Last week I ended up taking a day off from work to try and catch up on everything I've let slide around the house. I'm not the most habitual house-cleaner but it gets to me when I've got messes all over the place that have been building up for weeks or months. While I was straightening up, I decided I wanted to start doing better with time management. (Like most of us, I feel like I have a ton of other goals too, but this one seems to be at the root of most of the others.)
So, I decided to try a trick that I've used at work for years now. I started using a journal to keep track of how I'm spending all my time. (Literally: "7:00-8:00 - Woke up. Got ready for work.") It sounds kind of ... obsessive ... right? But the thing is, it works.
At work, I use it to stay focused and prioritize my daily tasks - I'll usually start out with a to-do list and then as I accomplish tasks I'll also note what times I was working on them. I'm not militant about it and when I get side tracked or pulled into random conversations I'll usually just go with it, but it helps me keep a sense of what needs to be accomplished. And, it helps me have conversations with my peers and co-workers about where I'm spending my efforts and whether I'm prioritizing tasks correctly.
At home, it's been pretty effective in doing the same. It's helping me evaluate how much time I *want* to spend on certain tasks, and helping me evaluate whether I'm putting the kind of time into my priorities that I want to (or need to.) I made a conscious decision not to try and schedule my tasks, because not only do I abhor feeling like I'm on a schedule, but also because it's hard for me to estimate how long some tasks will end up taking. It's been enough so far to decide that I don't want to look back at a day and feel like I wasted time. And, I wouldn't say that it's motivated me to be "productive" 100% of the time - to the contrary, in some cases it's helped me see how much I've earned some down time, which has been extremely reassuring and has let me enjoy my down time all the more. If any of you try something similar, let me know how it goes.
16 October 2011
10 October 2011
Retro Tarot
I spent a little time today playing around with tarot cards. A few months ago I had quite a bit of success doing purely predictive readings for some clients, and it got me curious about how/whether tarot can actually be used for prediction. (The working assumption is, "I sincerely doubt it but that would be pretty cool if it could...") In any case, I broke today into a bunch of little chunks. At the beginning of each chunk I pulled a card and set it aside without looking at it; at the end of each chunk I tried to characterize the time in my mind and pick out the card I thought would best represent it. Then, I looked at the card I had set aside to see if the card matched my expectation.
I feel like, if nothing else, the exercise gave me some new ideas for how to apply different card meanings.
For example, during one chunk I was working on some homework and not getting anywhere with it. I was trying lots of different ideas, Googling around for help, and re-reading lecture materials. However...no progress. At the end of my chunk, I was just plain annoyed. I felt like the two of coins reversed, or five of wands, would have been a good representation of my feelings. However, I got Temperance.
Shortly into my next chunk, I made some good progress - and I realized it was mostly due to pulling together all the resources and ideas during the previous chunk. One interpretation of Temperance relies on the "mixing" of thoughts allegorically illustrated in the card. However, I was uncomfortable that the tarot and I were still coming from pretty different directions about the situation.
During another chunk I was hungry and cranky. I expected more cards about conflict or discomfort, but got Judgment. Judgment is all about seeing a situation for what it really is - I knew I was hungry and cranky, so I avoided getting into any confrontations or negative interactions - so again, it made sense in context but it went a couple levels deeper than my original thinking.
During another chunk I got the six of cups, which lined up well with that chunk's events.
So...I feel like it's hard to make any definitive statements after just one day, especially because it's so easy to rationalize cards and perspectives in hindsight. I certainly learned a little more about Temperance and Judgment, and have more examples I can pull on in readings when the cards come up - but I'd be happier if I had actually been able to guess the card that got pulled! (Of course, that would actually also be pretty creepy...)
I feel like, if nothing else, the exercise gave me some new ideas for how to apply different card meanings.
For example, during one chunk I was working on some homework and not getting anywhere with it. I was trying lots of different ideas, Googling around for help, and re-reading lecture materials. However...no progress. At the end of my chunk, I was just plain annoyed. I felt like the two of coins reversed, or five of wands, would have been a good representation of my feelings. However, I got Temperance.
Shortly into my next chunk, I made some good progress - and I realized it was mostly due to pulling together all the resources and ideas during the previous chunk. One interpretation of Temperance relies on the "mixing" of thoughts allegorically illustrated in the card. However, I was uncomfortable that the tarot and I were still coming from pretty different directions about the situation.
During another chunk I was hungry and cranky. I expected more cards about conflict or discomfort, but got Judgment. Judgment is all about seeing a situation for what it really is - I knew I was hungry and cranky, so I avoided getting into any confrontations or negative interactions - so again, it made sense in context but it went a couple levels deeper than my original thinking.
During another chunk I got the six of cups, which lined up well with that chunk's events.
So...I feel like it's hard to make any definitive statements after just one day, especially because it's so easy to rationalize cards and perspectives in hindsight. I certainly learned a little more about Temperance and Judgment, and have more examples I can pull on in readings when the cards come up - but I'd be happier if I had actually been able to guess the card that got pulled! (Of course, that would actually also be pretty creepy...)
Back
This is probably the longest break I've taken from blogging ever since I started blogging back in High School. That's kind of sad, because I've always enjoyed writing - not only that, but writing used to help me think through issues and ideas; I felt like I perceived more of the world; in turn, I felt like I had more fodder for creative ideas and thoughts that poured out seemingly a dime a dozen.
In short: I felt like I was brilliantly insightful and could lay down insight and witticism with careless ease. A few months ago I was talking with a friend of mine about how both us of used to write a lot "back in the day" and no longer did. We shared the sentiment of "ahhh, crap, I no longer have anything interesting to say...I'm getting old and boring!"
I went back and read some of my old blog and diary entries. Yes, I used to be quite expressive, and yes, I used to be pretty insightful. However, it turns out I wasn't nearly the master wordsmith nor cutting-edge intellectual I thought I was. Writing seems harder now because I understand more about what it takes to construct and convey ideas.
Regardless, I think I'm ready to start blogging again. Starting with later on today: I'm playing a tarot game with myself on Twitter, and I'm going to post the results and some thoughts here. Yay.
In short: I felt like I was brilliantly insightful and could lay down insight and witticism with careless ease. A few months ago I was talking with a friend of mine about how both us of used to write a lot "back in the day" and no longer did. We shared the sentiment of "ahhh, crap, I no longer have anything interesting to say...I'm getting old and boring!"
I went back and read some of my old blog and diary entries. Yes, I used to be quite expressive, and yes, I used to be pretty insightful. However, it turns out I wasn't nearly the master wordsmith nor cutting-edge intellectual I thought I was. Writing seems harder now because I understand more about what it takes to construct and convey ideas.
Regardless, I think I'm ready to start blogging again. Starting with later on today: I'm playing a tarot game with myself on Twitter, and I'm going to post the results and some thoughts here. Yay.
24 April 2011
Optimisticality
Over the past couple years or so, I've started to look for ways to apply Christian scripture and thought to everyday life. In doing so, I've started to identify what I think are some really useful messages present in the Bible - to try and distill out the wisdom that speaks to me, that seems to get lost sometimes behind layers and layers of doctrine and legalism.
I think that Easter embodies quite a bit of this wisdom. I think Easter is one of the the strongest arguments for hope that we can come up with - or at least it's one of the clearest ways of expressing the idea that there's no need to give up when things get rough, even if we seem to have been stripped of every bit of our dignity or power in a situation. In the rising of Christ I see a message that the jealous and insecure actions of others - like the deeds of those who clamored for and carried out the crucifixion - ultimately do not prevail. Most of us have an innate desire to see things turn out right, to see the "good guy win." To me, Easter is a day to celebrate and embrace that sentiment.
My favorite part of the Easter story is that the empty tomb was discovered by 2 women who simply went to visit it. It seems to refer to a theme that I've noticed throughout scripture, which is that those who are focused on living in the moment and acting according to the moment tend to end up with some of the most special roles in those moments. These two women got to discover the empty tomb first not because they had asserted themselves as somehow more deserving than others, but because they had an earnest desire to visit it. From the account, they were driven by genuine concern and mourning for their friend, and not by a desire to seek out what glory they could.
I think that in day to day life it can be hard to really let go of that drive for glory and to just stay in the moment, which is kind of ironic given how draining it really is to maintain and act from the "always have to get ahead" mindset. I think the magic of Easter is that can allow people to make that leap of faith - the one that says that it's really going to be okay and that nothing is hopeless - to just settle down, stay in the moment, live life genuinely, and enjoy the benefits of doing so.
I think that Easter embodies quite a bit of this wisdom. I think Easter is one of the the strongest arguments for hope that we can come up with - or at least it's one of the clearest ways of expressing the idea that there's no need to give up when things get rough, even if we seem to have been stripped of every bit of our dignity or power in a situation. In the rising of Christ I see a message that the jealous and insecure actions of others - like the deeds of those who clamored for and carried out the crucifixion - ultimately do not prevail. Most of us have an innate desire to see things turn out right, to see the "good guy win." To me, Easter is a day to celebrate and embrace that sentiment.
My favorite part of the Easter story is that the empty tomb was discovered by 2 women who simply went to visit it. It seems to refer to a theme that I've noticed throughout scripture, which is that those who are focused on living in the moment and acting according to the moment tend to end up with some of the most special roles in those moments. These two women got to discover the empty tomb first not because they had asserted themselves as somehow more deserving than others, but because they had an earnest desire to visit it. From the account, they were driven by genuine concern and mourning for their friend, and not by a desire to seek out what glory they could.
I think that in day to day life it can be hard to really let go of that drive for glory and to just stay in the moment, which is kind of ironic given how draining it really is to maintain and act from the "always have to get ahead" mindset. I think the magic of Easter is that can allow people to make that leap of faith - the one that says that it's really going to be okay and that nothing is hopeless - to just settle down, stay in the moment, live life genuinely, and enjoy the benefits of doing so.
