's sexy. Men like it. I like it...sometimes... It can be fun to play with and braid and swish around and pin up...at times. Mostly it's such a pain I spend inordinate amounts of time trying to restrain these strands that keep sweeping down into my field of vision, getting in my way, and generally feeling uncontrollable and messy. The notion of hacking it all off and spiking what was left became more attractive by the day- my 11 month old offspring delights in waking me up by tearing handfuls of it out of my scalp, and clutching fistfuls of it throughout the day. But- today I discovered a solution. Twist it all up inside a hat or cap. Easy. No hairpins scratching my scalp. No ponytails loosening up and having to be redone over and over and over. No hair straggling into my eyes. Just a nice, neat little hat. Yes. This is sublime. Perhaps Amish women with their little black bonnets are onto something after all.
Tangents: I figured out a way (at last!) to deal with my long hair without shaving my head. Long hair is nice. It's sexy. Men like it. I like it...sometimes... It can be fun to play with and braid and swish around and pin up...at times. Mostly it's such a pain I spend inordinate amounts of time trying to restrain these strands that keep sweeping down into my field of vision, getting in my way, and generally feeling uncontrollable and messy. The notion of hacking it all off and spiking what was left became more attractive by the day- my 11 month old offspring delights in waking me up by tearing handfuls of it out of my scalp, and clutching fistfuls of it throughout the day. But- today I discovered a solution. Twist it all up inside a hat or cap. Easy. No hairpins scratching my scalp. No ponytails loosening up and having to be redone over and over and over. No hair straggling into my eyes. Just a nice, neat little hat. Yes. This is sublime. Perhaps Amish women with their little black bonnets are onto something after all.
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
Amazing isn't it...
How you can go through life with a heavy burden, realize that it isn't really necessary to carry it any longer, and still feel anxious about letting it go? Guilt is such a powerful motivator. I've made so many stupid, stupid moves, decisions that have all but ruined my life, based primarily on guilt and a sense of obligation towards someone else's feelings. What about my feelings? Why in the hell didn't they matter?
I was afraid. Afraid of retribution, afraid of people breaking down into tears, afraid of having to deal with a nasty emotional mess, and perhaps, lazy. It was so much easier just to go along with whatever someone else wanted and not to rock the boat than to put up with a temper tantrum. I don't like having to deal with emotional confrontations, and I got into the habit of smoothing things over, of placating people and going along with their plan unless there was some life-threatening reason not to (ummm, and sometimes even when there was.
Well, it's pay up time. I'm now in a position where everyone expects me to be compliant, where unless I can come up with a damned good reason, I should do it their way, every time. The prospect of doing this for a moment longer is intolerable, so clearly something has to be done, and quickly...AND I've got to be on guard for adapting myself to someone else's views, because that's the pattern my brain has become so accustomed to. It's gotten to the point where I practically beg people to tell me what to do and to dominate me. *SIGH* This is just fricking pathetic.
And like the chess games that I lose night after night, maybe it's too late. Maybe I've lost too many opportunities, made too many bad moves, sacrificed things I should have kept, gotten myself backed into a corner and used up my assets until defeat is the only possible outcome. I hope not...
How you can go through life with a heavy burden, realize that it isn't really necessary to carry it any longer, and still feel anxious about letting it go? Guilt is such a powerful motivator. I've made so many stupid, stupid moves, decisions that have all but ruined my life, based primarily on guilt and a sense of obligation towards someone else's feelings. What about my feelings? Why in the hell didn't they matter?
I was afraid. Afraid of retribution, afraid of people breaking down into tears, afraid of having to deal with a nasty emotional mess, and perhaps, lazy. It was so much easier just to go along with whatever someone else wanted and not to rock the boat than to put up with a temper tantrum. I don't like having to deal with emotional confrontations, and I got into the habit of smoothing things over, of placating people and going along with their plan unless there was some life-threatening reason not to (ummm, and sometimes even when there was.
Well, it's pay up time. I'm now in a position where everyone expects me to be compliant, where unless I can come up with a damned good reason, I should do it their way, every time. The prospect of doing this for a moment longer is intolerable, so clearly something has to be done, and quickly...AND I've got to be on guard for adapting myself to someone else's views, because that's the pattern my brain has become so accustomed to. It's gotten to the point where I practically beg people to tell me what to do and to dominate me. *SIGH* This is just fricking pathetic.
And like the chess games that I lose night after night, maybe it's too late. Maybe I've lost too many opportunities, made too many bad moves, sacrificed things I should have kept, gotten myself backed into a corner and used up my assets until defeat is the only possible outcome. I hope not...
Monday, December 15, 2003
I'm finally back online again. It's sooooo nice. Now I've got a lot of catching up to do, including editing the various websites and maintaining the forum. I've been playing a lot of chess lately. It's hard to say whether my technique is improving or not; while I've definitely become a lot more aggressive, I still tend to overlook little details at very critical times in the game, which of course is deadly.
