Monday, August 8, 2016

Day 58: Carpe-ing All the Diems

Look, I don't think I can emphasize this enough.

If what you're doing doesn't make you happy, then stop doing it and start doing something else.

Am successfully having a great time.
I get that there are a lot of definitions for "happy."  The kind of happy I am when I know I'm doing the best I can for my kids is totally different than the kind of happy I am when I spend a night in a bar singing karaoke, and I'm not suggesting any of you walk out the door while your toddler is screaming and just go put your name in to sing Paradise By the Dashboard Light instead of dealing with your child.  Sometimes big, long term happiness takes a little bit of sacrifice in the short term.  I understand.  I'm not talking about that.

Still having a great time, slightly different context.




I'm talking about always planning for that vacation you're going to take "someday.  Maybe next year."  

Like this vacation.  This one right here.

I'm talking about wanting to spend more time with your family or friends, but "oh, not this week.  I'm really swamped next week, too.  Call me after that?  I promise we'll get together then."

Or now.  You could just do it now.
I'm talking about wishing you'd gone sailing, or ridden in a hot air balloon, but "no.  That's silly.  I don't need to do that.  Let's just go to a movie or something."

Okay, this is actually a movie, but Fuzzy and I don't get to do that often, so it's fun for us!
I know that sometimes it's about money.  I know that sometimes it's about time.  But sometimes it's really just about being brave enough, and deciding your life is worth actually living.  That you have these finite hours to do with as you will, and you can choose to spend them doing what actually satisfies you, or you can squander them on routine, and inertia, and stagnation.

Better to drown going to see the pandas than never see the pandas at all.
Last year Been was in the hospital, and, as Coury puts it "she kept trying to die on us."  She didn't, which I'm terribly grateful for, and I wish she'd never been ill, but I guess something about it lit a fire under my ass.  I don't have that much time on this earth, and a fair chunk of it is going towards making sure my part of the next generation aren't giant assholes.  Whatever other hours I have in any given day are going to be spent on things that make me happy.  

No matter how ridiculous it is.
There just doesn't seem to be a point to living any other way. 

Saturday, August 6, 2016

Day 57: Reconstructing Yourself

Let's keep going with where I left off in the last post...

After you tear yourself apart--trying to remove the fear, or self-doubt, or whatever other horrible, destructive thing your trauma buried inside you--you have to decide how you want to go about putting yourself back together.  This would probably be easier if you could do it all in one clean sweep--one day you excise what's hurting you, the next day you patch the holes--but the truth is, repairing yourself is always going to be a process, and the longer you do it the more little hurts you find hidden inside.  More ways that you broke yourself, trying to fit into a situation that was never designed to contain you.  That's why it's so important to figure out how you want to be pieced back together.  As long as you know the general outlines of the person you want to be, you know what has to go and what can stay.

 Design by Shira Sela

When you know the shape of yourself, you know what sort of space you need to walk comfortably though the world.  For me, that means reclaiming so many things about myself that I gave up along the way, in order to better fit into a differently shaped life.  It means not apologizing, or feeling guilty about the pieces that go together to make up the whole of me.

I am not everyone's favorite shape.  I have spurs and bristles that can be abrasive.  I am outspoken in my opinions, I question things relentlessly, and I am not one to back down from a debate.  But these qualities are part of the outlines of who I am, and I am no longer willing to try to change those outlines.  I will reconstruct myself to fill the shape I want to be, spurs, bristles, and all.


But I have lost things along the way.  Things that were buried too deeply inside the traumas, that couldn't be saved when I cut the pain out of my life.  There is a hole in me where I used to have faith in my own judgement.  There's another where a lot of my trust has gone missing.  I can't find the place where I used to hold the unself-conscious joy when I sang, or the simple pleasure of inhabiting my body without censure.  These things are gone, and while I might gain them back in time, I don't think there's any guarantee.  They might be gone forever.


There's a philosophy in Japanese pottery called Kintsukuroi, or Golden Repair, which treats breakage as part of the history of an object, and therefore not something to be disguised or hidden.  Pottery is mended with metallic lacquer, highlighting the breaks.  It's lovely work, and in many cases it can result in a piece which is more beautiful for having been broken.  Western culture teaches us to hide our broken places away, and pretend they don't exist, but I think that's a mistake.  I am no longer the unblemished heart that I once was, but the gaps that have been left might be filled with something beautiful.  Perhaps I can fill them with bravery, or honesty, or the deep sense of rightness that comes along with accepting who you are, with no excuses.