02 April 2011
In The Dark
Found an interesting article today about potential correlations between "light pollution" (exposure to artificial light at night when we're supposed to be sleeping) and risk of cancer. Apparently the light pollution exposure affects the body's natural rhythms and production of hormones which can then exacerbate cancer risks. I'd like to see more studies before I buy into that all the way (though it sounds somewhat plausible)...but I was also intrigued by:
"The blue/green light is what is emitted from TVs , computers, clock radios and other gadgets (cell phones, Blackberry's, etc) or from what Roberts calls “light trespass,” which comes in from the outside, through your windows. 'Light from the blue region stimulates a ‘wake up’ circadian response in the body and blocks the production of melatonin in the brain.'
The same thing happens if you get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and turn the light on. Stevens recommends using a red night light instead, because red light does not suppress melatonin production. "
I'm not convinced that a few seconds of bright bathroom light is going to make all that much of a difference to the amount of sleep I get...but, I've also never liked blinding myself in the middle of the night, however briefly. So, I think they might be on to something with the whole red light thing anyhow.
"The blue/green light is what is emitted from TVs , computers, clock radios and other gadgets (cell phones, Blackberry's, etc) or from what Roberts calls “light trespass,” which comes in from the outside, through your windows. 'Light from the blue region stimulates a ‘wake up’ circadian response in the body and blocks the production of melatonin in the brain.'
The same thing happens if you get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and turn the light on. Stevens recommends using a red night light instead, because red light does not suppress melatonin production. "
I'm not convinced that a few seconds of bright bathroom light is going to make all that much of a difference to the amount of sleep I get...but, I've also never liked blinding myself in the middle of the night, however briefly. So, I think they might be on to something with the whole red light thing anyhow.
31 March 2011
Boo-Kay-Ess
When I was really young and was still learning how to read, that's how I mentally pronounced the word "books"
I came across this article this morning. That one is derived from another, longer one at Salon.com but I linked the one here because of the question it raises at the end about the impact of e-books replacing physical books.
I know pretty much nothing about DRM for e-books, but even if they have policies similar to Apple's 5-pieces-of-hardware policy, I think that e-books will be able to have just as much of an impact on kids as physical books as long as a family e-book collection is browse-able. I'm kind of thinking along the lines of a family data center - maybe there aren't physical bookshelves anymore, but a family could still set up a repository for books (and other media I suppose) to be shared.
I do think that having access to my parents' book collection had a huge impact on me growing up - sometimes when we just couldn't get to the library or we were in the middle of a move or I was just plain curious about what went on in Mom and Dad's heads I'd pull down something to read, something I probably wouldn't have otherwise chosen, and ended up finding myself very pleasantly surprised.
I came across this article this morning. That one is derived from another, longer one at Salon.com but I linked the one here because of the question it raises at the end about the impact of e-books replacing physical books.
I know pretty much nothing about DRM for e-books, but even if they have policies similar to Apple's 5-pieces-of-hardware policy, I think that e-books will be able to have just as much of an impact on kids as physical books as long as a family e-book collection is browse-able. I'm kind of thinking along the lines of a family data center - maybe there aren't physical bookshelves anymore, but a family could still set up a repository for books (and other media I suppose) to be shared.
I do think that having access to my parents' book collection had a huge impact on me growing up - sometimes when we just couldn't get to the library or we were in the middle of a move or I was just plain curious about what went on in Mom and Dad's heads I'd pull down something to read, something I probably wouldn't have otherwise chosen, and ended up finding myself very pleasantly surprised.
30 March 2011
One More Little Floor
Alicia leaned back in her chair and kicked her feet up on the desk in front of her, just out of the way of her computer monitor. She flipped her head back as part of her massive stretch and out of the periphery of her vision she saw Janice walking into their dorm room.
"What's new, boss?" The robot spoke casually as she moved over to Alicia, but Alicia detected subtle tension in her posture and the timbre of her voice.
Alicia gestured towards the blinking terminal on her desk. "I'm still trying to track down the source of those new nanocarbons we found in your blood. And...I still don't understand where it came from, but I finished some calculations on its properties. Maybe we can start to isolate it that way."
Janice leaned over Alicia to study the luminescent graphic blinking in and out of existence millions of times per second on the screen in front of them. The robot blinked several times to adjust her optical filters such that they eliminated the distraction, realized that her lack of understanding had nothing to do with her lack of ability to physically process the images (mostly it due to Alicia's distaste for labeling anything), and directed said sensing devices quizzically at Alicia.
Alicia dropped her feet back down onto the floor and pointed at the leftmost chart on the screen. "This one shows the ability of the nanocarbons to withstand various toxins, compared to the rest of the synthetic materials that make up your equivalent of blood. You'll notice that in nearly all cases, the nanocarbon is remarkably resilient. That might be bad if the nanocarbon also seemed likely not to play well with the rest of your inner makeup, but so far our simulations seem to show that your body will benefit from its presence - it should boost your physical abilities and endurance in most circumstances."
While Alicia finished her explanation, Janice paced over to the full length mirror Alicia had haphazardly attached to the foot of the bunkbed, puffed out her chest, and flexed her arm in a mock imitation of a bodybuilder.
Alicia started to chuckle, but stopped as the robot tensed again. Janice took a deep breath.
"In spite of your optimistic assessment, I see a problem here. I was programmed to want to be human. However, this new compound in me - whatever it is, wherever it came from - you're saying it's going to make me better, stronger, faster than was intended. What now? Do you find a way to remove it? Do you change my programming so I don't know I'm more than you wanted? What if I like it, and want to keep it, and want to keep liking it?" The robot looked from her reflection to Alicia and back again. A glimmer of defiance surfaced in her eyes, then dove otter-like back under the surface.
Alicia started to respond, and then thought better of it. Instead, she jumped to her feet, grabbing a sweater from the back of her chair and shrugging into it as she stood.
"Come with me." She led Janice out of her room, down the two flights of stairs to the ground level, and outside into the cool humidity of the evening. The robot knew Alicia well enough not to question her, and so simply strode beside the girl as they crossed Main street and headed towards the south end of campus. Just as Janice's respiratory system leveled out at a rate that would accommodate her movement, Alicia slowed and stopped.
"Classrooms?" Janice raised an arm toward the brick behemoth facing them. The two were standing in front of the building where they'd attended their required "Colonization History and Challenges" class as freshmen, and where Alicia currently suffered weekly through four agonizing hours of mathematical smoke and mirrors otherwise known as linear algebra.
"Yeah, classrooms, but also don't forget all those displays about the famous dead people inside." Alicia shrugged. "I dunno. I think my point is just that people - human people and I guess maybe now other people - have been exceeding the expectations and intentions of others pretty much since the beginning of time. I hate to burst your bubble, but you're still not so different." She paused for the appropriate length of time to elevate her final statement. "And so, no, we're not changing a damn thing about you."
Janice nodded. She stretched and folded her hands behind her head. "Cool. That does make me feel better." Feeling Alicia's eyes on her, she accessed and executed the "insert shit-eating grin here" code that she kept cached exactly for situations like this. "But on that note, wanna race back to the dorms?"
With that, the two took off running into the night.
"What's new, boss?" The robot spoke casually as she moved over to Alicia, but Alicia detected subtle tension in her posture and the timbre of her voice.
Alicia gestured towards the blinking terminal on her desk. "I'm still trying to track down the source of those new nanocarbons we found in your blood. And...I still don't understand where it came from, but I finished some calculations on its properties. Maybe we can start to isolate it that way."
Janice leaned over Alicia to study the luminescent graphic blinking in and out of existence millions of times per second on the screen in front of them. The robot blinked several times to adjust her optical filters such that they eliminated the distraction, realized that her lack of understanding had nothing to do with her lack of ability to physically process the images (mostly it due to Alicia's distaste for labeling anything), and directed said sensing devices quizzically at Alicia.
Alicia dropped her feet back down onto the floor and pointed at the leftmost chart on the screen. "This one shows the ability of the nanocarbons to withstand various toxins, compared to the rest of the synthetic materials that make up your equivalent of blood. You'll notice that in nearly all cases, the nanocarbon is remarkably resilient. That might be bad if the nanocarbon also seemed likely not to play well with the rest of your inner makeup, but so far our simulations seem to show that your body will benefit from its presence - it should boost your physical abilities and endurance in most circumstances."
While Alicia finished her explanation, Janice paced over to the full length mirror Alicia had haphazardly attached to the foot of the bunkbed, puffed out her chest, and flexed her arm in a mock imitation of a bodybuilder.
Alicia started to chuckle, but stopped as the robot tensed again. Janice took a deep breath.
"In spite of your optimistic assessment, I see a problem here. I was programmed to want to be human. However, this new compound in me - whatever it is, wherever it came from - you're saying it's going to make me better, stronger, faster than was intended. What now? Do you find a way to remove it? Do you change my programming so I don't know I'm more than you wanted? What if I like it, and want to keep it, and want to keep liking it?" The robot looked from her reflection to Alicia and back again. A glimmer of defiance surfaced in her eyes, then dove otter-like back under the surface.
Alicia started to respond, and then thought better of it. Instead, she jumped to her feet, grabbing a sweater from the back of her chair and shrugging into it as she stood.
"Come with me." She led Janice out of her room, down the two flights of stairs to the ground level, and outside into the cool humidity of the evening. The robot knew Alicia well enough not to question her, and so simply strode beside the girl as they crossed Main street and headed towards the south end of campus. Just as Janice's respiratory system leveled out at a rate that would accommodate her movement, Alicia slowed and stopped.
"Classrooms?" Janice raised an arm toward the brick behemoth facing them. The two were standing in front of the building where they'd attended their required "Colonization History and Challenges" class as freshmen, and where Alicia currently suffered weekly through four agonizing hours of mathematical smoke and mirrors otherwise known as linear algebra.
"Yeah, classrooms, but also don't forget all those displays about the famous dead people inside." Alicia shrugged. "I dunno. I think my point is just that people - human people and I guess maybe now other people - have been exceeding the expectations and intentions of others pretty much since the beginning of time. I hate to burst your bubble, but you're still not so different." She paused for the appropriate length of time to elevate her final statement. "And so, no, we're not changing a damn thing about you."
Janice nodded. She stretched and folded her hands behind her head. "Cool. That does make me feel better." Feeling Alicia's eyes on her, she accessed and executed the "insert shit-eating grin here" code that she kept cached exactly for situations like this. "But on that note, wanna race back to the dorms?"
