I think, sometimes, about the fact that when my mother passes away I will have no relatives here in Canada other than the ones I made – my three kids. When I think about it I feel alone. I realize that should my eldest son ever have children, I will have more relatives. The other two of my boys will likely never have families.
So where will be my legacy? I wonder if maybe that’s why I write… to ensure there will be something left of me, even if it’s not a blood relative. I used to think about this in regards to my father. As an only child, and a girl to boot, the only chance of my father’s name being passed down was if I kept it. But I didn’t, in regards to my children. They have their father’s surname. So at this branch of the family tree, the name Hill will end… or will it? Again, if I publish my novels perhaps it will live on, at least as a concept if not a warm body.
As the generations pass on we are all eventually forgotten in everything but name. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could be somehow remembered though? Words go a long way.
Facebook is littered with them – memes which state that if you care about something you must prove it by re-posting a picture with a bunch of often grammatically incorrect sentences or misspelled words. Things like, “If you want cancer to cured, re-post this in the next twenty seconds,” or “Share if you think animals have rights too.” Of course I want a cure for cancer to be found, and I certainly can’t stand to hear about animals being mistreated, but I never re-post these things – I don’t feel that I need to prove the way I feel to anyone.
But the one that really gets me are the “children with special needs need to be treated like anyone else” memes.
Like this one:
No. No, no, no, no, no. I won’t re-post this on Facebook. (Yes, I know it’s going to show up in my feed when I publish this blog post, but at least it’ll have an explanation with it.)
Do I want people to be aware that kids with special needs need to be treated just like everyone else? Yes. Do I want to be guilted into posting this because it shows I have “a strong heart”? No. Do I sound ungrateful right now? Maybe.
I don’t feel that I need a strong heart in order to love my two kids with special needs, and I don’t think anyone else requires a particularly strong heart to care about them. They just need to be observant and kind. Treating any human being with kindness is a simple matter of compassion and at least an attempt to understand. No one has to prove themselves as far as I’m concerned, unless actually confronted with a situation in which they can provide a smile or at least refrain from saying or doing something nasty.
I mean seriously, how far does one of these Facebook memes go? If someone is confronted with an uncomfortable situation in a public place where an Autistic adult walks up to them and begins to talk about his or her imaginary friend, does the poster of the meme remember they posted it and take it to heart? No. The last thing on someone’s mind in this situation is Facebook.
Rather than posting a meme, learn something. Take the time to think about what you’d do. Read articles written by the parents of a special needs child and take their advice. Being guilted into posting on Facebook is useless unless you know what it means.
Attachments can come in many forms. We can become attached to things; keepsakes, favourite things, things that we watch and enjoy listening to, there are too many things to mention. But I think the most unhealthy and possibly dangerous things we can become attached to are ideas.
When I sat down to write this I had to write this: http://lindaghillfiction.com/2015/02/14/fandom-form-letter-tongue-in-cheek/ first. I’m not sure if somewhere between the popularity of the tabloid and the mainstream inundation we have of celebrity news there has become an increase in the obsession people have for their favourite stars; I worry about the state of many people’s ideas of who these celebrities actually are, particularly young girls.
From the time of Puppy Love I’ve known what it is to “fall in love” with a singer. I’ve since recognized that it wasn’t actually love but infatuation. At the time I would pounce on anything Donny Osmond and soak it up. I’d stay home instead of going out with my friends in order to catch a single glimpse on TV. So what has changed?
The internet, for one. Being so much easier for people to find things–pictures, videos, interviews–of their favourite stars – is it feeding the obsession even more? The constant need for these stars to keep themselves in the limelight and give up more of their personal lives can’t be helping. And there breeds the dangerous, obsessive, possessive ideas in young girls’ (and even adults) minds that simply won’t go away. “He’s meant to be mine.” “We have a special connection.” It can seriously interfere with the healthy growth of a person. I know people who refuse real life relationships because they are waiting for their star to meet them and sweep them off their feet. And the pure inundation of media feeds it.
It’s not an isolated phenomenon. It’s widespread. It’s growing. And I wonder if there’s anything we can do about it. Somehow I doubt it.
I have to wonder too how the stars themselves cope with it. Fandom is nice, but the obsessive letters they must get have to be disconcerting. The paparazzi have proven dangerous and intrusive. It’s a wonder to me that anyone would want to be famous. But then I suppose they have their own attachments.
I’ve held off reviewing the trilogy of 50 Shades of Grey because, mostly, I didn’t think it was worth my time. A poorly written, badly researched Twilight fanfic, it was more laughable when I read it than anything. It’s a masterpiece of an example of something that should have never been published for so many reasons, and yet it was.
