Surveys: a useless rant

I have recently started an online psych class (now that I have completed my obligatory vegan class on plant-based diets and how they're saving the whole world). This psychology class introduced a few different ways a psychologist might collect data. One of these ways is: the survey. I have always thought them useless. Here is why (in detail and in the tone of a rant, for some reason. Even though no one is pressuring me to take a survey or even asking me my opinions on them).

Who was the first person to think of giving a group / selection of people a survey?

Sure, I could look it up, but that is for another day. Today: we are pondering.

The thought, I am sure, had occurred to others. Something will have gotten in the way of the first few, likely, as it typically does. One of the challenges I think the surveys present: dishonesty. Whether it is unbeknownst or knownst to the party / selection of surveyees. I am willing to bet that the majority (at least) of the people who would take a survey would be dishonest. There are so many factors at play that I am (and have always been) shocked to the teeth that this way of "collecting information" was ever even implemented. Hell - that it ever got past the brainstorm phase. 

There's the factor of paranoia - popular in my generation as well as previous - which will at least lead the surveyee into a downward spiral of suspicion and make them feel as though there are ulterior motives to the event / of the survey/surveyor. At... well, most likely (to be honest), once mixed with self-absorption and delusion: (popular in mine and the generation to follow) this will lead the surveyee into a sort of Truman theory. Wherein the surveyee will be convinced that they are in a constant state of being watched / surveyed / there is no privacy / people are always spying on them / everyone else is an NPC and they are the only real person and this experiment is so much bigger than what it appears. 

Then there is the base-line delusion, wherein the surveyee is convinced they are telling the truth when in reality they are not. This person would like to believe that they are a good - at least decent - person and so they have told themselves that they are just that. For a while. Years. And years. And in this self-assurance: they have completely persuaded their mind to be made up. They simply are a good person and they will never think otherwise and anything anyone else says is lies and they are obviously jealous or: just don't get it. This person taking the survey will almost certainly select the answers that they consider to be the "good-person" answers or the "right-thing-to-do" / "thing-one-should". They have heard the surveyor say that these are anonymous. They heard them say that there was no way to ever trace this survey back to them. But this person is also delusional and will act accordingly. 

There are the people who can't focus long enough on the question to even bother giving it a thought, people who can't focus on the question and so: spend an amount of time reading and re-reading and then get nervous about how long they just spent, get distracted by wondering if everyone took this long / what everyone is thinking about them right now / insecurities, distractions, nerves... The person who just wants it over with and rushes through it, the person who ponders much longer than is arguably necessary. The person who is being arrogant / narcissistic, the person who is being so humble that they have humbled themselves into being dishonest (most likely by mistake). 

Who ever thought this was a good idea? Or even much more of an idea? I would have thought that this would have died a quick and painless death upon the phrase: "Wouldn't it be nice if we could count on humans to answer surveys accurately so that we could then collect information on a large number of people?"

Surprise v. Rug-Pull

 A loved one recently confessed their unusual distate for surprises.

There are people who simply don't care for them. People who are convinced they could "plan their own party better" (and maybe they could). People who prefer calming things. People who dislike the anxiety of having other people do things for them / the feeling of now owing them things. People who have a certain kind of relationship with control that makes them feel like death whenever they must hand the reigns over.

This loved one is working through why they do not like surprises, so I will respectfully back off / not over analyze / do my own confessing: I am not a professional (nor have I ever been) in this scene. Also: sometimes people don't want to be analyzed, so don't be rude, you big jerk. 

So what am I to write about? Was that it? Was this just some kind of quick, friendly reminder / PSA not to analyze people when it could be considered rude? While that is something I personally need to keep in mind sometimes, no: that was not it. 

First of all: let's applaud healthy growth in any/every way possible. Perhaps especially for loved ones. 

Second of all: their growth / realization got me thinking: do I have a similar distaste for surprises? Is this something I can work through and grow through as well? I don't think I have a poor relationship with surprises in general. I deduce this by recalling literally any of the conversations with either my mother or my sister on the topic. They both REALLYdo not like surprises. They hate them, I think. Makes them so painfully uncomfortable / discomforted that they often get angry and will likely be in a very bad mood throughout the duration of their birthday party. 

This processing has made me realize something I truly do have an issue with: having the rug pulled out from under me. And of course nobody I know has ever rejoycedover such a thing happening to them, but I can tell - should I ever be able to afford one - this topic could easily be an episode of Lexx Speaks to Her Therapist (maybe even a "To Be Continued"!).

There is an element of surprise that comes with such an event, but these two items are very different. The rug-pull is not necessarily an issue of change (at least not for myself), nor is it something "new" added. It is the antithesis of this. It is, in fact, a loss. It is something taken. Something missing. Something wrong. Like a trap door under an unsuspecting cartoon coyote. 

Have you ever, for example, had a great morning because, heading to work, you had visions of yesterday's leftovers dancing in your head? You ordered too big a lunch yesterday for the office meeting and - against your usual impulse - saved the rest of your veggie burrito (as well as some chips and salsa dregs) in the break room mini fridge. "I'll never eat that", you thought, packing your things to go home for the day. You were certain you didn't want it. So much so that you realized you did not have it on your way out. You were a mere ten paces out from the fridge and decided the trip back to it was not worth it. You deemed it useless. 

And now look at you: you had no time for breakfast. No time for a coffee shop before hand. And, thanks to that NCIS marathon last night, you had "forgotten" to prepare a packed lunch. No food. No bev. Never fear, you think to yourself; leftover burrito is here. 

