(originally posted on FetLife on April 17, 2010)
The goodness of lust just feels bawdy and cheap.
Exhaustion prohibits the goodness of sleep.
The goodness of beauty, a marketing scheme.
The goodness of kindness, a fool's naive dream.
The goodness of working, a chase after cash.
The goodness of fieriness burnt down to ash.
The goodness of sky lost somewhere in the smoke.
The goodness of daydreams sold out to a toke.
The goodness of flavor washed dreary and dry...
The goodness of life, just to wait 'til I die.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Choice and Responsibility
I clicked into a serious talk on YouTube today. I wasn't really looking for it, not actively anyway. It was about choice, capitalism, and the paralysis of clinging to what little we have rather than risking the loss of it by moving to engineer social change. It strikes kind of hard... I'm familiar with this truth. I think it may be one of the things I was trying to talk about with To Do What I Must While I Am Who I Am.
It also reminds me of The Little Prince. I find myself almost wanting to cry as I think even of myself, trying to force myself to ascribe to something I do not believe, the idea that submitting to the need to work on whatever my employer's terms are will empower me to make a difference, rather than making me a supportive cog in a system I despise and disempowering me by giving me something I must fear to lose...
I see myself trying to mount a stressful job search, with minimal resources and trying to bury my resentment of the system that puts me here and demands that I serve it in order to live a better life... turning into what the Prince would call a 'mushroom'; putting off, ignoring, or dismissing important matters of emotionality, sensitivity and wonder because "I am concerned with matters of consequence!"
I do not want to take solace in that phrase or in the necessity of my busywork. I don't want to allow myself any excuse for not doing what I believe in in every way I can.
And yet... I must job search, I must work. If I refused, I would be denied what little survival budget I am being given, and pushed into an even smaller, darker hole. To avoid both would be dishonest and as such a betrayal of principles I hold most dear. I am already concerned with matters of consequence... matters of survival. And I must admit I already kind of hate myself for it.
I wrote in the very first pages of the notebook that's now become my journal, quite some time ago:
It also reminds me of The Little Prince. I find myself almost wanting to cry as I think even of myself, trying to force myself to ascribe to something I do not believe, the idea that submitting to the need to work on whatever my employer's terms are will empower me to make a difference, rather than making me a supportive cog in a system I despise and disempowering me by giving me something I must fear to lose...
I see myself trying to mount a stressful job search, with minimal resources and trying to bury my resentment of the system that puts me here and demands that I serve it in order to live a better life... turning into what the Prince would call a 'mushroom'; putting off, ignoring, or dismissing important matters of emotionality, sensitivity and wonder because "I am concerned with matters of consequence!"
I do not want to take solace in that phrase or in the necessity of my busywork. I don't want to allow myself any excuse for not doing what I believe in in every way I can.
And yet... I must job search, I must work. If I refused, I would be denied what little survival budget I am being given, and pushed into an even smaller, darker hole. To avoid both would be dishonest and as such a betrayal of principles I hold most dear. I am already concerned with matters of consequence... matters of survival. And I must admit I already kind of hate myself for it.
I wrote in the very first pages of the notebook that's now become my journal, quite some time ago:
People in a culture with as much technology, resources and interconnectivity as ours have absolutely no right to be concerned about their mere survival.I am guilty of this, and feel that I have failed, not on my own lack of merit, but as one of the billions, as a member of the whole human race. I also wrote:
Western culture has adopted the image of an organization collapsing under its own obsession with efficiency - efficiency itself compromised by endless lawsuits over liability and breach of protocol...
A machine so frantically upgrading and replacing its pieces that it tears itself apart.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Scarcity of Connection
From the title you might assume this is going to be a post about the frustrations of finding a romantic partner that meets my standards and offers some chemistry in the modern world and while homeless. It might have been, too - I have been feeling that way recently. But it's not. This is about the internet.
I don't have a laptop of my own right now (or a desktop, obviously... or, for that matter, a phone) and have been relying on resources at my disposal at the library and at the shelters. Earlier in my stay, it was often possible to get hours of uncontested internet at a time without even signing up for it at the shelter, while most of the other residents were busy, I suppose, with other things and often no-one would come in to use the other of the two computers on this floor for quite some time even while it remained free. Some of the staff, bless them, will give me extra time at night and leave the room open past its official closing time at 10 PM. I have, I suppose, been a lucky little 'net addict.
