"I wish I had told her I loved her"
"I wish I had visited more often"
"I wish I had been nicer"
"I wish I had forgiven him"
We hear these phrases a lot when someone passes away. We always think we could have done more. If we had done more, the death would be less painful and we would have less regrets. Maybe we'll look like the suffering friend/daughter/lover/etc....
Or, maybe, is that what we just convince ourselves? The opportunity was there all along. Yet, in the end, you didn't follow-through. It's easy to say you wanted to or wish you had, but when you don't, you prove that you didn't want to. Not enough, not when the opportunity was available.
"Visiting more often" is easier and takes up less of your time when the person is gone. You can no longer be called on your bluff. You can no longer be the bad person who didn't visit enough. You don't have to deal with listening to his problems or sit down with her and work through the tough times. Now all you have to do is WISH you had.
You're not a bad person if you have been in this position. Reality is, humans get exhausted. Especially of one another, even the one's we love. Tasks can be daunting or make you feel vulnerable or hurt your pride, and some people, even if they pass away, didn't make it easy.
Wishing leads to guilt and more hurt. It reminds us repeatedly of how we wronged someone. Someone who very well may have done the same thing or made the same choice.
However, what if we could erase these wishes? Or, minimize them?
What if, throughout our lives, we acted like the person we wish we were? A writing professor once said to my class, regarding writing about our personal lives, "Write about someone as if they were dead. Especially your parents." By which she meant, don't limit what your criticism of someone or what stories you tell, out of fear. Fear that they will be embarrassed or angry, or just deny the truth. Write as if you have nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of.
Now, imagine we did that every day of our lives? We did the things we would regret not having done once someone is gone, or we ourselves die?? Imagine how much more we'd all live and love!
Woody Allen is often quoted and despised for speaking of the meaninglessness of life. He's an existentialist to the core! Most recently he was criticized harshly while promoting his new film "Magic in the Moonlight." The following are quotes from Allen that have been selected in many published pieces and attacked:
“I firmly believe, and I don’t say this as a criticism, that life is meaningless, I’m not alone in thinking this — there have been many great minds far, far superior to mine, that have come to that conclusion. And unless somebody can come up with some proof or some example where it’s not, I think it is. I think it’s a lot of sound and fury signifying nothing, and that’s just the way I feel about it.
I’m not saying that one should opt to kill oneself, but the truth of the matter is, when you think of it, every 100 years, there’s a big flush, and everybody in the world is gone. And there’s a new group of people. And that gets flushed, and there’s a new group of people. And this goes on and on interminably — and I don’t want to upset you — toward no particular end, no rhyme or reason.
And the universe, as you know from the best of physicists, is coming apart, and eventually there will be nothing, absolutely nothing. All the great works of Shakespeare, and Beethoven, and Da Vinci, all that will be gone. Now, not for a long time, but shorter than you think, really, because the sun is going to burn out much earlier than the universe vanishes, so you don’t have to wait for the universe to vanish. It’ll happen earlier than that. So all these plays and these symphonies, the height of human achievement, will be gone completely. There’ll be no time, no space, nothing at all. Just zero. That’s why over the years, I’ve never written or made movies about political themes. Because while they do have current critical importance, in the large scheme of things, only the big questions matter, and the answers to those big questions are very, very depressing. What I would recommend — this is the solution that I’ve come up with — is distraction. That’s all you can do! You get up, you can be distracted by your love life, by the baseball game, by the movies, by the nonsense. Can I get my kid into this private school? Will this girl go out with me Saturday night? Can I think of an ending for the third act of my play? Am I going to get the promotion in my office? All this stuff, but in the end the universe burns out. So I think it’s completely meaningless, and to be honest, my characters portray this feeling. Have a good weekend"
I may be the first person to defend Mr. Allen and his somewhat "Debbie Downer" view on life. I think it directly relates to the message I am trying to convey as I write this blog-a-doo today. The reality is, we all are going to be that guy or girl, sooner or later. The one who died after 80, 90, 100 years of distracting themselves and lying to themselves and everyone around them. This is the nature of living, to contradict, lie, and deny the inevitable downfall of us all. However, and here's where you can put down the razor, this is not reason to give up and end it all! Au contraire! Existentialism, the realization of the pointlessness of it all is a lesson in freedom! You have the freedom to change your entire persona and being and life. No one can dictate your life for you. There is no purpose for you to chase or meaning - that just sounds like an elephant in the room. What we learn from people like Woody is that you have NO other reason to be on this Earth, very little affect on what will be in 100, possibly even 20 years, so why fill all that time being a useless jerk? Why dwell and regret and hate? I get the feeling Woody wasn't being quite so cheery about the whole thing, but his message does not have to be as drab and morbid as every single journalist pegged it to be. He didn't tell you what to do with your meaningless life, he just said it was meaningless. Interpret as you may! It could be you who is the downer, after all, if negativity was all you got from this quote.
I also wonder, what would the reaction be if I had made these statements? Heck, I HAVE made these statements. You know what responses I get? "Wow, you're right." ... "You're so morbidly adorable!"
It's all positive. It's all light and agreeable. I will leave you on that note. Think it over. Have a few drinks and talk it over. You're welcome.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Thursday, July 17, 2014
The Downfall
There is never peace.
Whether it be your personal life, social life, or political life... there's an ongoing war. Just when you stop and say, "This is the answer. The solution to this set of problems. Nothing can go wrong." that's when another rocket goes off. You find yourself being pointed at and yelled at and blamed, whether you were the perpetrator or the victim. Oftentimes, we are both.
We live our everyday lives thinking we have things planned out, that the love you take is equal to the love you make.... We have our friends and family and this life that, just, works! That's such a great feeling. Yet, even when things are going so swimmingly, we find our problems. We have this innate urge to find trouble. If challenges were heat-seeking missiles, most of us would light ourselves on fire.