With that, the two took off running into the night.
12 February 2011
Taking Care
This past week started out amazingly. Sunday I got up and went to the gym, and had a great workout. I cleaned the house, did my homework, had a great dinner, and watched the Super Bowl. (The Steelers losing WAS NOT amazing, alas.) Monday I went to work, worked out again, made dinner, relaxed. Tuesday: went to work, saw The King's Speech and went to dinner with friends, came home, relaxed and went to bed.
Wednesday it started to fall apart. Even though Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were great days, I just wasn't sleeping well. Hard to say why, exactly. I think I was preoccupied thinking about work, and trying to figure out how best to get along with a co-worker. On Sunday I might actually just have been *too* relaxed to get sleepy.
In any case, by Wednesday I was exhausted. Not good. I woke up feeling pretty off, and assumed it was entirely because of the sleep. I had a dentist appointment midafternoon, so I ended up working half a day, coming home and trying to nap (to no avail), went to the dentist, went to a happy hour, came home, and tried to sleep for real. I slept better Wednesday night, so on Thursday morning I bounded out of bed and ran off to work and accidentally got wrapped up in what I was doing and worked a 10 hour day. I came home coughing and exhausted and within an hour of getting home was running a fever.
Since then I've been playing the "rest up and let the sickness take its course" game. It is aggravating as all ungodly hell. I keep thinking back longingly to how perfectly the week started, and how my plans for the rest of the week (more workouts, staying on top of homework, etc) just fell apart. I'm antsy just laying around here and more than eager to dive back in.
I'm actually taking that as a good thing, though. The past few months have been incredibly stressful: my grandfather died, the holidays happened (don't get me wrong, I love the holiday season, but...), things with my brother went pretty much to rock bottom, I started a new position, and I had another experience recently that made a lot of things related to the previous list hit way too close to home.
Because of all of that, I've kind of been "hiding out." Until this past week, I hadn't been doing much with myself besides going to work - I let a lot of things slide. I got sick in early January, and when that happened it was kind of a relief. I didn't mind being forced to lay around for a few days because I needed the decompression time. The fact that now I'm chomping at the bit to get over this monster cold and start working out and work full days and get back into my school work and start writing again (and maybe even doing tarot readings again!) tells me that I'm through the bulk of those stresses and that I'm ready to take my life back on, with gusto. That's a huge relief.
However, the fact that I'm knocked-flat-on-my-butt-sick for the second time in six weeks tells me I probably need to be taking better care of myself. Two things that might have made this week go a bit better: figuring out how to sleep, and calling time out before I was full-blown sick. The sleep thing has always been a challenge for me in some form but I'm going to have to figure out a solution. And - I usually push myself too hard. I bet that if I'd taken the whole day off Wednesday, the rest of the week might have been more pleasant.
So, lessons learned, I suppose. It's still good to be back. And, I will start taking better care of myself.
Wednesday it started to fall apart. Even though Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were great days, I just wasn't sleeping well. Hard to say why, exactly. I think I was preoccupied thinking about work, and trying to figure out how best to get along with a co-worker. On Sunday I might actually just have been *too* relaxed to get sleepy.
In any case, by Wednesday I was exhausted. Not good. I woke up feeling pretty off, and assumed it was entirely because of the sleep. I had a dentist appointment midafternoon, so I ended up working half a day, coming home and trying to nap (to no avail), went to the dentist, went to a happy hour, came home, and tried to sleep for real. I slept better Wednesday night, so on Thursday morning I bounded out of bed and ran off to work and accidentally got wrapped up in what I was doing and worked a 10 hour day. I came home coughing and exhausted and within an hour of getting home was running a fever.
Since then I've been playing the "rest up and let the sickness take its course" game. It is aggravating as all ungodly hell. I keep thinking back longingly to how perfectly the week started, and how my plans for the rest of the week (more workouts, staying on top of homework, etc) just fell apart. I'm antsy just laying around here and more than eager to dive back in.
I'm actually taking that as a good thing, though. The past few months have been incredibly stressful: my grandfather died, the holidays happened (don't get me wrong, I love the holiday season, but...), things with my brother went pretty much to rock bottom, I started a new position, and I had another experience recently that made a lot of things related to the previous list hit way too close to home.
Because of all of that, I've kind of been "hiding out." Until this past week, I hadn't been doing much with myself besides going to work - I let a lot of things slide. I got sick in early January, and when that happened it was kind of a relief. I didn't mind being forced to lay around for a few days because I needed the decompression time. The fact that now I'm chomping at the bit to get over this monster cold and start working out and work full days and get back into my school work and start writing again (and maybe even doing tarot readings again!) tells me that I'm through the bulk of those stresses and that I'm ready to take my life back on, with gusto. That's a huge relief.
However, the fact that I'm knocked-flat-on-my-butt-sick for the second time in six weeks tells me I probably need to be taking better care of myself. Two things that might have made this week go a bit better: figuring out how to sleep, and calling time out before I was full-blown sick. The sleep thing has always been a challenge for me in some form but I'm going to have to figure out a solution. And - I usually push myself too hard. I bet that if I'd taken the whole day off Wednesday, the rest of the week might have been more pleasant.
So, lessons learned, I suppose. It's still good to be back. And, I will start taking better care of myself.
14 December 2010
Grandpa
On November 18th, my grandfather died. I can't say that it was altogether unexpected, but events certainly happened more quickly than I think anyone anticipated.
It was unexpected enough that I did a double take just now when I saw that I wrote here previously on November 11th - exactly a week beforehand - and felt like there must have been a mistake in the timestamp, because I remember how I felt on the 11th, and I remember how I felt on the 18th, and I feel like there could have been years between the two occasions.
I flew to Denver, along with my Dad and brother, to join my Mom and her family. What can I say? Neighbors, friends, and family came by "the house" (Grandpa's house...) to offer condolences and food. We barely had to cook the entire time we were there, because of the kindness of folks who realized exactly how much comfort comes from sustenance. I was there for just over a week - long enough for the funeral, for Thanksgiving, and for a few days afterward - before coming home.
It was sad; moreover, it was surreal. What, Grandpa gone? No. No, he's probably just somewhere else. Not really gone. I still don't think I've fully accepted it. If Christianity has anything to say about the matter, I really don't have to. That's kinda cool.
My Mom and her brothers prepared a beautiful eulogy talking about their Dad. Two or three nights before the funeral, my Mom asked me what my favorite memories of Grandpa were. I've grown accustomed to being my stoic self, so I didn't say much. To be precise, I stared at my laptop (I was working on homework at the time to distract myself) and said, "Oh, I don't know."
During the funeral, one of my Uncles read what he and Mom wrote. My Uncle's portion talked about what a great Dad grandpa had been. My Mom's portion talked about what a great Grandpa he'd been. It was one of the most meaningful gifts I've received, to know that everyone heard about the love and generosity that I, my brother, and my cousins got to enjoy growing up - and to know that his role in our lives really was meaningful enough to be used to characterize him at his passing. Yeah, it was about him, but really it was about us too, and I basked in it. Mom knew how much it would mean.
I couldn't bring myself to talk about it at the time, but I do have a favorite memory of Grandpa. It's something I've thought about on and off ever since it happened, because it was such a strong - and useful - lesson to me. I was pretty young when it happened. I think it was before I started grade school, or shortly thereafter. I'd just learned how to dribble a basketball. Simple, right? Push down on ball, wait for ball to return to palm, repeat. I mostly had it down, but I wasn't a pro yet.
I was standing outside "the house" playing with a basketball and Grandpa dared me to dribble a hundred times without messing up. I thought I could do it, and so I dove right in - counting aloud while I dribbled. After a couple rounds of frustration when I messed up before I was anywhere close to a hundred, Grandpa said, "You're worrying too much about how close you are. Here, I'll count in my head, and you just dribble. I'll tell you when you make it." So, I started. It felt funny not to count aloud, so I giggled a little bit - faltering, almost missing the ball - and Grandpa said, "Keep thinking about the ball. I'll tell you every 20 dribbles."
He told me every 20, and I made it to one hundred, easy as pie. I didn't think about how to articulate it until years and years later, but I used the lesson he taught me that day from the moment I learned it. Every time since then that I've had trouble doing anything, I've just remembered that whatever the task is will be much more easily accomplished if I stop thinking about *how* I'm doing, and just focus on *what* I'm doing. There's always someone else to measure progress - it doesn't have to be my chore. It's such a simple trick, but it made all the difference to me. It's a good strategy for achieving, coping, being patient - anything. Stay in the moment and you can do anything.
Where to go from here? I dunno. When I got to Denver right after he died, I actually felt comforted - I felt like he'd done so much and been so strong in the years since losing my Grandma that he really deserved to be with her. It was a true relief to know that he wasn't suffering anymore. I was honestly happy for him. I was glad that the funeral did such a good job celebrating the person he was. But...I wish he was still here. I wish he'd been able to meet my dog, my boyfriend, and my future children. I wish my Mom didn't have to lose her Dad. I can't imagine losing mine.
Live the lessons I've learned? That's the best I can think of right now.
It was unexpected enough that I did a double take just now when I saw that I wrote here previously on November 11th - exactly a week beforehand - and felt like there must have been a mistake in the timestamp, because I remember how I felt on the 11th, and I remember how I felt on the 18th, and I feel like there could have been years between the two occasions.
I flew to Denver, along with my Dad and brother, to join my Mom and her family. What can I say? Neighbors, friends, and family came by "the house" (Grandpa's house...) to offer condolences and food. We barely had to cook the entire time we were there, because of the kindness of folks who realized exactly how much comfort comes from sustenance. I was there for just over a week - long enough for the funeral, for Thanksgiving, and for a few days afterward - before coming home.
It was sad; moreover, it was surreal. What, Grandpa gone? No. No, he's probably just somewhere else. Not really gone. I still don't think I've fully accepted it. If Christianity has anything to say about the matter, I really don't have to. That's kinda cool.
My Mom and her brothers prepared a beautiful eulogy talking about their Dad. Two or three nights before the funeral, my Mom asked me what my favorite memories of Grandpa were. I've grown accustomed to being my stoic self, so I didn't say much. To be precise, I stared at my laptop (I was working on homework at the time to distract myself) and said, "Oh, I don't know."
