I hadn't posted this article about a month ago due to believing it would be posted on another web source. However, that did not happen, so here are my thoughts on hypocrisy, hatred, and bias in the internet age. Well, in one particular regard, at least.... (issue of Bob Dylan, Israel, and internet banning, or whatever you call it...)
Thousands of years ago, the Jewish people were forced into slavery and tormented like animals, treated like chewing gum on the bottom of one’s shoes. In the millennia that followed, society tried its hardest to scrape them off of the bottom, from the inquisitions of Spain and the pogroms of Eastern Europe to the confinement to medieval ghettos and, most infamously, the Holocaust. The anti-Semites did not win, however; they did not rid of the mess. What they did instead was strengthen a people, who continue to this day to face hatred, discrimination, and the desire of many to see an end to their existence.
Sixty-Five years ago, Israel achieved its independence. From there it harvested doctors, lawyers, scientists, engineers, philanthropists, and people of all beliefs, professions, and passions. Nonetheless, there are an astounding number of people who wish to see the end of Israel. The Jews in particular, of course, but also there are individuals of various backgrounds whom call Israel home, including Christians, Muslims, Druze, Ethiopians, Indians, Japanese... the list goes on.
Moving to Israel is referred to as making “Aliyah”. This word means ‘moving up’. Not because Israelis think Israelis are superior, but because Israelis think Israel is superior. Which is fair to say, considering the number of people who desire to own it and think of it as the holiest place on Earth. The reason Israeli immigrants’ migration is referred to as Aliyah is because no immigrant is seen as an immigrant, but as an individual who has joined the higher rank. A better person, now a citizen. Israel has always been the land for refugees, for people running away for the sake of a better life. The many Sudanese refugees can attest to this, as can many Palestinians who fled their own country searching for a safe haven.
I don’t claim that Israel is a perfect country. They are run by a government, a leader with motives of his own, prejudices of his own, and poor judgment of his own…. However, I recently came across a website that was created in order to share with the world the song lyrics and guitar chords of many of Bob Dylan’s songs. For those of you not familiar with Dylan, he is a singer/songwriter who has been active since 1961 when his name became big in the New York City, Greenwich Village folk scene. Dylan was born Jewish and converted once as a born-again Christian. He has found Judaism once again and has showed his support various times, most famously when he visited the Western Wall and described his feelings towards Israel in the song, “Neighborhood Bully” in 1983 (http://www.bobdylan.com/us/songs/neighborhood-bully).
Despite Dylan’s clear support for the Nation of Israel, the individual who shared his lyrics and chords on this website has decided to block Israeli citizens from viewing his website. He refers to this as a “Cultural boycott of Israel”. He explains this action as, “…a long overdue reaction to the absurd inhumanity that is demonstrated in its actions and that goes against everything that I and this site stands for. Access to --------- has been blocked for visitors from Israel.”
This individual goes on to explain that it is not an act against Jewish people, but against the state of Israel and its actions. Without going into the entire situation and explanation, let me just ask, why the Hell does the state of Israel care about Bob Dylan lyrics? He also provides links which answer why he doesn’t block other countries, he explains that it would be inconsequential. I bequeath thee to put aside any anti-Zionist beliefs and think about the sentiment here. This man is at one point claiming to have no qualms with the Jews, by religion or descent, but he blocks these people, these people alone from viewing his website. His reasoning being that he wishes to… punish the state of Israel? According to humanrights.com, “In Kenya, authorities violated international refugee law when they closed the border to thousands of people fleeing armed conflict in Somalia. Asylum-seekers were illegally detained at the Kenyan border without charge or trial and forcibly returned to Somalia… In Uganda, 1,500 people die each week in the internally displaced person camps. According to the World Health Organization, 500,000 have died in these camps... Vietnamese authorities forced at least 75,000 drug addicts and prostitutes into 71 overpopulated “rehab” camps, labeling the detainees at “high risk” of contracting HIV/AIDS but providing no treatment.”
Amnesty.org continues the long list of countries violating human rights laws. On the website they explain a particular situation in Egypt, “Egypt’s treatment of refugees from Syria is a violation of international law. Hundreds of women, men and children have fled conflict only to be subjected to abuse and discrimination. For some, prolonged arbitrary detention has ended with forced deportation – in some cases back to Syria….” (October 17, 2013)
Cases like these occur all over the world at the hands of nations’ governments and police forces. The creator of the Dylan chord website does not block his website from Kenya or Uganda or Vietnam, nor any other country. This block has been exclusively created against the access of Israelis to Dylan’s lyrics. Lyrics which could uplift, enlighten, and entertain children, soldiers, and the average bloke. This is Bob Dylan we are talking about here; a man of peace and justice and lyrical brilliance. Robert Allan Zimmerman is a Zionist Jew by any definition of the word.
What distinguishes Israel from these other countries? What do you suppose that special trait is?
Friday, December 20, 2013
Monday, December 9, 2013
Wonder, wonder, how I wonder....
Lately I've been thinking about friendship a lot. Who friends whom, who stays lifelong friends, how this whole FRIENDSHIP thing works.
Is it a coincidence that oftentimes the most genuine and kind-hearted people are drawn to the equally magnificent sort? Is it meant to be? Written in the cosmos a priori and there's no avoiding it? Or... is there something less metaphysical about the whole thing?
