"More of me comes out when I improvise." - Edward Hopper
Having gone to the beach for the weekend, I thought the 6 combined hours of sitting in a car would make for an excellent opportunity to catch up on a couple episodes of Pop Culture Happy Hour (and then be bored for the other four and a half hours in which I did not have another episode).
One of the people on said podcast was talking about how excited he was about Kung-fu Panda 2, and I'd seen on his Twitter feed a few days before that he apparently cried more than once during the movie. I love this for a couple of reasons.
1. This is a grown man who is legitimately excited about Kung-fu Panda, unrelated to the fact that his kids probably also wanted to see it.
2. This is a grown man who is willing to admit that not only did he cry, but that he cried during an animated movie.
I don't particularly care whether you're a person given to crying. Some are, and some aren't, and that's fine. However, it makes me very happy when people (especially guys over the age of 13) admit that they have/do, regardless of how frequently. So yay for Stephen Thompson.
There's this weird cultural thing going on where crying is associated with weakness, and fragility, and irrationality, and a lack of masculinity. Which implies that a) emotions are bad, and b) emotions are not a manly thing to have. Both of which are absolutely ridiculous.
That being said, strong emotions certainly can and do have negative side-effects. They can cloud your judgement, consume your mind, and utterly destroy your ability to empathize.
And that's what I think it is: the temporary loss of empathy. It's not that you're being irrational, strictly speaking. You've just undergone a significant shift in priorities that says "I do not freaking care what's going on in your head. I'm not even going to try to see things from your point of view, because what I'm feeling is far more important."
It's just an evolutionary thing-- emotions are there for a reason, and our reactions to them are there for a reason too. We "irrationally" hate that which causes us pain, and we get "irrationally" upset when something we value is taken away. The hate drives us to get as far away from the pain-causer as possible, and the loss we feel drives us to replace the stolen thing- or steal it back.
Once the strong emotions subside, empathy returns, along with our "rational" mind. (Hold on...there's more to the world than just Me?) The trick is to be able to recognize what's going on, and to keep from acting on it until it's passed.
It's not a weakness to be sad, and it's not wrong to have powerful reactions sweep you off your feet. What is a weakness is to not be able to cope with it in constructive ways. Emotion is probably both the best and worst part of being human. It's perfectly natural, though, and I think that if more people really believed/accepted/understood that, there'd be less hard feelings across the board.
So I apologize for any and all past and future cases in which I have failed to empathize with any of you. I don't condemn myself for it, since I do believe that it (in the type of situation discussed above) is an unavoidable part of life, but all people deserve the respect of being viewed as a fellow person trying to make his or her way in the world.
And because I am a massive nerd, I am now deciding that it shall be my new goal to remember that we all wear the same figurative bow tie, which is cool. Because bow ties are, and always will be.
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Fear Part 4: Hate
This post comes to you courtesy of a variety of things/events/people, but the only one I can link to is this, which is very good, and while it's related, it's about something else, so go read it.
Now that you have read it (and if you haven't, go do so right now), I would like to begin by saying that I find it very difficult to comprehend the concept of having such a high level of hate (as some do) based on such a thing.
And comprehending it is something I've had to do recently, since I'm currently writing from the perspective of one such person. It hasn't been easy to write it well, but it has been fascinating to try.
So there's two of the things.
The third is that when my grandma and I were leaving to go see my sister's track meet this afternoon, I opened her car door to find a wasp.
Now, I am terrified of bees and all of their relatives. I don't know why, but I am.
However, my immediate vocal reaction was not one of fear. It was "I HATE BEES. I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM."
How did I make the jump from fear to hate? It doesn't make much sense. But it happened, and it happens to other people as well in worse contexts than insects.
So we profess to hate what we fear, and quite often (although not the case with my example) we fear what we do not understand. That's the basis for the writing project mentioned above: growing to understand.
It's ironic, too. Because while my narrator is growing to understand that homosexuality isn't the most Evil Thing Ever, as I'm writing it, I'm growing to understand her (despite not actually agreeing, of course.)
Now that you have read it (and if you haven't, go do so right now), I would like to begin by saying that I find it very difficult to comprehend the concept of having such a high level of hate (as some do) based on such a thing.
And comprehending it is something I've had to do recently, since I'm currently writing from the perspective of one such person. It hasn't been easy to write it well, but it has been fascinating to try.