Recently, though, times have changed. There is a new girl on our floor that I find I have taken an immediate dislike to, perhaps unfairly, because she is competition. It seems that half or more of the times I peek in the window to check whether there's a machine free, there she is. She plugs herself into earbuds just like me, but unlike me, she tends not to react if you try to get her attention. The first night I saw her here, she had been using one of the computers when I came in and started on the second one. Someone came in having booked use for the upcoming hour. It's usually something of a protocol for the person who was using a computer first to get off first unless either it's approaching their own booked time or the other volunteers to leave. I looked at her but she made no indication that she'd even heard the newcomer. I tried to talk to her (never an easy thing for me to begin with) and got nothing. So with some frustration I logged off, and asked at the office whether there was a free slot at the computers. Being told there was, I signed up for it, determined to spend more time online (what can I say? I was stressed out that day), came back to the computer room and quietly announced that I'd signed up for the second slot. Still nothing, at least for several minutes until one of the other ladies managed to get through to her somehow, at which point she typed out another few lines to someone or other, agonizingly slowly, and at last, removed herself from the computer. Herself, but not her earbuds or plugged in MP3 player. I unplugged them and handed them to her myself, trying to be friendly about it. An hour later she returned, having booked the next hour, and thus with the authority to boot me off. I left - after all, the other lady on the computers hadn't been there as long as I had - but I was in a foul mood about it. I must admit I was starting to take it a little bit personally.
Now... I realize that from the perspective of a lot of the ladies here, much of this could probably just as easily have been me, and it's led me to wonder whether my greed for hours on the computer annoys other people the same way as hers annoyed me, but I don't think I'm that bad. I have always been very careful about it. While I indulge myself for as long as I can without feeling impolite, if both computers are taken and someone new wants to use one, and the other lady, whoever she is, shows no indication that they are logging off, I almost always will, even if the newcomer doesn't have a slot booked. When someone opens the door, I usually take out at least one of my earbuds and turn to look at them, smiling, to indicate receptiveness to communication so that if they need to ask me to get off, they can without too much awkwardness. I try never to be unpleasant about it and usually to be prompt. While I know it may be unfair to criticise anyone else's typing speed, mine is fast, so it's generally not hard for me to quickly tap out a few quick goodbyes and be on my way.
To make matters worse, yesterday something mysterious must have happened overnight or something, because one of the two computers is now asking for a password at start-up, and the floor staff don't seem to know what it is. This has caused the computer to be out of commission for two days now while the maintenance guy either fails to get around to it or is somehow just as perplexed by the problem as the rest of us - in which case... who had both the administrative priviledges and the ill will to password-lock the computer? Those functions are banned from common use on these machines, so unless we have a really vindictive hacker on-board here, someone in authority must have restricted it. Regardless, this does mean that it will be harder to get time on the computers and on the net until the problem is fixed and possibly longer. I still have my daily-except-Sundays hour and a half at the library, but time at the shelter is uncertain and often full of drama.
I know it shouldn't be as much of a stressor as it is... but... while waiting (endlessly... for fuck's sakes it's been over two weeks now) for OW to contact me with a meeting so I can go do their intake and get the funds cleared for me to move into the room that's been reserved for me... while sleeping again in a 10-bed dorm where it's not uncommon at 5 AM for some lady to be woken up and start shouting at the source of the offending sound, because obviously if one person was disturbed, it's important that everyone else is, and while continually failing to finally get over the last of the congestion that's been plaguing me for about a week... I'm stressed. I'm really, really, really stressed and it often feels like I'm losing my mind. There is no privacy in this place at all, no-where at all that can even be relied on to be quiet. The internet and its comforts are a reassuring home-turf for me, and there is nothing else I have that allows me to relax in the same way. I have Damon's ipod back, admittedly, and it is a comfort, but a comfort small; My music, the stuff I listen to that Damon doesn't also like, isn't there. No Ani DiFranco, no soothing tones of ToadyOne's Dwarf Fortress podcast... God, I miss Dwarf Fortress so much... Even without net capability, if I could have that laptop, just as it was, netless but functional, to sit in the library and game for an afternoon... It would be like a vacation.
I think you get the idea. I'm starved of what I rely on for access to my emotional supports, relaxation, and in times of this much stress, sanity. Oh, cruel world, why doth thou take away mine internet!
I realize that if you're not among those who understand, this may sound like the bleating of a whiny, spoiled child who wants and cannot have the newest shiny toy. It's important to understand this is more than that. It's probably a generational thing. Anyway... I may or may not post again soon... And if I don't... I shouldn't have to tell you why.
I don't have a laptop of my own right now (or a desktop, obviously... or, for that matter, a phone) and have been relying on resources at my disposal at the library and at the shelters. Earlier in my stay, it was often possible to get hours of uncontested internet at a time without even signing up for it at the shelter, while most of the other residents were busy, I suppose, with other things and often no-one would come in to use the other of the two computers on this floor for quite some time even while it remained free. Some of the staff, bless them, will give me extra time at night and leave the room open past its official closing time at 10 PM. I have, I suppose, been a lucky little 'net addict.
