I was a child during the Cold War. I was petrified of atomic bombs. We had duck and cover drills in school, as if hiding under a desk would do us any good. I had nightmares about bomb shelters for decades. I don’t want to go to sleep tonight. Baby Suna might take over and return those dreams.
I never thought the threats would resurface. I thought our leaders were more interested in money than power. Maybe the current situation is about money after all.
Curl me up in a ball.
No one should have to live like this. Our brothers and sisters in the Baltics and Russia should not have to live in fear of their neighbors. They should not have to feel the need to fight their neighbors. I’m so disappointed in humans. Again.
In my mind I’m 6, not nearly 64 and covered in wrinkles.
I feel sick for the everyday people of the world who have lies fed to them to rile them into hatred. That’s here where I live, too. It’s so disheartening.
Sure, like I said earlier today, many of us are having good lives right now. It can go in a flash, though. I’ll leave you with a Bible verse, for the first time ever.
And his power shall be mighty, but not by his own power: and he shall destroy wonderfully, and shall prosper, and practise, and shall destroy the mighty and the holy people.
Daniel 8:24, New King James Version
Applies to more than one would-be emperor, I think. Dark times. And we are unable to affect them. Powerless. Resigned. Curled up in a ball like the dogs.
Back to the Serenity Prayer for this pagan hermit. And I’m not gonna duck and cover. I’m not interested in living in one of those apocalyptic times.
(PS I do know more about nuclear warfare and such than I did at age 6 and think that other methods of genocide are now preferred.)
I couldn’t sleep last night for two reasons, and I realized this morning that it’s because I was feeling trapped and powerless. I don’t need a lot of power, but some would help, like the leadership I’m working on with horses. Bear with me as I think “aloud.”
I need to know who’s in charge.
Yeah. The deal is, I have few other areas where I’m in charge. My personal space is a good example. I’m an introvert. I need somewhere to be alone and recharge. Currently it’s the bathroom.
I used to have an amazing office in a cool old house in Cameron, which I’d invested my heart and soul into decorating to my own quirky tastes. We had just gotten my window of glass objects up when we had to leave for COVID reasons. Then last year’s cold front killed my plants.
It was so pretty. I helped make the desk.
This is where I both feel powerless and trapped. While I was told to stay away for COVID reasons someone else was moved into my office, with my glass collection that I couldn’t keep at home because of the dogs. I was told it was because the climate controls weren’t working upstairs so they had to temporarily move in. I said sure.
That person left, and I had hopes of going back to the good wifi, but now I’m informed I’ll never get it back. It’s not my office. Of course it’s best for the business. Still. That broke a piece of me, since I’d set that up as my retreat and barely got to use it. I’m trapped at home with all the dogs.
Oh look, my desk is in my home office.
At least I’m being allowed to bring some of my stuff to the house. How it will fit is beyond me, but I sure appreciate the kindness. I’ll work hard to make this office/den my own, but I’m never able to relax there. Dogs take up every seat, and I have to cover my good furniture so it won’t get ruined. That’s why it looks like I have a solid colored couch.
I have some lovely art I will have to bother the very nice new office occupant to remove, and all that glass. I can’t move it until we bring china cabinets over.
Which brings me to the other reason I am trapped. My Austin house is gone. There I had a bedroom with a television I could watch whatever I liked on. I had internet. I had space to myself. I could use the whole bed!
Current bed. Four dogs (the lump is Carlton under the covers depositing dirt).
In my bedroom at the ranch, I have one-eighth of a bed and one end table. The rest is Lee’s office, since his old office now belongs to someone else (he likes working at home anyway), and the sitting area had nowhere to sit. Trapped. But hey, I have my closet once I deal with all the clothes from Austin.
Ooh. I feel whiny today. So, that was why I feel physically trapped. Mentally, it’s slightly different. The good news is I CAN work on fixing that, but it will be a lot of work. You see, I feel right now like I don’t have any say in big decisions that are made. I just get told, and not to ask questions. I don’t know who lives at my house or what’s happening in our businesses (apparently we are back to buying and renovating houses, with a family member as general contractor—which is better than constant contractor failure from before).
I think there is a plan to do x, but then find out y is happening. Lee tells me I mistake brainstorming for planning. That makes sense. I’ve been working for the past couple of years to not have expectations. Stuff really isn’t in my control, since I can go with the flow and other people have more important needs that make it hard to plan. I get that and support it! Just sometimes it’s hard to deal with.
It occurs to me that I need to take that serenity prayer to heart and just focus on what I actually can change or plan for, and know what I can’t. Help me do that, please, readers?