This is not a bad trait or an abnormal one, simply the nature of being alive. Relationships, work, school, travel... whatever your path, there will be, there must be, and there always will be conflict. Sometimes internal, and other times, external. The world can seem to be against your happiness and comfort. Then there are times when everything and its mama is going your way! 'Tis the nature of the beast. The beast is the heartbeat. The beast is the blood flow.
When I travel, I look to find how different cultures fight back and cope, and how they hurt. I think there are three universal answers to any crisis: religion, rebellion, and retaliation.
Religion can be a terrible response. When you live amongst murder and hatred and pain, religion can be a great excuse to pull out a weapon and say, "This is what I was told to do by God/Mohammed/angels!" It can be a cathartic solution to some. Sickening as that may be, this is how some groups/individuals find their peace. That is not to say, on the other hand, that religion has no healing powers. I don't believe it works in a metaphysical way, but a very natural and, even, scientific way. It can soothe masses of people with its focus on inner-peace and mantras. Gospel and hymns can be very positive influences on the body and mind. Heck, you can go into a large, beautiful room and speak of everything that is pressing you at the moment. Whether it be sins or challenges, those doors welcome you and allow you to release. Bullets from the mouth to the sturdy walls, instead of steel bullets to the chest.
Rebellion is a risky choice, as well. Rebellion is absolutely necessary. It is how the world continues to thrive. It's how cultures and civilizations and any possible system you can think of in history made it... or didn't. Rebellion in most societies is what set the people free from fascism, dictatorship, injustice, and lack of general righteousness. Methods vary, however. Protests, rallies, demos, parties, lectures, sit-downs, stand-ups, starvation, screaming, silence, bombing, hugging... endless options are available for those who wish to send a message. The simplest form of expressing dissent is found everywhere: graffiti.
Graffiti is illegal in most places, of course, so what finer way to express frustrations and qualms with "the man"? Realistically, most of these vandals aren't in the game to be heroes or change the world. They just want their name "Homieslize bizznezz" on some wall. This is their claim to fame, their art for the purpose of posterity.
Then you have the artists who use their art and words to inspire youth and every onlooker who may eye the work. Words like "Eat the Rich" and "Revolt" are found in every country across the world.
I find it incredible how methods and messages such as these can reach the entire world, yet we still all see ourselves as so different from one another.
Retaliation kind of sums up both these options, as well as every other response. It is the most brutal option and has the most victims. We are all swayed by the beautiful model of what's "fair", what's justice, what's "getting even". Revenge! The code of Hammurabi was one of the earliest displays of this. Law #196. "If a man destroy the eye of another man, they shall destroy his eye. If one break a man's bone, they shall break his bone. If one destroy the eye of a freeman or break the bone of a freeman he shall pay one mana of silver. If one destroy the eye of a man's slave or break a bone of a man's slave he shall pay one-half his price."
Those who have been wronged salivate for revenge. But who or what is the true moral compass? Does anyone have the purity to say others deserve punishment? It seems easiest to cast stones upon others when we ourselves know we are deserving of them ourselves.
I may not have been caught committing my sin, but it is almost certain I have committed, at very least, one act of poor judgment, myself.
This topic gets into an entirely different philosophical conundrum, however. Involving the legal system and what have you.... All that aside, retaliation is probably the oldest form of catharsis, along with other emotional divulgences.
On a personal note, what this is all relates to in my own life is how I've seen my own obstacles turn from hurt into one (or more) of the three Rs. Recently, I came to a high point in my life. Details aside, things were happening for me that I did not think possible. Good things. Great things! I had an inkling it would not last forever - that was when, only a couple months later, all that was good began to dissolve. I'm not going to claim it was an utter travesty and my soul will never recover, but things began to roll downhill at an unexpectedly quick pace.
As far as I know, that's done. The boulder has hit a ledge and is resting for now. My reaction is still heating up, though. I don't see religion coming into play here. I won't assume karma will take care of things, nor will any force make everything all better again. I can't rely on that. Rebellion? I suppose I could fight my case and reveal the truth and hurt everyone involved. It won't fix anything, but it might give me a sense of accomplishing something. Of standing up for myself... maybe? Or, I could retaliate.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Is anybody listening!?
Have you, you, reader, been following the Cecily McMillan case? Most people have not. Most people don't know about it and its significance to every individual - as women, as Americans, and/or as humans.
Let's start with the basics - who is Cecily McMillan and what is her deal?
Cecily McMillan is a 25-year-old individual. She has been politically active for over a decade — most notably in the Democratic Socialists for America, the anti-Scott Walker mobilization, and Occupy Wall Street. She is a New School graduate. On March 17, 2012, Cecily attended a St. Patrick's day party. Not a protest, mind you, simply a day of celebration and fun. Before her outing, she dropped by our beloved Zuccotti Park, just to quickly pick up a friend. Soon after, police evacuated the park. As Cecily complied and departed, she was sexually assaulted by a cop. She was seized from behind and her breast was grabbed with such force, that a large bruise was left (there is photographic evidence of this.) Understandably, Cecily was startled by the action and her arm flew back, into the face of the cop; her attacker. She was then thrown to the ground where she was kicked and beaten to the point of seizures. She was then denied medical care.
Some may say this is a biased storytelling, that there is always another side to every story... and, maybe so, but the case that followed these actions put great strain on the belief in this concept. It did not allow for her side to be fairly told. Unfortunately, Cecily's case turned her into the attacker, she was not a victim in the least. Cecily is being accused of Felony Assault of a Police Officer. This is a charge that carries up to seven years imprisonment. In the two years that have followed these terrible events, Cecily's life has been reduced to continuous trials and a withering sense of humanity, strength, and justice.