I predict it's all in our hands. Considering how many awful people I have befriended in my past, I guess that says something. Although, most of these awful people were weeded out. Not by me! God, no, I would rather live on Tums tablets for a year than face conflict! Time and events just kind of... did the job for me.
It's still on my mind, however, "How was I so fortunate as to attract the wonderful people into my life that I have?"
It wasn't about luck or chance, it was about being the people we each needed to have in our lives.
Most of my friends are absolute saints! Their patience, love, and empathy never ceases to amaze me! There are also specific types of causes I/we like to help with. Two of the most common causes within my friends are animals and mentally ill people. Obviously, if you go to events and things that associate with these causes, these are the people you come across, but I find myself attracted to this type outside of predictable situations as well.
Why animals, though? Why the mentally ill? Maybe, and this is a big maybe, but maybe what we all relate to are... those two groups.
For example, I remember what school was like. People will turn you into "just an animal". The way they would feel fine harming an innocent animal is just how they would treat me, and it's the same way these Saints were treated. The bullies would close you into a box; the one they've created for you in their mind, and they would beat you. They would no longer see you as a living thing, but as a way of venting hurt and anger and pressure and stress and everything that made them feel bad. It would give them such power and make them feel so much better about themselves. Day after day they would do this, recharge themselves, and go home telling themselves, "At least it wasn't me."
The Saint, however? Day after day, they would be humiliated and hurt, take a deep breath, and go home asking themselves, "Why was it me? I am powerless."
Animals and the mentally ill are two of the most powerless demographics in society. Along with the homeless, the elderly, and children. No matter your race, heritage, or class, if you fall into one of these categories, you are immediately labeled as weak and helpless. You are immediately a target for the masses and can easily be overtaken and taken advantage of. The bullies will corner you, they will take any sense of joy from you, and they will leave you for dead. Each time it gets easier for them. Only a handful of Saints will have someone there to defend them. The rest will have to defend themselves... or fall.
From these damaged goods, Saints arise. Not always, of course, but there are those special individuals whose decency and courage cannot be shattered. When these Saints stand back up, push their way through the carnage, and allow themselves to be reborn, they become the ones this world needs. There is an incredible amount of power and beauty within these individuals. They may never be aware of it, but they are the ones we all owe credit to. The ones who won't stand around and watch others be bullied, who will be there for others when they need someone to listen or help or just sit next to.
Not everyone is able to appreciate the Saints, of course. They are an unusual breed. They usually look like everyone else, but their insides are more dented and bruised. Their hearts have more bandages and stitches. Sometimes they are loners or introverts or just shy. Sometimes these people put on a hard exterior to keep away the bad guys, and the good guys. Other times, they welcome anyone who will take them and love them; accepting the risk of being hurt again. And sometimes they never fully recover, they go through life playing the past over and over again in their head, trying to escape the memories and pain, but they cannot. These memories are scarring and will FOREVER affect the Saint.
Then these Saints find one another. Slowly.
It could be at any restaurant.
They sit down at parallel tables and both order the tofu salad. These Saints are tired of seeing companies slashing open animal's necks and telling us, "They were born for this purpose".... Just like the Saint was born a freak and her purpose is to be harassed. How kids will be kids, and therefore it's okay if some of them are hurting and teasing the weird kid. How New York City is a rough city and you'll "always" meet those people who will mistreat you and touch you inappropriately and treat you like.... like... like a slab of meat. Like chopped liver. Like a cow on a farm having her calf taken away and then shoved onto a milking machine so someone else... some other, stronger individual can enjoy the taste of her milk.
It could be in the psychiatric ward of a hospital.
The Saints enter, curious, wanting to volunteer and help out a little. They enter the guarded gate and looks into the sad, bullet hole eyes of patient after patient. Each one with stories of prison, abuse, rape, racism, cruelty... and no one to listens, because these people cannot be helped. They were born to be weak and society will treat them this way. If they don't speak up, they are stupid. If they do speak up, they are crazy and need more medication. These are not people, these are defective puppies at the puppy mill. These are nerdy kids who need to learn to suck it up. These are the ignored individuals of the world; they must remain silent. We all must remain silent or be classified as one of them.
The Saints won't be fooled, though. The Saints cannot be shut up or shutdown. They will always do the right thing. They will be mocked and hated and society will try to cast them off as "mentally ill", "animals", and "freaks".
Perhaps that's not so bad.
Is it a coincidence that oftentimes the most genuine and kind-hearted people are drawn to the equally magnificent sort? Is it meant to be? Written in the cosmos a priori and there's no avoiding it? Or... is there something less metaphysical about the whole thing?
I predict it's all in our hands. Considering how many awful people I have befriended in my past, I guess that says something. Although, most of these awful people were weeded out. Not by me! God, no, I would rather live on Tums tablets for a year than face conflict! Time and events just kind of... did the job for me.
It's still on my mind, however, "How was I so fortunate as to attract the wonderful people into my life that I have?"
It wasn't about luck or chance, it was about being the people we each needed to have in our lives.
Most of my friends are absolute saints! Their patience, love, and empathy never ceases to amaze me! There are also specific types of causes I/we like to help with. Two of the most common causes within my friends are animals and mentally ill people. Obviously, if you go to events and things that associate with these causes, these are the people you come across, but I find myself attracted to this type outside of predictable situations as well.
Why animals, though? Why the mentally ill? Maybe, and this is a big maybe, but maybe what we all relate to are... those two groups.