What else- I've also begun going to the food bank. I feel a little defensive about this, but on the other hand, I sort of feel like it's my responsibility to make sure there's enough food for the kids to eat. Also, I worked in a branch of the food bank for several years, and so I have firsthand knowledge of what goes on behind the scenes, particularly with salvage food (day old bread, past date cheese, yogurt, and milk, and so on, given to food banks by grocery stores). The fact is, the people running the place skim off the cream, the best of the stuff, for themselves. Same with thrift stores. Which isn't to say that the poor don't benefit from these programs, they certainly do! But an awful lot of stuff spoils before it can be distributed, and like I said, the best of it goes to the food bank workers.
You know, it seems like I've done a lot of work, in so many varied fields, that I should qualify for *something*. I think I'll sit down tomorrow and make a list, there isn't time tonight if I want to get any sleep. But the point is, I've done all kinds of work. I should be able to come up with a resume of some kind from all that. In the meantime, I think I'm going to start selling stuff on Ebay. There are a lot of books and various other items that are just cluttering up my life. I've sent an incredible amount to the thrift store, especially clothing. There's still a LOT of stuff left and I don't need or want it all. Moving it would be a pain. Selling it locally would be unprofitable. Just storing and keeping it all organized is more work than I want to deal with. If someone else can use it, I could definitely use the money. A stray thought: I wonder whether the advent of Ebay and selling used items online has had any appreciable impact on reducing the amount of waste and purchasing *new* things?
What else- I've also begun going to the food bank. I feel a little defensive about this, but on the other hand, I sort of feel like it's my responsibility to make sure there's enough food for the kids to eat. Also, I worked in a branch of the food bank for several years, and so I have firsthand knowledge of what goes on behind the scenes, particularly with salvage food (day old bread, past date cheese, yogurt, and milk, and so on, given to food banks by grocery stores). The fact is, the people running the place skim off the cream, the best of the stuff, for themselves. Same with thrift stores. Which isn't to say that the poor don't benefit from these programs, they certainly do! But an awful lot of stuff spoils before it can be distributed, and like I said, the best of it goes to the food bank workers.
You know, it seems like I've done a lot of work, in so many varied fields, that I should qualify for *something*. I think I'll sit down tomorrow and make a list, there isn't time tonight if I want to get any sleep. But the point is, I've done all kinds of work. I should be able to come up with a resume of some kind from all that. In the meantime, I think I'm going to start selling stuff on Ebay. There are a lot of books and various other items that are just cluttering up my life. I've sent an incredible amount to the thrift store, especially clothing. There's still a LOT of stuff left and I don't need or want it all. Moving it would be a pain. Selling it locally would be unprofitable. Just storing and keeping it all organized is more work than I want to deal with. If someone else can use it, I could definitely use the money. A stray thought: I wonder whether the advent of Ebay and selling used items online has had any appreciable impact on reducing the amount of waste and purchasing *new* things?
Thursday, December 11, 2003
Well, I've been offline for a good week or two because the modem isn't working on the home computer. I'm at the town library now, which is less than ideal but certainly better than nothing at all. Current mood: pretty crappy. I began the day by falling down the stairs and bruising my elbows and back (the baby who I was holding, didn't get hurt, which was good). I spent about half an hour feeling sorry for myself and the rest of the day despising the sort of mentality that would want sympathy....along with nearly nonstop demands and noise from the children. So I've escaped from the house *all by myself* and am drinking in an hour or so of solitude and sanity before returning to the insoluble problem that appears to be my life. I have tried and tried and TRIED to figure out a way to get out of this mess, and nothing I can think of works. Getting a job would work- if only there were jobs to be had, and something to do with the smaller children (or a night job which would be preferable. I love the night.) Day in and day out, finding some way to get on my feet and get a life is just about alll I ever think of (almost! ;-) ...) And then people come along, family, aquaintances, dearest friends even, and say something along the lines of..."Well, I'm sure you could leave if you really wanted to! You just have to make up your mind and then do it!" or "Why don't you sell alll the goats?" or "I think you should stay there for the sake of the children. If you sold the goats and kept the house clean, everything would be better", or, OR, OR!!! I get so sick and tired of it... Sometimes I feel like giving the whole world the bird and screaming *FUCK*YOU*!!!! Why in the heck do they seem to think I'd be happy living *their* life? I don't want their life, I want mine, thank you very much.... And as for thinking it through and sheer willpower...geez....pure stubborness is the only reason I'm still around, and as I said before, I obsess day and night about ways to get free of this. Maintaining a facade of politeness can be very difficult, but I have to; I can't really afford to piss people off just now. On the positive side, I don't ever think about suicide any more. I've decided I want to live and if that's inconvenient, too bad- I'm sticking around and going to find a way out of this.
Dreams
I dreamt that I saw a man...but he was sitting with a bunch of other people we knew. There was an empty seat near him, but I was afraid to take it, afraid he or someone else might notice I liked him, afraid he wouldn't want me sitting near him. So I went away...decided to go to bed...there were several beds in the room and I crawled across an empty one, but he was in it...he drew me into his arms and I was happy.