You confidently cross the street from your parking garage. You all but kick in the office doors, ravenous. You drop your bags at your desk, get to the mini fridge with prepared, empty, available hands just to find - someone has cleaned out the fridge. (This is the end of the point to be made, but hang on a sec:) You stand there in disbelief, thinking surely you must be mistaken. Your eyes search militantly - work their way from left to right, top to bottom: Nothing. With the exception of a few old dressings. Half empty, because you are feeling pessimistic. You replay the many days over what feels like weeks where, right next to where you like to put your coconut cream yogurt, you have had to fight a deep gag over the molded hummus Kathy had left. Even Kathy surely got, at least, the satisfaction of throwing away that science experiment. That crime against humanity. Even that was safe from the cleaners' hungry clutches for so long. And yet your precious burrito had not been given a day. 

Your stomach gargles. Your head begins to throb. You close the door in defeat. You head over to the sad Keurig machine in the corner of the break room. Someone says an all-too-cheery salutation. You turn to see: 

Kathy.

OKAY back to reality. My point is: ^^^this is having the rug pulled out from under you. This - although surprising - is not what I would consider (in this blog's context) a "surprise". 

The rug-pull is much more sinister. There is a negtive or selfish intent from the other party, if there even is one. (Someone eating your fridge food vs. the cleaners simply trying to do their job.) And sometimes the over-looking / complete and utter lack of consideration is what sucks the most and is the most difficult for the rug-pullee to deal with. (This, I suppose, could be: your mother / roommate / partner going grocery shopping and deciding it was up to them to make the call. Even though they watched you make that boxed mac and cheese yesterday and take the time to pop it in the fridge, they decided to toss it to make room for their stuff / the new stuff / whathaveyou.) 

I guess that's kind of it for now. (Two blogs today! Woohoo! I feel great.) And, yes, this example is based around a none-too-serious issue / event / happening surrounding an employed person's food (that they can presumably replenish). And if you're curious: it is mostly due to the fact that I think this will be relatable as well as: some of the other examples I first thought of are much darker and shitter and I do not wish to bring you / myself down at the moment. I don't think it is necessary to discuss this topic today. 

Just Thinking! Go enjoy the weather before it turns to shit and goes fully Autumnal and there is no sun.

Back in NY

 I am back in NY after:

WEEK ONE:
        home from work, quick nap, redbull, up to Maine/ME.
        stay at mother's place. sleep on oversized recliner. be sad and feel odd together.
        fight through the La Brea Tar Pit that is overwhelming sadness and get things done. Future-plan.
        watch a new show that I would have never picked out with my mother as I enjoy Old Fashions.
        take turns picking out music videos and singing with all the fervor of the late, great Freddy Mercury.
        I head back to NY. Sleep. Next day: back to work.

WEEK TWO:
        home from work, quick nap, redbull, up to ME.
        arrive early enough to have the realization wash over me: ME is not NY and nothing is open until 6. 
        pass out at my best friend's place (thank you!) and wake up - not an hour later - for a bday party.
        party ends - back to best friend's for deliciously relaxed times fitted between other social delights.
        check on Ma.
        I head back to NY. Nap. Enjoy the day off. Next day: back to work.

I have had exactly two weeks and three days to regain myself and in precisely 7 days time I will head back up to ME. Here's the thing: this time I will have a beautifully full allowance of time up there. I will have 8 days off (at least, anyway; haven't gotten October's schedule just yet) to whatever my friends / loved ones and I cook up. And the only thing set in stone is my best friend's and my departure to Boston (via train) to see one of our favorite bands on their farewell tour. We've got train tickets. We've got a hotel room. 

I am so excited I could spit. 

THRILLED. I am thrilled. Even down to the precision of what to bring to Boston (out of the things I brought from NY to ME) so that I will have what I need while also having my hands completely free and be able to comfortably walk around Boston with my best friend. I keep checking the weather app because, although it is far too soon to do so, it is making me feel as though I am planning. Really doing something. Getting even closer to the date than if I had left the weather app alone. 

My friend and I have been through a fair amount recently. We love each other very much. And we need a break. Not just a break; a real adventure. Cost be damned (and boy, had it better be): I have never had a friendventure like this in my life and I may not ever again! 

sis boom bah.

***Also ahead: October 21st: a reading of my own published book at a dear loved one's book shop! With other spooky authors / readers! Ain't life grand?***

Lately

 Lately there has been a fair amount of personal tragedy in my life / the life of those around me / no longer around me. 

One week it was my mother's sister / my aunt who passed. The next week I found myself overwhelmed with the doom of the goings on of the world that I live in (relatable content - so cringe!), the next week it was a very lovely man / friend I used to work with and certainly loved. These things usually come in threes, so I allowed myself to believe that that had been it. "It"; a word, here, meaning: "too much already".

My circle and I were spared exactly three weeks before my mother's partner / my stepfather passed. There are many details that make this information so much more overwhelmingly gloomy, but I will tuck those inside of myself to fester so you will not have to. (It's already tragic enough. What would that do, exactly?)

I had not taken a day off of work for any of the previous, but I knew this last hit was going to be critical, so I texted my manager and let her know. I was - very foolishly - only going to take one day off before heading back and pretending to not have a family or problems for eight hours again. My manager offered the week off (a mere two extra days for liittle old part-time me) under the pretense of "in case you wanna go visit your mom". She is a very thoughtful person / manager to offer this. To use the little information she has on me to my advantage. I was very grateful. And so: I was off. 

My mother, being the original version of my copy, did not want company at first. I respected that and stayed in NY, by my phone all week. I waited for her to change her mind. She didn't. I was glad she didn't because it is a very visceral, fiery torture to be needed by your loved ones and not be there. It may be the worst feeling in the world. But at least the anxiety was lessened by the all-consuming work factor being vacuumed away.