For example, I remember what school was like. People will turn you into "just an animal". The way they would feel fine harming an innocent animal is just how they would treat me, and it's the same way these Saints were treated. The bullies would close you into a box; the one they've created for you in their mind, and they would beat you. They would no longer see you as a living thing, but as a way of venting hurt and anger and pressure and stress and everything that made them feel bad. It would give them such power and make them feel so much better about themselves. Day after day they would do this, recharge themselves, and go home telling themselves, "At least it wasn't me."
The Saint, however? Day after day, they would be humiliated and hurt, take a deep breath, and go home asking themselves, "Why was it me? I am powerless."
Animals and the mentally ill are two of the most powerless demographics in society. Along with the homeless, the elderly, and children. No matter your race, heritage, or class, if you fall into one of these categories, you are immediately labeled as weak and helpless. You are immediately a target for the masses and can easily be overtaken and taken advantage of. The bullies will corner you, they will take any sense of joy from you, and they will leave you for dead. Each time it gets easier for them. Only a handful of Saints will have someone there to defend them. The rest will have to defend themselves... or fall.
From these damaged goods, Saints arise. Not always, of course, but there are those special individuals whose decency and courage cannot be shattered. When these Saints stand back up, push their way through the carnage, and allow themselves to be reborn, they become the ones this world needs. There is an incredible amount of power and beauty within these individuals. They may never be aware of it, but they are the ones we all owe credit to. The ones who won't stand around and watch others be bullied, who will be there for others when they need someone to listen or help or just sit next to.
Not everyone is able to appreciate the Saints, of course. They are an unusual breed. They usually look like everyone else, but their insides are more dented and bruised. Their hearts have more bandages and stitches. Sometimes they are loners or introverts or just shy. Sometimes these people put on a hard exterior to keep away the bad guys, and the good guys. Other times, they welcome anyone who will take them and love them; accepting the risk of being hurt again. And sometimes they never fully recover, they go through life playing the past over and over again in their head, trying to escape the memories and pain, but they cannot. These memories are scarring and will FOREVER affect the Saint.
Then these Saints find one another. Slowly.
It could be at any restaurant.
They sit down at parallel tables and both order the tofu salad. These Saints are tired of seeing companies slashing open animal's necks and telling us, "They were born for this purpose".... Just like the Saint was born a freak and her purpose is to be harassed. How kids will be kids, and therefore it's okay if some of them are hurting and teasing the weird kid. How New York City is a rough city and you'll "always" meet those people who will mistreat you and touch you inappropriately and treat you like.... like... like a slab of meat. Like chopped liver. Like a cow on a farm having her calf taken away and then shoved onto a milking machine so someone else... some other, stronger individual can enjoy the taste of her milk.
It could be in the psychiatric ward of a hospital.
The Saints enter, curious, wanting to volunteer and help out a little. They enter the guarded gate and looks into the sad, bullet hole eyes of patient after patient. Each one with stories of prison, abuse, rape, racism, cruelty... and no one to listens, because these people cannot be helped. They were born to be weak and society will treat them this way. If they don't speak up, they are stupid. If they do speak up, they are crazy and need more medication. These are not people, these are defective puppies at the puppy mill. These are nerdy kids who need to learn to suck it up. These are the ignored individuals of the world; they must remain silent. We all must remain silent or be classified as one of them.
The Saints won't be fooled, though. The Saints cannot be shut up or shutdown. They will always do the right thing. They will be mocked and hated and society will try to cast them off as "mentally ill", "animals", and "freaks".
Perhaps that's not so bad.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Who do you consider a role model?
I am going to start this post by saying, I love the YouTuber known as Hannah Harto. She started out with a segment called 'My Drunk Kitchen', which has evolved into personal logs, world travel, mass worldwide volunteering, and probably various other adventures. I find Hannah to be a delightful character to follow. She is honest, real, a LGBTQ superwoman, and always can make me laugh. The fact that she uses her fan base as a way of inciting good deeds and positive messages is really inspiring!
The only thing wrong with Hannah's YouTube channel is the demographic. According to Wikipedia (an always reliable source-- merp), the majority of YouTube users are in the age range of 14-17 years old. This is clear when viewing the audience of almost any YouTuber's meet-ups with fans. Again, Hannah has many positive influences on these kids, she is straightforward about sexuality, body image, and various other topics teens need to hear about. In which case, YouTube is a marvelous place to learn. My question is, however, is a "show" based on the fun of cooking while highly intoxicated really the sort of thing that should be presented in a shared space with what is good and right and just? Should a 16 year old watch their beloved "leader" talk about empowerment and beauty, only to be followed by this same "leader" downing drink after drink and attempting to use the stove while sloshed?
Next to the other role models of today; the provocative, raunchy-mouthed, vodka-glugging sorts we know and love/hate, Hannah is a saint. I recognize this. I also realize kids will learn and see and hear these things in a million other places before and after 'My Drunk Kitchen', but does that make it permissible? According to videos of Hannah's and many like it, drinking is what youth is about. Sloppy inebriation is youth and fun and friendly, it's not until you start becoming old and boring that alcohol is the bad guy....