Dreamt that I was with a group of people on a tour. A man was showing us through rooms and corridors. As the tour went on, the corridors became dark underground hallways, labyrinthlike, and there were fewer people. Then there was no one but myself, and the man, and the gloomy passages, one door opening into one hall, then another. I began to think I'd like to go back, tried to remember the way I'd come in, we come so far it was difficult to tell. I turned around, and the man was shutting the door, leaving me alone in the darkness, only his hand showing and pressing the door shut. Panicking, I beat on the door screamed at him- 'Don't shut me in! Don't shut me in!' Claustrophobic....I got that door open, rushed to the next, he was already closing that one... and so on.... then the tunnel closed in around me until my entire body was enclosed and it squeezed me. Only my feet emerged. Someone was pulling on them. And I thought...this is what being born is like...
I dreamt that I saw a man...but he was sitting with a bunch of other people we knew. There was an empty seat near him, but I was afraid to take it, afraid he or someone else might notice I liked him, afraid he wouldn't want me sitting near him. So I went away...decided to go to bed...there were several beds in the room and I crawled across an empty one, but he was in it...he drew me into his arms and I was happy.
Dreamt that I was with a group of people on a tour. A man was showing us through rooms and corridors. As the tour went on, the corridors became dark underground hallways, labyrinthlike, and there were fewer people. Then there was no one but myself, and the man, and the gloomy passages, one door opening into one hall, then another. I began to think I'd like to go back, tried to remember the way I'd come in, we come so far it was difficult to tell. I turned around, and the man was shutting the door, leaving me alone in the darkness, only his hand showing and pressing the door shut. Panicking, I beat on the door screamed at him- 'Don't shut me in! Don't shut me in!' Claustrophobic....I got that door open, rushed to the next, he was already closing that one... and so on.... then the tunnel closed in around me until my entire body was enclosed and it squeezed me. Only my feet emerged. Someone was pulling on them. And I thought...this is what being born is like...
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
I'm beginning to realize that my interpersonal relation skills are sorely lacking. The fact is that 99% of the time, I simply don't care what other people think, including what they think of me, so long as they leave me alone and don't interfere with me. (Yes, yes..horrid, isn't it?) But there's that 1% (or less), and because it's so small, because it's the exception, it really matters to me. I don't like pretense, can't stand social games and niceties, and two facedness. The standard way that people operate seems false to me. Unfortunately, the way I operate is either tactless, completely honest (if I really care about someone) or oblique and dysfunctional, depending on the circumstances of course.
If I have a problem with someone, I'll:
If I'm reeeeallly, reeeallly, invested in the person, I'll try to reconcile and eat dirt to do so..(feeling miserable all the while until the thing is resolved)...but this is problematic since it involves the possibility of rejection, and I'd rather handle a live snake than to face being rejected.
I hate being human. I hate having a heart. And I hate the cold and icy fear that blows through and settles in my chest.
If I have a problem with someone, I'll:
- Avoid them
- Ignore them
- Sulk
- Hide
- Withdraw
- Argue
- Spend endless hours analyzing why I'm irritated and formulate ways to deal with it, either by discussing the issue or resolving it internally
- Or- Resolve never, ever to let that person close to me again.
If I'm reeeeallly, reeeallly, invested in the person, I'll try to reconcile and eat dirt to do so..(feeling miserable all the while until the thing is resolved)...but this is problematic since it involves the possibility of rejection, and I'd rather handle a live snake than to face being rejected.
I hate being human. I hate having a heart. And I hate the cold and icy fear that blows through and settles in my chest.
Monday, November 24, 2003
I suppose I should listen to or read the news more often. From time to time, someone will call me up an say, Oh, did you see in the news where--- and I always shrug. I never listen t the news. Not only is it boring, it's depressing, hyped up, and melodramatic. Bleah. 90% of the time, it isn't good news, and there's nothing at all that I can do about that. So why bother? It isn't as though I've a lack of things to get depressed over if I want to find them. Information? If it's information I want to know, chances are I'll find out about it sooner or later. Besides, I hate the matter of fact way the newspeople spit out their news blurbs, as though it's simply The One and Only TRUTH, no two ways about it, when you know that they're presenting a one sided viewpoint and or bold faced lies. Try to argue against it, and people sputter and say 'But...didn't you see it? It was on the news!'. The news has become to people today what the priests and religious leaders used to be in times past- the final unquestioned authority. It's disgusting.
It makes me wonder...what would they do if there were an alternate TV news channel that consistently presented the leading stories in a different light? Would they *think*? Would they try to reason things through? I sort of suspect that once they heard something they disagreed with, they'd discard everything else the channel had to say.
It makes me wonder...what would they do if there were an alternate TV news channel that consistently presented the leading stories in a different light? Would they *think*? Would they try to reason things through? I sort of suspect that once they heard something they disagreed with, they'd discard everything else the channel had to say.
Saturday, November 22, 2003
What's up here? Not much. It snowed like mad and now I'm stuck here. Discovered my car is a piece of crap when it comes to snow. Went to take it to town, and turned around and came back as soon as I found a place to turn around where it wouldn't get stuck. I liked it fine when the roads were dry...except it was an embarrassment, but at this point I'm ready to sell the thing. The bottom line is that I now have zero mobility unless I'd like to walk or ride a bicycle through the snow, and am therefore once more dependent upon the good graces of my partner for bringing home groceries and performing various basic and necessary errands. In other words, I can kiss checking the mail, selecting what I'd like to eat, wear, and listen to, and the things I'd like to go to or participate in, goodbye. Shit. My life sucks. As though it weren't impossible enough already....::sigh:: I have got to do something, but damned if I can figure out what.
