Hak Mir Nit Kain Tsheinik!

(Okay, so he beat me to the post. I am not polite.)

You should imagine the title to this post being muttered under the breath in a male voice with an Israeli accent. Make it a nice, thick accent, just for argument's sake. If you don't know what an Israeli accent sounds like, please consult Youtube.

So, today I spent some time once again trying to convince Sasha that rather than be an innocent bystander, he should once again write on the blog. Yes. I am a nag. BUT, I have a reason. Actually, I have several.

First. He is good. Go back in the archives (way back) and have a look if you have any doubts. Second. I really enjoy writing with him, I like reading what he has to say.

But it's more than that. And of course, me being me, I had to think about what my motivations were and try to understand WHY I want him to come back and write so much, and what the "more than that" was. And as usual, a post that starts as something small will most likely grow to encompass a larger issue.

So let's start with -
Everything that irritates us about others... Can lead us to an understanding of ourselves. ~ Jung.

I like talking (or more accurately Im'ing) to Sasha because often times he has a very different perspective of things than I do. Sometimes his responses are irritating, especially his refusal to just accept my explanation of things, and even more especially... when he plays the devil's advocate just for the fun of it.

But then I have to analyze why it irritates me, I have to look at things from a slightly different perspective because I want to understand why he sees a particular issue so much differently than I.

Our conversations can be challenging, but I appreciate that. Even more so, when we write together (this isn't the only place we have collaborated, this is just our non-fiction jaunt), I get a better picture of how he sees things, and it challenges me to work a little harder to get past my own cultural confines. In other words, I feel like my conversations and collaborations with Sasha make me a better writer. I have written some of my best posts here as a response to a conversation that we have had. I have written some of my best fiction work in collaboration with him.

Now, it has probably never occurred to him that he motivates me to write better, but he does. He isn't afraid to say "really? This is it?" or to tell me if I am being sentimental, or to challenge my ideas. I value that. He may not even realize he does it, it is just Sasha being Sasha. It is just him giving his observations.

Perhaps much of it is my own construct, but the fact remains, he is a good writer and makes me want to be a better writer, so this is a large part of my motivation.

Moving now to
Friendship is unecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of the things that gives value to survival. ~ CS Lewis

On a personal level, Sasha and I have been online friends for quite a long time now. The tide ebbs and flows, but we still manage to get at least a "hey, how ya doin'?" in from time to time. I have said before, I wish I could know Sasha, and his family, face to face. I wish I could go sit and have a beer and pizza in the little pub down the street from his house that he frequents. I wish I could have arguments with him and yell and have 3 different conversations at the same time while waving my hands in the air. I wish I had friends that challenged me as much as this one, distant individual from another country does. Again, he probably doesn't even realize, he is just being Sasha. I think much of the challenge comes from what I think he is thinking. So it grows into a bigger thing than it may actually be, but he planted the seed, so there you go.

I like to think about things. Whether passively or purposefully, he makes me think about things.

I like his perspective. I like trying to unravel the complexities of his culture, and I hope I open a broader window into my own. That was what this blog was all about in the first place, trying to come at ideas from different sides of the world, and reach understanding. At least for me. Because this kind of thing fascinates me...

And, I have a strong desire to step out of my own back yard. I want to know the world, and understand why it is the way it is. I want to peel back the blinders of my cultural bias and social conditioning and see things from a different point of view. I want culture shock. I want to experience difference. Right now, this is as close as I can come... challenging myself here, and talking to my distant friend. One day I will travel, perhaps I may even travel to Israel. But for now...

I like those times when the realization hits me that we are so different.
It drives me to understand. That is really my deepest motivation. Understanding. Which leads us to -

A bigger picture perspective...
Truth springs from argument amongst friends. ~
Hume

It is diplomacy on a small scale. It is the concerted effort to understand the other, and it makes me more aware. I read the news more, I pay attention when I hear the NPR guy talking about what is going on "over there," because "over there" is no longer nebulous and distant. It is real, and much closer, because my friend is "over there," living through what I am only listening to. I wonder what is going on, and if things are alright.