What is my personal take on this whole situation? I think it may be rather obvious in what I've said so far how I feel about what took place and what Cecily is currently facing. I don't have the precise word for it. Sadly, in the state of today's world, I am not shocked by it. I have conflicting feelings. While I am devastated this poor woman has to deal with the trauma of sexual assault and physical damage, as well as having to face Riker's Island and whatever horrors she must, I am also rather glad. I am glad to see this case has become a staple point in the Occupy world. That the issues are being faced and fought. Cecily is not being left behind in the dust, there are people attending all her trials (100 Centre Street) and posting updates nearly daily. I truly hope this isn't simply a spectacle for more "rebels" and "radicals" to get behind in order to cast out and despise cops and courts and America. I think it has potential to be a revolutionary case. The kind protesting and disobedience cannot avoid, but through a wise jury and an effective judge, the judicial, political, and social world can be changed drastically. New insight and concerns will be risen and maybe good can still come of it.
As of today, May 19th, 2014 at 9.30 AM, Cecily has been sentenced to 90 days in prison and 5 years probation.
For more information, updates, ways to donate, contact Cecily, and/or help the cause, check out: http://justiceforcecily.com/
Let's start with the basics - who is Cecily McMillan and what is her deal?
Cecily McMillan is a 25-year-old individual. She has been politically active for over a decade — most notably in the Democratic Socialists for America, the anti-Scott Walker mobilization, and Occupy Wall Street. She is a New School graduate. On March 17, 2012, Cecily attended a St. Patrick's day party. Not a protest, mind you, simply a day of celebration and fun. Before her outing, she dropped by our beloved Zuccotti Park, just to quickly pick up a friend. Soon after, police evacuated the park. As Cecily complied and departed, she was sexually assaulted by a cop. She was seized from behind and her breast was grabbed with such force, that a large bruise was left (there is photographic evidence of this.) Understandably, Cecily was startled by the action and her arm flew back, into the face of the cop; her attacker. She was then thrown to the ground where she was kicked and beaten to the point of seizures. She was then denied medical care.
Some may say this is a biased storytelling, that there is always another side to every story... and, maybe so, but the case that followed these actions put great strain on the belief in this concept. It did not allow for her side to be fairly told. Unfortunately, Cecily's case turned her into the attacker, she was not a victim in the least. Cecily is being accused of Felony Assault of a Police Officer. This is a charge that carries up to seven years imprisonment. In the two years that have followed these terrible events, Cecily's life has been reduced to continuous trials and a withering sense of humanity, strength, and justice.
What is my personal take on this whole situation? I think it may be rather obvious in what I've said so far how I feel about what took place and what Cecily is currently facing. I don't have the precise word for it. Sadly, in the state of today's world, I am not shocked by it. I have conflicting feelings. While I am devastated this poor woman has to deal with the trauma of sexual assault and physical damage, as well as having to face Riker's Island and whatever horrors she must, I am also rather glad. I am glad to see this case has become a staple point in the Occupy world. That the issues are being faced and fought. Cecily is not being left behind in the dust, there are people attending all her trials (100 Centre Street) and posting updates nearly daily. I truly hope this isn't simply a spectacle for more "rebels" and "radicals" to get behind in order to cast out and despise cops and courts and America. I think it has potential to be a revolutionary case. The kind protesting and disobedience cannot avoid, but through a wise jury and an effective judge, the judicial, political, and social world can be changed drastically. New insight and concerns will be risen and maybe good can still come of it.
As of today, May 19th, 2014 at 9.30 AM, Cecily has been sentenced to 90 days in prison and 5 years probation.
For more information, updates, ways to donate, contact Cecily, and/or help the cause, check out: http://justiceforcecily.com/
Friday, May 16, 2014
Renaissance
I lost it today. Completely and totally lost it. And I have never been prouder of myself.
When I was 16 years old, I was at the pinnacle of my loneliness. I had just moved to New Jersey, away from the people I had know my entire life. I was alone and sad all the time.
At that point, a gentleman suitor came into my life. It didn't occur to me at the time, but at 25, he was a pedophile. He didn't have any bad intentions, we just spoke on the phone. We only hung out in person a couple times, actually. Still, he was chasing someone 9 years younger - a minor.
Eventually, he ended up giving me a ring. It was a tiny silver ring with an itty bitty diamond, a custom shape, and 2 tiny rubies. It was sort of his way of "proposing". I don't think he intended to get married, though. He just wanted us to run away to a forest, have a million kids, and never communicate with anyone ever again.
I accepted.
I didn't intend to marry him, I didn't intend to run away with him, and I definitely didn't intend to abandon my family. But, at 16, this cool musician wanting me was flattering. I had no other guys in my life, so, heck, I figured I'd get my kicks from this love-hypnotized fella.
For MANY obvious reasons, nothing came of this. When I "broke it off", he threatened to kill himself. He made all kinds of claims. Finally, he moved to Florida and I didn't hear from him again (not until 5 years later.)
However, that skimpy ring remained on my finger. I switched which finger it was on, and it even went missing once or twice. However, inevitably, it would always show up again. I would make sure it did and I figured it would never go away. I clung to it and all it represented. When I was lonely, it reminded me that once, someone wanted nothing else in the world but me. It reminded me of an exciting part of my life. This was THE ring.
I have had many "rings" throughout my life. Sometimes it was art or dolls or whatever other assorted items that were mementos of good things that happened in my life. In some part of my mind, I recently realized, every time something good happened, I believed it was the last. I held onto unhealthy friendships and held onto useless STUFF because I didn't think I'd have another opportunity. If I lost these things and people, I would end up with nothing. For better or for worse, I had preferred the things I didn't want over having nothing. I felt that was the best I was going to get. It was all I deserved.
