caffeinated unedited ramble
I've been spending four hours daily on my novel, so having laid it aside to marinate before editing, I find it weird not to spend the morning before work writing.
During my morning perhaps-Spondylitis perhaps random magically-mobile mechanical arthritis begone walk, I came across a man who'd lost his dog. Considering that I have time now and have developed an acute empathy for people feeling frustrated, I switched my chosen path to help the gentleman find his dog. This is the third time in as many months that this has happened to me. Pets seem to be the major motivator for neighborhood bonding in our little district. The satisfying thing is that I've found the pet every time. Being calm and having time to spend on a problem seems to produce effective results. It's also always easier to deal with problems that are not your own. I'm just happy that Gorobei is a former street cat with oodles sense. Affectionate purr-box that she is, she also knows what the heck she's doing when I let her outside and she wouldn't deign to get herself lost. I think she'd be horrified at the thought. Just yesterday, she took a running leap onto the bed and didn't realize I'd moved the bed back three feet when I'd reorganized. It's the first time I've seen her miss a leap. She crashed, tumbled and fell and then immediately disappeared under the bed. When I hung upside down to make fun of her she was obviously embarrassed and literally licking her wounds.
Anyways, walking brings up the strangest thoughts. I've been struggling with the question of choice and fate for a while now. With all the reading I've been doing it's a major theme that pain, fear, and anxiety are majorly intertwined. The amount of pain I've been dealing with has been horrendous and there's no question that I fundamentally changed inside as soon as it took hold and settled in to stay. It feels good to know that there's a scientific reason for an inner behavioral shift, but at the same time I still think we have a duty to struggle against it. Truth is, I want to bounce when I walk, it's that simple. I can't. I feel like it makes me something different than what is actually me.
I have three memories in childhood where I made a conscious decision to change myself and then as far as I remember - I did.
I was a knowing bully to my sister growing up, then as an Elementary student, I read 'Tom's midnight garden.' It made me want a good relationship with my sibling. Not a bad one. I specifically made the choice not to be mean to my sister anymore. I decided I wanted to be a good older sister. My choices from then on were concsiously based on that decision. Whether I was effective or not, isn't really clearcut. But what is true is that my intention never shifted again after I put that book down.
When I was 10, I lost my skateboard. It was my one and everything and I'd left it outside when I'd come in for the evening. When I remembered and went back out to grab it - it was gone. I was in agony that night. My skateboard was my entire life. It was wind and speed and freedom and because it was my fault that I'd lost it, I knew I'd never get another one. I made up my mind that night to never be that stupid again. I'd watch out for my things. I would take responsibility and if I was careful, I'd never lose my things again. A security guard gave me my skateboard back the next day. I never forgot that night, though.
In Singapore, my mom brought me to a middle school dance. It was awkward and awful, like most middle school social interactions are, and I was incredibly miserable about how I looked and what I was wearing. We ran into one of my classmates on the balcony and she gave us a wide polite smile and introduced herself. She was always a sweet-heart really, one of the popular crowd, but genuine and nice. I'd always admired her and wondered at her confidence and grace. She won my mom over in ten seconds flat. When she left, my mom mentioned how graceful she was and how she'd never seen anyone have such a wonderful smile. That was the day when I consciously started smiling at people. I took it and I tried it and eventually it became a part of me. It's natural now, I love to smile, but I don't believe I started off that way.
My question is, I always felt like the important things about who I was came from conscious thought, work, and a decision to change. Right now, I feel like conscious thought, the ability to work, and the decision to change have all been taken from me. Pain robs concentration and makes it hard to think straight. It brings about insomnia, fear, and panic and makes it hard to function. Hence the meditation, the tai-chi, the walking, and the writing. Working doesn't make my condition better. It can get a handle on my emotions, I can learn to calm myself down and deal with fears that scare me, and I do and I have, but I'm still not rid of the pain. There's no quick magical solution. So how much is fate and how much belongs to the decisions you make and the effort you put in? When the pain is low, I feel happy, genuine, and hopeful. But I'm also grumpys, anxious, and scared when it comes back. Which it does. Always. So how much is real?
