This has the potential to be fun. I just had a nice man call me from Microsoft. He introduced himself as “James,” a lovely East Indian name to be sure, to let me know my computer is sometimes “not responsive” because of a serious problem with Windows. James can fix it for me, but I have to be in front of my computer.
I explained to him that, unfortunately, I don’t have any electricity right now (a blatant lie) but he said that’s no problem, he can call me back later and we can fix this thing! He confirmed his name, “Justin,” and said he’d call tonight.
SO! How can I have the most fun with “James Justin” tonight? Suggestions, please!!
I’m at a loss. The constant flood of news stories coming in through my Facebook feed about discrimination, hate, fear, war and people fleeing from it, protests that go nowhere, threats to freedom and civil liberties–the list goes on and on–are keeping me from living my own life. It distracts me from all the things I should be doing for myself and my family. I’m not functioning because I’m worried, both about my own future, my kids’ future, and that of the ones I can’t help.
Yes, I can hear it already. Poor me, sitting on my privileged white heterosexual ass in a nice warm house, wringing my hands but doing nothing. It’s true. I don’t feel as though I do enough, yet what can I do when I’m shut in my house up here in Canada? I want to help. I want that more than anything. It’s why I’m so obsessed with what’s going on. So far I’ve shared, I’ve given my opinions and I’ve tried to make sense of what’s going on. I’ve tried to help others put it in perspective. To encourage them to do what they can. I write because my words are the best weapon I have. I give consolation when I’m able, but to what effect? It all inevitably falls flat because I am not living it.
On the contrary, I’m not looking to be absolved for having a good life and I don’t want anyone to tell me it’s okay, that I can just go on with my life and not think about what’s going on in the world. I know I need to look after myself. I’m just not sure how to go about it.
I don’t think I’m alone in this. I’m sure there are others out there who live with this worry, and this survivor’s guilt and sense of helplessness. How do you cope when there’s nothing you can physically do? How do you separate yourself from it all, to do what you must to live your own life? We don’t help anyone, least of all ourselves, when all we do is sit at home and read the reports and wring our hands.
I fear this is the way it will be for the rest of my life. I can’t save the world, and I certainly can’t shut it off and ignore it. Perhaps I need to take a break from it though. At least long enough to care for my own family.
But I’ll never stop asking why peace is too much to ask for.
Sitting at the dinner table yesterday with my 22-year-old son, I mentioned the spider meme ( https://lindaghill.com/2016/10/12/one-liner-wednesday-i-thought-we-were-roommates/ ) I came across months ago that I found very funny, and he laughed at me. When I asked why, he said I was too old to be saying words like “meme.” So today I decided to look up the origin of the word.
Turns out it was first coined by Richard Dawkins in his book, “The Selfish Gene” in 1976, but he shortened it from the Ancient Greek word, mimeme, meaning “imitated thing.” (Wikipedia link:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Dawkins#Fathering_the_meme ) HA! I can now say to my son. Though if I’m too old to say the word, how old does that make me? Still feeling a little weird about that.
Getting older is weird though. We have memories which give us the wisdom not to repeat our mistakes (with any luck) and yet our memory, or our capacity to remember, decreases with the shrinking of our brains. As much as I don’t like this, it’s inevitable. I either accept it or I fight it – fighting it takes so much more energy.
Having said that, I can fight it to some extent by continuing to learn and challenge myself. I wonder, often, if people who refuse to change their mindsets, form new opinions, or think they already know everything worth knowing lose their memories faster. I had an aunt who was very set in her ways. When she made a decision, she stuck with it no matter what. It might have been that she just hated making decisions so she got them over and done with as quickly as possible. But her decisions also were very predictable, because she never changed her preferences. She was stuck in a certain time, probably her childhood or early adulthood. I’m not sure I was born when she stopped trying new things. I always knew her as completely focused on the way things should be.