I'm not saying alcohol is bad, I certainly have partaken in my share. I know the invigorating feeling of the whole shebang! On the other hand, I've also read all the lists on Buzzfeed.com saying how "you're getting old when you can't drink as much". It's "uncool" to not drink as much as possible while you're young enough to. I've seen the propaganda. I know how many 20-somethings buy into the lies of the advertisements. Television shows of middle aged women, too! Those who drink tons of wine are more fun, exciting, and youthful. That is who you should aim to be. Men will like you, your kids will like you, and life will just be peachy keen... if you drink away your troubles.
We're also reminded time and time again that some alcohol is good for your heart. Maybe this is so, but so is exercise, so is getting enough sleep, so is not going out to party every night. These lies are going to be the downfall of society. Maybe even of your life!
I am writing on this matter because of someone particular I have in mind. Someone who just turned 21 and is convinced in order to feel young, and fully experience life, drinking excessively is necessary. I overheard this person saying the other day, "You've had that bottle of vodka since Halloween? I've probably bought 7 or 8 since then." and another time, "She rarely goes out. People over 20 don't drink and have the same fun we do. I don't want to be like that."
Um.
Now, I will mention, this may not (hopefully) be the typical sentiment of the early 20 year old. See, this early 20 year old is particularly, what's the word? Stupid? Yes.
Do people over 20 drink just as much as people under 20? Generally, I would say so. Probably more because they can afford it and have real life issues which they like to drink away on the weekend.
Do people over 20 have just as much fun as people under 20? Most probably would say they do. Maybe not as often due to work and responsibility, but heck, maybe these individuals are onto better things than clubbing and passing out!
What I'm trying to say is, you can be an alcoholic at any age, that doesn't make you a better person. Shocker! Dare I say, it makes me sad. If you feel old and boring at 21, you have a LONG time to go, during which you'll be very depressed. Hate to break it to you.
It has been said time and time that the role models of today are terrible (not that they're any worse than Ozzy or Jimi or The Ramones...), but I think society needs to start establishing what they consider bad role modeling because it's gross or weird or annoying and what sorts of issues we actually have to focus on. We have to remodel what we consider the social norms and what can be laughed off as "kids will be kids", as opposed to, "I do not want my child exposed to this and I do not want this to be considered right or acceptable." Because in the end, what your kid's friends think and do and see does affect what your kid will think and do and see.
If I had the power, I would remind websites likes YouTube and Buzzfeed and all those sites who their audience is and what sort of message they are sending them. Adult or child, we are all influenced by what "everyone else" is doing. Don't drink the Kool-Aid is what I am saying, even if it has added vitamins.
The only thing wrong with Hannah's YouTube channel is the demographic. According to Wikipedia (an always reliable source-- merp), the majority of YouTube users are in the age range of 14-17 years old. This is clear when viewing the audience of almost any YouTuber's meet-ups with fans. Again, Hannah has many positive influences on these kids, she is straightforward about sexuality, body image, and various other topics teens need to hear about. In which case, YouTube is a marvelous place to learn. My question is, however, is a "show" based on the fun of cooking while highly intoxicated really the sort of thing that should be presented in a shared space with what is good and right and just? Should a 16 year old watch their beloved "leader" talk about empowerment and beauty, only to be followed by this same "leader" downing drink after drink and attempting to use the stove while sloshed?
Next to the other role models of today; the provocative, raunchy-mouthed, vodka-glugging sorts we know and love/hate, Hannah is a saint. I recognize this. I also realize kids will learn and see and hear these things in a million other places before and after 'My Drunk Kitchen', but does that make it permissible? According to videos of Hannah's and many like it, drinking is what youth is about. Sloppy inebriation is youth and fun and friendly, it's not until you start becoming old and boring that alcohol is the bad guy....
I'm not saying alcohol is bad, I certainly have partaken in my share. I know the invigorating feeling of the whole shebang! On the other hand, I've also read all the lists on Buzzfeed.com saying how "you're getting old when you can't drink as much". It's "uncool" to not drink as much as possible while you're young enough to. I've seen the propaganda. I know how many 20-somethings buy into the lies of the advertisements. Television shows of middle aged women, too! Those who drink tons of wine are more fun, exciting, and youthful. That is who you should aim to be. Men will like you, your kids will like you, and life will just be peachy keen... if you drink away your troubles.
We're also reminded time and time again that some alcohol is good for your heart. Maybe this is so, but so is exercise, so is getting enough sleep, so is not going out to party every night. These lies are going to be the downfall of society. Maybe even of your life!
I am writing on this matter because of someone particular I have in mind. Someone who just turned 21 and is convinced in order to feel young, and fully experience life, drinking excessively is necessary. I overheard this person saying the other day, "You've had that bottle of vodka since Halloween? I've probably bought 7 or 8 since then." and another time, "She rarely goes out. People over 20 don't drink and have the same fun we do. I don't want to be like that."
Um.
Now, I will mention, this may not (hopefully) be the typical sentiment of the early 20 year old. See, this early 20 year old is particularly, what's the word? Stupid? Yes.
Do people over 20 drink just as much as people under 20? Generally, I would say so. Probably more because they can afford it and have real life issues which they like to drink away on the weekend.
Do people over 20 have just as much fun as people under 20? Most probably would say they do. Maybe not as often due to work and responsibility, but heck, maybe these individuals are onto better things than clubbing and passing out!
What I'm trying to say is, you can be an alcoholic at any age, that doesn't make you a better person. Shocker! Dare I say, it makes me sad. If you feel old and boring at 21, you have a LONG time to go, during which you'll be very depressed. Hate to break it to you.