I cannot help but think that, in the end, it might make me a more beautiful person.  More beautiful because I was broken, and chose to reconstruct myself with care.  More beautiful because I chose the shape I wanted to be, and added things I loved until I filled that shape perfectly.

And if it doesn't make me more beautiful, at the very least I suspect it will make me more happy.





Friday, August 5, 2016

Day 56: Positive Destruction

Emotions in Color II

I'm going to start this with a story.

Recently, I had a friend ask me to stop doing something.  It wasn't a big deal.  He was both totally nice and totally reasonable about it.  What wasn't at all reasonable was my response.

Oh, not externally.  Externally I knocked it the fuck off, and went on with things.  Internally, though, I felt... awful.  Just really awful.  Scared and tense and a little bit sick.  Like catastrophe was about to strike.  Like I needed to crawl in a cave and wait for things to get better.

Later he explained--still nice, still reasonable--that it tickled.  That was all.  He'd asked me to stop because it tickled.  And I was left to wonder... why the hell had I reacted like that?


 Confusion
re-posted from wordpress

One of the worst things about emotional trauma is that it can be hidden even from the person who is experiencing it.  Physical trauma is more direct.  It's hard not to notice a gunshot wound, or the way your feet look and feel when you're a ballet dancer.  Emotional trauma can be hard to spot when it's happening, and even once you realize it's there it can be hard to heal.  There's no bleeding to staunch, or bones to set.  It's just there, and sometimes the only way you discover it is when you suddenly find yourself feeling sick and broken inside, with no idea why.

Lemme tell you, that shit sucks.

If you're lucky--and I say lucky because skill truly has nothing to do with it--then the best you can hope for is that when one of those ingrained, uncontrolled reactions comes along, you have a sliver of sanity that points out that the pain you're feeling is totally disproportional to the incident.  Then you get to pick your way back along your mental trail, trying to pull apart your own snarled emotions, digging until you find the kernel of hurt that set you off in the first place.   I wouldn't say it's fun, but it's better than the alternative.  You have to find the kernel.  It's the only way you can root the damn thing out.

 Girl on Fire

Of course, that little bundle of misery isn't sitting, nice and neat, waiting to be removed cleanly.  It's part of the confusing maze of memories and reactions that make up who each of us are.  It's tied into you by threads of emotion and knowledge, all of which are connected to your trauma in some way, and the longer that trauma went on the more threads there are.  There may be hundreds, or millions.
One for each time you got hurt.
One for each minute you were afraid.
One for each justification you made.

They really add up.

And in order to excise that bundle of pain--the one that is tied so deeply into you--you have to break those threads.  It seems so simple, but they aren't just made of pain and fear, they're made of other things, too.  Love, maybe, or a sense of comfort.  Certainly a sense of who you are.  Our traumas are as much a part of us as our joys, and if we let them go--if we truly cut them out, and refuse to let them shape us anymore--then in some ways we are destroying part of ourselves.  At the very least, we are irrevocably changing things.

And when we finally free that dense knot of pain--when we cut all the threads and let it go, to dissolve into the ether--then we are left with a hole in our lives.  When we have destroyed part of what made us who we are, then the question becomes, what do we want to fill ourselves with?

Who do we want to be?



Thursday, August 4, 2016

Day 55: When Things Turn Rough...


When I find myself in times of trouble
Old King Arthur comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Bake for me

And when my dog poops everywhere
And my children act like they are three
Still it brings me comfort
To bake for me

Bake for me, bake for me
Bake for me, bake for me
It can bring me comfort
To bake for me
Not magic, but made with Cheerwine!


A pound cake isn't magic
But it soothes my heart as you can see
When I take an hour
And bake for me

For though my life's chaotic
This is still just basic chemistry
And it remains unchanging
When I bake for me

Bake for me, bake for me
Bake for me, bake for me
So it brings me comfort
To bake for me




This little fucker, right here.




So when my dog poops everywhere
And my children act like they are three
Still it brings me comfort
To bake for me

It's much too soon to have a drink
And besides, I'm out of good whiskey...
So I turn to my oven
And bake for me.