An old friend of my partner's stopped by a few days ago. He irritated the hell out of me, mainly becuase he was so goddamned patronizing and condescending, as though my head was full of fluff and air. >:-( But that's beside the point. The man spoke of his place, what he was doing, of firewood, greenhouses, stoves, hunting, of venison and moose, conspiracy theories....all things that used to be a major part of my life and identity. Now it's like ho-hum, been there, done that, tired of it... Don't get me wrong, I love the country life, but the last fifteen years of my life have been consumed with hardship and wondering where the next meal is going to come from, and how, finding ways to be more comfortable and warm, and so on. There has just got to be more than life than taking care of the most basic, rudimentary needs. Once I reveled in this sort of stuff. I loved splitting the wood, picking herbs and plants for the winter's tea, finding new uses for lentils, mapping out ways to supply all our food from the garden, living a subsistence lifestyle, showing that I was tough, that I could handle it, and sneering on those who couldn't. I think I'd still like to live in the country, someday...but not like this. And then, this place is so provincial. People here are so small minded- not all of them, but as a whole, you could hardly call them progressive. We've gone from logging and timber to lumber mills, realty, and tourist oriented industries. I think that there is some potential here; we have a lot of artists and artisans, and there are handfuls of interesting minds, but there is still such an...exploitative...mentality among the locals. The woods have been logged to death, and now we turn to the tourists. It's like they're pimping the place. After the tourists, after everything has been taken that can be, after the woods and mountains have been clearcut, subdivided and developed, after there's a tacky fast food joint or walmart or dollar store wherever one can be supported, will anything worthwhile remain?
An old friend of my partner's stopped by a few days ago. He irritated the hell out of me, mainly becuase he was so goddamned patronizing and condescending, as though my head was full of fluff and air. >:-( But that's beside the point. The man spoke of his place, what he was doing, of firewood, greenhouses, stoves, hunting, of venison and moose, conspiracy theories....all things that used to be a major part of my life and identity. Now it's like ho-hum, been there, done that, tired of it... Don't get me wrong, I love the country life, but the last fifteen years of my life have been consumed with hardship and wondering where the next meal is going to come from, and how, finding ways to be more comfortable and warm, and so on. There has just got to be more than life than taking care of the most basic, rudimentary needs. Once I reveled in this sort of stuff. I loved splitting the wood, picking herbs and plants for the winter's tea, finding new uses for lentils, mapping out ways to supply all our food from the garden, living a subsistence lifestyle, showing that I was tough, that I could handle it, and sneering on those who couldn't. I think I'd still like to live in the country, someday...but not like this. And then, this place is so provincial. People here are so small minded- not all of them, but as a whole, you could hardly call them progressive. We've gone from logging and timber to lumber mills, realty, and tourist oriented industries. I think that there is some potential here; we have a lot of artists and artisans, and there are handfuls of interesting minds, but there is still such an...exploitative...mentality among the locals. The woods have been logged to death, and now we turn to the tourists. It's like they're pimping the place. After the tourists, after everything has been taken that can be, after the woods and mountains have been clearcut, subdivided and developed, after there's a tacky fast food joint or walmart or dollar store wherever one can be supported, will anything worthwhile remain?
Thursday, November 20, 2003
I don't have anything profound to offer tonight (do I ever?). Lots of thoughts rolling around in my head but they're still incubating.
I've been going through my too copious stuff and weeding it severely. Yesterday I took a lot of clothes to the thrift store. I've pretty much limited the wardrobe to three colors: blue, black, and white. Most of the time I feel like black- simple, matches everything, no stains, restrained and reserved. There are a few things in other colors, a little cranberry, a little green, a little tan/brown (falls into the neutral category). The beautiful thing about this is that I never have to worry about things matching anymore. You can throw black, white and blue together in any combination and it looks fine. It also makes the culling process so much simpler (buying, too). In another day or two the clothes should be down to a managable amount.
Then I can start in on something else. Oddly, throwing things away has become pleasant, sort of a purgative process- there is a sense of relief when it's gone. Perhaps it's appropriate that Ursula Le Guin's character Shevek referred to excessive material posessions as excrement.
Purging- stuff, inboxes, old worn out dogmas, perhaps the goats, and to some extent myself. Don't have any idea how much I weigh now but the clothes keep getting too big. Another nice thing about minimizing- the stuff I do want stands out in sharper relief and seems more special when the other stuff is gone. Quality, not quantity.
The wind blew hard and strong last night, all night.
I loved it- so soothing.
I've been going through my too copious stuff and weeding it severely. Yesterday I took a lot of clothes to the thrift store. I've pretty much limited the wardrobe to three colors: blue, black, and white. Most of the time I feel like black- simple, matches everything, no stains, restrained and reserved. There are a few things in other colors, a little cranberry, a little green, a little tan/brown (falls into the neutral category). The beautiful thing about this is that I never have to worry about things matching anymore. You can throw black, white and blue together in any combination and it looks fine. It also makes the culling process so much simpler (buying, too). In another day or two the clothes should be down to a managable amount.