I’m writing this now for two reasons. First, that I made a silly suggestion in my last post that single women go to see the movie, and further to that end I want to take it back – at least until you’ve read this review of the movie, which is my second reason for coming out with this now —–>>> http://www.mamamia.com.au/rogue/fifty-shades-of-grey-review-rosie-waterland/
I’ve said a few times that the film couldn’t possibly be worse than the book. It seems that perhaps, if the above review is accurate, that it might even be doing those who see 50 Shades as romance a favour by depicting the character of Christian Grey for what he really is: a narcissist, and a dangerous one at that.
I have to believe that E.L. James meant the story to be titillating; to show the world of BDSM in the mainstream. 50 Shades of Grey is NOT, however, an accurate depiction of what BDSM is. Although I’ve never been active in a BDSM relationship, I’ve written extensively with someone who has. I learned a lot from this. Foremost, and E.L. James actually WROTE this into the contract she copied and pasted numerous times in the book, is that a submissive must be able to trust a Dom. And over and over and over again, Christian Grey, the Dom, proves himself untrustworthy. Consistency is so far from one of James’ strong suits though, it catapults itself far above the ceiling over which my eyes constantly rolled during the reading of the novels. The average reader may have skimmed this. The writer and editor in me could not. It’s that “skimming” which leads me to believe, nay, KNOW that 50 Shades of Grey is a danger to any and all young women who fall into the trap of seeing it as romantic – or anything but what it is. A story of torture at the hands of a psychopathic narcissist.
If you’re planning to see the movie, know what you’ll be watching. The word “fun” should be banned from the screening of this film.
Image courtesy of [farconville] at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
(For ladies only. Men; don’t read.) This Saturday is Valentine’s Day – a perfect opportunity for a date with that great guy. But what if, like me, you’re single and dateless? Here’s what you can do instead:
7. Take yourself out for a nice dinner!
Spend Sunday reconciling how you managed to spend less on a filet mignon, a lobster tail and a bottle of fine wine than you spent at Desserts R’ Us.
6. Stay home with an expensive bottle of wine and your favourite flavour of Haagen Dazs!
Spend Sunday figuring out which one you regret the most. (Hint: it’s the combination of the two.)
5. Knit a sweater!
Realize Sunday morning that it’s never going to fit you – it’s for that fabulous guy you don’t have. Spend the rest of the day undoing it and knitting yourself a blankie to cry into.
4. Watch The Notebook!
Spend Sunday convincing yourself that it’s better not to have a romantic partner – you won’t have to worry about remembering who he is in 50 years.
3. Watch Magic Mike!
Spend Sunday shopping for replacement batteries. (You know what I’m talking about, ladies.)
2. Get yourself dolled up and go to the theatre to watch 50 Shades of Grey!
Spend Sunday inventing excuses for your family to explain why the fire department showed up at your house at midnight. Anything but the truth – that you somehow managed to handcuff yourself to the bed posts in your sexiest lingerie and then dropped the key but managed to hang on to the phone. Oh myyy!!
1. Spend Saturday night curled up with a nice glass of your favourite beverage and a great book!
Sunday, repeat.
I don’t know about you gals, but I think I might stick with #1. 😉
I think you have to have spent a lifetime in a climate such as the one we have in Southern Ontario, Canada, in order to be able to say with a straight face,
“It’s snowin’ like a bugger, but at least it’s not cold out!” and mean it.
Anyone who would like to try it out, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do, you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a ping back, just copy the URL in the address bar on this post and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below.
As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday, if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:
I’ve always loved looking at abandoned buildings. I remember going on long car trips with my parents and sitting in the back seat watching the scenery go by; nothing caught my attention quite like an old house with its windows boarded up and ivy threatening to consume it whole, or a broken down barn, its walls leaning off its stone foundation as though a good wind could transport it to Oz. Such sceneries inspired me to wonder who lived there, and what ultimately caused them to walk away. Even better were the houses with the front door left open. Traveling by at 60mph my nose would be pressed up against the glass, hoping for a glimpse of peeling wallpaper inside. Did it burn? Perhaps the dog got out and they ran after it, never to return.
I think for me its mostly about the history I can’t read about in a book. I can walk around somewhere like Canterbury Cathedral and think more about all the shoes that wore the floor into ruts than I pay attention to the plaques, telling me which king or queen was entombed where. That’s what imagination is for, after all. Pure inspiration.
And so yes, for these reasons I enjoy looking at photos of abandoned buildings, taken by photographers who love to go into such places. I’d seen the term “ruin porn” a few times around the internet, but it wasn’t until I discovered photographer Seph Lawless, just yesterday in fact, that I decided to look up the term and see exactly what it means.
According to Wikipedia and another article – The Psychology of Ruin Porn I found, the term “ruin porn” refers to the concept that there are photographers out there who take pictures of abandoned places without documenting the wheres, whys and hows in which the places became dilapidated, thus exploiting them much like pornography exploits its subjects. I beg to differ. And yet, can I?