Monday, August 1, 2016

Travel Interlude

Dearest Friends and Folks,

I am almost home again from my three week trip (well, by the time I post this I'll likely already BE home) and while I'm sure my ponderings from the long hours in the car will provide material for quite some time, I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge the trip itself.

In the Beginning.

Road trips are great, if you have the right mindset.  You're gonna be in the car.  Pack some tunes, accept that your joints will be stiff sometimes, and enjoy the ride.  It's like a form of active meditation.

I had an amazing time.  The kids were better than I could have hoped, and as a result I've come away with the firm conviction that the three of us can handle literally anything.  I got the pleasant reminder that I have some wonderful friends, people who will feed me, host me, give my children piggy back rides, play video games with them, and just spend time with me, shooting the shit.

I have also come away with the insane urge to buy an RV and spend the rest of my life on the road, but maybe that will fade.

In the end

Anyway, it was awesome, and I hope you all have had similarly magical times this summer.

Now we return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Saturday, June 25, 2016

Day 54: Intelligence, Emotion, and Value.

I've been watching this show...

You know what, skip it.  If you want to know about the show that inspired this post, you can check it out over on Why Aren't They Kissing.

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot recently about the value we place on intelligence versus emotion, and the more I think about it the crankier I get.  Follow me, if you will, down the rabbit hole.

Here in the rabbit hole, we only make cranky faces.

Intelligence, by definition, is the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills.  In essence, when we say someone has a high IQ, all we're saying is that they learn well, and can use what they learn.  And that's certainly a valuable trait to have, not only to the individual, but also to society at large.  Our most intelligent members are far more likely to make advances in any number of fields, because they have the ability to learn everything up to the current cutting edge, and they apply what they've learned in new ways.  Being smart is great, and I don't mean to devalue it.

Unfortunately, there are huge issues with the way we view intelligence and knowledge in our society.  It's so massive and overarching, it's hard to really even know where to start, so bear with me.

First, let's talk about the ways that we measure intelligence.  All of our IQ tests are very biased.  They mean crap.  I say this as someone who does well on IQ tests, so I'm not speaking out of bitterness or anything.  They measure very little beyond your ability to understand patterns, which means if you're good at patterns you do great on the test, and if patterns aren't your thing then you're hosed. 

 See these kids?  Both of them are smart.  But only one does well on tests.  And it isn't the one the teachers are always praising as being "so smart".  Chew on that, for a bit.

Intelligence shouldn't just be about patterns.  Remember, we're talking about the ability to learn and apply what you've learned.  Theoretically, this should include everything, right?  Or, at the very least, everything you do with your brain.  Anything that isn't strictly a physical skill.  Amazing athletes, therefore, would not be qualified as particularly intelligent (although they might also be intelligent, I'm just saying that their athletic prowess alone would not indicate that they were) but rocket scientists would be, and so would world-class musicians.

Anyone who just tripped up over classifying world-class musicians as intelligent has found my first issue with our view of that concept.







 Hard music is hard.





If you haven't been living under a rock, you're probably aware of the acronym STEM.  It's the term we use for the hard sciences, which also happen to be the subjects that are highly valued by society.  Science, technology, engineering, and mathematics have become the holy grail of education and, by extension, intelligence in our culture. 

Quick, make a list of all the professions you automatically assume indicate intelligence.  Now, did historians make that list?  What about poets?  Screenwriters?  Painters?  Tailors?  Chefs?  Did you write down any profession that isn't classified under STEM? 

Most of us don't.  Most of us list things like scientists, doctors, and software engineers.  Lawyer makes the list fairly frequently, and isn't a STEM career, but that's basically it.  And it's not because other careers don't require the acquisition and application of knowledge.  They do.  But we don't value the types of knowledge that are being acquired and applied there, so we don't consider them as being "smart." 

What I do.  Also not STEM.

Technology is great.  I love technology, and modern medicine, and our growing understanding of the universe in which we live.  But those aren't the only things in the world, and it really grinds my gears the way we casually dismiss the value of all other types of knowledge.

Which leads me neatly to my second point: how intelligence and emotion have somehow become opposites in our collective consciousness. 