Recently, this has changed for me. Following the decision to become a regular at a bar near my college, my life began to evolve. For many, frequenting a bar becomes their downfall. For me, it has become my cocoon. I enter a timid 16 year old with no friends and masses of loneliness. Throughout the night, I open up to new people, new friendships, and a newfound empowerment. The friends I have made there have given me confidence in my ability to like and be liked. Even my outside relationships have improved. Previously, I assumed people were all the same, the moment I let them down or wasn't perfect, they'd run away. Turns out, not all people are this way. The people in my life right now are true and beautiful, loving people.
I've learned to tell people "no", and not to put up with abuse. This has led to me ridding of toxic relationships and discovering who the people I really want in my life are. Because of this, I don't find myself anxiously canceling plans or avoiding people. I have a whole cast, albeit, a crazy cast of friends I can adore. I absolutely cannot wait to see them and invite them places and be friends with them. It's a new sensation for me. I feel like a young girl whose discovered her first crush.
I had no idea I could be this happy with people. I always assumed I was naturally anti-social and introverted. I was destine to be alone and sad. Turns out, I was just wasting my efforts on the wrong people. My mind and body knew better, and all these years I've been ignoring the signs!
It's ridiculous and corny and almost unbelievable.
Honestly, I brag about having these friends! I mention them and include them every chance I get. No matter their vices and challenges, I am so proud of them. They each have their difficulties. We all do. But now I know I can have my flaws and they can have theirs, and we will still have this magical, incredible thing called 'friendship'.
I feel as if I've been given a second chance in life. A chance to be happy. Maybe it will last this time.
Sometimes I worry it's just a mania, and any day now, I'll fall down again and lose them all. Or, sometimes I think, I just haven't made the wrong mistake yet. I'll say or do the wrong thing and mess it all up again.
Something else makes me doubt that, though. I am really optimistic about everything right now.
I don't know if these friendships will last forever. Every relationship has its strain and can go wrong, but they also may not. I may be friends with these people for the rest of my life. I might watch them each get married and have children and I might be called "Auntie" or, at least be invited to his/her birthday parties. I'll be part of a group, a person with a definition. Not only remembered by my family for being their daughter or sister or niece, but loved by people who chose to love me and let me in their life. People who saw past my "quirkiness" and the way I blush at the most ridiculous things. The people who know what it feels like to love your dog more than anyone else in the world. People who will dance with you, even in the middle of the street or hug you and tease you, knowing you'll tease them right back. Not because they have to or because they're trying to play the part. Instead, because they are happy to see you and you are happy to see them, and you just can't be around these people without feeling a tingling in your heart. The only possible way to release the joy you feel is to laugh and smile and take pictures (as evidence that this is really your life - that this is really your experience! This is really happening to ME!)
Today, I lost that ring. I took it off at the gym, noticed an hour later, and didn't care enough to go back. I am realizing now how that ring would drive me nuts. I would fidget with it, it would slide around, it made it difficult to weight-lift and play guitar... it was constantly getting in the way. I kept it on because I was scared to let it go. I didn't know how I'd feel or what I'd do without it on my finger.
Now, I lost it... and I have no regrets.
When I was 16 years old, I was at the pinnacle of my loneliness. I had just moved to New Jersey, away from the people I had know my entire life. I was alone and sad all the time.
At that point, a gentleman suitor came into my life. It didn't occur to me at the time, but at 25, he was a pedophile. He didn't have any bad intentions, we just spoke on the phone. We only hung out in person a couple times, actually. Still, he was chasing someone 9 years younger - a minor.
Eventually, he ended up giving me a ring. It was a tiny silver ring with an itty bitty diamond, a custom shape, and 2 tiny rubies. It was sort of his way of "proposing". I don't think he intended to get married, though. He just wanted us to run away to a forest, have a million kids, and never communicate with anyone ever again.
I accepted.
I didn't intend to marry him, I didn't intend to run away with him, and I definitely didn't intend to abandon my family. But, at 16, this cool musician wanting me was flattering. I had no other guys in my life, so, heck, I figured I'd get my kicks from this love-hypnotized fella.
For MANY obvious reasons, nothing came of this. When I "broke it off", he threatened to kill himself. He made all kinds of claims. Finally, he moved to Florida and I didn't hear from him again (not until 5 years later.)
However, that skimpy ring remained on my finger. I switched which finger it was on, and it even went missing once or twice. However, inevitably, it would always show up again. I would make sure it did and I figured it would never go away. I clung to it and all it represented. When I was lonely, it reminded me that once, someone wanted nothing else in the world but me. It reminded me of an exciting part of my life. This was THE ring.
I have had many "rings" throughout my life. Sometimes it was art or dolls or whatever other assorted items that were mementos of good things that happened in my life. In some part of my mind, I recently realized, every time something good happened, I believed it was the last. I held onto unhealthy friendships and held onto useless STUFF because I didn't think I'd have another opportunity. If I lost these things and people, I would end up with nothing. For better or for worse, I had preferred the things I didn't want over having nothing. I felt that was the best I was going to get. It was all I deserved.
Recently, this has changed for me. Following the decision to become a regular at a bar near my college, my life began to evolve. For many, frequenting a bar becomes their downfall. For me, it has become my cocoon. I enter a timid 16 year old with no friends and masses of loneliness. Throughout the night, I open up to new people, new friendships, and a newfound empowerment. The friends I have made there have given me confidence in my ability to like and be liked. Even my outside relationships have improved. Previously, I assumed people were all the same, the moment I let them down or wasn't perfect, they'd run away. Turns out, not all people are this way. The people in my life right now are true and beautiful, loving people.