During the funeral, one of my Uncles read what he and Mom wrote. My Uncle's portion talked about what a great Dad grandpa had been. My Mom's portion talked about what a great Grandpa he'd been. It was one of the most meaningful gifts I've received, to know that everyone heard about the love and generosity that I, my brother, and my cousins got to enjoy growing up - and to know that his role in our lives really was meaningful enough to be used to characterize him at his passing. Yeah, it was about him, but really it was about us too, and I basked in it. Mom knew how much it would mean.
I couldn't bring myself to talk about it at the time, but I do have a favorite memory of Grandpa. It's something I've thought about on and off ever since it happened, because it was such a strong - and useful - lesson to me. I was pretty young when it happened. I think it was before I started grade school, or shortly thereafter. I'd just learned how to dribble a basketball. Simple, right? Push down on ball, wait for ball to return to palm, repeat. I mostly had it down, but I wasn't a pro yet.
I was standing outside "the house" playing with a basketball and Grandpa dared me to dribble a hundred times without messing up. I thought I could do it, and so I dove right in - counting aloud while I dribbled. After a couple rounds of frustration when I messed up before I was anywhere close to a hundred, Grandpa said, "You're worrying too much about how close you are. Here, I'll count in my head, and you just dribble. I'll tell you when you make it." So, I started. It felt funny not to count aloud, so I giggled a little bit - faltering, almost missing the ball - and Grandpa said, "Keep thinking about the ball. I'll tell you every 20 dribbles."
He told me every 20, and I made it to one hundred, easy as pie. I didn't think about how to articulate it until years and years later, but I used the lesson he taught me that day from the moment I learned it. Every time since then that I've had trouble doing anything, I've just remembered that whatever the task is will be much more easily accomplished if I stop thinking about *how* I'm doing, and just focus on *what* I'm doing. There's always someone else to measure progress - it doesn't have to be my chore. It's such a simple trick, but it made all the difference to me. It's a good strategy for achieving, coping, being patient - anything. Stay in the moment and you can do anything.
Where to go from here? I dunno. When I got to Denver right after he died, I actually felt comforted - I felt like he'd done so much and been so strong in the years since losing my Grandma that he really deserved to be with her. It was a true relief to know that he wasn't suffering anymore. I was honestly happy for him. I was glad that the funeral did such a good job celebrating the person he was. But...I wish he was still here. I wish he'd been able to meet my dog, my boyfriend, and my future children. I wish my Mom didn't have to lose her Dad. I can't imagine losing mine.
Live the lessons I've learned? That's the best I can think of right now.
11 November 2010
The New Gonzo
The summer between my seventh and eighth grade years my family moved to another state. It was the sixth such occasion in my life; as such, I was relatively used to the general process and associated hubbub.
For me, the trickiest part about moving was simply staying occupied. Really, what were you supposed to do when your entire life - and for a prepubescent middle aged girl all that really meant was your entire means of amusement - disappeared into square brown cartons at the hands of a group of entirely uninvested laborers - hopefully to be seen at a time between a month and six weeks hence?
For whatever reason that year my room was one of the first in the house to fall victim to the cold machinations of the packing crew, and I remember standing at my Dad's bookshelf in the den, scanning through title after title looking for something remotely interesting (something at least verifiably fictional) to read over the course of the next couple days.
I ended up selecting two books. One of them, Ender's Game, I'm not going to write about here. Probably another time, though. The other one - Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - was my first introduction to the work of Hunter S. Thompson and the culture of "gonzo journalism."
Hunter S. Thompson was, in my eyes, the ultimate badass. Not only did he imbibe slightly ridiculous amounts of what was essentially poison (which honestly to me carried little to no value in and of itself - having grown up seeing drugs primarily as a fast track to unspeakable amounts of retardation), but in the midst of doing so he managed to produce snarky, concise commentary about the state of politics, culture, and life in general. Now, that was interesting and a bit different. If one was going to use mind altering substances, the least one could do was to harness one's altered mind state and produce some kind of thought provoking work - even if the provocation came primarily from shock value.
Fast forward to a few years ago, and then to a few weeks ago. A few weeks ago I saw the new Jackass movie. A few years ago I was sneaking around to watch episodes of Jackass when I thought my parents wouldn't find out. What was the appeal for me? Curiosity, mostly. Seeing what kind of boundaries folks were willing to push, seeing what kind of - okay, stupidity - other people were willing to dream up just for the sake of doing so.
I feel like Jackass is in some ways kindred to Fear & Loathing, and Thompson's other work - but I wonder how intentional that is. Does Johnny Knoxville think about following in the footsteps of the originator of shock journalism, or is he just some random guy who discovered a great way to make money and have some fun along the way? I can't decide which I'd prefer. If it were the former, I'd be happy to know that there is some sense of interconnectedness among those creating and performing in this kind of entertainment - some sense of continuity, of picking up where the last guy left off. If if were the latter, I'd be relieved to know that no matter what, there will always be those willing to explore those questions most of us would rather never ask, and that it doesn't depend on having someone to show the way.
For me, the trickiest part about moving was simply staying occupied. Really, what were you supposed to do when your entire life - and for a prepubescent middle aged girl all that really meant was your entire means of amusement - disappeared into square brown cartons at the hands of a group of entirely uninvested laborers - hopefully to be seen at a time between a month and six weeks hence?
For whatever reason that year my room was one of the first in the house to fall victim to the cold machinations of the packing crew, and I remember standing at my Dad's bookshelf in the den, scanning through title after title looking for something remotely interesting (something at least verifiably fictional) to read over the course of the next couple days.
I ended up selecting two books. One of them, Ender's Game, I'm not going to write about here. Probably another time, though. The other one - Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - was my first introduction to the work of Hunter S. Thompson and the culture of "gonzo journalism."
Hunter S. Thompson was, in my eyes, the ultimate badass. Not only did he imbibe slightly ridiculous amounts of what was essentially poison (which honestly to me carried little to no value in and of itself - having grown up seeing drugs primarily as a fast track to unspeakable amounts of retardation), but in the midst of doing so he managed to produce snarky, concise commentary about the state of politics, culture, and life in general. Now, that was interesting and a bit different. If one was going to use mind altering substances, the least one could do was to harness one's altered mind state and produce some kind of thought provoking work - even if the provocation came primarily from shock value.
Fast forward to a few years ago, and then to a few weeks ago. A few weeks ago I saw the new Jackass movie. A few years ago I was sneaking around to watch episodes of Jackass when I thought my parents wouldn't find out. What was the appeal for me? Curiosity, mostly. Seeing what kind of boundaries folks were willing to push, seeing what kind of - okay, stupidity - other people were willing to dream up just for the sake of doing so.
I feel like Jackass is in some ways kindred to Fear & Loathing, and Thompson's other work - but I wonder how intentional that is. Does Johnny Knoxville think about following in the footsteps of the originator of shock journalism, or is he just some random guy who discovered a great way to make money and have some fun along the way? I can't decide which I'd prefer. If it were the former, I'd be happy to know that there is some sense of interconnectedness among those creating and performing in this kind of entertainment - some sense of continuity, of picking up where the last guy left off. If if were the latter, I'd be relieved to know that no matter what, there will always be those willing to explore those questions most of us would rather never ask, and that it doesn't depend on having someone to show the way.
15 August 2010
When U Assume
Today is the Feast of the Assumption in the Catholic Church - basically, the day that is used to recognize, commemorate, and celebrate God's raising the Virgin Mary to heaven - body and soul and all.
Mass was interesting today. On one hand, I felt utterly comfortable and at home. All of the songs were ones I'd loved as a child in school - I loved the idea of paying homage to Mary because she is such a beautiful inspiration. I still think that the essential ideal - the female role model - is very useful and has applications today.
Yeah, on the other hand it fell flat a bit. In high school I struggled a lot with the church because I felt betrayed by the sheer amount of doctrine that just didn't make sense. I thought of that again today when I learned that the Catholic Church's views on the Assumption only date back to the 1950's, when the Pope at the time invoked infallibility and made a statement saying that it happened.
I don't know. Does it really work like that?
More to the point - how much does it really matter? I noticed that some of the homily today tried to tie back the Assumption of Mary to the idea that we'll all be raised up to heaven, but other than those tangential thoughts I didn't feel like I pulled much of a relevant message from the homily.
The best Masses I've been to - especially the ones I've written about here - have all inspired me to see life differently, or to understand others or myself better, or to feel more comfortable with my place in the Big Picture. I haven't yet found the same depth of reasoning or meaning in Protestant churches, but that's not really saying a whole lot, given how few Protestant churches I've been to.
So, it would be great to find a church where I could consistently expect to walk out having experienced a useful, relevant, message. I'm sure it's out there.
Actually, it would be much more than great. I was watching the news tonight and saw some coverage of the debate regarding the proposed mosque near Ground Zero. My first reaction was that of course Muslim groups have the right to build a structure for worship wherever they want to - that seems to be a basic right that this country was founded on. However, I saw some good counterpoints, and I think the one that made the most sense to me was - even if the mosque is built by Muslims that are *not* engaged in holy jihad against the United States (and most Muslims I think do fall into this peaceful group) - there's nothing to say that a mosque so close to Ground Zero wouldn't attract those with less than savory intentions. Not to mention, it could itself become a target for those who are so upset by 9/11 that they aren't willing to make distinctions between most Muslims and those who actually have a burning desire to see the entire Western way of life come to a screeching halt. I don't want to see that area degenerate into a hotbed of confrontation, which I can kind of see happening.
I still think that legally and Constitutionally, the mosque has every right to go in. However, I also think now that putting it there may not be the best judgment call.
From that perspective, it's just kind of sad. Why are we living in a world where this is even an issue - a world where 9/11 could happen, a world where there is so much hatred and simmering tension?
And why aren't we talking about things like that - and finding ways to understand each other and get along - at Mass? Does the doctrine surrounding Assumption of Mary really do anything to address any of this?