"Emotion" refers to the series of complex internal states that we pass through.  These states are evoked by external stimuli, and are manifested by changes in multiple systems within the body.  They're only minimally understood even among the medical disciplines devoted to studying them, but they impact every aspect of our daily lives.  It's remarkable that, as a species, we have learned to process and react to emotions so well, given how wide and varied a spectrum they are and how little we understand their basis.  Some of us, of course, don't process emotions as well, and some of us are particularly skilled and process not only our own emotions but those around us exceedingly well.  And yet, for reasons that baffle me, this is not viewed as a type of intelligence.  Emotional facility is viewed as some kind of esoteric magic, instead of a clear acquisition and application of a particular type of knowledge.

And this--all this--makes flames shoot up the side of my face.


See, it all comes back to power dynamics, and it's multi-layered.  We can start with the obvious, that for generations we've chosen to pretend that logic and emotion are mutually exclusive, and that they have a tendency to split along gender lines.  The dynamic there has been discussed exhaustively over many different platforms, and I'm not going to rehash it here, but it basically boils down to us devaluing the type of knowledge in which women are traditionally expected to display a facility.

It also relates to class, though.  Service professions, even those that are specialized and highly skilled, are devalued, while "leisure" professions--those that have their roots (in European culture) among the nobility who had enough disposable income that they could spend their days pondering the mysteries of the universe--are magnified.  Those leisure professions have evolved into our modern day STEM subjects, and are still mostly occupied by our upper classes.  It's not that poor children never grow up to be doctors and engineers, but it's far less likely.

Here, have some statistics that are vaguely relevant.

So, we have this heavy bias towards a certain subset of knowledge.  We treat it as the only kind that truly "counts", thus our tendency to disregard other kinds of knowledge as a marker of intelligence.  And it's creating a terrible, destructive schism in our educational system and in our economy.

See, not everyone can be an engineer, or a researcher, or a programmer.  And that's fine.  Lots of us don't want to be those things.  Some of us want to be farmers, and some of us want to be mechanics, and some of us want to be clerks for the city.  And that's great!  Those professions are highly desirable!  We need them for society to function.  And yet, we don't value them.  Not only do we not pay them well, we also don't respect them.  They're jobs that don't garner instant approbation.  We mentally rank them low on the totem pole, and we don't encourage the skills they need in school.  Our children grow up thinking that there's something vaguely shameful about being successful in a service career, so they don't consider it when they're planning what they want to be when they grow up.  And that's a damn shame, because there's nothing wrong with going into service.  It doesn't mean you're stupid, and it doesn't mean you're valueless. 

My brothers are all wicked smaht, but only one is in a STEM field.

This really bothers me.  I know that, as human beings, we have this alarming trend toward hierarchical classification, but I'm tired of our blind devotion to hard science.  I'm tired of the limited subset of knowledge that we consider worthy.  And I'm tired of watching people devalue emotion as though it somehow detracts from understanding, instead of being a thing worthy of understanding in and of itself.

What does this have to do with acceptance?

Well, remember those kids up there?  Those giant goof-balls with their tiny bodies and enormous brains?  Well, I'm coming to realize that those awesome kids may not actually do very well in school.  It's not because they aren't smart--they are--but they're not typical.  Charlotte fits in better than Elliot, but even she is a bit outside the box, and Elliot is so far outside the boundaries of "normal" that I've spent most of the past school year trying to figure out how to help construct a patchwork that fits him out of the current educational system.  My darling munchkins don't fit the mold, so our criteria for judging them shows them as being lacking.

But I don't think they're lacking at all.  I think the mold is lacking, not just for them, but for other kids, too.  The kids who want to be artists, and the kids who want to build cars.  The kids who like growing things in the dirt ,and the kids who like working with fabric, or food.  All those kids are going to spend their school years struggling to fit into that STEM mold, that judges their intelligence and their worth by a narrow, narrow segment of the wealth of human knowledge.  And I hope each of those kids has someone in their lives who accepts that the problem is with the mold, not them.

I know mine will.






Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Day 53: Getting Painted

My friend Zan painted me!  

So, the other day I was beebopping around like this:

 HELLO FUZZY PICTURE!

And Zan decided she liked my hair with that dress, and asked if I would sit for her.  This was taken inside, so the reason for her desire is perhaps less obvious, but you can see the colors in the painting.  Here is the finished result:

Such colors.  Many wows.  

Anyway, Zan said I could share it with you.  Isn't it great?  Bee tee dubs, she takes commissions.  Just saying.  I could hook you up.