I've learned to tell people "no", and not to put up with abuse. This has led to me ridding of toxic relationships and discovering who the people I really want in my life are. Because of this, I don't find myself anxiously canceling plans or avoiding people. I have a whole cast, albeit, a crazy cast of friends I can adore. I absolutely cannot wait to see them and invite them places and be friends with them. It's a new sensation for me. I feel like a young girl whose discovered her first crush.
I had no idea I could be this happy with people. I always assumed I was naturally anti-social and introverted. I was destine to be alone and sad. Turns out, I was just wasting my efforts on the wrong people. My mind and body knew better, and all these years I've been ignoring the signs!
It's ridiculous and corny and almost unbelievable.
Honestly, I brag about having these friends! I mention them and include them every chance I get. No matter their vices and challenges, I am so proud of them. They each have their difficulties. We all do. But now I know I can have my flaws and they can have theirs, and we will still have this magical, incredible thing called 'friendship'.
I feel as if I've been given a second chance in life. A chance to be happy. Maybe it will last this time.
Sometimes I worry it's just a mania, and any day now, I'll fall down again and lose them all. Or, sometimes I think, I just haven't made the wrong mistake yet. I'll say or do the wrong thing and mess it all up again.
Something else makes me doubt that, though. I am really optimistic about everything right now.
I don't know if these friendships will last forever. Every relationship has its strain and can go wrong, but they also may not. I may be friends with these people for the rest of my life. I might watch them each get married and have children and I might be called "Auntie" or, at least be invited to his/her birthday parties. I'll be part of a group, a person with a definition. Not only remembered by my family for being their daughter or sister or niece, but loved by people who chose to love me and let me in their life. People who saw past my "quirkiness" and the way I blush at the most ridiculous things. The people who know what it feels like to love your dog more than anyone else in the world. People who will dance with you, even in the middle of the street or hug you and tease you, knowing you'll tease them right back. Not because they have to or because they're trying to play the part. Instead, because they are happy to see you and you are happy to see them, and you just can't be around these people without feeling a tingling in your heart. The only possible way to release the joy you feel is to laugh and smile and take pictures (as evidence that this is really your life - that this is really your experience! This is really happening to ME!)
Today, I lost that ring. I took it off at the gym, noticed an hour later, and didn't care enough to go back. I am realizing now how that ring would drive me nuts. I would fidget with it, it would slide around, it made it difficult to weight-lift and play guitar... it was constantly getting in the way. I kept it on because I was scared to let it go. I didn't know how I'd feel or what I'd do without it on my finger.
Now, I lost it... and I have no regrets.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Whining is for whine...rs?
At what point in one's friendship with someone, can you say, "Stop complaining!" ?
Is there a point where, no matter how much despair and grief they're in, you're allowed to lose some sympathy for someone because they complain so much?
This question is not about any ONE particular person, I should mention. I just know way too many boxes o' whine. And, that's not to say they don't have reason to do it (in their mind...), but at some point, it becomes clear that their self-pity party is not helping anyone! Oftentimes, it just pushes people away. Of course, then the remaining friends of said whiner just have to hear about how Pity-Patty's life is so terrible, she even just lost a friend. Poooooor Pity-Patty.
The thing is, I think people who complain loudly are what I shall refer to as, "Extroverted Beggars". That sounds a lot worse than what I really mean. I am talking about those people who tell everyone (or just one person repeatedly), how sad they are. How hard their life is. How their life is dramatic and movie-esque, and they are the tragic hero. These people, really, are just hoping someone will come along and fix them.
Either that, or they really love the attention and pity. Not that they'd ever admit that. Understandable.
The opposite type is the "Introverted Seeker". This person has all that pain and trauma, too, but they are terrified of telling anyone. They just soak in their misery. Sometimes it can be hard for these types to deal with Extroverted Beggars. This is for several reasons. Often, the ones who speak up get more people's support and love and help. While the Seeker, who would love those things, sits back and silently envies others' ability to speak about their issues. The Beggars will claim to be alone and have it much worse and say everything bad happens to them, meanwhile, they are completely downplaying the hurt and difficulties of the Seeker. This can be hard to deal with.
Of course, it goes both ways. While the Beggar does love some aspect of the thrill or the adventure or the attention, part of them wishes they could be like the Seeker. Or, how they perceive the Seeker and their "simple and undramatic" life. Also, the Beggar's actions do catch up with them. A chain reaction of bad or difficult things or people saying or doing the wrong thing come along, and the Beggar's life ends up actually getting harder. It become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Which, both, makes the Beggar satisfied and miserable. Especially if and when the Beggar gets tired of the excitement and hopes to settle down into the life of the Seeker.
Anyway, you get the idea... I'm bored of writing about this.
Is there a point where, no matter how much despair and grief they're in, you're allowed to lose some sympathy for someone because they complain so much?
This question is not about any ONE particular person, I should mention. I just know way too many boxes o' whine. And, that's not to say they don't have reason to do it (in their mind...), but at some point, it becomes clear that their self-pity party is not helping anyone! Oftentimes, it just pushes people away. Of course, then the remaining friends of said whiner just have to hear about how Pity-Patty's life is so terrible, she even just lost a friend. Poooooor Pity-Patty.
The thing is, I think people who complain loudly are what I shall refer to as, "Extroverted Beggars". That sounds a lot worse than what I really mean. I am talking about those people who tell everyone (or just one person repeatedly), how sad they are. How hard their life is. How their life is dramatic and movie-esque, and they are the tragic hero. These people, really, are just hoping someone will come along and fix them.
Either that, or they really love the attention and pity. Not that they'd ever admit that. Understandable.