So there's two of the things.
The third is that when my grandma and I were leaving to go see my sister's track meet this afternoon, I opened her car door to find a wasp.
Now, I am terrified of bees and all of their relatives. I don't know why, but I am.
However, my immediate vocal reaction was not one of fear. It was "I HATE BEES. I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM."
How did I make the jump from fear to hate? It doesn't make much sense. But it happened, and it happens to other people as well in worse contexts than insects.
So we profess to hate what we fear, and quite often (although not the case with my example) we fear what we do not understand. That's the basis for the writing project mentioned above: growing to understand.
It's ironic, too. Because while my narrator is growing to understand that homosexuality isn't the most Evil Thing Ever, as I'm writing it, I'm growing to understand her (despite not actually agreeing, of course.)
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Fear Part 3: Love Orange
"You can't build a reputation on what you are going to do." - Henry Ford
I disagree. James Webb is famous for having a telescope that is yet to be built named after him.
Granted, James Webb did some stuff to get that honor, but he's only famous to me because of that, so it is likely that the same is true of others.
For an exercise in symbolism, imagery, and figurative language in preparation for our English exam tomorrow, we had to read a short story ("Love Orange") by Olive Senior. I looked for a place for all of you to read it online, but everything I found was either a broken link or directed me back to my textbook. Sorry about that.
Before delving into the actual story, however, I want to talk about "author's purpose." In middle school, they told us that everything is written to either persuade, inform, or entertain. This topic came up briefly in class today while discussing theme. I think they left out the most important (and common) purpose: enjoyment.
Look for more on that sometime in the next month. There's something I'm sitting on at the moment that relates closely.
I think "Love Orange" is a beautiful, haunting piece of writing, and I'm legitimately enjoying analyzing it. (Despite that I'm procrastinating from the assignment by starting to write this post. Ha.)
Over the course of the story, a girl debates whether or not to share her "love orange" with various people (a neighbor's grandmother, another neighbor's son, her own grandmother), because she believes that everyone has only so many segments of love to hand out. Her orange is precious.
She comes close to giving it away several times, but always takes it back at the last second because in her mind's eye, it has transformed into a broken doll.
The storytelling is amazing. Our conditioned minds first see such things as the orange and the doll to be symbols, but they're not. In the mind of a child-- who doesn't have much experience with language and therefore can't completely make the transition from thoughts to pure words-- images are to be taken at face-value. It isn't a literary device. It's a brilliant piece of narration. That's the way kids think (or at least that's the way I used to think, and I've been chasing after that mindset ever since).
"Love Orange" invokes fears that all of us have faced: Do we share that most precious piece of ourselves with others? Where do we draw the line? What if our well-intentioned actions only bring harm? Is it better to love and lost than to never have loved at all?
Even while I was analyzing it, the small, scared child within me woke up, crawled out from under the bed, and looked around. That's what I love about good literature: it reveals what we know to be true of ourselves through tantalizing narrative.
I found the entire thing to be very powerful.
Have any of you read it?
Also: the elementary school's librarian (who I've known since I was 4) gave me a couple books today. One of them consists entirely of quotes from writers about writing.
I will never lack something to stick at the top of a post ever again. I have enough right there for over three years of daily blogging. I'm excited.
I disagree. James Webb is famous for having a telescope that is yet to be built named after him.
Granted, James Webb did some stuff to get that honor, but he's only famous to me because of that, so it is likely that the same is true of others.
For an exercise in symbolism, imagery, and figurative language in preparation for our English exam tomorrow, we had to read a short story ("Love Orange") by Olive Senior. I looked for a place for all of you to read it online, but everything I found was either a broken link or directed me back to my textbook. Sorry about that.
Before delving into the actual story, however, I want to talk about "author's purpose." In middle school, they told us that everything is written to either persuade, inform, or entertain. This topic came up briefly in class today while discussing theme. I think they left out the most important (and common) purpose: enjoyment.
Look for more on that sometime in the next month. There's something I'm sitting on at the moment that relates closely.
I think "Love Orange" is a beautiful, haunting piece of writing, and I'm legitimately enjoying analyzing it. (Despite that I'm procrastinating from the assignment by starting to write this post. Ha.)
Over the course of the story, a girl debates whether or not to share her "love orange" with various people (a neighbor's grandmother, another neighbor's son, her own grandmother), because she believes that everyone has only so many segments of love to hand out. Her orange is precious.
