Here is a life goal, don't know where or when I picked it up: to die well. To live up to my responsibilities to my family and then, when I was done, get the f out of the way with the least fuss possible.
So much in my life has reinforced this, from the way my elders have passed on, to my conviction that my life has relatively little value in the larger scheme of things. I'm just not that important.
I'm not saying my kids don't love me. I'm can be a fun person, and I still have a bit of wisdom to share. But seriously, they have their spouses and kids and jobs. They are moving on, getting life done. I see their need for my and my relevance fading. I sure don't want to burden any of them with needing to wipe up my fluids even if I don't know them anymore.
So half-kidding today, I made the statement that my next major goal in life was to die a good death.
And I was told in no uncertain terms that this would not be allowed.
Doesn't matter how useless I am or how much my upkeep costs.
I am not to be allowed so much as a DNR order, if I even think about dying, I can just forget, they are going to wring every last bit of life out of me.
This is going to take some processing. I guess I always thought that they all mean more to me than I mean to them; and I don't mean just my family, I mean the world in general.
Seriously, I did not even realize anyone would care that much. I don't know what to do with the feeling. What in the world am I supposed to do with being loved?
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Self serving blindness
I try not to think about it, because it still makes me go grrr. I didn't feel up to doing something I really enjoy, so as I wasn't going off to do the fun thing with everyone else it was forcefully suggested to me that I clean up everyone elses mess while they were gone.
Why were so many of these otherwise nice people who like me (1) oblivious to their own messes, (2) think that I was staying behind because I didn't want to do fun thing, and (3) assume it was ok to tell, not ask nicely mind you, to labor while they were gone.
Why do people complain about dishes in the sink, unless they are their own?
Why do other people hair in the sink gross us out, but we will ignore our own?
Come on, be real, we all do it. The thing that distinguishes a considerate person is that they are able to see these things through the other person's eyes and take action. The take action part is just a matter of deciding that you will not be lazy. But the seeing part is trickier.
Self-serving blindness, we all do it sometimes. We all only see the side of the story that is going to make us the good guy, or get us out of the job we don't want to do. So instead of confronting the really hard to talk to people about cleaning up after themselves, to pick on the meek old ladies who have cleaned up after themselves and make them clean up after everyone else, as well.
And meek old ladies have their own self serving ways. We have years of accumulated knowledge of observing masters of passive aggressive behaviors. We also have patience, and really long memories.
And in the spirit of my ideal of being honest and upfront in all my dealings, I admit to my own self-serving blindness. I'm not good at confrontation and yeah I'm still pissed off. So there.
Why were so many of these otherwise nice people who like me (1) oblivious to their own messes, (2) think that I was staying behind because I didn't want to do fun thing, and (3) assume it was ok to tell, not ask nicely mind you, to labor while they were gone.
Why do people complain about dishes in the sink, unless they are their own?
Why do other people hair in the sink gross us out, but we will ignore our own?
Come on, be real, we all do it. The thing that distinguishes a considerate person is that they are able to see these things through the other person's eyes and take action. The take action part is just a matter of deciding that you will not be lazy. But the seeing part is trickier.
Self-serving blindness, we all do it sometimes. We all only see the side of the story that is going to make us the good guy, or get us out of the job we don't want to do. So instead of confronting the really hard to talk to people about cleaning up after themselves, to pick on the meek old ladies who have cleaned up after themselves and make them clean up after everyone else, as well.
And meek old ladies have their own self serving ways. We have years of accumulated knowledge of observing masters of passive aggressive behaviors. We also have patience, and really long memories.
And in the spirit of my ideal of being honest and upfront in all my dealings, I admit to my own self-serving blindness. I'm not good at confrontation and yeah I'm still pissed off. So there.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Creative Inclusiveness.
I was moved to tears because someone in a far away kingdom received an award. One reason is because he really deserved it, but more than that, it gives me hope.
In this medieval game I play, inclusiveness has become a big issue in many ways. I'm not going to get into all the issues, but I want to say a bit about why it matters to me. I mean, I'm not really part of any minority that might worry about exclusion, at least not on the surface.
But I came to this game late in life. Many people who are playing and are my age have been doing it from a much younger age; they have won their accolades in times past and are resting on their laurels or nests or whatever. But that isn't me.
Let's be real, in many ways this game favors the young. Fighting, camping, schlepping stuff, putting in long days of service is so much easier when you are 20 or 30 than when you are 50. Or 60. I am convinced that the day will come sooner than I would like that I simply can't do it anymore. And as the population in our group ages, there are more people needing help than there are younger hands coming in to take up the slack.