Now, after I have had my big, sobby day and am attempting to move through the thick, marshy substance that is my day-to-day, I can plan a proper trip. Granted; it will only be a few days and I would obviously like it to be more, but (alas!) I have only just spent my "more" to do my own processing. I will pack a bag. I will drive up to Maine and I will park Jasper at my mother's place. I will clean, I will cook, I will escourt, I will sit... I will do anything she needs or thinks of within the small amount of time I am able to grant us. This is the only thing I can think to do. And - aside from this blog that two people read - I will tell very few others where I am and when. I will not exist for those few days except within the context of my mother and myself. ...And her cat, of course. 

I think I must have been very fortunate to not have much tragedy of this kind in my life until now. I am certain so many others my age would / will have been so well-vetted by now that they could flow through it with a sad grace. I know that death is certain and I know that all three of these individuals were of a certain age where such things should be less shocking. It is not less shocking. And it is just sad. 

The only solice, at the moment, is that I know exactly where to neatly fold my emotions. I have not always been in such a position. And confusion makes the tragedies a little rougher. 

Gainfully-ish Employed

this blog has turned into a movie/book trope of the character who is murdered / goes missing. The one the left you saying: "There's no way anyone would blog about that much stuff/update that much on Twitter/this is so lame." turns out it's not lame. well... okay, it is. but it is also realistic. 

I have a job!

It took me the longest it has ever taken me (save for that first 13-16 years where I was taking a few years off to childhood). I started my search in the brewery, tattoo receptionist and CBD caregiver game and eventually landed on: part-time bank teller. Quite the journey. The reason for this: J has a full time 8-5 Monday through Friday and he suggested that I get a job with weekends / holidays / nights off so that I don't forget what he looks like. Also: insurance is good. (Always thinking, that J!) So I swapped my soul-feeding, body-killing, no-insurance-giving search for one where I could go to the dentist every once in a while. I honestly don't think I would care much either way because: it's part-time! Nothing matters when you're part-time. You can have whatever personality you want and be responsible for as little as they will allow you because: it's only for a few days a week. 

My training was very long, but not taxing. Mostly a lot of sitting in a quiet room, behind a closed door, watching training vids and participating in virtual classes. This would have been my complete undoing, after so many months of doing exactly what I wanted and only socializing with my partner, but I had something with me. The best tool, according to Nicholas Angel; my notebook. 

I have gotten in trouble for reading on the job. I have gotten in trouble for checking my phone on the job. But I have yet to get any flack for writing in my notebook on this particular job. It's perfect: I can take notes on actual job information, jot down any questions I have for later (while someone is teaching the class). I can also write down any thoughts / ideas I have for stories, blogs, dinners for the week, events I want to remind J of - I can plan my whole week! I always have something to write. And having a notebook to plan in might be archaic, but when the alternative is not relaxing/getting in trouble with your phone or ...nothing? I feel as though it is a fine tool, indeed. 

It is wild just how long the days feel there - here I am working 20 hours a week and I am still missing J, missing my kitchen, missing "home". Which brings me to the quick thought: how do any of us find time to get upset with our friends or partners when we are working full time? I know I have done it. Doesn't it seem as though we would simply just be relieved to be around them? 40 hours of working hard for the money and you aren't just happy to be home? Of course then I figure that working 40 hours is (at the very least) twice as stressful as working 20, so I suppose that puts us all at a disadvantage for good moods. I guess it would likely come down to your down-time / how you would want to spend it, at that point. Let's say, for example, you came home, wanted to work on a project you had going for the house. But upon arriving you find out that your partner has made an incredible mess / not cleaned it / now you can't chill and further more that's not very respectful and... Okay. I answered my own question. 

One last parting shot: 

I will say I wish the job application descriptions online were honest. They always romanticize the job to the point where I have no idea what the actual tasks/duties/daily work will even look like. Is it in an office? A warehouse? A greenhouse? Will I be working mostly alone? With co-workers? Or is it mainly customer-based? Will I be answering a phone? The front door? Personal ads? How often? It's nice to know this place has "good benefits", but what are they? What am I getting paid? Am I getting paid? 

It's not overwhelming; it's fast-paced.

It's not unfair workload; we don't like titles. 

It's not a scripted, soul-crushing, white-elephant-selling call-center; it's customer service. With incentives. 

Just once I would like to see:

Data Entry job. 
Will be left alone by co-workers and customers alike. In fact: no socializing necessary (no extroverts, please). Simply a once-a-week email to supervisor. Can listen to music while working as long as work gets done. No phone-answering. No front-door recptionist-ing. You will be working in a basement. (Woman-owned business, don't worry/nothing creepy.) Mostly it's just you and your computer. Just typing away and entering data, as the job title implies. You will be expected to clock in promptly at 8am. You will likely spend the morning scrolling on your phone and drinking coffee and eating your lunch you packed too early. But we won't notice unless your work doesn't get done. You do you.

M-F, 8-5. PT: 20 hrs / FT: 40 hrs. Holidays off because we don't want to pay you to be here. It's not worth it. I mean come on; there are no customers to talk to. 

Tell me what I want to know, right? This is what I came here for. 

I do think that's about it for now... thanks for reading my non-verbal processing. 

5 Year Check-In

 I think it is time to call attention to the fact that I have had this bloody thing since 2017.

five years. 

FIVE!

Automatically I am drawn to the fact that I have also been vegan for five years. This is also about the time I got Jasper, the best car in the whole wide world (and my current whip). What else was i doing five years ago? What else did I discover? What else have I kept up with / kept a healthy/good/decent relationship with? What else has helped me grow into the person I almost always like being around (It's very nearly always, but we all have those days when we're sick of ourselves)?

