What is it about being physically debilitated that makes you want to be so intensely productive? I think it's because we all do way more in our own minds than we do in reality. When you *can't* do the things you consider, it's way easier to consider doing them, since there's no fear you'll actually have to follow through on it.
I have a running list of things I could be doing if I could bend my knee. Somehow, I'm relatively certain that when I actually *can* bend my knee, that list will magically evaporate and I will sit around reading a book or playing WoW. Which I should be doing now, and would probably help my leg heal more, but somehow I don't. Instead I push myself to accomplish *something* with my day and end up exhausted with a grumpy leg.
Now, why can't I push myself that hard when I'm perfectly healthy and have no reason to be idling about??
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Friday, September 26, 2008
Am I a Socialist?
I've been following only lightly this whole business about the financial market bailout and I find it a little overwhelming. I'm sure lots of people do. I'm not really one of the people who are on the edge of my seat because it affects me personally, but I think in the long run it feels we're on the cusp of an ideological branching, and there's a great deal of waffling about where we want to go.
From what I can tell, we're at a point where we have to take a good long hard look at ourselves and the basis of our perception for success. Our country is built on a foundation that say's money=success. While money certainly makes things simpler in a lot of ways, it comes with its own burden and the almost required obsession of making *more* money.
Whether you're a sex worker who swears they will only do this "for a little while" to earn money to do "what they really want" or someone who is committing fraud because "they have a serious problem that this little fraud can help" and then everything becomes a serious problem and fraud (or sex work) becomes a lifestyle, a career. These are the extreme versions of my point, but we all know how the more money you make, the more you spend, thus, the more you need to make.
It's a cycle of despair that has rampant capitalistic morality written all over it. When you make money, you're supposed to be happy, right? But what did you give up in yourself to make that money? Where did your heart go, where are your dreams now? How much compromise and erosion of idealism did you have to tolerate in order to get the success you scraped together? And we wonder why it's a country of people who love their SSRI's more than their mamma.
Is this just a morning rant fueled by prednisone, (holy cow, on that stuff I'm SUPERWOMAN!) coffee and a lack of antihistimines to bring me down in order to justify my currently unemployed status and a hope to stoke my rapidly diminishing dream to bring cool clothes to people who want them? Sure, maybe. But dammit, the republicans in the NYTimes are complaining that this buyout is a step down the path towards socialism.
My hackles went up at that, but then I thought... well, maybe he's right? And, is that such a bad thing? You look at capitalism in more socialist leaning countries, and people are able to make money if they're serious about it, but at the same time there are regulations about what you can do as a business. Regulatory agencies that are actually paying attention, stay on top of developments and have the teeth to make their regulations stick. That means there are certain things you simply can't do in the name of the holy dollar; things to the workers, environment, other companies, taxes and a host of other liberties that have been allowed in our capitalistic environment and have led to the collapse of today.
I remember when all the downsizing was happening, when they just started hacking and slashing internally to get rid of people at the bottom so people at the top could make more money. Cannibalizing your own company to skim more off the top -- what did they really think was going to happen when you stopped actually doing what your company letterhead says you do, and all you are really doing is making the numbers look good for wall street investment? What did we think was going to happen when companies were investing in risky mortgages, businesses and just general asshattery because they figured nothing could really touch them when their company was so big and there was so much money lying around? The bigger they are... yadda yadda.
If there was ANYONE who was supervising these children with their own personal jets and a blow job staff of 12 in at least a minimal way and said, "Hey, maintain at least a modicum of sense when making investments and managing your companies," would we be in this situation now? And it's PREVALENT! It's everywhere. We're talking HUGE companies with tons of money, enough money that their failure will destroy our economy, and *that* wasn't worth regulating a little bit?? Seriously, if nothing else, at least regulate the things that if they fail they take EVERYONE down with them. Some socialism, please?? Pretty please? Let's at least start considering the SOCIAL aspects of the world we live in, and how whether we know each other or not, we're all in this together and these big companies with no ethics, no compunctions, no sense and no regulation have in some ways more influence in our daily lives than the government that we pay to regulate *us*... why should they be immune? Where are the cops for corporate America?
From what I can tell, we're at a point where we have to take a good long hard look at ourselves and the basis of our perception for success. Our country is built on a foundation that say's money=success. While money certainly makes things simpler in a lot of ways, it comes with its own burden and the almost required obsession of making *more* money.
Whether you're a sex worker who swears they will only do this "for a little while" to earn money to do "what they really want" or someone who is committing fraud because "they have a serious problem that this little fraud can help" and then everything becomes a serious problem and fraud (or sex work) becomes a lifestyle, a career. These are the extreme versions of my point, but we all know how the more money you make, the more you spend, thus, the more you need to make.
It's a cycle of despair that has rampant capitalistic morality written all over it. When you make money, you're supposed to be happy, right? But what did you give up in yourself to make that money? Where did your heart go, where are your dreams now? How much compromise and erosion of idealism did you have to tolerate in order to get the success you scraped together? And we wonder why it's a country of people who love their SSRI's more than their mamma.