The third (and final) definition in Merriam Webster’s free online dictionary – and the only one not mentioning sex specifically, is this:
3: the depiction of acts in a sensational manner so as to arouse a quick intense emotional reaction
There is definitely something to this in regards to “ruin porn.” In seeing a picture of belongings left behind in the aftermath of disaster, strong feelings indeed are provoked. There’s nothing quite like an abandoned teddy bear left in the mud to bring a tear to the eye. We tend to sympathize inasmuch as what if it happened to us? But what of an empty, abandoned house? Must we know everything about its previous owners and what kind of devastation, whether financial or physical, caused them to leave in order to sympathize with them? Is taking a picture of the structure exploiting their misery in the same way the pornographer exploits his or her human subjects, for the sake of money and lust?
It’s a tough call.
I won’t stop looking at ruin photography; it still inspires stories within me. Does that make me a pornographer? Or is this all just another case of oversensitivity?
As the mother of an Autistic child, I can’t help but put my two cents worth in on the recent uprising of controversy surrounding the outbreak of measles and the risk of administering the measles, mumps and rubella vaccination. I do believe I have a rather uncommon perspective on the matter. Unique? Maybe not. Nevertheless, here it is.
When my first son (who is completely “normal”) was one year old we went in for his MMR shot and the doctor suggested that I be immunized at the same time. Much to my regret, I did; I found out a few weeks later that I had been two weeks pregnant with my second son when I had the shot. When my second, Chris, was born everything seemed fine. He was developing according to his milestones and even beyond them. He spoke a few words and played normally. Then, at one year of age he had his MMR. He didn’t speak another word until he was four and a half. He was diagnosed at the age of four with Autism.
It wasn’t until after his diagnosis that I heard about the correlation between the MMR vaccine and Autism; for me it all fell into place. What else could it be? I had one perfectly healthy child and another who wasn’t and there are cognizance issues in the history of neither mine nor their father’s families. Then a study was done. It was “proven” that there is no medical evidence that the MMR shot has caused Autism in anyone. I remain skeptical to this day.
BUT.
When Chris was five years old I had another child with a host of different problems. Alex was born with Noonan Syndrome. In the 1960’s Dr. Jacqueline Noonan discovered a set of characteristics when, put together, proved to be a congenital disorder. My baby’s most life-threatening symptoms were those of his heart: an atrial septal defect, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, and the pulmonary stenosis that was bound to end his life within a year if we didn’t have it corrected with open heart surgery. We were told he had a 50/50 chance of surviving the operation. We went through with it when he was a mere two months old, and yes, it nearly killed him. When the surgeon came into the room and told us that he had just resuscitated our son with open-heart massage and that if his heart stopped again they’d just let him go peacefully we were both frightened and devastated.
Here is what gives me my uncommon perspective on the MMR controversy. I had Alex immunized when he was a year old. Measles, mumps and rubella are all life-threatening illnesses. Having the choice between a healthy Autistic child (which I have) and a dead child (which I almost had) there was no contemplation on my part, even given the suspicion I have that the MMR shots both I had whilst pregnant, and Chris had at the age of one, caused his Autism.
Alex was rendered Deaf during the course of his surgery due to a prolonged period without oxygen. He is not Autistic. I wouldn’t hesitate to have him vaccinated again if it was called for.
I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s much easier to lean towards negative emotions when I’m sick than positive ones. Frustration, fed-upness, anger, even depression make themselves known more readily than calm and contentedness. And yet it’s in my nature to be positive. So I’m even more at odds with myself. Balance is lost – tipped in the wrong direction for me – and so everything is “off.”
My eyes seem to be better today. I won’t spend as much time as I usually do online; I’m afraid my eyesight troubles will come back. But I’m finally getting Alex’s cold now. The sore throat… no, not even. Just tickly. I’m trying not to start coughing lest I not be able to stop.
One thing I am happy about – I got tickets to see Rush in concert in Montreal in June. That’ll be fun. Something to look forward to – and I shouldn’t still be sick by then. Maybe even my shoulder will be better.
See what I mean?
I do suppose it makes sense, to concentrate on the negative when you’re sick. If it doesn’t hurt, you don’t think about it. Until I mention it, for instance, you’re probably not thinking about your teeth. So why should it be any different with emotions? In order to realize I’m content, I must think about the fact. If I’m angry, I know it. If I’m ecstatic, I’m probably concentrating more on what is making me so than the actual feeling. It’s all about mindfulness.
How do you feel? And how often do you feel what you feel?
All this instantaneous gratification of social media and being able to have our words read immediately is somewhat dangerous: It’s not just “putting your foot in your mouth” anymore; now you can “put your keyboard in your mouth.”
Anyone who would like to try it out, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do, you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a ping back, just copy the URL in the address bar on this post and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below.
As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday, if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:
![Image courtesy of [farconville] at FreeDigitalPhotos.net](https://lindaghill.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/id-10070782.jpg)
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