And, of course, the memories she shared never changed. The stories we all hear from our older family members are inevitably told as though they’ve never been told before. The polite thing to do is sound surprised, no matter how many times we’ve heard them. I wonder if people who are closed-minded have a narrower memory. Something my ever-learning mind will likely look into one day.
Now that I’ve veered totally off-course from my original intent for this post, I’ll have to go back and change the title. Coming up with titles for posts is hard, isn’t it?
On this, November 11th, the day we remember the people who have given their lives for their countries, I find the disparity between the ultimate in self-sacrifice and the continuing reports of disrespect and lack of empathy discouraging. I had a discussion on Facebook this morning with a man who told me that his daughter-in-law had been verbally accosted in a store while holding her 18-month-old child; there are so very many reports such as this and even worse coming in, it almost makes me want to hide. But I won’t, because there is something I can do.
For all the people who lack empathy in the world, I believe there are more who understand that we all have our struggles. And whether we deem them bigger than ours or not, a struggle is a struggle. An exhausted single mother washing her own dishes in an effort to control something, a rich man wanting to protect his children from bullying, the only true perspective is in the circumstances of the individual.
Let us show that there are more of us who care. That there are greater numbers of those who would rather give than receive. I challenge you today and every day to show love and kindness to a stranger. Find a way to go out of your way to help. Even a smile could make a difference in someone’s life, but especially now. Especially today, when we face the very real imbalance between selflessness and hate.
Please share this. We may not have the power to fix the world, but we possess the ability to communicate. And with this amazing means, we can help make the world a better place to live. Let this go viral. At this point I don’t even care if you copy and paste these words and pretend you wrote them yourself. What is important is that we can make a difference for the good of humanity.
I thought it would be better by now, but it’s just getting worse. My son, Alex, as most of you know, is Deaf, and he hates masks. Anyone dressed in a costume is an extreme cause of stress for him, from the Easter Bunny, to Santa, to his school mascot. I believe it’s mostly because he can’t see their facial expressions, and thus can’t determine whether or not they are friendly or threatening. Whatever it is, Hallowe’en is the worst time of year.
This morning, getting him to go to school to spend the day with his friends was difficult, to say the least. He doesn’t seem to understand that the people he knows are inside the costumes. He’s sixteen years old physically, but at a mental age of six or seven. It’s not likely to get any better from here.
My concern is that I’m perpetuating the problem. Today I drove him to school so I could be there to reassure him everything was okay. He was nervous (he’s been having anxiety attacks every night before bed for the past week) even though he was able to explain to me himself that masks and scary costumes were not permitted at school. So okay, he needs support. I think there’s a fine line between coddling him and reassuring him when his fears are legitimate. But should I be the one supporting him at this point in his life?
I’m not going to be around forever. As he becomes an adult, there will be a time when he can no longer run to Mommy when there’s a problem. I believe he needs to start, at some point, (soon?) to rely on society to feel safe.
It’s strange, the edge upon which we exist here on earth. Half-way between life and death, birth and life. Full of ups and downs, we tip this way and that. Joy and sorrow, anxiousness and contentment. If we’re lucky enough to find a balance, we can make it through without much fuss.
I’ve been teetering today. Thrown off balance by the news of a friend’s passing. We, many of us, knew him well. He saw the joy in life through most of what he went through. He was always there with his own brand of encouragement and support. His friend contacted me through my comments on Facebook, to say that he talked about this world here in blogland often. That blogging had become his life.
Our friend’s name is Paul Curran. I like to think of him looking down on us, knowing we’re thinking of him, as he knows we have before. And that, to coin his favourite interjection, he’s pointing down and saying “Ha! I actually made an impression.”
Don’t you hate awkward exchanges between yourself and a stranger? They talk to you and the conversation finishes but you’re not sure how to walk away? I’ve had a couple of those this weekend. It’s been an exhausting one, mentally and emotionally. I’ve cried, I’ve laughed, I’ve learned, I’ve read my work out loud (something I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to do), and I’ve met some people who’ve inspired me. In all, I’d say it has been a good time. But now I’m about ready to shut down.