The opposite type is the "Introverted Seeker". This person has all that pain and trauma, too, but they are terrified of telling anyone. They just soak in their misery. Sometimes it can be hard for these types to deal with Extroverted Beggars. This is for several reasons. Often, the ones who speak up get more people's support and love and help. While the Seeker, who would love those things, sits back and silently envies others' ability to speak about their issues. The Beggars will claim to be alone and have it much worse and say everything bad happens to them, meanwhile, they are completely downplaying the hurt and difficulties of the Seeker. This can be hard to deal with.
Of course, it goes both ways. While the Beggar does love some aspect of the thrill or the adventure or the attention, part of them wishes they could be like the Seeker. Or, how they perceive the Seeker and their "simple and undramatic" life. Also, the Beggar's actions do catch up with them. A chain reaction of bad or difficult things or people saying or doing the wrong thing come along, and the Beggar's life ends up actually getting harder. It become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Which, both, makes the Beggar satisfied and miserable. Especially if and when the Beggar gets tired of the excitement and hopes to settle down into the life of the Seeker.
Anyway, you get the idea... I'm bored of writing about this.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Immigration... 64... no repeats... or hesitations
Preface: Recently, a few people, yes, more than one, asked me why I stopped protesting, or, when I will start again. I am not sure how it was asked, as it was all written-word, but I worry it was a challenge. I imagined them asking through pursed lips while doing a weird, ghetto head move. As if I was a fair-weather protestor, a giver-upper. I assure you, I'm not. Activism is my nature. At 14 years old, I started sending around petitions to teachers, friends, and family. I would raise money and get signatures constantly.
Even in my personal life, I would protest anything I didn't agree with within my family. Hunger strikes, speaking strikes, lists of hundreds of reasons a rule should be changed or I should be allowed to do something. I'm stubborn, it's my nature. I get what I want; what the world needs.
Today I went to a rally. A rally for the Dream Act. A rally against discrimination. A rally where immigrants, their children, and their friends spoke out and told their stories. Some of their stories were truly heart-wrenching. These individuals, humans of the same Earth, as the rest of us, have had to go through so much pain and so many obstacles in order to survive.
Here are some photos I took at the event. Mind you, I did not take photos of the poster that spelled 'illegal' wrong... I'm biased and some people are stupid. What can you do?
I am making this brief for two reasons. One is that I am not directly involved or affected by this cause. It means a lot to me, I care about every individual and their issues, but this seems like something these people have to speak out against. I am just here as a background voice to support them. I have NO idea what it's like to be them and in their position. I am not so stupid as to act as if I do. Second, there is something that arose, closer to home, that I wish to discuss. So, here you are:
The other action that I feel needs to be brought up is the act of giving. I realize I've covered the issues of kindness and goodness and blerp-blerp, being a decent human being before. I don't think I've stressed the importance of every individual, though. I get tired of seeing every believer fighting for the same causes, then moving on when the next big thing comes along. People tend to forget what they believed in. They forget the everyday person they are.
I am honoured to be close friends with a gentleman a few states away. We've been friends for several years now and he's always been nothing but kind and patient with me. We truly care about one another. However, having followed his dream and passion of the musician's life, he now has regrets. He is now at the point near starvation due to money issues. He jokes about his hunger and poor nutrition, because he knows, complaining and misery never solved anyone's problems. Might as well carry a smile as much as possible. We are aware of his difficulties, though. His family, his friends, myself... we all know he is in trouble.
A few years back, I tried to get donations to send him. I tried to reach out to social media in order to collect for this man's wellness and survival. It went ignored. Disheartening. Finally, I decided it was the day to help a fellow in need. I could not offer much, as I am dependent on others for funding, but just when I was tempted to order food for myself (something I never do), I decided instead to order a meal for him on GrubHub. I asked his address and had it sent to him. I kept asking him, "You'll be home in an hour, right? Not going anywhere? Don't move!" I joked, but I was extremely excited to hear of his meal coming. An hour later, he sends me a message. He is nearly in tears. The food arrived and he was absolutely astonished and overjoyed. He kept asking how he could repay me, as he sat and ate his first real meal in who knows how long.
I told him all I wanted in return was a photo of him enjoying the food. He did not have a proper camera or phone to take the photo, but he sent me a blurry photo. Seeing his smile as he sat with the meal made my heart crumble and then melt and then evaporate. I was rather hungry myself at this point, but seeing this photo was a thousand times more fulfilling than any meal. Not just because it was a man I cared about being taken care of, but because he is a human being. After all the difficulties in life and the people who let him down, he was finally being given the care he needed. Even if it was only tiny. For a little over $20, both of our evenings were just a tad more beautiful.
Why did I feel it was so important to share this story? Because, like I said, we forget to take care of people. We forget the joy of it. We think of the money or the time we need for ourselves, or the big story we want to explore, but we forget these moments. They are more healing than yoga or vitamins or anything we are so certain will cure us. If you're really looking to find happiness and youth and live longer, these actions will save you. Don't forget them the next time someone is fundraising or inviting you to a charity event, or someone asks for a little help. It might just be the most gratifying thing you ever do.
Even in my personal life, I would protest anything I didn't agree with within my family. Hunger strikes, speaking strikes, lists of hundreds of reasons a rule should be changed or I should be allowed to do something. I'm stubborn, it's my nature. I get what I want; what the world needs.
Today I went to a rally. A rally for the Dream Act. A rally against discrimination. A rally where immigrants, their children, and their friends spoke out and told their stories. Some of their stories were truly heart-wrenching. These individuals, humans of the same Earth, as the rest of us, have had to go through so much pain and so many obstacles in order to survive.
Here are some photos I took at the event. Mind you, I did not take photos of the poster that spelled 'illegal' wrong... I'm biased and some people are stupid. What can you do?