My first post: "TAXES 2017"
Posted: March 10th, 2017

According to my instagram, the 10th was the day after I visited Liquid Riot Brewery for the first time and day before I was spoiled with a delicious blueberry oatmeal breakfast (complete with fresh fruit and homemade booch). This is very important. (No it isn't.) (But it did help me better-place my timeline.)

I was living in Maine, roomin' with the old lady (love you, Ma) and so wholly unaware of the adventures to come. I had paid my dues and made good my escape from North Conway New Hampshire a mere two years prior. I was about to have my last day at one of the best/worst restaurant jobs I have ever had. I was about to have my birthday. 

I have since gotten out of the service industry (it always feels like a "for now", but you never know). I have since left Maine and set sails for New York, for love. I have since made the best friend I have ever had and ever will have and, quite frankly, don't know how I was living without them all those years prior. I have published the stories I began writing in my mother's kitchen. lived through (still living through) the oddest couple of years with the pandemic. I have worked in the Chamber of Commerce, a frame shop, a law firm and now a bank. I have allowed my love for writing and yoga and cooking to take over me. I have become braver. I have explored. 

I see my past self as a precious thing; one to take care of, forgive and protect. I see my future self as a mythical creature; one to not rush, to daydream of meeting one day. And I see my present self as a badge of honor; one to wear with pride and celebrate. To remind me of what I have made out of what I found / fought for / was given. To represent what I am made of. 

Psych Thoughts

 I recently started taking walks (at least once a day, very typically in the morning). 

On these walks I would typically stick to music. However: Spotify recently suggested a podcast for me (thanks, gurl!) and it is centered around psychology. Now. I need to get this clear: I understand that a podcast does not replace professional services / proper research / actual diagnoses. I also know that this kind of podcast may not be for the red-car-seer and/or hypochondriac. I am neither. I am merely a curious mind with ears and an app and time on my hands. I see this passive kind of ...research? Introduction? ...a kind of mind-provoker, but not much more. It is similar to how I feel when I have conversations about psyche. It's fun, it's thought-provoking and I find it interesting. In fact it is one of my favorite things to talk about. And I do not have people down here that I wish to speak to (as of yet) in such a way, other than my boyfriend. And he works. So. This podcast was filling a need/want. 

While I was listening today, I had some ponderings (FINALLY): 

Is one (a professional) able to draw parallels between a disorder and a ...syndrome, let's say? For example: one of the details of Imposter Syndrome is procrastinating. Should a link (or an allowance) be made between this and the procrastination one experiences when one is ADHD? And what about the main component: the feeling of not being good enough? Is there to be a parallel drawn between this and the paranoia of schizophrenia? What I guess I mean is: how does one know which facet of which syndrome / disorder one has? Obviously it's best left up to the professionals, but when it comes to subtleties: how does one (regular/common) individual know where the issue lies/if it is an issue/whether they are endangering anyone/themselves? If you have one, do you not have the other? If I see patterns, do I blame that on my OCD, or hallucinations? (Poor example, but you get it ...hopefully.)

More stupid thought blogs sure to come (this is called: "Just Thinking".)

Blather / OMG, How've you BEEN??

Sound the alarm; I have taken to the keys!

Feels so good to be back. I could have done this earlier (God knows I wasn't busy working on my novel...), but there was that week when we were in Maine, that week after where it was the week after and then some other weeks where blahblahblah, excuses. *In best Eddie Izzard:* So! What's going on, eh?

At this point, the weather has essentially mimicked every damn season Earth (and probably other planets) have to offer. Such is life in the Northeast states! And it's all fine becauuusse... It's APRIL, BAYBEE. Late April, to be a little more specific. And as such: It is Taurus Season. A.K.A.: another silly excuse to be in a good mood. (This is what Astrology should be used for: finding patterns, having fun and making excuses to be happy.) The decent - if not confusing - weather and the amount of time I've spent down here has made me infinitely more comfortable with scouring the internet for fun little events in the neighborhood. This has pushed me to try new things: J was nice enough to accompany me to a local live music scene the other night. Both bands were great and I got to experience a night I had no idea I even needed. I also absolutely loved the venue. 

As soon as you walk in: it's dark, moody lighting... but not in a dangerous way (amiright, ladies???). To your left you have the bar, fitted proper with popular brands and a very cool tender. To your right you see tacky, faux-regal furniture with patterned wood and red cushions. You walk a little further, realize that - yes, it is your favorite White Stripes song playing over the speakers. Because tonight is a Rock night. And (as much as I worship them) White Stripes is a generic Rock band, sure to please the masses. You walk a little further and see very clearly that the entire level you have been placing your steady steps on is actually raised and below it, in front of your very eyes (and a few little tables with stools) is a dance floor. And beyond that: a stage! You get your drinks and you get your seats and as soon as the band enters the stage and counts their first song, you feel it. The bass. The bombastic, rhythmic vibration from your wild (or not so wild) youth. You are not reliving your glory days, it is so much better than that. You are remembering the familiar rush of being so physically close to the music. You are wondering why it took you so long to return. And to appreciate it in a new, possibly elevated, way. 

So anyway, that was one night. 

I also have museum exhibits ahead of me, as well as some new breweries to check out (suggested by a man that interviewed me down here. He quoted Futurama. I'm pretty sure I can trust him). Also: Food Trucks!! And normally I would count myself very dismissive of such festivities, but this is Vegan-Town, baybee. They're bound to at least have a vegan option amongst the crowd. 

And, let's just be honest here: as soon as the weather picks up anything is a super fun / enjoyable experience / way to spend your afternoon. Even just walking outside in it!