Is this just a morning rant fueled by prednisone, (holy cow, on that stuff I'm SUPERWOMAN!) coffee and a lack of antihistimines to bring me down in order to justify my currently unemployed status and a hope to stoke my rapidly diminishing dream to bring cool clothes to people who want them? Sure, maybe. But dammit, the republicans in the NYTimes are complaining that this buyout is a step down the path towards socialism.
My hackles went up at that, but then I thought... well, maybe he's right? And, is that such a bad thing? You look at capitalism in more socialist leaning countries, and people are able to make money if they're serious about it, but at the same time there are regulations about what you can do as a business. Regulatory agencies that are actually paying attention, stay on top of developments and have the teeth to make their regulations stick. That means there are certain things you simply can't do in the name of the holy dollar; things to the workers, environment, other companies, taxes and a host of other liberties that have been allowed in our capitalistic environment and have led to the collapse of today.
I remember when all the downsizing was happening, when they just started hacking and slashing internally to get rid of people at the bottom so people at the top could make more money. Cannibalizing your own company to skim more off the top -- what did they really think was going to happen when you stopped actually doing what your company letterhead says you do, and all you are really doing is making the numbers look good for wall street investment? What did we think was going to happen when companies were investing in risky mortgages, businesses and just general asshattery because they figured nothing could really touch them when their company was so big and there was so much money lying around? The bigger they are... yadda yadda.
If there was ANYONE who was supervising these children with their own personal jets and a blow job staff of 12 in at least a minimal way and said, "Hey, maintain at least a modicum of sense when making investments and managing your companies," would we be in this situation now? And it's PREVALENT! It's everywhere. We're talking HUGE companies with tons of money, enough money that their failure will destroy our economy, and *that* wasn't worth regulating a little bit?? Seriously, if nothing else, at least regulate the things that if they fail they take EVERYONE down with them. Some socialism, please?? Pretty please? Let's at least start considering the SOCIAL aspects of the world we live in, and how whether we know each other or not, we're all in this together and these big companies with no ethics, no compunctions, no sense and no regulation have in some ways more influence in our daily lives than the government that we pay to regulate *us*... why should they be immune? Where are the cops for corporate America?
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Back Again?
I have been delinquent. I have blogs everywhere under the sun, here, vox, LJ, myspace and b.com. Some I use, some I don't. Mostly only the pervy one gets updated with any regularity, everything else sort of languishes. I'm fighting the internal privacy battle as well as skirmishes of context in an overall war of TMI. I hid out here for a while, and then was tracked down by someone I didn't like much. (the thing I wanted to avoid in LJ) A period of dormancy probably has cleaned the slate in that regard, as well as simply time making it pretty likely she just doesn't give a shit what I do or say, which is handy.
As much trouble as LJ has given me because of the friends list, I just can't wrap my brain around how there's no good way to subscribe to a blog you like in this site except as RSS feeds. RSS feeds are a mystery to me. I hold them at arms length while viewing them with distrust and mild hostility based on a sort of determined ignorance of their nature. Somewhere in my brain, RSS feeds are like automatic bill payment. It's not like I'm not going to pay the bill, I just like some control over when and if I do it. RSS feeds sound like the scene in 7 on gluttony. I am suspicious of new fangled technology, and we hates the RSS feeds.
Myspace has a little page where you look at the blogs you subscribe to, so does b.com. Vox has some kind of convoluted system of "neighborhoods" vs categorized friends, family, etc which may be more complicated than is necessary, but it at least allows you to keep track of the people you want to read in a semi-organized fashion as *well* as allowing you to free form click on new people that catch your eye.
Blogger.com just doesn't have that. Maybe I just need stroking, I need more reader/writer interaction or something. Yet, it has everything else, and the layout is nice and it works with google and picasa and everything else that is good in the world. I don't plan to promote my blog, I don't want to get famous from writing (or am not *already* famous from writing) and I'm not looking to win any awards here, but I would like to know I have an audience and maybe even have some idea who they are. Is that too much to ask?
As much trouble as LJ has given me because of the friends list, I just can't wrap my brain around how there's no good way to subscribe to a blog you like in this site except as RSS feeds. RSS feeds are a mystery to me. I hold them at arms length while viewing them with distrust and mild hostility based on a sort of determined ignorance of their nature. Somewhere in my brain, RSS feeds are like automatic bill payment. It's not like I'm not going to pay the bill, I just like some control over when and if I do it. RSS feeds sound like the scene in 7 on gluttony. I am suspicious of new fangled technology, and we hates the RSS feeds.
Myspace has a little page where you look at the blogs you subscribe to, so does b.com. Vox has some kind of convoluted system of "neighborhoods" vs categorized friends, family, etc which may be more complicated than is necessary, but it at least allows you to keep track of the people you want to read in a semi-organized fashion as *well* as allowing you to free form click on new people that catch your eye.
Blogger.com just doesn't have that. Maybe I just need stroking, I need more reader/writer interaction or something. Yet, it has everything else, and the layout is nice and it works with google and picasa and everything else that is good in the world. I don't plan to promote my blog, I don't want to get famous from writing (or am not *already* famous from writing) and I'm not looking to win any awards here, but I would like to know I have an audience and maybe even have some idea who they are. Is that too much to ask?