Recently, though, times have changed. There is a new girl on our floor that I find I have taken an immediate dislike to, perhaps unfairly, because she is competition. It seems that half or more of the times I peek in the window to check whether there's a machine free, there she is. She plugs herself into earbuds just like me, but unlike me, she tends not to react if you try to get her attention. The first night I saw her here, she had been using one of the computers when I came in and started on the second one. Someone came in having booked use for the upcoming hour. It's usually something of a protocol for the person who was using a computer first to get off first unless either it's approaching their own booked time or the other volunteers to leave. I looked at her but she made no indication that she'd even heard the newcomer. I tried to talk to her (never an easy thing for me to begin with) and got nothing. So with some frustration I logged off, and asked at the office whether there was a free slot at the computers. Being told there was, I signed up for it, determined to spend more time online (what can I say? I was stressed out that day), came back to the computer room and quietly announced that I'd signed up for the second slot. Still nothing, at least for several minutes until one of the other ladies managed to get through to her somehow, at which point she typed out another few lines to someone or other, agonizingly slowly, and at last, removed herself from the computer. Herself, but not her earbuds or plugged in MP3 player. I unplugged them and handed them to her myself, trying to be friendly about it. An hour later she returned, having booked the next hour, and thus with the authority to boot me off. I left - after all, the other lady on the computers hadn't been there as long as I had - but I was in a foul mood about it. I must admit I was starting to take it a little bit personally.
Now... I realize that from the perspective of a lot of the ladies here, much of this could probably just as easily have been me, and it's led me to wonder whether my greed for hours on the computer annoys other people the same way as hers annoyed me, but I don't think I'm that bad. I have always been very careful about it. While I indulge myself for as long as I can without feeling impolite, if both computers are taken and someone new wants to use one, and the other lady, whoever she is, shows no indication that they are logging off, I almost always will, even if the newcomer doesn't have a slot booked. When someone opens the door, I usually take out at least one of my earbuds and turn to look at them, smiling, to indicate receptiveness to communication so that if they need to ask me to get off, they can without too much awkwardness. I try never to be unpleasant about it and usually to be prompt. While I know it may be unfair to criticise anyone else's typing speed, mine is fast, so it's generally not hard for me to quickly tap out a few quick goodbyes and be on my way.
To make matters worse, yesterday something mysterious must have happened overnight or something, because one of the two computers is now asking for a password at start-up, and the floor staff don't seem to know what it is. This has caused the computer to be out of commission for two days now while the maintenance guy either fails to get around to it or is somehow just as perplexed by the problem as the rest of us - in which case... who had both the administrative priviledges and the ill will to password-lock the computer? Those functions are banned from common use on these machines, so unless we have a really vindictive hacker on-board here, someone in authority must have restricted it. Regardless, this does mean that it will be harder to get time on the computers and on the net until the problem is fixed and possibly longer. I still have my daily-except-Sundays hour and a half at the library, but time at the shelter is uncertain and often full of drama.
I know it shouldn't be as much of a stressor as it is... but... while waiting (endlessly... for fuck's sakes it's been over two weeks now) for OW to contact me with a meeting so I can go do their intake and get the funds cleared for me to move into the room that's been reserved for me... while sleeping again in a 10-bed dorm where it's not uncommon at 5 AM for some lady to be woken up and start shouting at the source of the offending sound, because obviously if one person was disturbed, it's important that everyone else is, and while continually failing to finally get over the last of the congestion that's been plaguing me for about a week... I'm stressed. I'm really, really, really stressed and it often feels like I'm losing my mind. There is no privacy in this place at all, no-where at all that can even be relied on to be quiet. The internet and its comforts are a reassuring home-turf for me, and there is nothing else I have that allows me to relax in the same way. I have Damon's ipod back, admittedly, and it is a comfort, but a comfort small; My music, the stuff I listen to that Damon doesn't also like, isn't there. No Ani DiFranco, no soothing tones of ToadyOne's Dwarf Fortress podcast... God, I miss Dwarf Fortress so much... Even without net capability, if I could have that laptop, just as it was, netless but functional, to sit in the library and game for an afternoon... It would be like a vacation.
I think you get the idea. I'm starved of what I rely on for access to my emotional supports, relaxation, and in times of this much stress, sanity. Oh, cruel world, why doth thou take away mine internet!
I realize that if you're not among those who understand, this may sound like the bleating of a whiny, spoiled child who wants and cannot have the newest shiny toy. It's important to understand this is more than that. It's probably a generational thing. Anyway... I may or may not post again soon... And if I don't... I shouldn't have to tell you why.
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