It has been said time and time that the role models of today are terrible (not that they're any worse than Ozzy or Jimi or The Ramones...), but I think society needs to start establishing what they consider bad role modeling because it's gross or weird or annoying and what sorts of issues we actually have to focus on. We have to remodel what we consider the social norms and what can be laughed off as "kids will be kids", as opposed to, "I do not want my child exposed to this and I do not want this to be considered right or acceptable." Because in the end, what your kid's friends think and do and see does affect what your kid will think and do and see.
If I had the power, I would remind websites likes YouTube and Buzzfeed and all those sites who their audience is and what sort of message they are sending them. Adult or child, we are all influenced by what "everyone else" is doing. Don't drink the Kool-Aid is what I am saying, even if it has added vitamins.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Well, darn it all to heck
As you probably know, I'm not particularly fond of sentimentality of any sort. That is, until something really strikes me. Being away from family this holiday season has struck me.... So, here we go. Yes, folks, I am going to do a list of things I am thankful for... well, sort of. I will try to make it as genuine as possible.
Strike that. I can't do a list of things I am thankful for. I will just rant on about things I miss and appreciate and all that jazz. Enjoy!
Let's see. I guess the first thing I should mention is that I am glad my family is who it is. Well, kind of. I mean, I am lucky that none of them (successfully) murdered me as a child and hid the remains. I am lucky they didn't sell my organs on the black market (though, my grandmother always told me she was going to sell me to the gypsies), I am glad they aren't alcoholics, drug addicts, and prostitutes... as far as I know. Overall, they're not too bad. For that, I am happy. Heck, imagine I was born to a redneck family in Alabama? IMAGINE!?! Seriously, though, my parents and grandmother put up with a lot of stress from me, so good on them for not telling me plastic bags made pretty necklaces when I was baby! Or when I was a teen... or at any point this week...
I am also fortunate in the health portion of life. I have my random bodily outbursts of death: kidney stones, floaters, strep throat, random puking fits, sprained hip... you know, the hellish misery that lasts a few weeks. However, I've never had malaria, tuberculosis, AIDS, missing limbs... and no signs of schizophrenia yet! I would say that's pretty awesome. Plus, no one in my family has had cancer, so I am looking pretty good on the front. Ding +1!
Friends are a tricky topic for me. I never know who(m?) to consider a friend... there are at least 3 people I can certainly confirm are real, true friends. Those people I miss like the dickens, let me tell you! It's the rest of the heathens I'm uncertain of. Hey, 3 friends is a big deal for me, so I ain't complaining. As of late, I've tried hard to show "I care", but as you can see from the fact that I put quotes on "I care", it's really baby steps. Itsy, bitsy, tiny baby steps. I hope they know they're important to me. Two of them I can only hang out with a few times a year, so it's particularly rough on our relationship. Nonetheless, our love is relentless, which is just lovely. Anyone who can put up with this hot mess deserves a shout out. woot....woot...
I guess I should be grateful for my ability to travel and be educated and live in one of the most developed countries in the world. Well, the last one isn't an ability, it's just kind of how life played out. I am glad it did, though. As much as I desperately want to visit India, I think I would drown myself in curry if I had to live there. Sorry, Indians, but you can't disagree. Not to mention, I was even so fortunate as to be born in New York City. Mind you, it was Staten Island, but that's a whole lot better than Poland.
I guess as a whole I am glad about some random people I've met throughout my life. They'll never know or care that I gave them a shout out on here, but I thought I should mention it. Some strangers are super groovy. Many are creepy and dirty and deserve to live in a horror movie, but for the bundle who do and mean well, good on you. You're a super duper individual. Keep up the good work!
Finally, I give a big kudos to my doggy boggy woggy, Lolita. Although I feel like I have been traveling the world most of the time I have had her in my life, she has been an amazing pup. She puts up with the stupid outfits, the hours of wandering, being forced to hide in a bag on the bus, and random foster animals that try to eat her. I realize she has no option to leave and she may very well hate me, but I am going to go on the assumption for now that she absolutely adores me despite all I put her through.
Is that it? Am I done now? Eh, I think I can step away from this fairly satisfied. Herpy Thanksgiving!
Strike that. I can't do a list of things I am thankful for. I will just rant on about things I miss and appreciate and all that jazz. Enjoy!
Let's see. I guess the first thing I should mention is that I am glad my family is who it is. Well, kind of. I mean, I am lucky that none of them (successfully) murdered me as a child and hid the remains. I am lucky they didn't sell my organs on the black market (though, my grandmother always told me she was going to sell me to the gypsies), I am glad they aren't alcoholics, drug addicts, and prostitutes... as far as I know. Overall, they're not too bad. For that, I am happy. Heck, imagine I was born to a redneck family in Alabama? IMAGINE!?! Seriously, though, my parents and grandmother put up with a lot of stress from me, so good on them for not telling me plastic bags made pretty necklaces when I was baby! Or when I was a teen... or at any point this week...
I am also fortunate in the health portion of life. I have my random bodily outbursts of death: kidney stones, floaters, strep throat, random puking fits, sprained hip... you know, the hellish misery that lasts a few weeks. However, I've never had malaria, tuberculosis, AIDS, missing limbs... and no signs of schizophrenia yet! I would say that's pretty awesome. Plus, no one in my family has had cancer, so I am looking pretty good on the front. Ding +1!