Monday, December 05, 2005
Xmas MPD
The fractures in my personality become most pronounced when I make Xmas or birthday gift lists. I find the sprawl of my lists to be more indicative of my facets than anything. (I like to think of it as facets of my personality, and not schizophrenic splits present within my multiple personalities :)
Fortunately, gifts lists aren't requested of me all that frequently anymore now that I'm an adult. My mother stopped buying presents for the adult children, and I even managed to convince her to reduce the amount of stuff she bought the kids, winnowing the whole thing down to where she primarily buys one expensive gift, and allows Santa to fill the stockings. It's an intense relief, since I have a hard enough time with crap build-up in my house (do they have a spray cleaner for that??) without adding cheap toys that are going to break immediately but that Things 1 and 2 will insist can be fixed, are still wanted, or that they'll still play with them.
On the other hand, I'm still a girl and I like gifts. In fact, deep inside I'm really more of a 15 year old boy, and I like toys. I want an ipod, dammit. Ok, it doesn't have to be an ipod, but I want an mp3 player. I want one that holds at least 3 gig. Someone had theirs at the last Studio party, and plugged it into the stereo so we could listen to their variety of music all night. I want to do that again, but with MY music! I want to plug into friends computers and raid their music files to dump into my own. I want to take music I like and think my friends will like and deliver it over there to put onto their hard drive. Somewhere along the line, I became an audiophile. I don't know how it happened, and most of the time I deny it, but I love having a huge storehouse of music on my computer, it makes me stupid silly happy. I love seeing what other people have on their computers, and getting samples of the stuff they listen to. I think you learn a lot about someone from what kind of music they're drawn to.
On the other hand, I spent the summer around people who work with their hands. I have always valued the right tool for the job and NICE tools. My stepfather is a machinist and instilled in me a love for useful steel, quality tools that get the job done. I want a leatherman. I was gooey eyed over the leathermans when I was at Wal-Mart. They had the Leatherman Core and the Leatherman Wave. The Wave was the one that had everything but the pipe wrench on it, but it's heavy. The Core is a little lighter, but has less stuff. I don't know which I want to haul around, exactly, but I want one. *stomps feet Veruca style*
The gripping hand is that I start school again in the fall of 2006. I went to a meeting yesterday about the program, and it's starting to feel so official that I'm actually going to be doing this for the next two years. Interestingly, the music school dropped the program, and so another school COAS (college of arts and sciences) is picking it up. They don't have the details worked out, but it's no longer going to be an associates degree in costume technology, but a certificate in fashion design. (a certificate was described as more than a minor, less than an associates degree) I don't much care, since all I'm really interested in is the construction classes. In fact, the restructure of the program has made it even more tailor made (pardon the pun) f0r me. They cut out the apparal merchendising crap, the mandatory slave labor camp with the opera/ballet, and left the construction, fashion rendering and costume history. Perfect! But, what that ends up meaning is that what I really NEED for Xmas is a plus sized dressmakers dummy.
So, ipod, leatherman and dressmakers dummy are all on my Xmas list. How disparate is that?? Now I just have to decide which one is most important, since my dad is the only one who still asks for an xmas list. Although, I found out last night that my brother got a loan payment made by my mom forXmas, which bodes well for me getting number 2 on the Xmas list as well :) I even paved the way with her... "well, I don't need a loan payment, I want an ipod!"
Hehe, you can breach the 30 year wall, but the 15 year old kid at Xmas just never goes away.
Fortunately, gifts lists aren't requested of me all that frequently anymore now that I'm an adult. My mother stopped buying presents for the adult children, and I even managed to convince her to reduce the amount of stuff she bought the kids, winnowing the whole thing down to where she primarily buys one expensive gift, and allows Santa to fill the stockings. It's an intense relief, since I have a hard enough time with crap build-up in my house (do they have a spray cleaner for that??) without adding cheap toys that are going to break immediately but that Things 1 and 2 will insist can be fixed, are still wanted, or that they'll still play with them.
On the other hand, I'm still a girl and I like gifts. In fact, deep inside I'm really more of a 15 year old boy, and I like toys. I want an ipod, dammit. Ok, it doesn't have to be an ipod, but I want an mp3 player. I want one that holds at least 3 gig. Someone had theirs at the last Studio party, and plugged it into the stereo so we could listen to their variety of music all night. I want to do that again, but with MY music! I want to plug into friends computers and raid their music files to dump into my own. I want to take music I like and think my friends will like and deliver it over there to put onto their hard drive. Somewhere along the line, I became an audiophile. I don't know how it happened, and most of the time I deny it, but I love having a huge storehouse of music on my computer, it makes me stupid silly happy. I love seeing what other people have on their computers, and getting samples of the stuff they listen to. I think you learn a lot about someone from what kind of music they're drawn to.