Mass was interesting today. On one hand, I felt utterly comfortable and at home. All of the songs were ones I'd loved as a child in school - I loved the idea of paying homage to Mary because she is such a beautiful inspiration. I still think that the essential ideal - the female role model - is very useful and has applications today.
Yeah, on the other hand it fell flat a bit. In high school I struggled a lot with the church because I felt betrayed by the sheer amount of doctrine that just didn't make sense. I thought of that again today when I learned that the Catholic Church's views on the Assumption only date back to the 1950's, when the Pope at the time invoked infallibility and made a statement saying that it happened.
I don't know. Does it really work like that?
More to the point - how much does it really matter? I noticed that some of the homily today tried to tie back the Assumption of Mary to the idea that we'll all be raised up to heaven, but other than those tangential thoughts I didn't feel like I pulled much of a relevant message from the homily.
The best Masses I've been to - especially the ones I've written about here - have all inspired me to see life differently, or to understand others or myself better, or to feel more comfortable with my place in the Big Picture. I haven't yet found the same depth of reasoning or meaning in Protestant churches, but that's not really saying a whole lot, given how few Protestant churches I've been to.
So, it would be great to find a church where I could consistently expect to walk out having experienced a useful, relevant, message. I'm sure it's out there.
Actually, it would be much more than great. I was watching the news tonight and saw some coverage of the debate regarding the proposed mosque near Ground Zero. My first reaction was that of course Muslim groups have the right to build a structure for worship wherever they want to - that seems to be a basic right that this country was founded on. However, I saw some good counterpoints, and I think the one that made the most sense to me was - even if the mosque is built by Muslims that are *not* engaged in holy jihad against the United States (and most Muslims I think do fall into this peaceful group) - there's nothing to say that a mosque so close to Ground Zero wouldn't attract those with less than savory intentions. Not to mention, it could itself become a target for those who are so upset by 9/11 that they aren't willing to make distinctions between most Muslims and those who actually have a burning desire to see the entire Western way of life come to a screeching halt. I don't want to see that area degenerate into a hotbed of confrontation, which I can kind of see happening.
I still think that legally and Constitutionally, the mosque has every right to go in. However, I also think now that putting it there may not be the best judgment call.
From that perspective, it's just kind of sad. Why are we living in a world where this is even an issue - a world where 9/11 could happen, a world where there is so much hatred and simmering tension?
And why aren't we talking about things like that - and finding ways to understand each other and get along - at Mass? Does the doctrine surrounding Assumption of Mary really do anything to address any of this?
31 July 2010
Voices In My Head
It's been a long time since I've written a short story on here, so I decided I'd post the current chapter of the novel I'm working on.
It probably won't make a whole lot of sense since there's no context here, but let's see how it goes.
-----Chapter 45--------
As soon as Erica and Rob had forced Janice into the vehicle, Rob made the mistake of trying to catch her by surprise and jam his fingers in her mouth to shut her off. Janice bit him hard enough to communicate that further attempts to render her immobile would render him one less digit. Erica had interceded then, muttering something about “the rules” while restraining Rob from pulling his weapon on the robot. The two had studiously avoided interactions with her since then.
After an hour or two Janice started calculating potential destinations based on what she could detect of the craft’s speed and trajectory. Gathering parameters for her calculations was admittedly more difficult due to the mostly windowless nature of the vehicle but she used what she could see out of the front windshield and what she could detect of various gravitational fields to do her best.
Several minutes of consideration and calculation yielded the answer that they must be heading to Mars; welcome news to the robot. Hopefully she could find Jaycee, and hopefully Jaycee could provide a safe haven and maybe, just maybe, help Janice sort herself out a bit, too. Referencing the memory store holding the list of items that she needed help sorting out of course activated the robot's still-volatile emotional core, once again triggering the uncomfortable diffusion of chemicals that caused her chest to burn and her eyes to water.
Erica's comms device beeped, and Janice turned her head to listen in on her captor's conversation, noticing at the same time that Rob was doing the same thing.
"Yeah, we got it. Not much of a fight, nobody wanted to see it die." Erica's mulish eyes wandered lazily around the cabin, unfocused. Her nostrils flared out slightly as she listened to the other voice, completing her somewhat indolent appearance. She made a fist with her right hand and stuck out her thumb, index finger, and middle finger in succession as though counting off points while the other person talked.
"No, I don't think there's anyone else to worry about. The handler looked pretty dead when we left them, and we both know how likely it is that the school's going to give chase." The indolence melted off of Erica's face in favor of smug glee that almost echoed sophistication. Ordinarily Janice would have watched the transition with complete fascination; however, this time she barely noticed. Deep within the recesses of her skull, she overclocked her extrapolation processors, running simulations and calculating statistics to try and decide - could Alicia really have died?
She'd not considered the possibility, and realized with what must have been regret how much it would have assisted her calculations if she'd taken care to study her friend during those last few moments on the campus. Even worse, the flood of hormones carrying the physiological implications of her friend's death slowed her processors almost to a crawl. More than once she manually restarted calculation threads as they blocked on message ports whose buffers were full of emotions. Ugh. How did humans ever manage to adjust to living inside such a sluggish reality?
Finally, the answer emerged: based on the trajectory and speed with which Alicia was knocked to the ground as well as Janice's rough calculations of the girl's resistance based on her physical dimensions, Alicia was alive. Not only that, she was relatively unharmed.
"Yeah, we're almost there. See you in an hour or two." Erica finished her conversation, snapping off the comms device and nodding at Rob. Rob leaned forward in his seat and tapped the shrouded figure in the driver's seat on the shoulder.
"You remember how to get to the warehouse? We don't have any time to dick around at the spaceport while you figure it out." The driver maintained the silence he'd established at the very beginning of the trip and answered with a single, deep, self-assured nod. As though he didn't already seem enough like a grim reaper, he lifted his right hand from the steering wheel and stretched a long, bony finger towards the nav display on the hovercar's dashboard. He entered an address with quick staccato taps and the display winked into a satellite view of a rectangular structure similar to the one housing Jaycee's church.
Within minutes, the craft docked neatly in one of the public spaces at the main spaceport. Unlike before, many of the spots were filled - apparently the planed had managed to expand its tourism industry over the past several months. Janice passed her eyes over the tall domed welcome center, and began to plot her escape.
It probably won't make a whole lot of sense since there's no context here, but let's see how it goes.
-----Chapter 45--------
As soon as Erica and Rob had forced Janice into the vehicle, Rob made the mistake of trying to catch her by surprise and jam his fingers in her mouth to shut her off. Janice bit him hard enough to communicate that further attempts to render her immobile would render him one less digit. Erica had interceded then, muttering something about “the rules” while restraining Rob from pulling his weapon on the robot. The two had studiously avoided interactions with her since then.
After an hour or two Janice started calculating potential destinations based on what she could detect of the craft’s speed and trajectory. Gathering parameters for her calculations was admittedly more difficult due to the mostly windowless nature of the vehicle but she used what she could see out of the front windshield and what she could detect of various gravitational fields to do her best.
Several minutes of consideration and calculation yielded the answer that they must be heading to Mars; welcome news to the robot. Hopefully she could find Jaycee, and hopefully Jaycee could provide a safe haven and maybe, just maybe, help Janice sort herself out a bit, too. Referencing the memory store holding the list of items that she needed help sorting out of course activated the robot's still-volatile emotional core, once again triggering the uncomfortable diffusion of chemicals that caused her chest to burn and her eyes to water.
Erica's comms device beeped, and Janice turned her head to listen in on her captor's conversation, noticing at the same time that Rob was doing the same thing.
"Yeah, we got it. Not much of a fight, nobody wanted to see it die." Erica's mulish eyes wandered lazily around the cabin, unfocused. Her nostrils flared out slightly as she listened to the other voice, completing her somewhat indolent appearance. She made a fist with her right hand and stuck out her thumb, index finger, and middle finger in succession as though counting off points while the other person talked.
"No, I don't think there's anyone else to worry about. The handler looked pretty dead when we left them, and we both know how likely it is that the school's going to give chase." The indolence melted off of Erica's face in favor of smug glee that almost echoed sophistication. Ordinarily Janice would have watched the transition with complete fascination; however, this time she barely noticed. Deep within the recesses of her skull, she overclocked her extrapolation processors, running simulations and calculating statistics to try and decide - could Alicia really have died?
She'd not considered the possibility, and realized with what must have been regret how much it would have assisted her calculations if she'd taken care to study her friend during those last few moments on the campus. Even worse, the flood of hormones carrying the physiological implications of her friend's death slowed her processors almost to a crawl. More than once she manually restarted calculation threads as they blocked on message ports whose buffers were full of emotions. Ugh. How did humans ever manage to adjust to living inside such a sluggish reality?
Finally, the answer emerged: based on the trajectory and speed with which Alicia was knocked to the ground as well as Janice's rough calculations of the girl's resistance based on her physical dimensions, Alicia was alive. Not only that, she was relatively unharmed.
"Yeah, we're almost there. See you in an hour or two." Erica finished her conversation, snapping off the comms device and nodding at Rob. Rob leaned forward in his seat and tapped the shrouded figure in the driver's seat on the shoulder.
"You remember how to get to the warehouse? We don't have any time to dick around at the spaceport while you figure it out." The driver maintained the silence he'd established at the very beginning of the trip and answered with a single, deep, self-assured nod. As though he didn't already seem enough like a grim reaper, he lifted his right hand from the steering wheel and stretched a long, bony finger towards the nav display on the hovercar's dashboard. He entered an address with quick staccato taps and the display winked into a satellite view of a rectangular structure similar to the one housing Jaycee's church.
Within minutes, the craft docked neatly in one of the public spaces at the main spaceport. Unlike before, many of the spots were filled - apparently the planed had managed to expand its tourism industry over the past several months. Janice passed her eyes over the tall domed welcome center, and began to plot her escape.
18 July 2010
Holes
Yesterday I did something I haven't done in eight years: I got another piercing. I'd actually been thinking about doing it for awhile - when I was on the west coast earlier this summer I came close to getting one (then I ran out of time and also decided I'd rather not chance going to a shop that I couldn't necessarily get any good references for.)