Friends are a tricky topic for me. I never know who(m?) to consider a friend... there are at least 3 people I can certainly confirm are real, true friends. Those people I miss like the dickens, let me tell you! It's the rest of the heathens I'm uncertain of. Hey, 3 friends is a big deal for me, so I ain't complaining. As of late, I've tried hard to show "I care", but as you can see from the fact that I put quotes on "I care", it's really baby steps. Itsy, bitsy, tiny baby steps. I hope they know they're important to me. Two of them I can only hang out with a few times a year, so it's particularly rough on our relationship. Nonetheless, our love is relentless, which is just lovely. Anyone who can put up with this hot mess deserves a shout out. woot....woot...
I guess I should be grateful for my ability to travel and be educated and live in one of the most developed countries in the world. Well, the last one isn't an ability, it's just kind of how life played out. I am glad it did, though. As much as I desperately want to visit India, I think I would drown myself in curry if I had to live there. Sorry, Indians, but you can't disagree. Not to mention, I was even so fortunate as to be born in New York City. Mind you, it was Staten Island, but that's a whole lot better than Poland.
I guess as a whole I am glad about some random people I've met throughout my life. They'll never know or care that I gave them a shout out on here, but I thought I should mention it. Some strangers are super groovy. Many are creepy and dirty and deserve to live in a horror movie, but for the bundle who do and mean well, good on you. You're a super duper individual. Keep up the good work!
Finally, I give a big kudos to my doggy boggy woggy, Lolita. Although I feel like I have been traveling the world most of the time I have had her in my life, she has been an amazing pup. She puts up with the stupid outfits, the hours of wandering, being forced to hide in a bag on the bus, and random foster animals that try to eat her. I realize she has no option to leave and she may very well hate me, but I am going to go on the assumption for now that she absolutely adores me despite all I put her through.
Is that it? Am I done now? Eh, I think I can step away from this fairly satisfied. Herpy Thanksgiving!
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Don't Call me Beautiful
This face complete with sparkling eyes and porcelain skin, these were not always mine. They were, they just weren't always so organized and put together. There was a time when this skin was completely freckled with acne and a slight unibrow. When my body fat distribution was off balance and my words were limited to, "Hi." and "Bye." At this point in my life, I was pretty miserable. For a slew of reasons, but how my peers and teachers treated me was not any help.
In college, this slowly changed. The acne mostly cleared (darn you, breakouts!), I regularly went to the gym (darn you, peanut butter!), and I learned how to look my best with the minimal amount of effort (darn you, eyebrows!) At this time, I noticed something changing. Outside of myself. It was in everyone else. I found men talking to me for absolutely no reason and asking for my number. I found women hating me and their husbands/boyfriends telling me it was jealousy. I could no longer hang out with my old buddies, they didn't trust themselves to behave around me. I was now the man-stealer, the housewrecker, the young blonde...
I hadn't changed, though. I still felt utter terror when talking to strangers and I felt ugly wearing short skirts or tight tops or bikinis. I had a few more tattoos and piercings, which made me come off as confident. I learned how to pull along a conversation without blushing or sweating too profusely. However, I was still the hippie weirdo with social anxiety and an unhealthy obsession with all things fluffy, feathered, and scaled.
I never adjusted to being treated better. After all, I didn't feel better about anything. I didn't want anyone to envy me, I didn't want to feel like I was becoming "one of THOSE people", either. I wasn't making more friends or feeling accepted, that's for sure. Now the guys got to admire me, the women got to gossip about me, and what did I get from the deal? I got harassed a lot. I got treated like a Barbie doll. It was assumed I was weak and stupid.
Only recently have I realized what I gained from this. I stopped putting all my focus on being one of those brats and I started lifting weights and I attended my college classes, putting my passion for psychology and music to use. I stood up for causes and sometimes people listened. People felt safe coming to me for help.
Should I be treated differently because my physical appearance has changed? No. Will I forever experience the world from a different perspective than those who never outgrew their rough patch in life? I hope not. I plan to always hold onto the worst pains of my past and what I felt and saw and experienced and never watch anyone else go through the same thing helplessly. I still have to fight to maintain my confidence and strength, and through that power, I will help others. Not to mention, others will continue to help me. I am still a lost fish trying to balance this new me and the me who couldn't be forgotten.
I just hate that the person I was before was the one who was bullied and teased and forgotten, while the new me sits around and reaps the benefits of puberty. I won't allow myself to become the person I've seen many of my peers turn into because I would hate to be that person.
Most of all, I have learned to let me people care about me. Even... LOVE me. I still have to practice and remember I am worthy of it, but I have made such strides and I have to love myself for that. Once I do that, I can begin my journey to forgiveness and eventually, esteem.
In college, this slowly changed. The acne mostly cleared (darn you, breakouts!), I regularly went to the gym (darn you, peanut butter!), and I learned how to look my best with the minimal amount of effort (darn you, eyebrows!) At this time, I noticed something changing. Outside of myself. It was in everyone else. I found men talking to me for absolutely no reason and asking for my number. I found women hating me and their husbands/boyfriends telling me it was jealousy. I could no longer hang out with my old buddies, they didn't trust themselves to behave around me. I was now the man-stealer, the housewrecker, the young blonde...
I hadn't changed, though. I still felt utter terror when talking to strangers and I felt ugly wearing short skirts or tight tops or bikinis. I had a few more tattoos and piercings, which made me come off as confident. I learned how to pull along a conversation without blushing or sweating too profusely. However, I was still the hippie weirdo with social anxiety and an unhealthy obsession with all things fluffy, feathered, and scaled.