On the other hand, I spent the summer around people who work with their hands. I have always valued the right tool for the job and NICE tools. My stepfather is a machinist and instilled in me a love for useful steel, quality tools that get the job done. I want a leatherman. I was gooey eyed over the leathermans when I was at Wal-Mart. They had the Leatherman Core and the Leatherman Wave. The Wave was the one that had everything but the pipe wrench on it, but it's heavy. The Core is a little lighter, but has less stuff. I don't know which I want to haul around, exactly, but I want one. *stomps feet Veruca style*
The gripping hand is that I start school again in the fall of 2006. I went to a meeting yesterday about the program, and it's starting to feel so official that I'm actually going to be doing this for the next two years. Interestingly, the music school dropped the program, and so another school COAS (college of arts and sciences) is picking it up. They don't have the details worked out, but it's no longer going to be an associates degree in costume technology, but a certificate in fashion design. (a certificate was described as more than a minor, less than an associates degree) I don't much care, since all I'm really interested in is the construction classes. In fact, the restructure of the program has made it even more tailor made (pardon the pun) f0r me. They cut out the apparal merchendising crap, the mandatory slave labor camp with the opera/ballet, and left the construction, fashion rendering and costume history. Perfect! But, what that ends up meaning is that what I really NEED for Xmas is a plus sized dressmakers dummy.
So, ipod, leatherman and dressmakers dummy are all on my Xmas list. How disparate is that?? Now I just have to decide which one is most important, since my dad is the only one who still asks for an xmas list. Although, I found out last night that my brother got a loan payment made by my mom forXmas, which bodes well for me getting number 2 on the Xmas list as well :) I even paved the way with her... "well, I don't need a loan payment, I want an ipod!"
Hehe, you can breach the 30 year wall, but the 15 year old kid at Xmas just never goes away.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Regretful Lassitude
The word of the day today is lassitude. I've always liked that word. It brings to mind stretching out on a warm rock after a cool swim to let the sunshine bake you dry. I picture my muscles dissolving into gooey pleasure after an orgasm leaves me in a limp state of blissful lassitude.
I am familier enough with the word, that I almost didn't bother opening the e-mail containing its definition today. On a whim, I did open it. I often like the quotes they use when putting the word in context.
Word of the Day for Monday November 28, 2005
lassitude \LASS-uh-tood; LASS-uh-tyood\, noun:
Lack of vitality or energy; weariness; listlessness.
The feverish excitement ... had given place to a dull,
regretful lassitude.
--George Eliot, [1]Romola
Wow, that's nowhere near baking on a hot rock in the sun after a long cool swim! I can see how I've seen that word in that context and how it works. Yet, like so many things, it cuts another direction as well. As a friend said to me recently... "that good nature cuts both ways." The bliss of relaxation can just as easily be the listlessness of apathy.
It's the perfect word for today. The sky is gray and puffy, rain ensconces the house and the general womblike atmosphere leaves me alone with my thoughts. It's a good day for such encompassing gloom. My trip to my hometown last week had me visiting my childhood haunts. I even drove by the family farm where it was finally impressed deeply into me, you can never go home. The place is unrecognizable from the days when my family owned it. I felt it was an omen to let go of that past, let go of the bitterness I still clung to about not inheriting the place as I'd expected to. Now, it doesn't matter. It's not the home I remember, it's not the place my heart resides. It's just another piece of land.
The residence of my heart is certainly in question right now. Where is my home, and where do I belong? I think being in rentals doesn't suite me. I feel without roots, without future. Perhaps being single is not suiting me either. Somehow, the slings and arrows of friendships coming and going in my life strike deeper now than ever before. When I was married, people came and left in my life, and it didn't seem as big a blow. I hate being in a house that doesn't belong to me. I feel like there's no point doing any improvements or making any changes. After all, I'm not going to benefit from them, what's the point? I was to help a friend do some painting and such in their house. Perhaps working on a place someone else has an investment in would be satisfying as well. But, I don't see it working out. Why?
Because friendships seem to be as transient as rental houses in my life. I seem to be incapable of identifying permenancy in my life anymore. I was aware of NRE in the sense of romantic relationships. New Relationship Energy, the glow of the new thing, where everything seems brighter and happier because you think your new partner hung the moon. I guess I just never thought it applied to me, or to friendships as well as romantic relationships. Have people always moved through my life so quickly?
Perhaps it's the nature of getting older that time moves so quickly. It's amazing to me that the year is coming to a close. It was so very recently in my head that my life broke with a big cracking noise at the beginning of the year. It seems like just a few weeks ago that a summer romance was in full bloom. It seems like only yesterday that I realized as the summer project came to a close, so did that blooming flower. Where does the time go?
Life moves so very quickly now. It's all passing by so fast, and I'm struggling to figure out what I've done to show it was well spent. I find myself obsessed with the elderly, thinking of my future and what kind of old person will I be? Will I be in pain? Will I be one of those amazing older people who glide into their old age only having to slow down a bit to accomodate for stiffer joints? Somehow, my guess is more the first than the second. Why do I feel like I'm running out of time to make a real difference? Where is that pressure coming from?
I'm in my early 30's, and presumably there's a lot of time left for me to accomplish a lot in my life. Yet, I see others who are pushing 40, in their 40's and my own parents now in their 50's all feeling the same feelings of regretful lassitude about making a real impression on the world they live in.
And you are young and life is long
And there is time to kill today
And then one day you find
Ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run
You missed the starting gun
I keep thinking I have time, and yet, 10 years ago, I felt like that was the time to get serious. What have I done in that time that has lasted? My kids. They are what I've made that lives on. But, have I given them the roots they need to reach into the uncertainty of their future, do they have a home? No. No, because I don't have a home, I don't have a community, and my future is just as uncertain as their own.