She comes close to giving it away several times, but always takes it back at the last second because in her mind's eye, it has transformed into a broken doll.
The storytelling is amazing. Our conditioned minds first see such things as the orange and the doll to be symbols, but they're not. In the mind of a child-- who doesn't have much experience with language and therefore can't completely make the transition from thoughts to pure words-- images are to be taken at face-value. It isn't a literary device. It's a brilliant piece of narration. That's the way kids think (or at least that's the way I used to think, and I've been chasing after that mindset ever since).
"Love Orange" invokes fears that all of us have faced: Do we share that most precious piece of ourselves with others? Where do we draw the line? What if our well-intentioned actions only bring harm? Is it better to love and lost than to never have loved at all?
Even while I was analyzing it, the small, scared child within me woke up, crawled out from under the bed, and looked around. That's what I love about good literature: it reveals what we know to be true of ourselves through tantalizing narrative.
I found the entire thing to be very powerful.
Have any of you read it?
Also: the elementary school's librarian (who I've known since I was 4) gave me a couple books today. One of them consists entirely of quotes from writers about writing.
I will never lack something to stick at the top of a post ever again. I have enough right there for over three years of daily blogging. I'm excited.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Some Interesting Existentialist Concepts
"The past isn't past: it's still shaping the present." - John Green
It's useful for my quoting of him that I get 1-2 new videos each week from which to quote.
Now I would like to share with you two concepts within existentialism: anguish and facticity.
First, facticity, as it relates to the quote. Facticity is the collection of pre-defined things that shape our current essence (as, within existentialism, existence precedes essence). Our past, our environment's past...stuff like that. We decide exactly how much our facticity affects us. In the words of "Snape vs. Snape" by Ministry of Magic, "People can change." Our past is constantly shaping us, but the idea is for us to learn from it.
Existentialist anguish isn't the same as normal anguish, but in order to explain the difference to you I must give some definitions.
Fear: An aversion to a specific thing, situation, concept, etc. do to the harm it may cause to the fearer. Key: specific
Existentialism: A school of philosophy in which nothing has any inherent meaning. A given thing has only the meaning we as an individual or as a race ascribe to it.
Freedom: Due to the lack of objective meaning or moral codes within existentialism, there is no such thing as pre-destination and therefore we are free to do whatever we want (although there are some interesting arguments as to why we shouldn't).
So anguish is the aversion to the freedom given by existentialism.
Example: An existentialist stands on the edge of the cliff. He or she fears the possibility that he/she will fall off, but he or she feels anguish at the knowledge that he/she is capable of choosing to jump.
A longer post of this stuff might be boring and/or intimidating and/or you don't feel like reading it right now, so I'll write about some of the other concepts later. I hope you find this as interesting as I do, but if not, well, whatever. To each their own.
It's useful for my quoting of him that I get 1-2 new videos each week from which to quote.
Now I would like to share with you two concepts within existentialism: anguish and facticity.
First, facticity, as it relates to the quote. Facticity is the collection of pre-defined things that shape our current essence (as, within existentialism, existence precedes essence). Our past, our environment's past...stuff like that. We decide exactly how much our facticity affects us. In the words of "Snape vs. Snape" by Ministry of Magic, "People can change." Our past is constantly shaping us, but the idea is for us to learn from it.
Existentialist anguish isn't the same as normal anguish, but in order to explain the difference to you I must give some definitions.
Fear: An aversion to a specific thing, situation, concept, etc. do to the harm it may cause to the fearer. Key: specific
Existentialism: A school of philosophy in which nothing has any inherent meaning. A given thing has only the meaning we as an individual or as a race ascribe to it.
Freedom: Due to the lack of objective meaning or moral codes within existentialism, there is no such thing as pre-destination and therefore we are free to do whatever we want (although there are some interesting arguments as to why we shouldn't).
So anguish is the aversion to the freedom given by existentialism.
Example: An existentialist stands on the edge of the cliff. He or she fears the possibility that he/she will fall off, but he or she feels anguish at the knowledge that he/she is capable of choosing to jump.
A longer post of this stuff might be boring and/or intimidating and/or you don't feel like reading it right now, so I'll write about some of the other concepts later. I hope you find this as interesting as I do, but if not, well, whatever. To each their own.