Then I can start in on something else. Oddly, throwing things away has become pleasant, sort of a purgative process- there is a sense of relief when it's gone. Perhaps it's appropriate that Ursula Le Guin's character Shevek referred to excessive material posessions as excrement.
Purging- stuff, inboxes, old worn out dogmas, perhaps the goats, and to some extent myself. Don't have any idea how much I weigh now but the clothes keep getting too big. Another nice thing about minimizing- the stuff I do want stands out in sharper relief and seems more special when the other stuff is gone. Quality, not quantity.
The wind blew hard and strong last night, all night.
I loved it- so soothing.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
Damn. I just realized that I posted an almost identical list back in September. Embarrassing. In a way, perhaps it's instructive- I want what I want to write it down twice...and essentially the same things, too.
........
Last night I dreamt (among other things) that a lady walked up to me and gave me money, over $1,000, and I was so happy that I was just about in tears....because it would be enough for a first, last, and deposit on a place. How's that for an immature and childish solution- a stranger just walking up and saying, I know you need this, here it is. I'm not very happy with the lack of initiative revealed by that dream. On the other hand, the main impediment appears to be $. Sometimes I think I'd sell my soul if I could. There are the goats. If I could get a decent price, there might be enough of them, if I could bring myself to do it. Maybe it'd be worth it? :-( Not a pleasant choice. Not an easy one. OK, what if I kept just a very small core of the animals who were absolutely essential to the breeding program, like 4-8 of them, no more. That would still leave about 12 to sell. Assuming they go for between $75 and $200 each (depressingly low in a few cases), that *might* do it. This is not something I enjoy considering. But if I keep them, they'll be an expense. ::sigh:: Well, it's a thought to roll around for the day.
........
Last night I dreamt (among other things) that a lady walked up to me and gave me money, over $1,000, and I was so happy that I was just about in tears....because it would be enough for a first, last, and deposit on a place. How's that for an immature and childish solution- a stranger just walking up and saying, I know you need this, here it is. I'm not very happy with the lack of initiative revealed by that dream. On the other hand, the main impediment appears to be $. Sometimes I think I'd sell my soul if I could. There are the goats. If I could get a decent price, there might be enough of them, if I could bring myself to do it. Maybe it'd be worth it? :-( Not a pleasant choice. Not an easy one. OK, what if I kept just a very small core of the animals who were absolutely essential to the breeding program, like 4-8 of them, no more. That would still leave about 12 to sell. Assuming they go for between $75 and $200 each (depressingly low in a few cases), that *might* do it. This is not something I enjoy considering. But if I keep them, they'll be an expense. ::sigh:: Well, it's a thought to roll around for the day.
Monday, November 17, 2003
Thinking some more now...while I'm upbeat enough to consider the subject without becoming profoundly depressed. I have a strong general idea that I want to change the direction of my life. What I can't figure out is how to get from where I am now, to where I'd like to be. Every time I see a ray of hope or something that looks workable, I doubt myself or encounter a serious setback and then it all looks hopeless again. So let's start with what I do know, what I want:
I'd like: (no particular order)
So yes, I suppose I have my ideals, as much as anyone else. The list is shorter than I thought it'd be. And, it isn't as though I'm asking to be an astronaut or a billionaire or even a doctor. I think these things *are* attainable...the question is how??
I'd like: (no particular order)
- For my children to be happy- all of them. And there's no way in heck I'm packing any of them off to live with relatives.
- I want to go to school and to be independent, hopefully as an artist or in an art related field of some kind. I don't ever want to be dependent (financially or otherwise) on anyone ever again, I think it's death to a healthy relationship.
- To have a lifelong companion and friend, the sort of friendship where I could trust the other party with all my secrets, a bond with depth and respect for one another as equals. There are other criteria, but I don't want to get sidetracked here. If I can't have this, then I don't want anything. I'd far rather be alone than to play out a role, going through the motions.
- The goats...I'd like to keep them if I can....but perhaps this would change if I gained proficiency and identity through other areas.
- I'd like to have a long term place to live, probably rural, eventually. In the meantime, a place to live, preferably within easy commuting distance to school.
- Very short term: think I'd like to go to Chicago and perhaps New York this winter or spring (or possibly summer), to see the museums and family and other things. I haven't been to Chicago's Art Institute for a very long time and was too young to appreciate it when I did. There are other places I'd like to go to and see but this would do for now...
So yes, I suppose I have my ideals, as much as anyone else. The list is shorter than I thought it'd be. And, it isn't as though I'm asking to be an astronaut or a billionaire or even a doctor. I think these things *are* attainable...the question is how??
Friday, November 14, 2003
I've come to the conclusion that love is not a feeling.
Feelings change like the weather. But love is like a boulder embedded deep in the ground. Whether it rains on the rock, the wind blows, or the sun shines with warmth, or lightning strikes it, the stone remains essentially the same although the atmosphere around it may change.
See, if it were just a feeling, the solution would be ever so simple: just wait for it to pass, because feelings are by nature inconstant and transitory.
Love on the other hand, takes time and effort and pain to root out, and then you're left with a raw and gaping gash in your soil.