During my morning perhaps-Spondylitis perhaps random magically-mobile mechanical arthritis begone walk, I came across a man who'd lost his dog. Considering that I have time now and have developed an acute empathy for people feeling frustrated, I switched my chosen path to help the gentleman find his dog. This is the third time in as many months that this has happened to me. Pets seem to be the major motivator for neighborhood bonding in our little district. The satisfying thing is that I've found the pet every time. Being calm and having time to spend on a problem seems to produce effective results. It's also always easier to deal with problems that are not your own. I'm just happy that Gorobei is a former street cat with oodles sense. Affectionate purr-box that she is, she also knows what the heck she's doing when I let her outside and she wouldn't deign to get herself lost. I think she'd be horrified at the thought. Just yesterday, she took a running leap onto the bed and didn't realize I'd moved the bed back three feet when I'd reorganized. It's the first time I've seen her miss a leap. She crashed, tumbled and fell and then immediately disappeared under the bed. When I hung upside down to make fun of her she was obviously embarrassed and literally licking her wounds.
Anyways, walking brings up the strangest thoughts. I've been struggling with the question of choice and fate for a while now. With all the reading I've been doing it's a major theme that pain, fear, and anxiety are majorly intertwined. The amount of pain I've been dealing with has been horrendous and there's no question that I fundamentally changed inside as soon as it took hold and settled in to stay. It feels good to know that there's a scientific reason for an inner behavioral shift, but at the same time I still think we have a duty to struggle against it. Truth is, I want to bounce when I walk, it's that simple. I can't. I feel like it makes me something different than what is actually me.
I have three memories in childhood where I made a conscious decision to change myself and then as far as I remember - I did.
I was a knowing bully to my sister growing up, then as an Elementary student, I read 'Tom's midnight garden.' It made me want a good relationship with my sibling. Not a bad one. I specifically made the choice not to be mean to my sister anymore. I decided I wanted to be a good older sister. My choices from then on were concsiously based on that decision. Whether I was effective or not, isn't really clearcut. But what is true is that my intention never shifted again after I put that book down.
When I was 10, I lost my skateboard. It was my one and everything and I'd left it outside when I'd come in for the evening. When I remembered and went back out to grab it - it was gone. I was in agony that night. My skateboard was my entire life. It was wind and speed and freedom and because it was my fault that I'd lost it, I knew I'd never get another one. I made up my mind that night to never be that stupid again. I'd watch out for my things. I would take responsibility and if I was careful, I'd never lose my things again. A security guard gave me my skateboard back the next day. I never forgot that night, though.
In Singapore, my mom brought me to a middle school dance. It was awkward and awful, like most middle school social interactions are, and I was incredibly miserable about how I looked and what I was wearing. We ran into one of my classmates on the balcony and she gave us a wide polite smile and introduced herself. She was always a sweet-heart really, one of the popular crowd, but genuine and nice. I'd always admired her and wondered at her confidence and grace. She won my mom over in ten seconds flat. When she left, my mom mentioned how graceful she was and how she'd never seen anyone have such a wonderful smile. That was the day when I consciously started smiling at people. I took it and I tried it and eventually it became a part of me. It's natural now, I love to smile, but I don't believe I started off that way.
My question is, I always felt like the important things about who I was came from conscious thought, work, and a decision to change. Right now, I feel like conscious thought, the ability to work, and the decision to change have all been taken from me. Pain robs concentration and makes it hard to think straight. It brings about insomnia, fear, and panic and makes it hard to function. Hence the meditation, the tai-chi, the walking, and the writing. Working doesn't make my condition better. It can get a handle on my emotions, I can learn to calm myself down and deal with fears that scare me, and I do and I have, but I'm still not rid of the pain. There's no quick magical solution. So how much is fate and how much belongs to the decisions you make and the effort you put in? When the pain is low, I feel happy, genuine, and hopeful. But I'm also grumpys, anxious, and scared when it comes back. Which it does. Always. So how much is real?