Monday, September 13, 2010
The Most Dangerous Weapon
"Politicians should read science fiction, not westerns and detective stories." - Arthur C. Clarke (of course he would say that- he wrote science fiction.
“But yeah, be yourself, even though no one has any idea what it means to be yourself. Like, whose self would I otherwise be being?” - John Green
“He just kept scribbling. He loved the scratching of pencil against paper when he was this focused: it meant something was happening.” - John Green
That last one pretty accurately describes my blogging. I am putting something into the world- something that's important to me.
Cindy mentioned something in her recent post that reminded me that while I'm constantly pointing out why ignorance is bad, there's another side to the story that I haven't been talking about, and until yesterday (when I read the post) I wasn't even consciously aware of.
Which leads me to mesh together some of the more popular topics (according to my beloved stat feature) that I've talked about: ignorance and fear.
I fear ignorance. I'm terrified of both its personal effect on me (because what's more terrifying than something you don't know about?), and how it can be used against people. As my dad says in reference to my Starcraft playing, I'm a "very defensive person." I am about recognizing threats and combating them. Not so much about the actual attacking.
But if I fear ignorance so much...that means it's a weapon. The most dangerous weapon, I would wager, being someone who firmly believes there are many things worse than death. Nukes kill people. Ignorance is pre-revolutionary France government-- keeping from people what they could so easily have (applies to more governments than that, but that's the first example that came to mind). Needlessly depriving them of a better life. There's a certain quality of life below which I'd rather be dead. What that quality is, I have no idea, but I know it's there. I hope I never find out.
Ignorance is powerful.
Cindy used it in order to keep running. Not knowing how far she had to go enabled her to stick it out. It's incredibly useful in psyching yourself up to do something. That's an aggressive use for it. It's a good use for it. There's nothing in the slightest wrong with that. Yet imagine, if such a small-scale use can do so much, what can something bigger accomplish?
Here I am again, pointing out why we should fear it. The thing is, not only is it a dangerous thing to be a victim of, but it's also a dangerous thing to use when applied outside of one's own mind or friends/family who are well aware that you are keeping some knowledge from them. So if it's so difficult to (morally, according to my morals) use proactively, there's really not much left to do besides fear, recognize, and thwart. I'm sure you all, being the intelligent people that you are, can think of some counter-examples.
Also: my English teacher mentioned The Hobbit again today (AGAIN), saying that she read it when she was 10 and didn't get much out of it and that's why you should wait until high school to read Lord of the Flies. I read The Hobbit for the first time in 3rd grade (I'm not sure what I was *supposed* to get out of it), but I was familiar with the story since...kindergarten? Oh Dad. Thanks for telling me stories about things of which I was too young to enjoy/understand the actual content.
This will be a bottom-of-blog meme thing for the duration of the semester.
Hobbit references: 4
“But yeah, be yourself, even though no one has any idea what it means to be yourself. Like, whose self would I otherwise be being?” - John Green
“He just kept scribbling. He loved the scratching of pencil against paper when he was this focused: it meant something was happening.” - John Green
That last one pretty accurately describes my blogging. I am putting something into the world- something that's important to me.
Cindy mentioned something in her recent post that reminded me that while I'm constantly pointing out why ignorance is bad, there's another side to the story that I haven't been talking about, and until yesterday (when I read the post) I wasn't even consciously aware of.
Which leads me to mesh together some of the more popular topics (according to my beloved stat feature) that I've talked about: ignorance and fear.
I fear ignorance. I'm terrified of both its personal effect on me (because what's more terrifying than something you don't know about?), and how it can be used against people. As my dad says in reference to my Starcraft playing, I'm a "very defensive person." I am about recognizing threats and combating them. Not so much about the actual attacking.
But if I fear ignorance so much...that means it's a weapon. The most dangerous weapon, I would wager, being someone who firmly believes there are many things worse than death. Nukes kill people. Ignorance is pre-revolutionary France government-- keeping from people what they could so easily have (applies to more governments than that, but that's the first example that came to mind). Needlessly depriving them of a better life. There's a certain quality of life below which I'd rather be dead. What that quality is, I have no idea, but I know it's there. I hope I never find out.
Ignorance is powerful.