Hmmm. This analogy is no good. Earth sign though I am, stones are impassive. OK, how about this: a tree. If you catch it young and don't want it, you can sometimes root out a tree seedling or hope the weeds will crowd it out. Neglect it, ignore it, sometimes it dies. Water it, even a little...and the tap root goes down, squirms its way into your heart and wraps it's tendrils through and around it. Again, the tree is relatively steadfast. It goes through the seasons, but the framework and body of it is the same. Spring may find it covered in blooms, or smitten by an early frost, and in winter it goes quiet and still; its the same tree while time, weather, and the seasons change. Again, it can be rooted up, leaving wreckage and a hole where it used to be...or it can die...slowly...or suddenly, as in being cut down. Sometimes the stump sends forth new shoots, and nurtured by the extensive root system, they grow and replace the old trunk and its branches. Trees change, they grow and develop...so I think they're more suited to the analogy than boulders (much as I love stones).
OK, something totally unrelated now. This. I had to laugh, because I just went and broke the link to here that I'd had posted on my personal website. Decided it was just a little too risky-mainly because my dad had just asked for the URL to my site (not the blog). I don't think he'll run a search on me. #1, he doesn't care enough to do so. #2, it won't occur to him to do so- I know my dad. #3, even if he does, I don't think he'll find it. I ran a search on myself once and it didn't come up within the first 4-5 pages as far as I could tell. Still, if he did....well, it'd be a fucking mess, that's what. ::shudder:: Actually, I don't think anyone at all reads this stuff. It's too boring. *attempts to lull self into a state of complacency*
Feelings change like the weather. But love is like a boulder embedded deep in the ground. Whether it rains on the rock, the wind blows, or the sun shines with warmth, or lightning strikes it, the stone remains essentially the same although the atmosphere around it may change.
See, if it were just a feeling, the solution would be ever so simple: just wait for it to pass, because feelings are by nature inconstant and transitory.
Love on the other hand, takes time and effort and pain to root out, and then you're left with a raw and gaping gash in your soil.
Hmmm. This analogy is no good. Earth sign though I am, stones are impassive. OK, how about this: a tree. If you catch it young and don't want it, you can sometimes root out a tree seedling or hope the weeds will crowd it out. Neglect it, ignore it, sometimes it dies. Water it, even a little...and the tap root goes down, squirms its way into your heart and wraps it's tendrils through and around it. Again, the tree is relatively steadfast. It goes through the seasons, but the framework and body of it is the same. Spring may find it covered in blooms, or smitten by an early frost, and in winter it goes quiet and still; its the same tree while time, weather, and the seasons change. Again, it can be rooted up, leaving wreckage and a hole where it used to be...or it can die...slowly...or suddenly, as in being cut down. Sometimes the stump sends forth new shoots, and nurtured by the extensive root system, they grow and replace the old trunk and its branches. Trees change, they grow and develop...so I think they're more suited to the analogy than boulders (much as I love stones).
OK, something totally unrelated now. This. I had to laugh, because I just went and broke the link to here that I'd had posted on my personal website. Decided it was just a little too risky-mainly because my dad had just asked for the URL to my site (not the blog). I don't think he'll run a search on me. #1, he doesn't care enough to do so. #2, it won't occur to him to do so- I know my dad. #3, even if he does, I don't think he'll find it. I ran a search on myself once and it didn't come up within the first 4-5 pages as far as I could tell. Still, if he did....well, it'd be a fucking mess, that's what. ::shudder:: Actually, I don't think anyone at all reads this stuff. It's too boring. *attempts to lull self into a state of complacency*
Thursday, November 13, 2003
This week has been hell. Seems everyone I talk to tells me I must give up something near to my heart; if I listened to them all, I'd be like a picked over turkey carcass, just bones and gristle without any flesh. WTF do they think I'm supposed to live for? I miss Sprite keenly, her gentle depth and understanding...when I was really down it used to be I could cry on her small, hairy shoulder and she was there for me. Somehow, she knew when things were bad. There isn't anyone like that now, (caprine or otherwise) and I wish there were. Instead, the blackness gathers and swirls in my stomach, gnawing at me more every day. And it occurs to me that maybe the sex drive has something with wanting to be vulnerable, that maybe, for many people and especially men it's the only outlet they have to express vulnerability.
I've never been comfortable with weakness. Personally, I mean. For other people, it's fine. For myself it's always been that I had to hold it back, hide the pain, endure whatever came along or leave if it became really intolerable. Strength and stoicism: don't flinch or yelp if you get burned, don't cry out loud, pretend the insults didn't hurt, take the punishment without giving the aggressor the satisfaction of breaking you. Other little girls cried routinely and on cue when the need arose, public or not. I think I'd rather walk down the street naked than to be seen shedding tears...it is that embarrassing. Which isn't to say it's never happened, but I remember each instance with a sort of stinging shame....the way you would public incontinence. I don't know why- I suppose I felt (and still do) that if someone saw that they could hurt me, they'd lunge for the jugular. Men have accused me of being cold, aloof, and uncaring...oh, it isn't true....but never mind...they're always the ones who hurt me.
And the irony of this all is that I wear a different public face...but never mind that, too.