I have been going for a walk about every day just to have an excuse to get out in it. I used to live in a place with a porch. All I did when it was nice out was just sit out there and listen to music. Maybe have a coffee / seltzer / adult beverage and smoke. Now I do not have a porch, so I must be clever and make excuses to be outside. Just wanna pop out? Have a smoke. Wanna enjoy it for a little longer? Go for a walk. Need a reason to go for a walk? Get a coffee. 

Other than that (what even was that?) I've been up to the same nonsense I am always up to. I am cooking, eating, drinking, sleeping, reading, writing, talking, joking, laughing, learning, singing, driving, adventuring. Less yoga, but still doin' it every once in a while. Going out to eat here is still a trip. 

I can't wait for my birthday dinner. 

Also: I miss my mother and will certainly plan a visit as soon as I get a job squared away down here.

New Town, New State

 "...I wanna wake up in a city that never sleeps.." - Frank Sinatra: (Theme From) New York, New York

It has been about 6 months since I have picked up and moved across state lines, once more! It has gone by in a flash while simultaneously assuring me that I have never lived anywhere else. I have always been here. I was always meant to be. I am comfortable, I am peaceful, I am excited. And that's only the shit-weather months! Imagine how wonderful it will be once the snow completely melts; once the 20's and 30's turn into 60's and 70's. (Dammit, I love warm weather.)

The apartment is cozy and when we come home from trips: it smells like us. It houses our things and our plants. It is the place where I cook our meals (most of them, anyway. Friday's pizza day. We don't argue with pizza day). It is where we rest our heads and where I am kept safe. It is where our friends join us for drinks and games and general tomfoolery. It is where - just outside - Jasper is parked: tucked safely in the designated parking spot in the back. 

The neighborhood is calm and alive at the same time. It is where we walk to the local coffee shop. Where we have seen countless owner-and-dog pairings (we spotted seven just driving around the corner the other day. So much floof). It is where we see cats and rabbits and foxes and hear birds sing. It houses the park bench that we walk to in nice weather. 

The city holds countless restaurants, most with food so delicious you will think you are dreaming. Coffee shops owned by local calming personalities. Where I go to hole up and get writing done (at least once a week). Where the espresso anxiously awaits my order: double shot on ice, please. The bars and tenders within them are filled with expression, beauty and charm. They will take your order, remember it and remember you. Where I come in craving a negroni, but can't manage to bring myself to order anything but the house special; taking full advantage of the talent within the walls. 

I know I am still in the honeymoon phase (of so many things), but I love this place. 

Veganism & Minimalism

It has been about two years since I decided to adopt the vegan lifestyle.

First of all, I feel that I must say that the vegan lifestyle appears to be similar to minimalism; what veganism means to one person may not be identical to the next person's definition. One minimalist may only allow themselves to own the clothes on their back, another may only allow themselves the amount of items that will fit in their backpack, and the next will allow themselves the usual lifestyle, while simply being more active about keeping their purchases intentional (no casual shopping and only keep the clothes, books, food that are certain to give you joy/contentedness).

One vegan may not consume honey while the other will. There is an argument to be made about thrift store items: are we allowed to purchase leather if it is second-hand? The beauty of this is that it is up to the individual (as far as I am concerned). I, for example, only vow to do my very best because I know I am not going to fool myself about what "my best" is. I know I will continue to be diligent about not consuming animal products in my diet. I will refuse food. I will check the tag for wool and leather, but I will admit that there are some items that I had before I went vegan slip through the cracks. For me, it is a "from now on" and "to the realistic best of my knowledge" scenario.

At any rate.

I have had such an incredible experience with veganism and minimalism. I feel as though they went hand in hand for me. I found out about the concept of minimalism as I was researching veganism and decided "what better time to get rid of the things I don't need?" I started with my refrigerator and went from there. Since adopting minimalism, I have refocused and decided to live a life of intention. Which bridged into my diet/what I was eating and drinking, specifically. I never really was one for much junk food and had been off of sugary drinks for quite some time, but with the marriage of V & M, I was simplifying what I could eat (just getting down to basics so that I would be less likely to mess up my vegan diet / so I could build a decent foundation for it) even more, and for the better!

I was certainly allowing myself all the calories, carbs, fats and proteins that I wanted (didn't want to get overwhelmed, plus I've never really been one to count calories, etc... and now hardly seemed like the time to start). I basically drank water, tea and black coffee, so that was already taken care of. I was never much of a picky eater, but even so, if there was a food I had been afraid to try/buy on the regular (like mushrooms, for example), I forced myself out of that and decided to allow myself literally any foods as long as they were not animal products (and now I like mushrooms. I eat them every day. They make their way into just about every meal). At first this clean slate of allowance and adventure was just to experiment and to make it a bit more possible to go out to eat at a restaurant. I am glad I did this, however, because since deciding I like mushrooms (among other things), I have discovered that I love Thai food, Vietnamese food and Korean food (bonus new food: kimchi).

*** This part of the post is old ^^^ I've been vegan for... 5/6 years?? Not sure.***

So wild to look back on this one because I have wildly upped my cooking game and palate. (And I can barely even imagine a world without kimchi?!?) I am, by far, a less-constrictive minimalist than when I started. But I'm so glad I began with a strict practice because it better-trained me (leaps and bounds!) to purchase and keep and do with intention. My addiction to fashion has lessened and resulted in a wardrobe of things I love. And on my most recent move through a couple states I was able to very easily rid myself of my little cot bed, desk and chair. In fact, other than my plants, everything I brought fit in my Fiat. Not bad at all!

I do not foresee myself shedding my veganism any time soon - in a body swimming in insecurities, it is one of the things I always like about myself. It doesn't hurt that my entire relationship with veganism has been a pleasant one: introducing me to delicious foods and flavors I have fallen in love with. (Thai & Korean are still the best!!)