I am making this brief for two reasons. One is that I am not directly involved or affected by this cause. It means a lot to me, I care about every individual and their issues, but this seems like something these people have to speak out against. I am just here as a background voice to support them. I have NO idea what it's like to be them and in their position. I am not so stupid as to act as if I do. Second, there is something that arose, closer to home, that I wish to discuss. So, here you are:
The other action that I feel needs to be brought up is the act of giving. I realize I've covered the issues of kindness and goodness and blerp-blerp, being a decent human being before. I don't think I've stressed the importance of every individual, though. I get tired of seeing every believer fighting for the same causes, then moving on when the next big thing comes along. People tend to forget what they believed in. They forget the everyday person they are.
I am honoured to be close friends with a gentleman a few states away. We've been friends for several years now and he's always been nothing but kind and patient with me. We truly care about one another. However, having followed his dream and passion of the musician's life, he now has regrets. He is now at the point near starvation due to money issues. He jokes about his hunger and poor nutrition, because he knows, complaining and misery never solved anyone's problems. Might as well carry a smile as much as possible. We are aware of his difficulties, though. His family, his friends, myself... we all know he is in trouble.
A few years back, I tried to get donations to send him. I tried to reach out to social media in order to collect for this man's wellness and survival. It went ignored. Disheartening. Finally, I decided it was the day to help a fellow in need. I could not offer much, as I am dependent on others for funding, but just when I was tempted to order food for myself (something I never do), I decided instead to order a meal for him on GrubHub. I asked his address and had it sent to him. I kept asking him, "You'll be home in an hour, right? Not going anywhere? Don't move!" I joked, but I was extremely excited to hear of his meal coming. An hour later, he sends me a message. He is nearly in tears. The food arrived and he was absolutely astonished and overjoyed. He kept asking how he could repay me, as he sat and ate his first real meal in who knows how long.
I told him all I wanted in return was a photo of him enjoying the food. He did not have a proper camera or phone to take the photo, but he sent me a blurry photo. Seeing his smile as he sat with the meal made my heart crumble and then melt and then evaporate. I was rather hungry myself at this point, but seeing this photo was a thousand times more fulfilling than any meal. Not just because it was a man I cared about being taken care of, but because he is a human being. After all the difficulties in life and the people who let him down, he was finally being given the care he needed. Even if it was only tiny. For a little over $20, both of our evenings were just a tad more beautiful.
Why did I feel it was so important to share this story? Because, like I said, we forget to take care of people. We forget the joy of it. We think of the money or the time we need for ourselves, or the big story we want to explore, but we forget these moments. They are more healing than yoga or vitamins or anything we are so certain will cure us. If you're really looking to find happiness and youth and live longer, these actions will save you. Don't forget them the next time someone is fundraising or inviting you to a charity event, or someone asks for a little help. It might just be the most gratifying thing you ever do.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Ch-ch-ch-changes
When I was about 16 or 17, I, like most teens at that age, thought nothing would be cooler than my parents going away on vacation without me. Leaving me in the house with a couple hundred bucks, just like in the movies. I'd have a party, order food, and just be a downright fool for a week or two.
That never happened in my household. That would NEVER happen in my household. To this day, my dad hates leaving me at home alone when I visit. To be fair, I am pretty destructive...
Nonetheless, I wanted this so badly. Not that I had enough friends, or enough "cool music", or enough non-awkwardness to have said house party, but the possibility was amazing to me. Reality was, they didn't go away, we all didn't go away that often, in general. That was what I wanted, though.
Today, I know what an idiot I was. How ignorant and naive and clueless!
I haven't lived with my parents for about 6.5 years now and it turns out, I'm not very good at taking care of myself. My eating habits are bizarre and lacking, for one. It turns out, if I try to live on only peanut butter for a week, I'm not going to feel great. You get to the point where you are willing to kill a baby for a carrot or a little bit of an apple. Anything but peanut butter.
I also don't really know how to do laundry. No one ever told me. That and I never listened when roommates and random people tried. ahem. So, I've given up and just hand-wash stuff. It's probably dirtier when I'm done, but no one has to know.
I will admit, I am pretty proud of how well I've kept my dog and all my foster pets alive throughout the years. No dog or kitten or puppy has died under my watch! Feed, walk, mush face: check! I've got it down.
My latest realization of just how bad I am at all this life stuff was when I sliced my finger. My mom bought me a brand new kitchen knife since I've been attempting to cook more lately. The package said it would never become dull, and it wasn't kidding. Each time it slices through my skin just as seamlessly. Usually it's not too bad, just a tip of a thumb, or a paper cut to the ol' pointer finger. However, this slice was pretty bad. I wasn't sure it would stop bleeding. An hour and countless paper towel sheets later, the bleeding subsided. Only due to putting pressure on the wound. I don't own any antibacterial stuff or band-aids or even tape. So, now it just sits on my finger looking all bloody, purpleish, and swollen. Just looking at me. Judging me. Reminding me that I am a failure.
A friend bought me gauntlets in an attempt to keep me from harming myself more, but a girl doesn't always remember to bring her gauntlets into the kitchen! Besides, I thought maybe I had outgrown those shenanigans in the past 4 days. Maybe my reflexes and coordination had improved. Alas, the blood all over my kitchen sink says otherwise.
You see, the slicing and dicing of my flesh wouldn't be so intolerable, and probably not-so-common if I still had my mommy standing there annoying me. "Don't hold that with your fingers, use a fork!" "Don't slice towards yourself!" "Don't chop your fingers off!" All these silly rules that now actually apply.
I'm not saying I want to live with my parents again. I know that would be a horrible and terrible and miserable idea (for them, mostly...) I just wish, well, first of all, I wish I hadn't used up all my Snoopy band-aids playing a game of 'Sticky Fingers' last week. I also wish I knew how to do this whole thing. This mature, growing-up, independence mishegas. I realize no one knows off the bat, and no one is doing it perfectly, but GOD, if I could just stop burning and cutting myself, I'd be ever so grateful. If I could learn how to organize things NOT on my kitchen table. If I knew that there is a reason they make separate washing stuff for wood and tile floors. If I knew WHAT they called washing stuff! Detergent? No... Soap? Maybe, but I don't think so. Spray bottle stuff that we don't drink? That'll do.