Art- I went to the local artist's guild again. I was being kind when I reckoned them in the 50-70 year range, some of them are at least 90 I think. There were a few nearer to me age this time and the entire group was friendlier. The guest artist was really cool and affable. She's got her paintings on everything from greeting cards to jigsaw puzzles and collector plates, and she told us how to get to that point (as well as demonstrating her technique in gouache). The library said they wanted to exhibit my paintings, so I took all my oils there- will see if they actually hang them. I've an idea the little old ladies may object- heh. Latest works in progress are an oil of a quince and chestnut leaf, need to make the quince a little more abstract or else more realistic- as it is it simply looks lame- the other work is pen and ink of a pair of zebras, very enjoyable subject. I've got a bunch of work finished that I should scan and upload soon.
I've never been comfortable with weakness. Personally, I mean. For other people, it's fine. For myself it's always been that I had to hold it back, hide the pain, endure whatever came along or leave if it became really intolerable. Strength and stoicism: don't flinch or yelp if you get burned, don't cry out loud, pretend the insults didn't hurt, take the punishment without giving the aggressor the satisfaction of breaking you. Other little girls cried routinely and on cue when the need arose, public or not. I think I'd rather walk down the street naked than to be seen shedding tears...it is that embarrassing. Which isn't to say it's never happened, but I remember each instance with a sort of stinging shame....the way you would public incontinence. I don't know why- I suppose I felt (and still do) that if someone saw that they could hurt me, they'd lunge for the jugular. Men have accused me of being cold, aloof, and uncaring...oh, it isn't true....but never mind...they're always the ones who hurt me.
And the irony of this all is that I wear a different public face...but never mind that, too.
Art- I went to the local artist's guild again. I was being kind when I reckoned them in the 50-70 year range, some of them are at least 90 I think. There were a few nearer to me age this time and the entire group was friendlier. The guest artist was really cool and affable. She's got her paintings on everything from greeting cards to jigsaw puzzles and collector plates, and she told us how to get to that point (as well as demonstrating her technique in gouache). The library said they wanted to exhibit my paintings, so I took all my oils there- will see if they actually hang them. I've an idea the little old ladies may object- heh. Latest works in progress are an oil of a quince and chestnut leaf, need to make the quince a little more abstract or else more realistic- as it is it simply looks lame- the other work is pen and ink of a pair of zebras, very enjoyable subject. I've got a bunch of work finished that I should scan and upload soon.
Monday, November 10, 2003
sublimation
Sub´li`ma`tion
Noun
1.
sublimation - (chemistry) a change directly from the solid to the gaseous state without becoming liquid
chemical science, chemistry - the science of matter; the branch of the natural sciences dealing with the composition of substances and their properties and reactions
transformation, transmutation, shift - a qualitative change
2.
sublimation - (psychology) modifying the natural expression of an impulse or instinct (especially a sexual one) to one that is socially acceptable
psychological science, psychology - the science of mental life
alteration, change, modification - an event that occurs when something passes from one state or phase to another; "the change was intended to increase sales"; "this storm is certainly a change for the worse"; "the neighborhood had undergone few modifications since his last visit years ago"
----------------------------------
SUBLIMATION: The redirection of sexual desire to "higher" aims. Freud saw sublimation as a protection against illness, since it allowed the subject to respond to sexual frustration (lack of gratification of the sexual impulse) by taking a new aim that, though still "genetically" related to the sexual impulse, is no longer properly sexual but social. In this way, civilization has been able to estimate "social aims above sexual (ultimately selfish) aims" . This is not to say that the "free mobility of the libido" is ever fully contained: "sublimation is never able to deal with more than a certain fraction of libido".
---------------------------------
Perhaps I'm missing something here. What exactly is the problem with gratifying one's libido? Could it not be that sublimation is in fact unhealthy in and of itself, rather than a protection against illness? Let's see...what if one were hungry but sublimated the appetite into music? Would that be a healthy response? And what is selfish about sex? Personally, my sentiment was that there's no greater closeness (provided the parties involved are close in other ways as well) and that sex is (well, should be) a gift from one person to the other. I suppose if one held that it were shameful then yes, a substitute would be preferable...but this presupposes that sex is wrong and shameful. which it isn't. And if it deals with only a 'fraction', what use is it?! *sigh*...and here I was extolling sublimation just a few weeks ago...well, I've changed my mind, so there.
Sub´li`ma`tion
Noun
1.
sublimation - (chemistry) a change directly from the solid to the gaseous state without becoming liquid
chemical science, chemistry - the science of matter; the branch of the natural sciences dealing with the composition of substances and their properties and reactions
transformation, transmutation, shift - a qualitative change
2.
sublimation - (psychology) modifying the natural expression of an impulse or instinct (especially a sexual one) to one that is socially acceptable
psychological science, psychology - the science of mental life
alteration, change, modification - an event that occurs when something passes from one state or phase to another; "the change was intended to increase sales"; "this storm is certainly a change for the worse"; "the neighborhood had undergone few modifications since his last visit years ago"
----------------------------------
SUBLIMATION: The redirection of sexual desire to "higher" aims. Freud saw sublimation as a protection against illness, since it allowed the subject to respond to sexual frustration (lack of gratification of the sexual impulse) by taking a new aim that, though still "genetically" related to the sexual impulse, is no longer properly sexual but social. In this way, civilization has been able to estimate "social aims above sexual (ultimately selfish) aims" . This is not to say that the "free mobility of the libido" is ever fully contained: "sublimation is never able to deal with more than a certain fraction of libido".