I am familier enough with the word, that I almost didn't bother opening the e-mail containing its definition today. On a whim, I did open it. I often like the quotes they use when putting the word in context.
Word of the Day for Monday November 28, 2005
lassitude \LASS-uh-tood; LASS-uh-tyood\, noun:
Lack of vitality or energy; weariness; listlessness.
The feverish excitement ... had given place to a dull,
regretful lassitude.
--George Eliot, [1]Romola
Wow, that's nowhere near baking on a hot rock in the sun after a long cool swim! I can see how I've seen that word in that context and how it works. Yet, like so many things, it cuts another direction as well. As a friend said to me recently... "that good nature cuts both ways." The bliss of relaxation can just as easily be the listlessness of apathy.
It's the perfect word for today. The sky is gray and puffy, rain ensconces the house and the general womblike atmosphere leaves me alone with my thoughts. It's a good day for such encompassing gloom. My trip to my hometown last week had me visiting my childhood haunts. I even drove by the family farm where it was finally impressed deeply into me, you can never go home. The place is unrecognizable from the days when my family owned it. I felt it was an omen to let go of that past, let go of the bitterness I still clung to about not inheriting the place as I'd expected to. Now, it doesn't matter. It's not the home I remember, it's not the place my heart resides. It's just another piece of land.
The residence of my heart is certainly in question right now. Where is my home, and where do I belong? I think being in rentals doesn't suite me. I feel without roots, without future. Perhaps being single is not suiting me either. Somehow, the slings and arrows of friendships coming and going in my life strike deeper now than ever before. When I was married, people came and left in my life, and it didn't seem as big a blow. I hate being in a house that doesn't belong to me. I feel like there's no point doing any improvements or making any changes. After all, I'm not going to benefit from them, what's the point? I was to help a friend do some painting and such in their house. Perhaps working on a place someone else has an investment in would be satisfying as well. But, I don't see it working out. Why?
Because friendships seem to be as transient as rental houses in my life. I seem to be incapable of identifying permenancy in my life anymore. I was aware of NRE in the sense of romantic relationships. New Relationship Energy, the glow of the new thing, where everything seems brighter and happier because you think your new partner hung the moon. I guess I just never thought it applied to me, or to friendships as well as romantic relationships. Have people always moved through my life so quickly?
Perhaps it's the nature of getting older that time moves so quickly. It's amazing to me that the year is coming to a close. It was so very recently in my head that my life broke with a big cracking noise at the beginning of the year. It seems like just a few weeks ago that a summer romance was in full bloom. It seems like only yesterday that I realized as the summer project came to a close, so did that blooming flower. Where does the time go?
Life moves so very quickly now. It's all passing by so fast, and I'm struggling to figure out what I've done to show it was well spent. I find myself obsessed with the elderly, thinking of my future and what kind of old person will I be? Will I be in pain? Will I be one of those amazing older people who glide into their old age only having to slow down a bit to accomodate for stiffer joints? Somehow, my guess is more the first than the second. Why do I feel like I'm running out of time to make a real difference? Where is that pressure coming from?
I'm in my early 30's, and presumably there's a lot of time left for me to accomplish a lot in my life. Yet, I see others who are pushing 40, in their 40's and my own parents now in their 50's all feeling the same feelings of regretful lassitude about making a real impression on the world they live in.
And you are young and life is long
And there is time to kill today
And then one day you find
Ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run
You missed the starting gun
I keep thinking I have time, and yet, 10 years ago, I felt like that was the time to get serious. What have I done in that time that has lasted? My kids. They are what I've made that lives on. But, have I given them the roots they need to reach into the uncertainty of their future, do they have a home? No. No, because I don't have a home, I don't have a community, and my future is just as uncertain as their own.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
The Employment Quandary
Employment has been spreading like a disease amoung the people I call my community. Over the summer, it was a grand experiment in zero or minimal employment, and the results were a mixed success. (otherwise known as an unacknowledged failure) One by one, as the leaves fell from the trees, the slackers fell from the unemployment party boat.
The summer was glorious. It was the summer of the watermelon sarong and spending more time cooking over a fire than in the house. It was sunshine on the stone of the quarry, nettles on the path to the cooling creek, rust dust so thick on my skin it looked like I had more of a tan than I did. And I did have a tan. I had a wonderful, healthy glowing tan this summer. A tan like childhood summers where there was no responsibility but the pursuit of fun.
As the tan has faded and the cooling green leaves turned to their autumn glory, the grand adventure came to a close. Like fall this year, it was slow to happen. Little pieces fell away a bit at a time. One of us started working from home, the other always worked from home but then got more work to do. Another goes from part-time to full, yet another abandons the smug satisfaction of the unemployment check for sore feet and a 40% retail discount. My own mother, taking a job on a whim after 3 years of maintaining her unemployment, decided to go from temporary to permanent full time work. My own mother!
The final straw comes from having my Wednesdays stripped from me with the paltry excuse of needing to not only pay for child support and rent, but to eat as well. I find that exceedingly selfish and short sighted. He could lose a few pounds, it wouldn't hurt. Hell, it may even help his sex life. Think ahead, people!