But then there's Justin. He is caught by a debilitating health situation that keeps him mostly home. And because of this and the slow response of the disability system, he also has strict financial limits. But he still plays this game and plays it hard. He serves many people with questions of heraldry, helping with finding names and designing devices. He does it all from his home, online. He does it so much, that when he was Skyped in to an event this past weekend and presented with an award, they said they received recommendations from seven different Kingdoms.
And tears ran down my face, because it gives me hope. Hope that there will still be a way for me to make a difference even if I can't get out there and do it all. Hope that the C in the SCA will stand for looking beyond the way that things have always been done so that everyone gets to play.
Inclusiveness matters. Even if you have never had a reason to feel excluded. Especially if you are the young, the strong, the majority, the one without any barriers. Justin is a lot of fun. I have been told that I am a lot of fun. Take the game as seriously as you need to, but don't forget the fun.
BTW, if you would like to give Justin a little help while he waits for disability, here is a way:
http://www.gofundme.com/k5o5ls
Thanks.
In this medieval game I play, inclusiveness has become a big issue in many ways. I'm not going to get into all the issues, but I want to say a bit about why it matters to me. I mean, I'm not really part of any minority that might worry about exclusion, at least not on the surface.
But I came to this game late in life. Many people who are playing and are my age have been doing it from a much younger age; they have won their accolades in times past and are resting on their laurels or nests or whatever. But that isn't me.
Let's be real, in many ways this game favors the young. Fighting, camping, schlepping stuff, putting in long days of service is so much easier when you are 20 or 30 than when you are 50. Or 60. I am convinced that the day will come sooner than I would like that I simply can't do it anymore. And as the population in our group ages, there are more people needing help than there are younger hands coming in to take up the slack.
But then there's Justin. He is caught by a debilitating health situation that keeps him mostly home. And because of this and the slow response of the disability system, he also has strict financial limits. But he still plays this game and plays it hard. He serves many people with questions of heraldry, helping with finding names and designing devices. He does it all from his home, online. He does it so much, that when he was Skyped in to an event this past weekend and presented with an award, they said they received recommendations from seven different Kingdoms.
And tears ran down my face, because it gives me hope. Hope that there will still be a way for me to make a difference even if I can't get out there and do it all. Hope that the C in the SCA will stand for looking beyond the way that things have always been done so that everyone gets to play.
Inclusiveness matters. Even if you have never had a reason to feel excluded. Especially if you are the young, the strong, the majority, the one without any barriers. Justin is a lot of fun. I have been told that I am a lot of fun. Take the game as seriously as you need to, but don't forget the fun.
BTW, if you would like to give Justin a little help while he waits for disability, here is a way:
http://www.gofundme.com/k5o5ls
Thanks.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Wanting poetry
I am befuddled by poetry, by the writing of it.
I have met a few professional, published poets (even though, of course, that is not how they make their livings) and they talk about the labor of crafting a poem.
My experience is that a poem happens almost by a will of its own. words form in my head, need to flow out. I almost feel like it is a process that should be done privately. I really don't understand my own computation to commit poetry and then share it.
I would think it must all be be bad, but there are always some people who like it.
The only time it is not liked is when I work at it, when I try to do it, when I craft it.
I wonder if it is that way in all arts, that some work hard and craft, and other's just can't seem to help it.
The other part that, well, makes me ponder is that if often feels like a prayer. Even when the subject is the most profane, or most ordinary. But my heart feeling is one of offering, of holiness.
I would like to spit out, extrude, commit more poetry. I would like to make it happen more. If feels like what I am meant to do, even though I think I'm probably doing it all wrong.
But really, that is kind of the point I am making. I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to make it happen. I have studied and studied but still don't understand creativity.
I only understand snatching at the occasional bubble as it floats by.
I have met a few professional, published poets (even though, of course, that is not how they make their livings) and they talk about the labor of crafting a poem.
My experience is that a poem happens almost by a will of its own. words form in my head, need to flow out. I almost feel like it is a process that should be done privately. I really don't understand my own computation to commit poetry and then share it.
I would think it must all be be bad, but there are always some people who like it.
The only time it is not liked is when I work at it, when I try to do it, when I craft it.
I wonder if it is that way in all arts, that some work hard and craft, and other's just can't seem to help it.
The other part that, well, makes me ponder is that if often feels like a prayer. Even when the subject is the most profane, or most ordinary. But my heart feeling is one of offering, of holiness.
I would like to spit out, extrude, commit more poetry. I would like to make it happen more. If feels like what I am meant to do, even though I think I'm probably doing it all wrong.
But really, that is kind of the point I am making. I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to make it happen. I have studied and studied but still don't understand creativity.
I only understand snatching at the occasional bubble as it floats by.
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