I never adjusted to being treated better. After all, I didn't feel better about anything. I didn't want anyone to envy me, I didn't want to feel like I was becoming "one of THOSE people", either. I wasn't making more friends or feeling accepted, that's for sure. Now the guys got to admire me, the women got to gossip about me, and what did I get from the deal? I got harassed a lot. I got treated like a Barbie doll. It was assumed I was weak and stupid.
Only recently have I realized what I gained from this. I stopped putting all my focus on being one of those brats and I started lifting weights and I attended my college classes, putting my passion for psychology and music to use. I stood up for causes and sometimes people listened. People felt safe coming to me for help.
Should I be treated differently because my physical appearance has changed? No. Will I forever experience the world from a different perspective than those who never outgrew their rough patch in life? I hope not. I plan to always hold onto the worst pains of my past and what I felt and saw and experienced and never watch anyone else go through the same thing helplessly. I still have to fight to maintain my confidence and strength, and through that power, I will help others. Not to mention, others will continue to help me. I am still a lost fish trying to balance this new me and the me who couldn't be forgotten.
I just hate that the person I was before was the one who was bullied and teased and forgotten, while the new me sits around and reaps the benefits of puberty. I won't allow myself to become the person I've seen many of my peers turn into because I would hate to be that person.
Most of all, I have learned to let me people care about me. Even... LOVE me. I still have to practice and remember I am worthy of it, but I have made such strides and I have to love myself for that. Once I do that, I can begin my journey to forgiveness and eventually, esteem.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Psychoanalysis for Dummies?
One of the theories in psychoanalysis that intrigue me greatly is the one stating that we dislike traits in others that we fear in ourselves. Either this is because we lack that trait and in some way envy it, or we have that trait and "have been there" and are upset that we can't fix ourselves or the other.
Example 1: Jerboa is very introverted and HATES when Barfelina goes up to the teacher and requests the whole class get As. When Barfelina is successful, the class celebrates. Jerboa is happy about the A, but still mocks and feels resentment towards Barfelina for being a big mouth who always has to be the hero.
Why is Jerboa upset at Barfelina? According to this theory, unconsciously, Jerboa wishes she had the nerve to ask the teacher and wants to be the class hero. She is unaware of her envy and desire, but it comes off as hatred.
Example 2: Merggy watches as Limon gets picked on by some other kids. Merggy is sick of watching Limon take it and not say a word. Merggy thinks Limon is just a pushover and really needs to learn to defend himself. What Merggy forgets is that he too used to be picked on by the very same kids. He never said or did anything about it either.
So... why is Merggy so judgmental about Limon? The theory explains that Merggy is projecting his hurt and anger about himself; his own regrets. Upon seeing Limon do the same thing, he feels transference for these feelings and therefore, negativity towards Limon.
Of course, sometimes we just don't like people and things they do... but in any case, it's always wise to reevaluate where your anger or dislike comes from before accepting your opinion of others. Why is it that humans have such natural urges to remove our own self-judgment and call-outs by placing them on others? It certainly is more pleasant to dislike another rather than to start blaming yourself for your own actions, but how does this innate trait benefit us? It seems counterproductive as far as resolving issues.
I think it's certainly a defense mechanism, as well as an escape. Every person gets to point where you begin to think, "There is NO way I have this many problems...", in order to defend your honour and sanity, there needs to be some way of pawning off the poor traits. There is a desire to find another poor victim and place some of your own vices on them. Which is good for perspective and for working out issues from a distance, but if one never comes to realize they are your own, then they remain an issue and people like Barfelina and Merggy are bound to be your sworn enemy for life.
This topic reminds me of a friend I used to have. He would tell me that it was stupid that I tried to fix things in the world. He never tried to and believed that I thought I was better than him for this. Despite me only mentioning my interest in activism once, he said I would brag about it and act like I was a saint. First of all, I think I have the right here to say that I am no saint. As a matter of fact, I know there's a super cozy spot down under waiting for me (and I don't mean Australia- although, I hope they have a spot for me too!) I am a human being who sees it as my right and my expectation of myself to do what I can to improve the world's situation... along with a billion other people.
Anywho, it finally occurred to me that this young gent was upset at himself for being too lazy (his words) to contribute to any causes. I realized this once he told me his fear was the inability to help someone. This confused me, being that it sounded as if he had no interest in helping anyone. Which was his right and I held no judgment for his actions or lack thereof. It just seemed to be a bit of a contradiction that he mocked me for helping people, and yet, was afraid of not helping people. Was his inaction due to his fear of not doing enough? Not doing everything? Being in a position where things were too severe for him to help? I understood this and I wish I could have shown him that he can do so much, but his denial was so great that I don't believe I could have convinced him to get involved no matter how I tried.
This is precisely a reminder of why we must be aware of ourselves and our psychology and why we do the things we do. Not just because we're nosey and want to feel like we "get" people, but because in order to better ourselves, which I personally believe is an important goal, we have to know ourselves. The question is, how can I beat these obstacles of the mind and allow myself to be the person I want to be and do the things I need to do?
Example 1: Jerboa is very introverted and HATES when Barfelina goes up to the teacher and requests the whole class get As. When Barfelina is successful, the class celebrates. Jerboa is happy about the A, but still mocks and feels resentment towards Barfelina for being a big mouth who always has to be the hero.