There are more examples, but the whole thing leaves me a little queasy and slightly disdainful. Who would choose to work? Not really any of them, actually. The rock star, the mountain man, the actress, the pin-up girl, the crafter, the playboy, and me, the artist. We each have other things we'd rather be doing but working. Yet, the siren song of materialistic gain and practical comfort becomes an insistant buzz in the ear as winter approaches. Is it the season for employment? Does money become something more relevant or vital when the weather is hazardous to our health?
Even I, a hard core employmentphobe, am considering going back to work. Why? It appears that guilt, of all things, is the catalyst to spur me from my entrenched stance on an issue near and dear to my heart: Staying unemployed at all costs. Apparently, not all costs. I never in million years would have believed I could be guilted back into the monetary arena, but here it is. If others can do it, so can I. Not just that, but the responsibilities of employment stimulate me in other areas of my life the way being home all the time does not. It just about kills me to say that, but it's true.
My unemployed status has cost someone else their free time, time with their children. That galls me. I don't mind being poor. I can live with the judgement of being a slacker, even a sponge, but I can't live with the idea that because of a financial commitment to me, that person is being denied time away from work, a thing I value more highly than any reward work can offer. To add to this, a community establishment may need to close. Not really because I didn't work, but could be saved if I did. That may be a slippery slope of responsibility, but it's one that added to the first becomes an employment necessity.
And let's face it. I'm a girl who likes nice things. Poverty, while acceptable in the face of the alternative, (employment) is not exactly a prized and valued state of being in my life. So, if you can't beat them... join them. (and get paid for beating them *laughs*) So, get to work, little missy, your summer is over.
The summer was glorious. It was the summer of the watermelon sarong and spending more time cooking over a fire than in the house. It was sunshine on the stone of the quarry, nettles on the path to the cooling creek, rust dust so thick on my skin it looked like I had more of a tan than I did. And I did have a tan. I had a wonderful, healthy glowing tan this summer. A tan like childhood summers where there was no responsibility but the pursuit of fun.
As the tan has faded and the cooling green leaves turned to their autumn glory, the grand adventure came to a close. Like fall this year, it was slow to happen. Little pieces fell away a bit at a time. One of us started working from home, the other always worked from home but then got more work to do. Another goes from part-time to full, yet another abandons the smug satisfaction of the unemployment check for sore feet and a 40% retail discount. My own mother, taking a job on a whim after 3 years of maintaining her unemployment, decided to go from temporary to permanent full time work. My own mother!
The final straw comes from having my Wednesdays stripped from me with the paltry excuse of needing to not only pay for child support and rent, but to eat as well. I find that exceedingly selfish and short sighted. He could lose a few pounds, it wouldn't hurt. Hell, it may even help his sex life. Think ahead, people!
There are more examples, but the whole thing leaves me a little queasy and slightly disdainful. Who would choose to work? Not really any of them, actually. The rock star, the mountain man, the actress, the pin-up girl, the crafter, the playboy, and me, the artist. We each have other things we'd rather be doing but working. Yet, the siren song of materialistic gain and practical comfort becomes an insistant buzz in the ear as winter approaches. Is it the season for employment? Does money become something more relevant or vital when the weather is hazardous to our health?
Even I, a hard core employmentphobe, am considering going back to work. Why? It appears that guilt, of all things, is the catalyst to spur me from my entrenched stance on an issue near and dear to my heart: Staying unemployed at all costs. Apparently, not all costs. I never in million years would have believed I could be guilted back into the monetary arena, but here it is. If others can do it, so can I. Not just that, but the responsibilities of employment stimulate me in other areas of my life the way being home all the time does not. It just about kills me to say that, but it's true.
My unemployed status has cost someone else their free time, time with their children. That galls me. I don't mind being poor. I can live with the judgement of being a slacker, even a sponge, but I can't live with the idea that because of a financial commitment to me, that person is being denied time away from work, a thing I value more highly than any reward work can offer. To add to this, a community establishment may need to close. Not really because I didn't work, but could be saved if I did. That may be a slippery slope of responsibility, but it's one that added to the first becomes an employment necessity.
And let's face it. I'm a girl who likes nice things. Poverty, while acceptable in the face of the alternative, (employment) is not exactly a prized and valued state of being in my life. So, if you can't beat them... join them. (and get paid for beating them *laughs*) So, get to work, little missy, your summer is over.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Drama Magnet?
I've been thinking a lot about drama lately. I don't think of myself as an overly dramatic person. I think of myself as dramatic in the sense of vivid, sometimes flashy, intense... but not in the sense of Drama followed by Queen. However, I seem to mysteriously find myself embroiled in drama situations with some frequency. I find this aspect of my life stressful and unpleasant. I really do enjoy a fairly quiet existance. I am content with calm.
I know some people who manufacture drama. These people are uncomfortable with calm, uneasy in silence, and view an even keel with suspicion bordering on hostility. They have a tendency to shake the boat, just to find their comfort zone in the chaos. I'm not one of those people. I want things calm, I seek to stabilize chaotic situations so I can return to a placid existance where I'm comfortable.
Does that make me not a drama generator, but instead a drama magnet? How does it work exactly? Do I seek out drama generators in order to stimulate myself? Do drama generators seek me out because I'm calming? Is this a pattern that will repeat itself throughout my life, causing me to consistantly deal with chaos stressors of what seem to be my choosing?