Cindy used it in order to keep running. Not knowing how far she had to go enabled her to stick it out. It's incredibly useful in psyching yourself up to do something. That's an aggressive use for it. It's a good use for it. There's nothing in the slightest wrong with that. Yet imagine, if such a small-scale use can do so much, what can something bigger accomplish?
Here I am again, pointing out why we should fear it. The thing is, not only is it a dangerous thing to be a victim of, but it's also a dangerous thing to use when applied outside of one's own mind or friends/family who are well aware that you are keeping some knowledge from them. So if it's so difficult to (morally, according to my morals) use proactively, there's really not much left to do besides fear, recognize, and thwart. I'm sure you all, being the intelligent people that you are, can think of some counter-examples.
Also: my English teacher mentioned The Hobbit again today (AGAIN), saying that she read it when she was 10 and didn't get much out of it and that's why you should wait until high school to read Lord of the Flies. I read The Hobbit for the first time in 3rd grade (I'm not sure what I was *supposed* to get out of it), but I was familiar with the story since...kindergarten? Oh Dad. Thanks for telling me stories about things of which I was too young to enjoy/understand the actual content.
This will be a bottom-of-blog meme thing for the duration of the semester.
Hobbit references: 4
Friday, September 10, 2010
Fear Part 2
Written on 9/7/2010
"What is your biggest fear?"
Arthur's wife in Mists of Avalon is mortally afraid of wide-open spaces (as well as marriage, but that's unrelated). I think a lot of people have tangible fears like that- darkness, spiders, clowns, etc. and while all of these fears are perfectly valid and I myself have many (bees, for instance, and suffocation), I think the most terrible fears are more abstract and/or insubstantial, and relate to people rather than things or experiences.
I'm afraid of abandonment, but not in the usual sense. I'm perfectly okay with leaving home and doing stuff without my parents and such. What really gets me is the thought that some day, somehow, there won't be a home to leave.
When I was little- maybe two- and we were visiting my grandparents, we took a trip to the park. I would, as my dad puts it "venture out," do some exploring, maybe play a little on the playground, and then come back to him, just for the comfort in knowing he was still there if I needed him, and then I would go play some more. My grandpa wasn't very happy with this, saying that he should make me do stuff completely on my own and, well, pretty much ignore me as long as I was safe.
This I disagree with, as did my dad. You need a firm foundation before you can build higher. I was busy making sure my foundation was as sturdy as I thought it was. I made my dad into a "home base," and didn't mind going other places as long as I could check in with the base when I needed to. This is why I freak out when I can't get into contact with people when it's rather important that I do. They might be fine, but I don't know.
Now, I'm sure that once I'm living on my own (and dorm rooms don't count), I won't have to actually drive home every so often. I've moved past that. )But when it comes to cooking, and if I ever have a kid, raising said kid, I will definitely be grabbing that phone.)
But for the most part, just the knowledge that I have parents I can go to if need be is immensely comforting to me, and I happen to have a big fear that someday that won't be there. The knoweldge that I have this makes me braver, so I don't need to actually fall back on that as much. Like Artemis knowing she could change her mind about Zeus' gifts to her at any time. That knowledge prevented her from wanting to change them.
There's my fear. What are you guys afraid of, if you don't mind telling?
"What is your biggest fear?"
Arthur's wife in Mists of Avalon is mortally afraid of wide-open spaces (as well as marriage, but that's unrelated). I think a lot of people have tangible fears like that- darkness, spiders, clowns, etc. and while all of these fears are perfectly valid and I myself have many (bees, for instance, and suffocation), I think the most terrible fears are more abstract and/or insubstantial, and relate to people rather than things or experiences.
I'm afraid of abandonment, but not in the usual sense. I'm perfectly okay with leaving home and doing stuff without my parents and such. What really gets me is the thought that some day, somehow, there won't be a home to leave.
When I was little- maybe two- and we were visiting my grandparents, we took a trip to the park. I would, as my dad puts it "venture out," do some exploring, maybe play a little on the playground, and then come back to him, just for the comfort in knowing he was still there if I needed him, and then I would go play some more. My grandpa wasn't very happy with this, saying that he should make me do stuff completely on my own and, well, pretty much ignore me as long as I was safe.
This I disagree with, as did my dad. You need a firm foundation before you can build higher. I was busy making sure my foundation was as sturdy as I thought it was. I made my dad into a "home base," and didn't mind going other places as long as I could check in with the base when I needed to. This is why I freak out when I can't get into contact with people when it's rather important that I do. They might be fine, but I don't know.