 So...  I start reading newspapers from "over there,"  history, commentary... in the attempt to understand.

The internet is an endless sea of porn, shopping, reddit, 4chan, empty blogs, ranting lunatics, and more porn. But occasionally the internet offers us a gem beyond value. Awareness of the plight of individuals or groups... the seeds of budding democracy... access to withheld information...

Understanding...

Even if it stems from a conversation and collaboration between two distant friends.

Maybe Bill is right...
The Internet is becoming the town square for the global village of tomorrow. ~ Bill Gates.


At any rate, it makes me think. I share my thoughts with others, and they share theirs with more. It's small, but it's worthy.


And there, I have again managed to make something large out of something small. And in so doing, Sasha has beaten me to the post. I hope we see much more of him around here.

I write therefore I... Whatever.

Sasha here. It's been a while since I dropped by. Corvid's been on my case, trying to get me to blog again. She doesn't really nag much, just does this annoyingly polite thing trying to convince me to write something. I'm sure she doesn't think it's polite but it is. Not that it's a bad thing, just... I dunno. Foreign somehow.

So yeah, here we are.

I guess I have a few things I could talk about. Or rant or something. But I should go pick up the kids, so... Maybe later. It's what I usually say when I don't know if I'd ever get around to doing something - maybe later. As vague as it gets. It's a horrible thing to say.

So I gotta go. Maybe I'll write something later.

That Which Doesn't Kill You, Hurts...

Alright, I know, I was supposed to follow up from the last post, but something is stuck in my proverbial craw, and I need to get it out.

We don't allow people to heal in our culture, and as a result, our society is filled with the walking wounded.

On the physical end of things, people have to work through illness, get on their feet, get back into the game as quickly as possible. It doesn't matter if they aren't completely recovered. I could have used some extra time to adjust to my new medication and recover from having surgery, but I couldn't afford it. Last year there was a woman at work who went through the same thing I did. I remember managers at work talking about her as if she were a slacker because when she came back she didn't function at 100%. Well no fucking duh, you morons. She had her thyroid taken out, had to take radioactive pills, then had to take a medication that makes you feel either like you are insane, if you have too much, or like you are going to die of exhaustion, if you have too little. It takes a while to adjust those levels. Not the mention having your calcium levels drop so you curl up like you are having a stroke, having pain in your throat from injured vocal chords... I could go on. I have seen people behind desks who have lost all their hair to chemo, and yet there they are, working. WHY? Because they can't afford not to. Because our society thinks if you need a break, you are lazy. If you need help, you are a freeloader. If you are sick, you are worthless and weak. If you are old, you are disposable.

It pisses me off, so much so that my grammar goes out the window along with my wit and sarcasm. I have had major illnesses twice, and twice I had to come back to work before I was ready and struggle to keep up my responsibilities and not drop the ball despite still being sick, because I couldn't afford not to.

We live in a society where a soldier can get blown up over and over again, and then come home and have to fight to have anyone believe they have a traumatic brain injury, and god forbid they suffer from PTSD.

We live in a society where people go bankrupt due to illness.

We live in a society where once you run out of money you are out of luck.

There are at least three people I see daily in the city where I live who have lost a limb and have to beg on the street corner. I am sure the guy who lost his leg at the hip and only has one crutch is just a lousy bum who should get a job.

But if you live in America, you better pray to whatever powers that be that if you have to get sick, it's physical, because if you have mental trauma, or worse yet, a mental illness, you are fucked.

Mental illness is in the news alot right now, the gun huggers are pointing their fingers in a diversion attempt to draw the conversation away from gun control. "Guns don't kill people, crazy people kill people." Well, actually, crazy people with guns kill people, but that is a different rant.

Mental illness has a tremendous stigma in this country. We should just understand it is a medical condition and treat it accordingly, but we don't. We have a "don't ask, don't tell policy" regarding mental illness in this country. I won't ask you if you need help, don't tell me about your problems. If you are mentally ill you are thrown in the "worthless, freeloading, shiftless bum" category,  mainly because of Republican cuts to mental health care, housing and mental health programs during the Reagan administration. People like to pretend that there is not a homeless problem in the riches country in the world, but there is, and a large majority of those people are not freeloading bums, they are the mentally ill.