So anyhow, this past Friday night I was out with Aren, and we were talking about plans for Saturday since we were going to be heading into NYC for the day. She mentioned that if we had time she might like to stop by a tattoo shop and get her eyebrow piercing re-done, and it seemed like a perfect opportunity for me, too.
Saturday morning we headed up to Manhattan. We saw the afternoon matinee of Avenue Q - a fun and funny show, but honestly I think it's a little overrated - and then walked over to Red Rocket Tattoo Shop (stopping to eat delicious New York pizza on the way.)
When we got into the shop and started signing forms and letting the piercer know what we wanted, I found myself surprised that I wasn't nervous at all. For all of my previous ones, even though I'd wanted them really badly, I'd still dreaded the actual procedure. This time I guess I just had a much better handle on what to expect, and more confidence that I could tolerate the pain relatively well. (Plus, I mean...eight years is a heck of a lot of time to grow up and get some perspective!)
Anyhow, the piercer was great. He suggested excellent placement on my right cartilage, joked with me through the whole thing, and performed the actual puncturing and jewelry installation flawlessly.
I thought back to the last time I got piercings: my second set of holes in both ears when I turned 16. In January of that year I started asking my parents literally every day if they'd let me get a second set of holes when I turned 16. By the time my birthday rolled around in July, I had them worn down enough to say yes. My Mom rode with me over to Blue Byrd Tattoos in Dayton so she could sign the consent forms. I'm pretty sure she was completely freaked out to be in a tattoo shop (I had my first set of holes done at the mall before graduating to the "more mature" method of getting piercings.) I don't even remember much about getting the piercings done, but I think I probably wrote about the experience as an article to try and keep my BMEzine account subscription active. (It's long since fallen idle by this point...)
When I was in college, I stopped wearing CBR's in my ears and started wearing "normal" earrings. Gradually I stopped making a habit of wearing two sets of earrings at once. I actually can't remember the last time I did that.
Given that, why bother with the new one?
Hard to explain. It's definitely a new look. I definitely feel like it fits my personality. I also really like where my life is at the moment - and so there's probably some element of wanting to mark that somehow. Given how immersed I was in that particular subculture before, there was definitely something very comfortable about the experience - after having been in a lot of situations in the past 8 years where I haven't known what to expect, it was nice to do something new yet familiar. I assume that it's similar to the way it feels to be very skilled at something - skiing for example - and be able to use that knowledge and orientation to confidently navigate new terrain.
(Gets distracted watching the Cubs start beating the Phillies...YEAH CUBS!)
I'm not sure. I'm not sure it really needs much justification? I wanted it, I got it, and now I really like it. Enough said?
Also, I'd like to get a tattoo at some point. I can't decide on a design or location, though. So, it'll probably be awhile.
So anyhow, this past Friday night I was out with Aren, and we were talking about plans for Saturday since we were going to be heading into NYC for the day. She mentioned that if we had time she might like to stop by a tattoo shop and get her eyebrow piercing re-done, and it seemed like a perfect opportunity for me, too.
Saturday morning we headed up to Manhattan. We saw the afternoon matinee of Avenue Q - a fun and funny show, but honestly I think it's a little overrated - and then walked over to Red Rocket Tattoo Shop (stopping to eat delicious New York pizza on the way.)
When we got into the shop and started signing forms and letting the piercer know what we wanted, I found myself surprised that I wasn't nervous at all. For all of my previous ones, even though I'd wanted them really badly, I'd still dreaded the actual procedure. This time I guess I just had a much better handle on what to expect, and more confidence that I could tolerate the pain relatively well. (Plus, I mean...eight years is a heck of a lot of time to grow up and get some perspective!)
Anyhow, the piercer was great. He suggested excellent placement on my right cartilage, joked with me through the whole thing, and performed the actual puncturing and jewelry installation flawlessly.
I thought back to the last time I got piercings: my second set of holes in both ears when I turned 16. In January of that year I started asking my parents literally every day if they'd let me get a second set of holes when I turned 16. By the time my birthday rolled around in July, I had them worn down enough to say yes. My Mom rode with me over to Blue Byrd Tattoos in Dayton so she could sign the consent forms. I'm pretty sure she was completely freaked out to be in a tattoo shop (I had my first set of holes done at the mall before graduating to the "more mature" method of getting piercings.) I don't even remember much about getting the piercings done, but I think I probably wrote about the experience as an article to try and keep my BMEzine account subscription active. (It's long since fallen idle by this point...)
When I was in college, I stopped wearing CBR's in my ears and started wearing "normal" earrings. Gradually I stopped making a habit of wearing two sets of earrings at once. I actually can't remember the last time I did that.
Given that, why bother with the new one?
Hard to explain. It's definitely a new look. I definitely feel like it fits my personality. I also really like where my life is at the moment - and so there's probably some element of wanting to mark that somehow. Given how immersed I was in that particular subculture before, there was definitely something very comfortable about the experience - after having been in a lot of situations in the past 8 years where I haven't known what to expect, it was nice to do something new yet familiar. I assume that it's similar to the way it feels to be very skilled at something - skiing for example - and be able to use that knowledge and orientation to confidently navigate new terrain.
(Gets distracted watching the Cubs start beating the Phillies...YEAH CUBS!)
I'm not sure. I'm not sure it really needs much justification? I wanted it, I got it, and now I really like it. Enough said?
Also, I'd like to get a tattoo at some point. I can't decide on a design or location, though. So, it'll probably be awhile.
13 June 2010
Do You SEE That Woman?
Yesterday I had an excellent day. In some ways the day itself was the product of the last several weeks: eating right, getting enough sleep, taking care of myself, meditation. In some ways the day was the coalition of a hundred tiny factors that I had no control over, and wouldn't have even thought of.
On Friday I drove out to the Washington coast, to stay the weekend at one of the San Juan islands. Yesterday I got up early for a kayaking tour departing from the marina on this island. We spent 3 hours in the water, paddling out to and around a neighboring island. Serendipity: Yesterday's weather could not have been any better. Brilliant blue cloudless sky, and perfect temperatures made just being outside blissful. The fact that my tour was at low tide and it was the lowest tide of the month (new moon) meant that we got to see all kinds of little sea critters.
After kayaking, I grabbed lunch (little burrito stand in town, like a Mom & Pop Chipotle, mmmm) and stopped back by the hotel to watch the last little bit of the US / England World Cup game. Then Misty and I headed out to Deception Pass state park and hiked all around *that* island. We walked along the beach, and then up the terrain of the island to the highest point. Indescribably beautiful. I choked up a little - something about the way the ocean looked with islands rising out of it layered against each other, in every direction, got to me.
We hiked back out and I dropped Misty back at the hotel and ran off to Mass. The inside of the church reminded me of a more contemporary version of St. Matthew's Cathedral in DC. There weren't any mosaics, but the entire inside was painted with bright, vibrant colors. The priest leading Mass was a visiting Jesuit who ordinarily works at a nearby reservation, and he gave a great Homily. The theme of this week's readings is forgiveness, and being saved/justified by faith. He talked about how in the gospel Jesus asked Simon, "Do you see that woman?" in reference to a woman with bad reputation who had approached them seeking Christs' forgiveness.
He tied this back into the narratives that we all experience in our daily lives, particularly the narratives that we let others set up for us about ourselves, ones that include elements of truth but not the entire truth about us. He said, "If you feel isolated, angry, or helpless then you've bought into someone else's narrative about who you are. That's never the whole story, and when we pull away from the stories put forth by others and society and reflect on who we really are in the eyes on God - based on the way that Jesus SAW this woman - we find peace. Truth in the eyes of God brings us balance, connection, and empathy with others."
It made a lot of sense, and I appreciated the depth of rationality there - no angry judgmental God, and no denial of who we are - but acceptance, and strength to go beyond the negativity that is so easy to absorb about ourselves, and just as importantly, about others - to find something much more substantial and WORTHY OF LOVE. Also, it's not as though Jesus was making up things to like about the woman, just because he felt sorry for her. She had genuine love in her heart, and faith in Him, which is what he responded to.
What the priest didn't say but what I also pulled from the readings was that we don't have to be angry or defensive in response to the narratives of others - surely being justified in faith before God gives us the strength and the character to just live as we are without needing to expend energy to correct the conceptions of others. I think that in time those conceptions correct themselves.
I also think that the philosophy there underlies many other religious and spiritual - as well as secular psychological - practices. So, good stuff. Two weekends in a row now that I've gone to Mass...I'm considering making it a consistent practice, but I need to find a church back home that I can relate to.
Anyway, so the day was good and Mass was good, and then I ate dinner at the brewery in town which was delicious.
On Friday I drove out to the Washington coast, to stay the weekend at one of the San Juan islands. Yesterday I got up early for a kayaking tour departing from the marina on this island. We spent 3 hours in the water, paddling out to and around a neighboring island. Serendipity: Yesterday's weather could not have been any better. Brilliant blue cloudless sky, and perfect temperatures made just being outside blissful. The fact that my tour was at low tide and it was the lowest tide of the month (new moon) meant that we got to see all kinds of little sea critters.
After kayaking, I grabbed lunch (little burrito stand in town, like a Mom & Pop Chipotle, mmmm) and stopped back by the hotel to watch the last little bit of the US / England World Cup game. Then Misty and I headed out to Deception Pass state park and hiked all around *that* island. We walked along the beach, and then up the terrain of the island to the highest point. Indescribably beautiful. I choked up a little - something about the way the ocean looked with islands rising out of it layered against each other, in every direction, got to me.
We hiked back out and I dropped Misty back at the hotel and ran off to Mass. The inside of the church reminded me of a more contemporary version of St. Matthew's Cathedral in DC. There weren't any mosaics, but the entire inside was painted with bright, vibrant colors. The priest leading Mass was a visiting Jesuit who ordinarily works at a nearby reservation, and he gave a great Homily. The theme of this week's readings is forgiveness, and being saved/justified by faith. He talked about how in the gospel Jesus asked Simon, "Do you see that woman?" in reference to a woman with bad reputation who had approached them seeking Christs' forgiveness.