Now, I'm sure that once I'm living on my own (and dorm rooms don't count), I won't have to actually drive home every so often. I've moved past that. )But when it comes to cooking, and if I ever have a kid, raising said kid, I will definitely be grabbing that phone.)
But for the most part, just the knowledge that I have parents I can go to if need be is immensely comforting to me, and I happen to have a big fear that someday that won't be there. The knoweldge that I have this makes me braver, so I don't need to actually fall back on that as much. Like Artemis knowing she could change her mind about Zeus' gifts to her at any time. That knowledge prevented her from wanting to change them.
There's my fear. What are you guys afraid of, if you don't mind telling?
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
An Only Child
I almost became an only child today. And my dad almost became a single parent. It sounds a lot more dramatic than it was, or so I'm told.
My mom and sisters could have gotten run over today had they been a few seconds earlier in arriving at a particular intersection on their way to school. A car failed to stop. They didn't have a stop sign, and would have gone right through.
Maybe if I had been a few minutes earlier or later doing different parts of my getting ready this morning, they would have been. Maybe it would have been my fault, even though I'm technically not to blame for some random person's bad driving. Maybe one day, I'll be that person in the car that fails to stop. There's no knowing.
Dad gets insurance through his job, but Mom has to pay for hers. And she gets a lot. Their financial planner, when they were discussing it years ago before she started working said, "Sure, you're not generating any income. But with you gone, Don would probably want to hire someone to clean the house. They'd go out to eat a lot more. You'd need babysitters. Just because you're not working doesn't mean you don't generate spending money."
This is true.
I don't know how we would have managed it had they been hit. Even if some of them lived, there'd be hospital bills, and the general trauma of having family with serious injuries.
Dad and I act tough, but I think we're actually the most fragile of the five of us when it comes to stuff like this. A long time ago, Mom and the three of us went up to NY for a little while, but Dad had to work so he stayed home alone. That weekend, he literally did nothing except play Diablo 2 and eat pizza. Both of those things are great in moderation, but that was just for a weekend. Yeah, we have more relatives in town than we did then, and in the event of deaths, they'd definitely be over a lot more, but I don't know if he could hold it together. And I don't know how long it'd take him to recover. I mean, he'd be able to go to work and stuff. That I'm not worried about. But the rest of the time...I think I'd lose him to a computer game. Probably World of Warcraft, because we'd have the money for it again with three less people. He was totally absorbed by it even with all of us alive and well.
When I was in 4th grade (and I think I've mentioned this before), Mom got a strep-mixed-with-staff infection and had to go to the hospital. That weekend, I think the four of us lived for our two hour turns on WoW. We needed the escape from our anxiety. We were zombies. It was terrible.
I think I would be better about it now. I'd spend a lot more time with friends out of school, though, just to distract me. I would no doubt also go back to WoW, although to a lesser extent. I mean, it's fun and it's there, so why not play?
I'd have to learn to cook. Which would suck, because every time I go near the kitchen I make a mess unless it's...a sandwich or something. My time would be gone, because I know I'd have to do most of the cleaning as well.
These thoughts terrify me, because it's not just a random possibility. This stuff is real. It happens. It could happen to me. It almost did. Just a few seconds. If we go with the parallel-worlds-every-possibility-is-real-theory, there are many versions of me to which it did. While I don't think I believe that theory, the thought is scary anyways.
I don't remember what I was going to blog about today. I'll see some of you tonight.
And here's some blogs for you to enjoy: http://www.teenagerie.com/
http://youngpeoplesuck.tumblr.com/
They're mostly just links to articles, but I've enjoyed what I've read so far.
My mom and sisters could have gotten run over today had they been a few seconds earlier in arriving at a particular intersection on their way to school. A car failed to stop. They didn't have a stop sign, and would have gone right through.
Maybe if I had been a few minutes earlier or later doing different parts of my getting ready this morning, they would have been. Maybe it would have been my fault, even though I'm technically not to blame for some random person's bad driving. Maybe one day, I'll be that person in the car that fails to stop. There's no knowing.
Dad gets insurance through his job, but Mom has to pay for hers. And she gets a lot. Their financial planner, when they were discussing it years ago before she started working said, "Sure, you're not generating any income. But with you gone, Don would probably want to hire someone to clean the house. They'd go out to eat a lot more. You'd need babysitters. Just because you're not working doesn't mean you don't generate spending money."