I'm a hot mess and I'm not even sure what a hot mess is. I think I fit the description, though.
What is the solution? Handbooks, directions, instructions, not forgetting the gauntlets? I suppose those might help. If I didn't misplace the directions... or if I have the time to read them. Meanwhile, I'll just keep playing along. Pretending to not be clueless. Acting like I know what's going on and each mistake is a "one time thing". Eventually, I have to catch on, right? Neurons and stuff, right? That's what we have them for!
I need some of them animal instincts to kick in. I don't how to boot those suckers up. Kicking sometimes fixes stuff. I'll give that a try.
Wait. Nope. Tried that once. Ended up having my toe go under my foot, the SAME foot, and crack the bone. Doctors laughed at me. Let's not experience that again. How about we maintain just a wee bit of pride, eh? Can we do that for a few more years? Let's try, champ!
Hey, I'm just a programmed being in some flesh. I'm here to be molded and learned real good. I'll take the punches as they come. If that means losing a few digits or an eyeball, so be it. If I have to sacrifice some babies along the way, I can dig it. Although, any other tidbits of life advice are appreciated...
That never happened in my household. That would NEVER happen in my household. To this day, my dad hates leaving me at home alone when I visit. To be fair, I am pretty destructive...
Nonetheless, I wanted this so badly. Not that I had enough friends, or enough "cool music", or enough non-awkwardness to have said house party, but the possibility was amazing to me. Reality was, they didn't go away, we all didn't go away that often, in general. That was what I wanted, though.
Today, I know what an idiot I was. How ignorant and naive and clueless!
I haven't lived with my parents for about 6.5 years now and it turns out, I'm not very good at taking care of myself. My eating habits are bizarre and lacking, for one. It turns out, if I try to live on only peanut butter for a week, I'm not going to feel great. You get to the point where you are willing to kill a baby for a carrot or a little bit of an apple. Anything but peanut butter.
I also don't really know how to do laundry. No one ever told me. That and I never listened when roommates and random people tried. ahem. So, I've given up and just hand-wash stuff. It's probably dirtier when I'm done, but no one has to know.
I will admit, I am pretty proud of how well I've kept my dog and all my foster pets alive throughout the years. No dog or kitten or puppy has died under my watch! Feed, walk, mush face: check! I've got it down.
My latest realization of just how bad I am at all this life stuff was when I sliced my finger. My mom bought me a brand new kitchen knife since I've been attempting to cook more lately. The package said it would never become dull, and it wasn't kidding. Each time it slices through my skin just as seamlessly. Usually it's not too bad, just a tip of a thumb, or a paper cut to the ol' pointer finger. However, this slice was pretty bad. I wasn't sure it would stop bleeding. An hour and countless paper towel sheets later, the bleeding subsided. Only due to putting pressure on the wound. I don't own any antibacterial stuff or band-aids or even tape. So, now it just sits on my finger looking all bloody, purpleish, and swollen. Just looking at me. Judging me. Reminding me that I am a failure.
A friend bought me gauntlets in an attempt to keep me from harming myself more, but a girl doesn't always remember to bring her gauntlets into the kitchen! Besides, I thought maybe I had outgrown those shenanigans in the past 4 days. Maybe my reflexes and coordination had improved. Alas, the blood all over my kitchen sink says otherwise.
You see, the slicing and dicing of my flesh wouldn't be so intolerable, and probably not-so-common if I still had my mommy standing there annoying me. "Don't hold that with your fingers, use a fork!" "Don't slice towards yourself!" "Don't chop your fingers off!" All these silly rules that now actually apply.
I'm not saying I want to live with my parents again. I know that would be a horrible and terrible and miserable idea (for them, mostly...) I just wish, well, first of all, I wish I hadn't used up all my Snoopy band-aids playing a game of 'Sticky Fingers' last week. I also wish I knew how to do this whole thing. This mature, growing-up, independence mishegas. I realize no one knows off the bat, and no one is doing it perfectly, but GOD, if I could just stop burning and cutting myself, I'd be ever so grateful. If I could learn how to organize things NOT on my kitchen table. If I knew that there is a reason they make separate washing stuff for wood and tile floors. If I knew WHAT they called washing stuff! Detergent? No... Soap? Maybe, but I don't think so. Spray bottle stuff that we don't drink? That'll do.
I'm a hot mess and I'm not even sure what a hot mess is. I think I fit the description, though.
What is the solution? Handbooks, directions, instructions, not forgetting the gauntlets? I suppose those might help. If I didn't misplace the directions... or if I have the time to read them. Meanwhile, I'll just keep playing along. Pretending to not be clueless. Acting like I know what's going on and each mistake is a "one time thing". Eventually, I have to catch on, right? Neurons and stuff, right? That's what we have them for!
I need some of them animal instincts to kick in. I don't how to boot those suckers up. Kicking sometimes fixes stuff. I'll give that a try.
Wait. Nope. Tried that once. Ended up having my toe go under my foot, the SAME foot, and crack the bone. Doctors laughed at me. Let's not experience that again. How about we maintain just a wee bit of pride, eh? Can we do that for a few more years? Let's try, champ!
Hey, I'm just a programmed being in some flesh. I'm here to be molded and learned real good. I'll take the punches as they come. If that means losing a few digits or an eyeball, so be it. If I have to sacrifice some babies along the way, I can dig it. Although, any other tidbits of life advice are appreciated...
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