Why is Jerboa upset at Barfelina? According to this theory, unconsciously, Jerboa wishes she had the nerve to ask the teacher and wants to be the class hero. She is unaware of her envy and desire, but it comes off as hatred.
Example 2: Merggy watches as Limon gets picked on by some other kids. Merggy is sick of watching Limon take it and not say a word. Merggy thinks Limon is just a pushover and really needs to learn to defend himself. What Merggy forgets is that he too used to be picked on by the very same kids. He never said or did anything about it either.
So... why is Merggy so judgmental about Limon? The theory explains that Merggy is projecting his hurt and anger about himself; his own regrets. Upon seeing Limon do the same thing, he feels transference for these feelings and therefore, negativity towards Limon.
Of course, sometimes we just don't like people and things they do... but in any case, it's always wise to reevaluate where your anger or dislike comes from before accepting your opinion of others. Why is it that humans have such natural urges to remove our own self-judgment and call-outs by placing them on others? It certainly is more pleasant to dislike another rather than to start blaming yourself for your own actions, but how does this innate trait benefit us? It seems counterproductive as far as resolving issues.
I think it's certainly a defense mechanism, as well as an escape. Every person gets to point where you begin to think, "There is NO way I have this many problems...", in order to defend your honour and sanity, there needs to be some way of pawning off the poor traits. There is a desire to find another poor victim and place some of your own vices on them. Which is good for perspective and for working out issues from a distance, but if one never comes to realize they are your own, then they remain an issue and people like Barfelina and Merggy are bound to be your sworn enemy for life.
This topic reminds me of a friend I used to have. He would tell me that it was stupid that I tried to fix things in the world. He never tried to and believed that I thought I was better than him for this. Despite me only mentioning my interest in activism once, he said I would brag about it and act like I was a saint. First of all, I think I have the right here to say that I am no saint. As a matter of fact, I know there's a super cozy spot down under waiting for me (and I don't mean Australia- although, I hope they have a spot for me too!) I am a human being who sees it as my right and my expectation of myself to do what I can to improve the world's situation... along with a billion other people.
Anywho, it finally occurred to me that this young gent was upset at himself for being too lazy (his words) to contribute to any causes. I realized this once he told me his fear was the inability to help someone. This confused me, being that it sounded as if he had no interest in helping anyone. Which was his right and I held no judgment for his actions or lack thereof. It just seemed to be a bit of a contradiction that he mocked me for helping people, and yet, was afraid of not helping people. Was his inaction due to his fear of not doing enough? Not doing everything? Being in a position where things were too severe for him to help? I understood this and I wish I could have shown him that he can do so much, but his denial was so great that I don't believe I could have convinced him to get involved no matter how I tried.
This is precisely a reminder of why we must be aware of ourselves and our psychology and why we do the things we do. Not just because we're nosey and want to feel like we "get" people, but because in order to better ourselves, which I personally believe is an important goal, we have to know ourselves. The question is, how can I beat these obstacles of the mind and allow myself to be the person I want to be and do the things I need to do?
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Look me in the eye,
Look me in the eye and tell me we aren't the same. That we aren't all the same. Your eyes are brown or hazel or grey or turn colours in the Fall or on cloudy days. Your eyelashes are darker or your skin is lighter. You're blind and colour blind and cross-eyed and near-sighted. But aren't we the same? We hear barking and think, "Dog!", and hate waking up on Monday morning, and think the smell of fresh baked cookies is Heavenly, and get songs stuck in our heads.
I've never walked in your shoes or been to your family dinner, but I know how hard it is some days. How difficult happiness is. How wonderful and extraordinary it can be. I know what hurts, and what pleases, and how hot sand can be. Can you look at me or any other individual and not feel connected to them? Not feel a natural bond and need to protect them and feel compassion? Empathy. Sympathy. Guilt. Responsibility. The bubble I thrive inside, my personal thoughts and experiences, they're not so different from yours. I too felt pressure. I know how scary it is to exist on your own. Once your protective figures throw you into the world and expect independence... as well as obedience. How hard you clung to your idols and role models and that individual who made you feel safe from the world. How it felt when that person abandoned you. Rejected you. Betrayed you. Never really cared.
That day it all came true, it could have been me. When he or she proposed and you felt as if your lungs would never recover, you lost all breath. I knew that ecstasy. I felt it when I heard the news. Or was it in the obituaries? Perhaps murder. Even suicide. I drew that last breath alongside you and my throat bled as we screamed. Just as the first breath of Earth's air in a newborn and how you looked into this alien's eyes. My heart sunk and reawakened each uncertain moment. That hand that held yours as you endured your trials. You swore and your god was there. I was overhead watching you embrace your translucent hallucination of hope. That night I dreamed a wish for you, something that will remain forever mine.
Those days we shared without ever knowing. When we blushed in horror at the bra shop, popped our first zit that left a scar next to the one you got from scratching your chicken pox, peeling your tattoo, having a breast removed, reduced, added, sized. The C-section you swore you'd never do over until 18 months later when you created life and watched a life fade in the same room.
Here is the lesson, here is the moral. Here we stop the judgments we have been fed and trained and forced. It's the restart, rebirth and if no one else, I will be the one to give it to you. Look Us in the eye and see yourself. Whatever you want to be.
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