This is true.
I don't know how we would have managed it had they been hit. Even if some of them lived, there'd be hospital bills, and the general trauma of having family with serious injuries.
Dad and I act tough, but I think we're actually the most fragile of the five of us when it comes to stuff like this. A long time ago, Mom and the three of us went up to NY for a little while, but Dad had to work so he stayed home alone. That weekend, he literally did nothing except play Diablo 2 and eat pizza. Both of those things are great in moderation, but that was just for a weekend. Yeah, we have more relatives in town than we did then, and in the event of deaths, they'd definitely be over a lot more, but I don't know if he could hold it together. And I don't know how long it'd take him to recover. I mean, he'd be able to go to work and stuff. That I'm not worried about. But the rest of the time...I think I'd lose him to a computer game. Probably World of Warcraft, because we'd have the money for it again with three less people. He was totally absorbed by it even with all of us alive and well.
When I was in 4th grade (and I think I've mentioned this before), Mom got a strep-mixed-with-staff infection and had to go to the hospital. That weekend, I think the four of us lived for our two hour turns on WoW. We needed the escape from our anxiety. We were zombies. It was terrible.
I think I would be better about it now. I'd spend a lot more time with friends out of school, though, just to distract me. I would no doubt also go back to WoW, although to a lesser extent. I mean, it's fun and it's there, so why not play?
I'd have to learn to cook. Which would suck, because every time I go near the kitchen I make a mess unless it's...a sandwich or something. My time would be gone, because I know I'd have to do most of the cleaning as well.
These thoughts terrify me, because it's not just a random possibility. This stuff is real. It happens. It could happen to me. It almost did. Just a few seconds. If we go with the parallel-worlds-every-possibility-is-real-theory, there are many versions of me to which it did. While I don't think I believe that theory, the thought is scary anyways.
I don't remember what I was going to blog about today. I'll see some of you tonight.
And here's some blogs for you to enjoy: http://www.teenagerie.com/
http://youngpeoplesuck.tumblr.com/
They're mostly just links to articles, but I've enjoyed what I've read so far.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Fear
"It seems that writers (the creatures that need to be isolated to work) are the people who need to understand people the most." - Audrey Reifler
This post has spawned from a conversation I had with a friend of mine.
Why do we hide away from others the parts of ourselves that we most want to be noticed?
That's a damn good question. And no, I don't speak French.
I think it's because we're afraid- afraid that someone won't like the bits of ourselves that are the most dear to us. That we will be hated for who we are. So we build a facade- a stockade, if you will, around ourselves. We paint pictures of the inside of the castle on the walls, but they're so abstract and full of symbolism and metaphor that it's hard to figure out what it all means.
Fear, I believe, is the strongest driving force we have. I won't hesitate to kill you if your existence is definitely and unmistakably going to lead to my death (say, if you were holding the only piece of edible substance left on the planet). (Okay, I would hesitate. But I would still do it. Probably. In theory.) I will do my best to live. And so will you.
In Torchwood: Children of Earth the British government was willing to do terrible things in order to protect their own children from the aliens. Fear is powerful. As Dumbledore says,"What you (should) fear most is fear itself."
Fear is at its most powerful in everyday life in adolescence. There's so much we don't know. A great, huge, whopping amount that is so big we don't even know how big it is. And that is scary. Ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance is fear. And often vice versa.
Life itself. What is it? What are we supposed to do with it? How do we do it? How do we make the most of it? Those are the big ones. Then there's all the little ones, which are actually scarier, I think. They're closer to home, even for those of us (*cough* me *cough*) who like the Big Concepts. There are only eight or nine of you followers, right now, and most of us are in our teens, or not far from them. Even the few that aren't can (probably) identify with this stuff. Just because you're older doesn't mean you know stuff about the rest of your lives. It's just worse for us because we've had less time to grapple with the problem, and have more of our lives in front of us.
Life's scary, but it's what we have. And I'm sorry I don't have a segway paragraph to tie that in to the rest of the post. It's a bit too optimistic to fit in, but too bad. It's almost 11 o'clock, and I'm tired.
I'll leave you to either sleep or ponder this, or do something else. I, for one, am going with the first.
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