Weddings

also an old draft. i'm doing some spring cleaning. 

The following is the unprovoked opinion of a person who very much has never been married. Please disregard. You're probably right. 

As far as weddings go, I think my sister got it right:

   invite few
   no strangers (ordain-a-friend)
   casual after-party/gathering
   let people wear what they want.
   keep "God" out of it, if you are not religious.
   (keep "God" in it, if you are.)

We have all been instilled with this impression of weddings being so stressful and massive and unnatural. Holy scriptures, irrelevant context, strange ritual and rule. People who have never set foot in a church, never laid a hand on a Bible, plan their event to the teeth; priest and all. And, of course, by "their event" I mean "everyone but theirs". After all, every wedding I have attended thus far has felt as though it has been much more for others than the actual bride and groom; the parents. The family. The extended family. Even the vegetarians get to have a plate made up special, just for them.

And before you sling some hokum at me about how it's about everyone else because it's a ceremony to "publicly profess your / each other's love"; why are you doing that? What is that for? Isn't it enough you love each other? Seems a little insecure and un-romantic to me:

"You guys saw that, right?? He said he loved me - we have WITNESSES"

(And photographic evidence!)

Isn't the whole ring thing a kind of public profession? (Professing? Ugh. To profess, i.e.: one's love.) And if you truly find it necessary to do so, why not do it in a way that is more true to you (both of you - if you can't be nice to each other and compromise on this, I am uncertain how well you will fair once the ceremony is over)? And if you'd like to dress up - no shame in the game! Go for it. There are no rules against wearing a princess gown in public. I know. I've done it. And if you're a little insecure about doing so: just ask a friend to follow you both with a camera, taking shots every once in a while. Nobody questions you when someone is taking photos. It's the ultimate "explain-away" for nearly every situation. 

As far as your loved ones' schedules and attires: don't be a dick. For the love of God (since you're pretending to be religious); think of your loved ones! Just a little consideration, please. If they cannot afford 700.00 suits / gowns / shrouds, don't be that guy. While you're at it: if they can't afford that, they probably can't afford a destination wedding in Bali. Not to mention the pain in the ass it is for some to get days off of work for the full length of the festivities. ("Oh, Greg, why don't you stay?? It's Bali!" "Some of us have to work, Cheryl.")

Again: if you are religious (or at least very, very old), this blog will not apply to you. I understand completely why religious people would do it. They have practices. They "relig", if you will. They're doing it every Sunday (or what-have-you), what's one more day? No, I am not questioning their approach - there are so many things I do not understand in this world, some days it is better to simply "drop it" - I do question the non-religious. And most of the people I know are not religious. Ergo: this blog. 

Bottom line: I think people should do what they want on their wedding day, should they have one. (As always: cause no harm, dears.) At the end of the day: it is not for me to understand. It is your day. 

Intention

here's an old draft I finished while putting off the short story I should be writing. enjoy. 

Intentions can get you out of quite a pickle.

the irony, of course, being that if your intention is to avoid said pickle, they will likely get you out of absolutely nothing. 

Although I cannot speak for everyone, I find myself focusing on intent more often than not. It sounds sweeter than it is. I mean, sure, it comes in handy when someone makes a mistake around me:

"Oops, sorry, I made your espresso wrong - I'll make it again!"
"I didn't mean to frustrate you."
"Sorry I dragged you to the Tron remake."

On the other hand; I also tend to passively read people and am often deafened by their body language and patterns. Even when this is contrary to their apology:

"Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you" says the sad man, slithering through the bar. To the woman in a tight dress. Yuck. 

Well if you're going to damn the apologizing party to a non-apology by way of suspicion... you'd better be right. So how does one know when one is right? The truth is: I just know. I go by instinct. When one is to "go by instinct", one will inevitably eventually be incorrect. But so will one who will "go by evidence". I find that reading detective novels / watching movies of the like had taught me that evidence will only take you so far. At some point, you will need to call up your gut instinct. Your ability to read individuals. Because no puzzle is completely solved by using only the scene of the crime. That's why the detectives question everyone. You'd be a pretty silly detective if you simply believed everything everyone told you. You would ask everyone to first see if everything in everyone's story lined up while shortly thereafter considering everyone's body language / inflection / what language they used, etc...

Man I love detective stories. 

At any rate. 

I - selfishly - adore others when they adopt this practice. As long as they're not simply constantly so suspicious of everything that they are never able to read good intentions, that is. Not only because I will then have another brother-in-arms, but also because I know I will be incredibly unlikely to hurt them. I do a lot of strange things and some of them are things I should not be doing. Most of them - by a landslide - are not done with an intention to injure anyone, inside or out. There are some things I just don't get / understand / think about. Not from lack of trying, I can assure you. My intentions are good. And these brother-in-arms types will know that for certain (unless their "guts" are broken) while knowing they can take me at face value. 

And when people in my immediate company do not understand that? Well, that's a different story. You win some, you lose some. 

Eavesdropping

 It matters not if you are a nosy or not-nosy person; at some point or another you have eavesdropped. 

I have recently done a passive dropping of the eaves in the tattoo parlor I was recently at. Here was the sitch:

the tattooed was sharing with the tattooer that she had gone to Disney... land, world, whatever. And professing her ever-casual feelings of Disney rides and her deep affinity for the Harry Potter world. She went on to describe the HP attraction as I felt my attention span slowly drift away. 

I felt relieved that I was not the tattooer. 