---------------------------------
Perhaps I'm missing something here. What exactly is the problem with gratifying one's libido? Could it not be that sublimation is in fact unhealthy in and of itself, rather than a protection against illness? Let's see...what if one were hungry but sublimated the appetite into music? Would that be a healthy response? And what is selfish about sex? Personally, my sentiment was that there's no greater closeness (provided the parties involved are close in other ways as well) and that sex is (well, should be) a gift from one person to the other. I suppose if one held that it were shameful then yes, a substitute would be preferable...but this presupposes that sex is wrong and shameful. which it isn't. And if it deals with only a 'fraction', what use is it?! *sigh*...and here I was extolling sublimation just a few weeks ago...well, I've changed my mind, so there.
Friday, November 07, 2003
That was pretty bleak and grim. Sounded as though I was about to walk the plank or something of that nature...heh. The modem went out on the computer and so I've been offline for several days. Even now it's hard to maintain a connection for more than ten minutes (or less). The inability to anesthesize my mind by surfing the net has made me think things through more than usual. The general pattern was to try not to think about something, my mind would keep returning to it, obsess about it until I began to feel overwhelmed with anxiety, depression, pain, hopelessness, etc, and then think to myself, "well, I think there's something I wanted to look at on the forum....", at which point I'd surf around aimlessly for an hour or two. Not a very productive way to operate.
Some monsters diminish once you confront them. For a week or more I had dreams/nightmares in which I was feeling pressured into intimacies when my heart wasn't in it. The aftertaste of the dreams haunted me during the days. Every night I'd hope to dream of something better or more fulfilling, and it'd be the same theme (along with two others: something bad happening to the goats, and taunting luxuries such as taking a hot shower or opening a fridge or cupboard full of food). Then it happened that I found myself in such a situation, was able to deal with it and voila, the nightmares ended.
It isn't so much that I want to be alone, in spite of the value I have for solitude. Have you ever seen something beautiful and turned to say 'look!', only to find an empty space at your side...read a good book and wished you could savor it with someone else who could appreciate it...eaten a meal or a treat and finding that it lacked an essential ingredient- a companion to eat it with...taken a blow and been unable to share the pain of it with anyone...doubted yourself and not have someone you trust to refute or confirm it...had a question and grown tired of your own answers...met a challenge or acheived something, without someone to smile and say- well, I knew you could do that...wanted a hug and found only your own hollow, aching chest.....
Believe it or not, one can feel that way in the presence of other people, surrounded by people day and night. I find it unbearable. Better by far to actally *be* alone than surrounded by reminders of what should/could be and isn't. There are some who seem to be able to fill the gap with virtually any other person, and for whom my nightmares probably wouldn't have been that unsettling. I can't do that. For them, people are like bricks; all about the same, pretty much interchangable, and there are heaps of them. For me, it's more like a jigsaw puzzle- each piece is unique; the absence of a piece can't be compensated for by another. No...there are too many pieces in a puzzle. More like trying to paint a picture without any blue paint- no blue, no green, no purple...one can still paint the picture but it's distinctly less satisfying.
Some monsters diminish once you confront them. For a week or more I had dreams/nightmares in which I was feeling pressured into intimacies when my heart wasn't in it. The aftertaste of the dreams haunted me during the days. Every night I'd hope to dream of something better or more fulfilling, and it'd be the same theme (along with two others: something bad happening to the goats, and taunting luxuries such as taking a hot shower or opening a fridge or cupboard full of food). Then it happened that I found myself in such a situation, was able to deal with it and voila, the nightmares ended.
It isn't so much that I want to be alone, in spite of the value I have for solitude. Have you ever seen something beautiful and turned to say 'look!', only to find an empty space at your side...read a good book and wished you could savor it with someone else who could appreciate it...eaten a meal or a treat and finding that it lacked an essential ingredient- a companion to eat it with...taken a blow and been unable to share the pain of it with anyone...doubted yourself and not have someone you trust to refute or confirm it...had a question and grown tired of your own answers...met a challenge or acheived something, without someone to smile and say- well, I knew you could do that...wanted a hug and found only your own hollow, aching chest.....
Believe it or not, one can feel that way in the presence of other people, surrounded by people day and night. I find it unbearable. Better by far to actally *be* alone than surrounded by reminders of what should/could be and isn't. There are some who seem to be able to fill the gap with virtually any other person, and for whom my nightmares probably wouldn't have been that unsettling. I can't do that. For them, people are like bricks; all about the same, pretty much interchangable, and there are heaps of them. For me, it's more like a jigsaw puzzle- each piece is unique; the absence of a piece can't be compensated for by another. No...there are too many pieces in a puzzle. More like trying to paint a picture without any blue paint- no blue, no green, no purple...one can still paint the picture but it's distinctly less satisfying.