He tied this back into the narratives that we all experience in our daily lives, particularly the narratives that we let others set up for us about ourselves, ones that include elements of truth but not the entire truth about us. He said, "If you feel isolated, angry, or helpless then you've bought into someone else's narrative about who you are. That's never the whole story, and when we pull away from the stories put forth by others and society and reflect on who we really are in the eyes on God - based on the way that Jesus SAW this woman - we find peace. Truth in the eyes of God brings us balance, connection, and empathy with others."
It made a lot of sense, and I appreciated the depth of rationality there - no angry judgmental God, and no denial of who we are - but acceptance, and strength to go beyond the negativity that is so easy to absorb about ourselves, and just as importantly, about others - to find something much more substantial and WORTHY OF LOVE. Also, it's not as though Jesus was making up things to like about the woman, just because he felt sorry for her. She had genuine love in her heart, and faith in Him, which is what he responded to.
What the priest didn't say but what I also pulled from the readings was that we don't have to be angry or defensive in response to the narratives of others - surely being justified in faith before God gives us the strength and the character to just live as we are without needing to expend energy to correct the conceptions of others. I think that in time those conceptions correct themselves.
I also think that the philosophy there underlies many other religious and spiritual - as well as secular psychological - practices. So, good stuff. Two weekends in a row now that I've gone to Mass...I'm considering making it a consistent practice, but I need to find a church back home that I can relate to.
Anyway, so the day was good and Mass was good, and then I ate dinner at the brewery in town which was delicious.
05 June 2010
Can't
Right now I'm watching my older brother make choices that seem really destructive - not just to himself, but to my family. I'm watching as various members of my family sacrifice to try and help out, and as the same cycles repeat themselves.
Most people who know me will call me fiercely independent. I know that much of that is rooted from having watched this situation unfold for the past several years. I guess that as far as coping / defense mechanisms go, it's relatively harmless. I guess knowing that he can't be controlled or coerced, or even really carried has made its impression on me - knowing that in the end, we're all ultimately responsible for ourselves.
Sometimes I wonder, if he could see this all from everyone else's perspective, would it make a difference? Would it affect him? Or, does his mind just work such that it wouldn't matter anyway...? Did I make the right choices because of free will (did we have such different experiences growing up that I gained that much more perspective than he did?) or did I really just get the lucky combination of genes?
Most people who know me will call me fiercely independent. I know that much of that is rooted from having watched this situation unfold for the past several years. I guess that as far as coping / defense mechanisms go, it's relatively harmless. I guess knowing that he can't be controlled or coerced, or even really carried has made its impression on me - knowing that in the end, we're all ultimately responsible for ourselves.
Sometimes I wonder, if he could see this all from everyone else's perspective, would it make a difference? Would it affect him? Or, does his mind just work such that it wouldn't matter anyway...? Did I make the right choices because of free will (did we have such different experiences growing up that I gained that much more perspective than he did?) or did I really just get the lucky combination of genes?
22 May 2010
Happy Endings
(Spoiler) I just watched the 30 Rock season finale, and it made me happy.
I love seeing people happy. I love seeing things work out for folks. Even if real life doesn't ever permit nearly the same degree of serendipity - and in some sense, particularly because it doesn't - it's comforting especially after a stressful day to see some plain old happy love.
Last night Misty got out. We got her rounded up in a few minutes - just had to chase - but she eventually got tired and came back when I called her. I was a little concerned because I don't know the area at all, but even so it was much better than the time she got out back home - back there are so many roads and houses - give me a big open field or orchard over that any day.
Portland today. I'm kinda sick, but Misty and I still did some exploring. Good times. And tomorrow I'm going to sleep in, way in. Dude, this is the stuff of heaven - lazy Sundays with the dog.
I love seeing people happy. I love seeing things work out for folks. Even if real life doesn't ever permit nearly the same degree of serendipity - and in some sense, particularly because it doesn't - it's comforting especially after a stressful day to see some plain old happy love.
Last night Misty got out. We got her rounded up in a few minutes - just had to chase - but she eventually got tired and came back when I called her. I was a little concerned because I don't know the area at all, but even so it was much better than the time she got out back home - back there are so many roads and houses - give me a big open field or orchard over that any day.
Portland today. I'm kinda sick, but Misty and I still did some exploring. Good times. And tomorrow I'm going to sleep in, way in. Dude, this is the stuff of heaven - lazy Sundays with the dog.
16 May 2010
One, Two, Three...
The more I think about it, the more reasons I discover for my love of sports.
1. Sports provide a relatively neutral topic to discuss with folks. Comparing statistics and individual or team performances, building alliances based on hometown or other similar affiliations, and following the ongoing competitive matchups provides a conversation piece that doesn't run the risk of causing the same kind of strife as, say, politics or religion. Sure, sports conversations are by nature full of competition - but I argue that it's a different kind of "disagreement" than most other debate-oriented discussions. I think it's a way to enjoy having a shared experience with someone without needing a whole lot of other common ground.
2. Sports are inherently unpredictable, in spite of the industry centered around doing just that (making sports predictions.) When I sit down to watch a game, even a heavily mismatched one, there's always *some* chance that the underdog is going to win. And the fact that it's REAL, and is an honest to goodness achievement, makes witnessing those rare events worth sitting through the blowouts. It's worth more to me that watching a TV show or movie with a surprise ending.
3. Sports are ongoing. There's almost always something going on somewhere to get into. It's not like waiting 2 or 3 weeks in between episodes of a TV show (although the wait between seasons of more favorite sports can get long, I agree.)
4. As nerve wracking as watching a really important game is, and as heartbreaking as it is to watch a favorite team face playoff elimination, to me it's a lot less emotionally trying than most TV drama. Put it this way: I'd rather experience some heartfelt disappointment over a team's loss (for example, I'm still not quite over the Pens' playoff elimination, though I'm mostly there) than sit through 42 (or whatever) minutes of overwrought scenes with murder, affairs, heated confrontations, and betrayal.
5. There are so many inspiring stories to be found in sports - real hardships that folks overcame, real physical conditioning endured, and real sacrifices made in the spirit of achievement. There are so many examples of hard work paying off - sure, it's a glamorous lifestyle, but that doesn't detract from the effort and motivation needed to succeed.
6. Even during the game - who says there's no human element? I love watching how players act in the heat of the moment, how they have to devise and execute strategies under pressure, and how (if a team) they have to make the choice to coalesce as a team or fall apart when things really matter. Again, give me that over anything scripted, any day.
In conclusion, congrats to the Cubs for finally finding a team they can beat. Sheesh.
Also, I was catching up on back episodes of Fringe today, and stopped watching. (Spoiler alert...) Ever since the beginning, I've loved watching Olivia and Peter's interactions - I'm really sad that he took off the way he did when he figured out that Peter brought him back over from the other universe. I thought about it. When I've felt betrayed, I've always, always, given the other person more chances, or at least time to explain. That's not to say that I've kept myself open to betrayal - certainly I haven't. It looks like Peter had the last straw handed to him, and it made me sad. Everyone has a threshold, but it's really hard for me to watch someone leave all that they have the way he did. I wish he'd stayed but I understand why he wouldn't. Bah.
1. Sports provide a relatively neutral topic to discuss with folks. Comparing statistics and individual or team performances, building alliances based on hometown or other similar affiliations, and following the ongoing competitive matchups provides a conversation piece that doesn't run the risk of causing the same kind of strife as, say, politics or religion. Sure, sports conversations are by nature full of competition - but I argue that it's a different kind of "disagreement" than most other debate-oriented discussions. I think it's a way to enjoy having a shared experience with someone without needing a whole lot of other common ground.
2. Sports are inherently unpredictable, in spite of the industry centered around doing just that (making sports predictions.) When I sit down to watch a game, even a heavily mismatched one, there's always *some* chance that the underdog is going to win. And the fact that it's REAL, and is an honest to goodness achievement, makes witnessing those rare events worth sitting through the blowouts. It's worth more to me that watching a TV show or movie with a surprise ending.
3. Sports are ongoing. There's almost always something going on somewhere to get into. It's not like waiting 2 or 3 weeks in between episodes of a TV show (although the wait between seasons of more favorite sports can get long, I agree.)
4. As nerve wracking as watching a really important game is, and as heartbreaking as it is to watch a favorite team face playoff elimination, to me it's a lot less emotionally trying than most TV drama. Put it this way: I'd rather experience some heartfelt disappointment over a team's loss (for example, I'm still not quite over the Pens' playoff elimination, though I'm mostly there) than sit through 42 (or whatever) minutes of overwrought scenes with murder, affairs, heated confrontations, and betrayal.
5. There are so many inspiring stories to be found in sports - real hardships that folks overcame, real physical conditioning endured, and real sacrifices made in the spirit of achievement. There are so many examples of hard work paying off - sure, it's a glamorous lifestyle, but that doesn't detract from the effort and motivation needed to succeed.
6. Even during the game - who says there's no human element? I love watching how players act in the heat of the moment, how they have to devise and execute strategies under pressure, and how (if a team) they have to make the choice to coalesce as a team or fall apart when things really matter. Again, give me that over anything scripted, any day.
In conclusion, congrats to the Cubs for finally finding a team they can beat. Sheesh.
Also, I was catching up on back episodes of Fringe today, and stopped watching. (Spoiler alert...) Ever since the beginning, I've loved watching Olivia and Peter's interactions - I'm really sad that he took off the way he did when he figured out that Peter brought him back over from the other universe. I thought about it. When I've felt betrayed, I've always, always, given the other person more chances, or at least time to explain. That's not to say that I've kept myself open to betrayal - certainly I haven't. It looks like Peter had the last straw handed to him, and it made me sad. Everyone has a threshold, but it's really hard for me to watch someone leave all that they have the way he did. I wish he'd stayed but I understand why he wouldn't. Bah.
24 April 2010
So Sally
I learned a few valuable lessons these past few weeks. I also learned about how much I really can trust myself to, when it matters, stand up for the few values that do matter tremendously to me - even if it means losing something or someone I care about as a result.
Values are tricky. They get into an arena of good people and bad people. It's uncomfortable for me to think of them that way, because it would imply that people whose values I don't agree with are "bad people" which I don't necessarily believe to be true. I feel like maybe what we call "values" are really just anchor points for how we define ourselves and our lives. Too big of a conflict in "values" can result in too much of a denial of the validity of our own reference point. (Think of a pole-zero plot for Fourier Analysis.)