I had an awful conversation by text with my ex. If you know my pseudonym, you can find my rant on that blog. The rant helped, but the conversation helped to drain me. I think now I’ll go look for something to just zone out with. I’ll write more about my weekend later, if I have a chance.
Thanks again to Joey for hosting this week. Please, everyone, stand and applaud. She won’t think it’s awkward AT ALL. 😀
Ah, the things we do for our kids. I drove to Ottawa today for our (my son, Chris, and I) other annual museum pilgrimage. This one is a tour of four different museums – today was the History museum (in Gatineau, where above-mentioned son was born) and the War museum. It’s doubtful I’d ever have visited either of them on my own, but now, after having been to each at least half a dozen times, they feel like home. I seem to discover something new each year – the War museum never fails to humble.
The back of Canada’s Parliament buildings from across the river
Canadian Museum of History
Now I’m sitting in my own room, having procured a suite at the St. Paul University residence with two separate bedrooms and a kitchen for under $100. Not bad, eh? Apparently I snore, so my poor son doesn’t like to sleep in the same room as me. (Yes, this is how you know this is stream of consciousness. Normally I wouldn’t admit to such a thing, but no editing…)
Tomorrow we’ll visit the Agriculture and Food Museum (oooh, that might be nice) in lieu of the Science museum we usually go to but can’t because it’s closed. Then it will be on to the Nature museum. Another one I’ve been to, actually more times than the others, because I went there once on a field trip as well. Chris has probably been to them all a dozen times. But he’s Autistic, so he enjoys the repetition.
We got lost when we were looking for the hotel/residence. The street address doesn’t show up from the street – it’s tucked in behind the university and there is loads of construction as well. Chris began to freak out, so I went to one of the local businesses and asked where the place was. He keeps telling me he wants to come to Japan with me. I found today to be a perfect time to explain to him that I get lost often. In Canada, where I speak the language (and can even get by in French), it’s easy to ask for directions. In Japan… I walk around a lot, looking for things myself, even when I’m lost. I can’t imagine what it would be like, as anxious as I sometimes get when I can’t find where I’m supposed to go, having an Autistic 21 year old going through a conniption with me.
So yeah, that probably won’t happen. But the things we do for our kids.
This has been a perfect example of not using the prompt other than in the title of a post for Stream of Consciousness Saturday. But that’s fair! Because the title prompted what came next. Feel free to follow this and all the other (lax) rules you’ll find here, for SoCS: https://lindaghill.com/2016/08/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-august-2716/
My novelette, All Good Stories is on sale today! It’s a romantic comedy, complete with pirates, a parrot, and a Viking. What could possibly go wrong? Lighthearted and fun, it’s perfect to enjoy over a lunchtime or two. It’s available for the low cost of 99¢, or the equivalent in whichever country you live, on both Amazon for Kindle here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01JQWMQAE
The Kobo site has a preview of the book. I plan to figure out how to set one up on Amazon soon. In the meantime, here are the first two chapters:
Aarin, The Topless Pirate
Jupiter bounded into my book store with an extraordinary spring in her step.
“I finished it!” she proclaimed, beaming much like the ray of sunshine that fell upon the counter every fair morning at this time of year.
“Finished what?” I asked. As if I didn’t know. She’d spent months bemoaning the grueling process of editing her novel.
“Stop it, Xav.” Jupiter had a peculiar way of shortening my name when she was annoyed at me. Her eyes narrowed and her lip lifted crookedly at the ‘V’ as she elongated it. She was very cute when she did it, which made me want to annoy her all the more.
“Wait, let me guess. Your novel?” I teased.
“YES!”
I wished, not for the first time, as she bounced up and down in her spring jacket that we were more than just friends.
“Does that mean you’re finally going to share it with me?” Leaning forward on the counter, I rested my chin in my hand to affect nonchalance. Deep down, I was as excited as she was.