I have absolutely no interest in hearing about an adult's serious admiration and undying allegiance to a children's attraction. Not in this plain-and-tall fashion, anyway. I'll listen to pretty much anything if you can beef it up with a few good punchlines. And I would also have been ever-attentive if it had been a loved one talking. But in my mind I had already decided what kind of person the tattooer - and what kind the tattooed - had been and were. They were not friends or family. One of them was gabbing the way one might at a salon (which is where anything goes because no one's really listening, anyway) and one of them was getting paid to be in very close, quiet, non-hair-drying distance to the first. 

Meanwhile: Today in the cafe:

a: "I'm just like an energetic, chaotic person"

b: "yeah"

a few sips of my espresso later...

a: "I like people who like mushrooms."

b: "well, mushrooms are good."

a few minutes later...

a: "I like trees, too"

b: "yeah, trees are smart"

b goes on to explain how photosynthesis works, in solemn wonder.

I can't make this up, people. I'm not that good a writer. 

It bares mentioning that a and b are two younger people, maybe early twenties. Cool kids age, in my opinion. The age range where they need not put an effort forth; they are inherently cool to others not in the age range. I blame this, mainly, for the poor conversation topic and lack of flow. 

I remember being that age, at least a bit. I seem to recall having eerily similar conversation. So please believe me when I say: if I pick on these people, I am at least equal amounts picking on myself. My intention is not to bully (ever). I just can't help but recall a conversation one of the world's coolest attorneys had with me during my two-year-stint at the law firm:

Cool Attorney: "Yeah, the guy just wouldn't stop talking about how decent a person he was. How trustworthy he was."

me: "Ugh. I hate that. Doesn't that so get under your skin?"

CA: "Yes! Don't talk about it -"

me: "Yeah, be about it!"

CA: "Exactly."

I will never forget this conversation. I couldn't help but replay every time I had been the guy making bold claims about myself - nobody's perfect. Regardless: the point is that I did this constantly when I was younger! At aforementioned "Cool Age". Mostly in front of people I was trying to impress (and I was super insecure for a while there, so... everybody, I guess). Like I was attempting to sell myself to them. And, likely, convince myself that I either was these things or at least could be. Ah, Cool Age: the never-ending job interview. 

I know I always say this, but: how cool is this getting-older thing?? May none of us Un-Cools ever have this conversation again. Where we focus mostly on selling something to the other party/ourselves. Where we do not hear, only listen for queues of what we should say next to up the chances of them liking us. Where we hardly learn anything (if that). Where, once we are through, we are exhausted, entirely depleted; roadkill.

I hear a and b mention the words: "Hot Fuzz" and "Peace Lily". My ears perk. There might be hope for these kittens, yet.

a: have you ever seen it?

b: no... it's cops, right?

a: yeah. but they're british

b: what's it about?

a: well, I can't really tell you

b: oh, like it's not really about anything?

a: yeah

b: okay, so no plot, really

a: yeah. well, it is about something technically, but it's just like not.

b: oh, okay.

Forget what I said about not bullying. 

Love Languages

 I know, I know. 

Not only am I late to the game; even when I wasn't late to the game, very few people cared about this. But I care. And it's my blog. Send it in the comments section if you truly are unable to help yourself. 

I heard about the 5 Love Languages a few years ago, found it interesting. Took a test. Found out my language(s). Years later: I have finally read the corresponding book. R, an amazing friend, recommended it to me and I couldn't be happier that she did. There are a bunch of fun things to read about / discover in it, but here's what I want to focus on today:

I think it's fascinating that the kind of love one requires may not even be the kind one gives. 

I suppose on one hand: there's no bloody use spending love the way you need it to be spent on you because, well, you're not going to date you. However, I typically try to live by the Golden Rule (by and large, anyway. There are specific exceptions). Here's the thing, though - I wasn't giving what I needed in romantic / love relationships. I was fluent in:

*    Acts of Service
*    Gift Giving
and as I got a bit older
*    Words of Affirmation

My love languages are:

*    Physical Touch (first and foremost)
*    Quality Time (in second place)

So what on earth is going on, here? What was I on about? I think, simply put: I was mostly being selfish with my time. My time was My Time and I wasn't very generous with it. There was so much I wanted to do! So much that needed to be done (work, cleaning, groceries, organization) and so much I was interested in (writing, reading, gaming, baking). And so much of that is more enjoyable (I find, anyway) when going it alone. 

The good news is: not only have I got more things I'm into now (cooking, yoga / exercise, researching / learning, PLANTS) but I have actually learned to share time. I have learned that time is the wildest, best, amazing gift you can give anyone. Especially in adult life. And it's not fucking easy. And sometimes it's gonna suck and you just have to weigh it out: can you deal with a little suckage at the price of your favorite person in the whole wide world being happy / knowing you love them / make efforts as an active decision to love them? Totes worth it. And, if I'm being honest, it's just so bloody easy to do it now because it feels good to know you're helping your fave human feel good. 

I know: sappy. I don't wanna hear about it. 

Next: Physical Touch. Simply said: I was not doing this because I was so sick of being pursued / valued only at face value / creepy men / being a woman blah blah blah. (Amiright, ladies?) But then I learned that you can choose your partners; you don't just have to date the ones who ask you out! You can make decisions! And if they're not creepy and they dig you and you're consensual: you're probably going to be more likely to want to touch them. And be touched by them. Pretty wild, eh?

I think another reason I was performing Acts of Service / Gift Giving / Words of Affirmation was due to my upbringing. (Not necessarily my parents, not necessarily not them.) The people I was around most as I was growing up were incredibly busy. They had no time. There was nothing they felt the could do about it. So it meant a lot to them that I took care of something. And being so busy / having so much to take care of (for so many years, in some circumstances), it was shocking and a delightful surprise when there was something tangible that I could bring to them to show them that I really thought about them. (Let this talisman mark the day that effort was put forth!) 