I've heard so many stories of divorce that all begin, "I knew we were really different when we got married, but I assumed that we'd both be able to grow from our differences...three years later I realized that I was miserable and felt like my perspective wasn't validated." I didn't want myself to be one of those stories, especially given that I already had some serious reservations regarding conflicts of values. So, I bailed - not in the spirit of hurtfulness, but in the spirit of showing myself that I care about my own reference points and their ability to filter my life as appropriate.
Does it make me a quitter? Sure. Does it make me regret that someone is hurting tremendously because I hit my threshold when they hadn't quite reached theirs; because they felt like we still could learn and grow from each other? You bet.
But - am I convinced that we can each find new relationships that work for us in ways we never dreamed, by being able to align our pole-zero plots more closely with someone else's? Absolutely. And I guess that's my only point - there are so many areas of life in which growth is important, and I do think that it's a bad idea to choose a mate that is EXACTLY like one's own self - but as with anything, moderation is so, so, important. I've identified my own region of stability, and know the bounds that I want to stay within, in the future.
Whenever that may be. With whomever that may be. It's a risk - the unknown is always scary. But, it was profound for me to realize that no matter what, I can always have myself, as long as I prove to myself that I can count on me. Someone else's love can't complete us - only we can do that - and as long as we are complete, someone else's love can help us create something that is larger than both of us already are.
That's all, though. I'll never have less than myself. And I like me quite a bit.
Values are tricky. They get into an arena of good people and bad people. It's uncomfortable for me to think of them that way, because it would imply that people whose values I don't agree with are "bad people" which I don't necessarily believe to be true. I feel like maybe what we call "values" are really just anchor points for how we define ourselves and our lives. Too big of a conflict in "values" can result in too much of a denial of the validity of our own reference point. (Think of a pole-zero plot for Fourier Analysis.)
I've heard so many stories of divorce that all begin, "I knew we were really different when we got married, but I assumed that we'd both be able to grow from our differences...three years later I realized that I was miserable and felt like my perspective wasn't validated." I didn't want myself to be one of those stories, especially given that I already had some serious reservations regarding conflicts of values. So, I bailed - not in the spirit of hurtfulness, but in the spirit of showing myself that I care about my own reference points and their ability to filter my life as appropriate.
Does it make me a quitter? Sure. Does it make me regret that someone is hurting tremendously because I hit my threshold when they hadn't quite reached theirs; because they felt like we still could learn and grow from each other? You bet.
But - am I convinced that we can each find new relationships that work for us in ways we never dreamed, by being able to align our pole-zero plots more closely with someone else's? Absolutely. And I guess that's my only point - there are so many areas of life in which growth is important, and I do think that it's a bad idea to choose a mate that is EXACTLY like one's own self - but as with anything, moderation is so, so, important. I've identified my own region of stability, and know the bounds that I want to stay within, in the future.
Whenever that may be. With whomever that may be. It's a risk - the unknown is always scary. But, it was profound for me to realize that no matter what, I can always have myself, as long as I prove to myself that I can count on me. Someone else's love can't complete us - only we can do that - and as long as we are complete, someone else's love can help us create something that is larger than both of us already are.
That's all, though. I'll never have less than myself. And I like me quite a bit.
09 March 2010
Femi-what?
I've put a lot of thought into this, and I want to choose my words carefully.
Feminism brought LOTS of massive improvements to the life of women. I think that the greatest thing it brought us was (in theory) the opportunity for each woman to be independent - not to have to rely on other people who might not have her best interests at stake. I am thankful for the work of all the women who came before me whose efforts ensured that I will *never* *ever* *ever* have to blindly and unwillingly owe myself or my services to another. The value of that is unmistakable and cannot be understated.
That said, there are also days when I'd give anything to be able to be a stay at home caretaker (wife? mother? nanny? something?). Cleaning, cooking, keeping things in order, guiding children as they learn, grow, and mature, or doing the occasional volunteer job - all of those blended together, allowing me to completely express the nurturing side of me that is harder to completely express in an engineering job - sounds wonderful. Yes, please. Is that bad? Am I betraying my gender and our freedom by expressing a desire to engage in some aspects of the life that women have been freed from?
I think another way to approach this is with the following question: Did feminism intend for "traditional" women's jobs (housekeeper, babysitter, etc) to become so financially and socially undervalued? I don't know. It just seems like there can be this attitude that the only thing that's valued for a woman to be doing is working, working, working, and building her own career and making money as an individual, and that putting real time and effort into something like building a family is being lazy (if the woman chooses it) or is an unfair burden keeping her from self-actualization (if she doesn't choose it.)
For me, the fact that my Mom stayed at home while we were young, gradually working more and more hours as we grew up - I felt like everything she did was an expression of love for us. I'm not saying that anyone who doesn't do what she did doesn't love their kids, at all - but I'm saying that sometimes *I*, as a "modern woman" feel a lot of pressure explicitly not to do what she did. It would be nice, I think, if there wasn't pressure *either* way - I feel like, if we *all* were left to our own devices to follow what path we truly want to, we'd figure out ways to make our own life plans work out. Why all the judgment and pressure? Why does anyone think they have the right to define what a woman, or a man, should or shouldn't be doing, in either direction?
Feminism brought LOTS of massive improvements to the life of women. I think that the greatest thing it brought us was (in theory) the opportunity for each woman to be independent - not to have to rely on other people who might not have her best interests at stake. I am thankful for the work of all the women who came before me whose efforts ensured that I will *never* *ever* *ever* have to blindly and unwillingly owe myself or my services to another. The value of that is unmistakable and cannot be understated.
That said, there are also days when I'd give anything to be able to be a stay at home caretaker (wife? mother? nanny? something?). Cleaning, cooking, keeping things in order, guiding children as they learn, grow, and mature, or doing the occasional volunteer job - all of those blended together, allowing me to completely express the nurturing side of me that is harder to completely express in an engineering job - sounds wonderful. Yes, please. Is that bad? Am I betraying my gender and our freedom by expressing a desire to engage in some aspects of the life that women have been freed from?
I think another way to approach this is with the following question: Did feminism intend for "traditional" women's jobs (housekeeper, babysitter, etc) to become so financially and socially undervalued? I don't know. It just seems like there can be this attitude that the only thing that's valued for a woman to be doing is working, working, working, and building her own career and making money as an individual, and that putting real time and effort into something like building a family is being lazy (if the woman chooses it) or is an unfair burden keeping her from self-actualization (if she doesn't choose it.)
For me, the fact that my Mom stayed at home while we were young, gradually working more and more hours as we grew up - I felt like everything she did was an expression of love for us. I'm not saying that anyone who doesn't do what she did doesn't love their kids, at all - but I'm saying that sometimes *I*, as a "modern woman" feel a lot of pressure explicitly not to do what she did. It would be nice, I think, if there wasn't pressure *either* way - I feel like, if we *all* were left to our own devices to follow what path we truly want to, we'd figure out ways to make our own life plans work out. Why all the judgment and pressure? Why does anyone think they have the right to define what a woman, or a man, should or shouldn't be doing, in either direction?
05 March 2010
Tarot
I've had a couple people ask about my business: I started a company for doing Tarot readings.
Sounds funny, right?
I don't know. It's pretty interesting to me. I've heard a few perspectives on readings, and I have my own beliefs about what works, what doesn't, and what's actually going on.
I'm guessing that people have tried to make this more scientific before (and in my own attempt to do so I may be one more person waltzing down a path of abject silliness) - but I'd like to try and compile some statistics from readings I do. For example, I'm thinking of making a rubric of what different combinations of cards *never* mean, and then recording how often those combinations show up inappropriately. (I think that would be stronger and easier to measure than the converse.)
I read an article recently about how people who have a strong need for control have a much larger chance of seeing a coherent image in a random one. I feel like undertaking something like tarot reading could be pretty analogous - but there's that part of me that's just curious - curious and hopeful. It's always exhilarating to discover that something that we hope could be true, really is.
I want to try and keep a perspective on what I'm doing - objectivity is key. The biggest letdowns seem to be those that we create for ourselves by ignoring the facts. I don't want to do that.
So, we'll see how it goes. The business has two aspects: the longer term is the project I described above (ok and maybe making some money if I establish a reputation as a good reader.) The second is just to have fun getting to know people and doing readings. I've found that readings are definitely good conversation pieces, and definitely good for introspection, perspective shifting, and general reality checks. All of those are a net plus, so no matter what - this should be an interesting time.
And if you would like a free reading (via e-mail), I will be happy to do one for the first three or so people that comment here or drop me a note.
And, the website: Tarot Chamber.
Sounds funny, right?
I don't know. It's pretty interesting to me. I've heard a few perspectives on readings, and I have my own beliefs about what works, what doesn't, and what's actually going on.
I'm guessing that people have tried to make this more scientific before (and in my own attempt to do so I may be one more person waltzing down a path of abject silliness) - but I'd like to try and compile some statistics from readings I do. For example, I'm thinking of making a rubric of what different combinations of cards *never* mean, and then recording how often those combinations show up inappropriately. (I think that would be stronger and easier to measure than the converse.)
I read an article recently about how people who have a strong need for control have a much larger chance of seeing a coherent image in a random one. I feel like undertaking something like tarot reading could be pretty analogous - but there's that part of me that's just curious - curious and hopeful. It's always exhilarating to discover that something that we hope could be true, really is.
I want to try and keep a perspective on what I'm doing - objectivity is key. The biggest letdowns seem to be those that we create for ourselves by ignoring the facts. I don't want to do that.
So, we'll see how it goes. The business has two aspects: the longer term is the project I described above (ok and maybe making some money if I establish a reputation as a good reader.) The second is just to have fun getting to know people and doing readings. I've found that readings are definitely good conversation pieces, and definitely good for introspection, perspective shifting, and general reality checks. All of those are a net plus, so no matter what - this should be an interesting time.
And if you would like a free reading (via e-mail), I will be happy to do one for the first three or so people that comment here or drop me a note.
And, the website: Tarot Chamber.
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