I know I am drawn to people who, if not crazy, are loosely hinged. In some ways, those friendships are enjoyable to me because as drama generators, they provide stimulation in the form of entertainment that is "drama that's not mine". Drama that's not mine is fun. Drama that is mine is not fun. Am I just playing with fire when I have those people in my life?
I sat and mulled this over a bit. Who *are* the people who cause the most disturbing drama in my life? Interestingly, they are the people who I don't expect it from. When you meet a high drama person, you expect drama, you're prepared for drama, and you can manage it when it comes down the pike. They aren't doing anything you don't expect from them, so I never let it get to my center, to rock my stability. (for long, anyway)
No, it's the people who I would never expect it from, the people who I feel are more like myself, people who seek calm and seek stability. Those people have drama elements in their life that reach over and rock mine. Are they drama magnets too? Are they powerless to keep themselves from doing a swan dive into the vortex, knowing better, telling themselves they aren't even doing it, and yet going forward with the siren's song in their ears?
In conversations with these people, they are so reasonable. No, of course I won't get involved in that. Yes, I know how damaging that is. Yes, I remember when that happened before with X Drama Generator. It's ok, I will be alright. No, I won't get you involved, of *course* I can keep you out of it. And finally, the last one... No, I won't let this affect our friendship, I can keep these two relationships seperate.
It's that last one that's the kicker. When you have a drama generator in your life, you meet the other drama magnets, the other emotional gimps in their life. You may get out, but they may not. I like the drama gimps. They're my kind of people. I like being around calm, centered people. I'm entertained by drama generators, but it's not a lifestyle. (I can quit anytime, I can!) When a sitation becomes too much, when gimping becomes a lifestyle and I get tired of being the punching bag, I get out. The other gimps are left.
I hate leaving a man behind. I may not be a monument to justice, but I am loyal and I fight for the underdog as a matter of course. Maybe I even seek out drama generators simply because I'm really more interested in the people they surround themselves with than I am the DG themselves. It's easy to leave the drama behind, but the gimps have my heart.
What to do about that? I'm faced again in my life, from several sides, the cusp of the inevitable consequences of being in these situations. Do I bail, leaving the ones I care about, whose company I enjoy and whom I find value in by themselves, just to get free of the drama generators that disturb my life to the point of unacceptability? Or, do I get back involved, hoping that the people I do truly care about can find a way out of the mire to maintain the connection we have?
It brings about a final question, one I tend to shy away from but must finally face. Who are these people without the drama generator they're connected to? If not their current DG, will it be *someone*? If the gimps got together and dumped the DG's, would we live a long life of eternal boredom? If a person is wired to seek out a DG, or has been trained to do such by circumstance, can they ever truly be happy, can they ever really appreciate a relationship/friendship with someone who isn't pure drama?
In What the *Bleep* there is discussion about emotional addiction. The biology of addiction works the same no matter what chemical is effecting the cells. Since emotions are chemicals, people can easy have addictions to particular emotions, and will organize their lives in such a manner to seek out the fulfillment of that addiction. Are gimps addicts? Do they seek out the DG in order to get their fix, their emotional addiction to a certain type of stress that has normalized in their system to the point where the body/mind thinks it needs it in order to be happy? From what I've seen, I am beginning to fear the answer to that question is one that will leave me in constant frustration if I continue to seek out gimp types as close friends and particularly if I seek them out for romantic relationships.
I have this idea that given an opportunity to be around someone who is interesting, vivid, (dramatic!) and who contains a strong personality, but who is actually stable emotionally, anyone who is drawn towards powerful personalities would think that was a great deal, and make that choice. But yet, it's not worked out that way so far.
In The Matrix, there is a discussion about a utopian artificial reality that everyone kept trying to wake up from. Years of dominatrix work, and some amount of time in corporate America has shown me that people like abuse. They think it's normal. Catholic guilt? Is our system so wired to teach people that misery is rewarded with heaven, (and therefore happiness on earth is bound to be punished somehow) that seeking a life of contentment is bound to cause crippling anxiety, feelings of doing something wrong, or not quite living right?
We are all seeking the thing, the magic pill, that's going to cause happiness. Marry the right person, get the right job, have the right house, make the right amount of money, live the right life... if the right combination is found, then happiness will be the natural consequence. But, is it possible that as a culture, we can't even recognize happiness when we have it? If we are all emotional punching bags, and can only find contentment in some form of recognizable and familier pain, is happiness ever truly even a possibility? Is happiness pain?
The Ruiz's say we make our own Hell on earth by engaging in the drama of others. Buddhists take this idea further by putting a label on the consequences of staying in a rut of bad behavior. Karma has become a word integrated into American conciousness, yet there is little talk of changing it. Have we given up on the notion that we can change ourselves, make different choices, recognize the damage we've done in our lives and others by our choices and make different ones in the future?
I hope not, for myself and for the other gimps struggling to find happiness that's not at our own expense.
I know some people who manufacture drama. These people are uncomfortable with calm, uneasy in silence, and view an even keel with suspicion bordering on hostility. They have a tendency to shake the boat, just to find their comfort zone in the chaos. I'm not one of those people. I want things calm, I seek to stabilize chaotic situations so I can return to a placid existance where I'm comfortable.