As far as the Words of Affirmation: nobody was nice to each other back then. It was the 90's. Matthew Perry lead the whole team with biting sarcasm. Jim Carrey did his part in Liar Liar. We were all terrible. Especially to our friends and loved ones. We had to convince ourselves - and everyone else - that we were light-years cooler than them. What a time to be alive. 

Anyway. It was a fun book to read, the test was interesting to take and it got my mind rolling. If nothing else: it was a cool look into relationships that I hadn't thought of, specifically, before. I feel like I have a shot at being a little better at relationships after reading the book. Perhaps I will read more relationship-y books. Once I finish my latest Shirley Jackson or Chuck Palahniuk I've picked up, that is. 

Destiny

 I have recently been shown / have watched / have finished a show called "Dark". It is about time travel and it is thick with events, thoughts and dialogue (I know because I read all of it - German to English subtitles. Time to brush up on my Deutsch!). Among this slew of rich happenings, an overall split of opinion was prevalent between the characters: 

Do our decisions/choices change our/an ever-altering future?
Or are the actions we take preordained and we have no actual choice in the matter?

I found this thought interesting because it brought me back to a time when I was in high school. English Class - aside from the Arts, this was the only class where I wouldn't find myself struggling in hellfire. (Ffffffuuuuuckk Gym Class, Math and Issues in American Government. Oh, and Latin.) We were given a prompt in this English Class. I recall the excitement I felt from head to toe; we had all been presented an opportunity to create an opinion piece! We were in high school - nobody cared about our thoughts and opinions in high school! Let alone cared enough to dedicate in-school hours to ponder over it. It gets better - the question wasn't some vapid bologna about what we did over vacation. It wasn't a team-building, get-to-know-you activity. The question was:

Do you think we have the power to make our own decisions/choices to change our future paths? Or do you think we are condemned to a preordained destiny?

I know. It's a lot like the previous thing I typed out in bold. Now you know why this memory was triggered. But how cool is that as a question? So philosophical, so thought-provoking while also being simply interesting to write and to read. And while it was understood that it was to be more than a simple yes/no answer, one didn't necessarily have to winge on and on about it to properly respond. Unlike the blathering I do here, on the blog. I have this irritating drive to be incredibly thorough when I answer certain things, let alone when I am left to my own, pondering devices. Anyway. My answer then:

I believe that the future is preordained; that it has been cast in stone. We are shaped by the people and events around us, certainly. However, I believe this is more of a shaping into what we were "destined" to be and less of a perpetuity of gambling and/or surprise. 

I believe I was the only student in the class who answered this way, to which my teacher responded with (essentially) a quick "Wrong." on my paper. I was crushed when I realized that this had not, in fact, been a thought-provoking opinion prompt, but a cleverly disguised way for the adult to tell us their opinion. And as far as I was concerned: we could have skipped the romance. I would have had more respect for her (teacher) if she had simply come out and told us what to believe. But of course, my respecting her could have been very low on her priorities. (I'm not certain; we never wrote that paper.)

Regardless of its actual intention: I still thought it was a cool subject to ponder on. So much so that I recently asked J what his thoughts were on the matter. (I would gladly write his answer here, but he hasn't given it to me just yet.) He then asked me my thoughts. I hadn't expected this, so I explained my experience the first time I had been asked-but-not-really-asked this question. By the end of that winded dialogue, I gave a quick thought. 

I realized that there was a chunk of time between the first time and this time where I believe the opposite. I believed that we were "in charge of our future". I think it was what I needed at the time/perhaps I had been whisked away by temporary optimism (band name; called it). Having that thought led me to ponder if the Preordained/No Choice Matters Theory was simply what I needed to believe at that time. I had done some work and come up with some coping mechanisms for my disorder(s) at that time. One of them could have been "if you are not in charge of it and you can AT ALL help yourself from having anything to do with it: just let it go". In other words: there were some things that I knew I could not change but would not be able to help obsessing over. However, as I got a little older (high school), I started to be able to peel myself away here and there of useless obsession of things I could not understand. But of course, as an accidental extremist, the only way I could do this was to pull away entirely. 

In other, other words: I found it incredibly helpful to convince myself that I had absolutely no hold/control over my future and that the choices I made had little to no impact. This was quite relieving to the nearly superstitious aspect to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. 

So what's my answer now (literally nobody other than J is asking)?

I think that the entire concept of destiny is a bit romantic for me. And it feels so self-obsessed/human of us to even create such a term/idea. Are we, as individuals, truly that important - at least some of us (while others are NPCs) - that our futures are or are not destined? Is it even a question that needs to be asked? I am so sick of us. Naturally, this concept makes an interesting show or story, but I hate that we convince/have ever convinced ourselves that we matter that much. It's worse than the time we thought holding our breath while hopping on one leg in a tub of snake piss would cure the village of Dancing Plague.

Perhaps it reminds me of the worst parts of a/my disorder(s): superstition and needless guilt. With a pinch of arrogance, if I'm honest. Which I will later have guilt over. But as long as I hold my breath and lock the front door three times, I'll be back to it in no time. 

In closing: in my most comfortable state, I don't think we have preordained futures. I don't think things are meant to be. I also don't think our choices are as important as we think they are/we give ourselves a bit too much credit. However: at a slightly more uncomfortable / slightly more desperate state, I might use this superstition of "Well, wasn't meant to be." to better comfort myself. And in the end (as long as you don't go too extreme with it), I don't really think it'll hurt anybody to think that way. So I guess I don't see the harm in it. It's like the less harmful version of how individuals are treating the pandemic: just change the rules when you find it to be convenient.