“Of course I’ll let you read it.” She dug through the suitcase she called a purse. After a moment, she pulled out a bound stack of papers. “Aarin, The Topless Pirate,” she announced as she plopped it down in front of me.
“Sounds promising.” I glanced at the title page, which stated only the title, then back to my best friend. “What’s it about?”
“It’s um… It’s about a pirate who goes to sea.”
“And is the pirate topless?” I sat up straight. Visions volleyed around in my mind of breasts bared to the slightly chilled ocean breeze.
She smiled wickedly. “You’ll have to read it to find out.”
I picked up the manuscript and slid it onto the shelf behind the counter. “I’ll read it later.”
She stared, wide-eyed. “You’re not serious.”
“It doesn’t sound that interesting. It can wait.”
“But…” She didn’t look as though she was going to cry, exactly, but the distress on her face was enough to make me waver.
“Sell it to me,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Make me want to read it. Tell me what it’s about.”
“It’s about a pirate. A topless pirate. Who goes to sea.”
“…and?”
“And what? Isn’t that enough?”
“Is there sex? Is there a sunburn involved?”
“Fine! Don’t read it then.” She turned sharply and stalked out of the store.
Feeling bad about my little April Fool’s Day joke, I watched until she disappeared around the corner before I pulled the manuscript back out. I turned back the title page fully expecting to be properly titillated, only to find a photocopied picture of a crusty old pirate with his back facing the camera. He wore nothing but a three-cornered hat.
That we share the same sense of humor makes it no wonder Jupiter and I have been best friends since elementary school.
Bob The Blogger
Bob was a novelist. He was also a blogger. To round out the combo, to make it a trio (because Bob adored the number three), he referred to himself as a Serial Alliterator, which meant he loved alliterations. His blog profile sported a selfie of a previously pencil-thin Bob in the bathroom mirror, wearing nothing but a wicked grin. Though he stated in his profile that he loved the outdoors, since his foray into blogging he had seldom seen the sun. Secretly, he called himself Blob the Blogger.
Today, Bob is excited because yesterday he met Jupiter online. They met on Bob’s blog after Bob blogged about writing a novel. He and Jupiter spent three hours commenting back and forth. Jupiter was single, and she was writing a novel as well.
Tomorrow, if he wasn’t too tired from using the treadmill, Bob planned to write Jupiter three poems. His poems would employ many uses of alliteration; they would contain the letter ‘J’ as often as Bob could manage. They would not contain the first letter of Jupiter’s best friend’s name. As far as Bob was concerned, he needed no excuse to leave the letter ‘X’ out of Jupiter’s joyous poetry. No justification at all.
Whew! It’s been a busy day. Now, back to real life. I still need to post something to my fiction blog… Do you read my fiction blog? I’ve posted something every day this year so far. There have been days when I’ve felt like giving up and just skipping it, but I’m stubborn. When I get something in my mind that I’m going to do, I do my damnedest to stick to it. I expect far more from myself than I do anyone else.
In fact I live by the adage, Never expect anything of anyone, and you’ll never be disappointed. I find it fun to do things for people without expecting a thank you, and it’s allowed me, with practice, to find ways to do things for people and have them not even realize that I’ve done it. It’s gratifying. And it all started for me with that adage.
Life is so much simpler, so much less stressful when there are no expectations. Expectations live in the future. I strive to live in the moment. Here, where I am right now there is just me and my surroundings. Nothing is in my way when I am still. I can choose a clear path when I am concentrating on where I am, rather than where I should be. Being in the future before I arrive blinds me to where I am. Does that make sense?
Anyway, before I go I just wanted to say thank you to the four (so far) participants in the SoCS Badge Contest with their amazing entries. If you haven’t seen them yet, go here https://lindaghill.com/2016/08/04/its-the-3rd-annual-socs-badge-design-contest/ and look in the comment section for the links. And don’t forget if you plan to enter, do it soon!
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