Does that make me not a drama generator, but instead a drama magnet? How does it work exactly? Do I seek out drama generators in order to stimulate myself? Do drama generators seek me out because I'm calming? Is this a pattern that will repeat itself throughout my life, causing me to consistantly deal with chaos stressors of what seem to be my choosing?
I know I am drawn to people who, if not crazy, are loosely hinged. In some ways, those friendships are enjoyable to me because as drama generators, they provide stimulation in the form of entertainment that is "drama that's not mine". Drama that's not mine is fun. Drama that is mine is not fun. Am I just playing with fire when I have those people in my life?
I sat and mulled this over a bit. Who *are* the people who cause the most disturbing drama in my life? Interestingly, they are the people who I don't expect it from. When you meet a high drama person, you expect drama, you're prepared for drama, and you can manage it when it comes down the pike. They aren't doing anything you don't expect from them, so I never let it get to my center, to rock my stability. (for long, anyway)
No, it's the people who I would never expect it from, the people who I feel are more like myself, people who seek calm and seek stability. Those people have drama elements in their life that reach over and rock mine. Are they drama magnets too? Are they powerless to keep themselves from doing a swan dive into the vortex, knowing better, telling themselves they aren't even doing it, and yet going forward with the siren's song in their ears?
In conversations with these people, they are so reasonable. No, of course I won't get involved in that. Yes, I know how damaging that is. Yes, I remember when that happened before with X Drama Generator. It's ok, I will be alright. No, I won't get you involved, of *course* I can keep you out of it. And finally, the last one... No, I won't let this affect our friendship, I can keep these two relationships seperate.
It's that last one that's the kicker. When you have a drama generator in your life, you meet the other drama magnets, the other emotional gimps in their life. You may get out, but they may not. I like the drama gimps. They're my kind of people. I like being around calm, centered people. I'm entertained by drama generators, but it's not a lifestyle. (I can quit anytime, I can!) When a sitation becomes too much, when gimping becomes a lifestyle and I get tired of being the punching bag, I get out. The other gimps are left.
I hate leaving a man behind. I may not be a monument to justice, but I am loyal and I fight for the underdog as a matter of course. Maybe I even seek out drama generators simply because I'm really more interested in the people they surround themselves with than I am the DG themselves. It's easy to leave the drama behind, but the gimps have my heart.
What to do about that? I'm faced again in my life, from several sides, the cusp of the inevitable consequences of being in these situations. Do I bail, leaving the ones I care about, whose company I enjoy and whom I find value in by themselves, just to get free of the drama generators that disturb my life to the point of unacceptability? Or, do I get back involved, hoping that the people I do truly care about can find a way out of the mire to maintain the connection we have?
It brings about a final question, one I tend to shy away from but must finally face. Who are these people without the drama generator they're connected to? If not their current DG, will it be *someone*? If the gimps got together and dumped the DG's, would we live a long life of eternal boredom? If a person is wired to seek out a DG, or has been trained to do such by circumstance, can they ever truly be happy, can they ever really appreciate a relationship/friendship with someone who isn't pure drama?
In What the *Bleep* there is discussion about emotional addiction. The biology of addiction works the same no matter what chemical is effecting the cells. Since emotions are chemicals, people can easy have addictions to particular emotions, and will organize their lives in such a manner to seek out the fulfillment of that addiction. Are gimps addicts? Do they seek out the DG in order to get their fix, their emotional addiction to a certain type of stress that has normalized in their system to the point where the body/mind thinks it needs it in order to be happy? From what I've seen, I am beginning to fear the answer to that question is one that will leave me in constant frustration if I continue to seek out gimp types as close friends and particularly if I seek them out for romantic relationships.
I have this idea that given an opportunity to be around someone who is interesting, vivid, (dramatic!) and who contains a strong personality, but who is actually stable emotionally, anyone who is drawn towards powerful personalities would think that was a great deal, and make that choice. But yet, it's not worked out that way so far.
In The Matrix, there is a discussion about a utopian artificial reality that everyone kept trying to wake up from. Years of dominatrix work, and some amount of time in corporate America has shown me that people like abuse. They think it's normal. Catholic guilt? Is our system so wired to teach people that misery is rewarded with heaven, (and therefore happiness on earth is bound to be punished somehow) that seeking a life of contentment is bound to cause crippling anxiety, feelings of doing something wrong, or not quite living right?
We are all seeking the thing, the magic pill, that's going to cause happiness. Marry the right person, get the right job, have the right house, make the right amount of money, live the right life... if the right combination is found, then happiness will be the natural consequence. But, is it possible that as a culture, we can't even recognize happiness when we have it? If we are all emotional punching bags, and can only find contentment in some form of recognizable and familier pain, is happiness ever truly even a possibility? Is happiness pain?
The Ruiz's say we make our own Hell on earth by engaging in the drama of others. Buddhists take this idea further by putting a label on the consequences of staying in a rut of bad behavior. Karma has become a word integrated into American conciousness, yet there is little talk of changing it. Have we given up on the notion that we can change ourselves, make different choices, recognize the damage we've done in our lives and others by our choices and make different ones in the future?
I hope not, for myself and for the other gimps struggling to find happiness that's not at our own expense.
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