Even in our own family circles we don't allow healing. Just get up, dust off. Something happened to you that hurt? Just suck it up, don't be a sissy, get over it.

Why are we so averse to acknowledging someone else's pain? What has happened to our compassion? Our empathy?

My dad always says "you need to compartmentalize things, just put it in a compartment in your mind and leave it there." Well, what happens when you run out of compartments? Why should you have to hide your hurt? Especially if it is something major. He has tons of little compartments filled with Viet Nam War, and Divorce, and Death of Friends and Loved Ones, and innumerable other terrible things he has gone through in his life. There is no conversation, there is no sharing. I think never acknowledging your own pain is a terrible idea that can lead to some really bad things down the road.

Why can we never acknowledge when we need a little time to heal? Why don't we allow others to do the same? Why don't we open ourselves up to our friends and families to allow them a safe haven to rest. To share. To heal themselves? Why don't we care for one another on the most basic of levels? Health is more than just being able to get up out of bed every day and go to work. Contributing is more than just paying your bills and taxes.  We are so removed from each other as human beings. We do not acknowledge our connection with each other. We are isolating ourselves more and more with every passing day and then we wonder why people snap, flip out, and do crazy crazy things.. because they lose their grip on reality.

The grip is communal people. The grip on reality comes from our social contract, from our compassion, our civility, our kindness, our sharing, our openess... our willingness to help our fellows and to allow them to heal and recover from injury, whether it is physical, mental, or spiritual. Our grip comes from lifting each other out of the muck, giving each other a hand up, helping the less fortunate, protecting the weakest among us, sheltering the vulnerable. God exists in the grip, you don't know that if you don't acknowledge it. It is love and care of your fellow human that keeps them in the realm of the sane. The more we lose sight of that, the more we will see inexplicable and horrific tragedy.

What I don't understand is why do we persist in this model when all the evidence shows it is detrimental? Why are we so resistant to change, even when we can see proof that a compassionate society that allows its citizens time to heal, paid sick leave, health care, maternity leave... a society that nurtures its citizens... is a civilized and successful society that leads to tremendous quality of life, lack of worry and fear, and satisfaction and happiness amongst its citizens. Why are we so resistant to caring for each other?

I am hoping that we are on the edge of change. We certainly cannot continue in the same vein. Things are usually the darkest before the dawn. I choose to believe that. I hope I am not wrong.

Against the Wind...

Today's post is dedicated to two friends... one new, and one dear. It is my wish for their success, despite the heavy layer of expectation laid upon them by family, friends, and society in general.

We are social creatures, (I will be discussing this in detail in my next post), and love to set norms, expectations, and dictates regarding what is "normal," "healthy," "sane," "acceptable," "right," "the way things should happen," etc. As a result we cause each other a tremendous amount of stress, pain, heartache, anxiety, and uncertainty. This can make embarking into an unconventional relationship frought with obstacles, most of which are the opinions of others.

Why do we care so much about what other people think? It's easy to say "the hell with what you think, I am doing my own thing!" Actually undertaking your own thing in the face of social/familial/peer disapproval can be quite another matter, however. And if we DO step out, it is usually with a great deal of cognitive dissonnance... "Are they right? Am I being foolish? What if I fail? What if this person is terrible? What if everything goes wrong? What if...?"

And from the perspective of the peer, the urge to bring the individual who is deviating from the norm back into compliance is nearly irresistable. What drives this in us? Again, a discussion for the next post.

 It is debatable why we do this to each other, there are many theories (and by theory I mean scientific explanation, not guess or conjecture). I have respect for people who are strong enough to still pursue their own mind, despite what others may say or do in order to keep them following the norm.

If we could overcome some of this, we might open ourselves up to the possibility of more happiness. It's deeply ingrained, however.

One wonders.

At any rate, I wish my friends all the best. I wish them happiness and success. I wish them longevity and trust and wonder. I wish this to work out.

And if it doesn't.. well... I told ya so.