I know my supportive family members are doing their best and I appreciate them. My issues are mine, not theirs. I AM grateful to have my office stuff and SUPER grateful to have my horse facilities! Improvements coming soon!
Hint.
So, if I keep posting about horses, well you can understand that it’s because I set that schedule. I pay for it. I am making myself better through them. And one day I’ll be able to escape from all the noise and go riding alone. Goals.
After the most disturbing evening of television watching EVER last night, I hope the poor shawl I’m working on won’t forever be linked with the dismal 2022 Winter Olympics. It’s not the shawl’s fault I was holding it in disbelief as I watched the poor little girl who won the gold medal being totally ignored.
Here. A warm shawl.
I said I’ll talk about knitting. So, this has been a pleasant break from baby blankets. It’s soft and cuddly, though I’m not sure if it’s all that attractive.
Dizzy stripes
I’m done with the brown baby llama yarn, so I’m going to end with a few inches plain, then bind off with a border of the silk/wool blend. I’m not sure what the border will be.
It will be a perky border!
Now I’m trying to decide what yarn and pattern to use for two more baby blankets, since Mandi is expecting boy #5 and my mentor from my previous job is also expecting. I’m no longer a fast knitter, but it helps me relax.
Wonder what pattern I should choose? Ideas?
Consider my pattern choice while viewing this morning’s sunrise.
I’m the meantime, I’m relaxing and trying to recover from a shoulder tweak from lifting and tossing hay bales. I need a farmhand.
We were all excited yesterday, because the propane people were supposed to come hook up the hot tub and fire pit, since our swimming pool is just a large water dish right now.
We love our water dish.
Let’s start with good news. The guy from DIRECTV showed up and stood the satellite dish back up so we can see television. He was unable to do anything about getting things set up so we can put a set in my office, because we have the COVID in the house. But, now he knows what we need, so he’ll be prepared in case we ever get the all-clear to participate in society again. This disease can make some people so sick. It’s horrible. Yes, that was the good news.
Standing tall again.
The rest of the stuff for the day did not go well for anyone involved. First, the pool company sent a young fellow out to “fix” our fire pit, because it apparently needed ventilation holes that they didn’t know about before. They’d started it last week, but not gotten very far.
Early in the drilling process
So, the young fella drilled and drilled, and repeatedly said, “Oh, snap!” which I thought was charming. Pretty soon, he’d burned out the drill, so he had to go all the way back to Waco to get another one. That thrilled him to no end.
Where’s the pool guy? (Even the dogs are looking)
Before he came back, the propane guys arrived. Let’s just say they weren’t thrilled to find out that a) the pool heater was not functional, so they couldn’t hook it up, and b) they were supposed to install a line to the fire pit, which they had not been informed about. There seems to be a lot of miscommunication going on around here.
Fine. We at least brought enough of this yellow stuff.
They went ahead and attached the gas line to the propane tank, which was the thing we were most concerned about, then grumbled a lot as they got pipe to the fire pit.
Hope nothing escapes that sewer line!
Speaking of grumbling, the nice pool kid returned with what had to be the biggest drill I ever saw. I think it’s an impact driver or something. He couldn’t even lift it! He also couldn’t change bits until our resident tool person showed him how in a rather graphic fashion that I will not share here.
The giant drill is on the ground. That’s our medium-sized drill he’s using. The young man has shed many layers.
I finally suggested that maybe we’d have a drill bigger than the first one and smaller than the second one, and sure enough, we did, and he finished after five endless hours of drilling and being complained to by the propane guys about sending them here with none of the stuff ready (like some vitally important key to turn the fire pit on and off, which I swear used to be there). None of these workers had a good day, though they were all perfectly pleasant to us, and we did get in a few laughs.
Waiting for something to hook up to.
I was told that a new heater was coming today and that they would get the hot tub going. It’s afternoon already and I see no workers of any sort. I’m not surprised, since the propane guys have other clients. But, where is the pool heater?
I’ll just sit here and wait, says Vlassic.
I pity the poor young woman who works for the pool company and had the bad timing to email me asking how the propane went. I told her. Many excuses later, and we still do not have a fire pit, a hot tub, or a covered trench. I think the Pool of Dreams will just have to remain a dream a while longer…another cold front is coming and the wind’s picked up again!
I’m sure glad I have all those horses to fill me with joy!
My goodness was yesterday a total pain in the butt and other places. Today, however, we kicked our challenges in the butt.
The cause of the frustration
Yesterday I mentioned it was really windy and that the satellite television receiver was damaged. Today it finished falling over. So, we had to call DirectTV. Lee couldn’t find the customer support number, so I found that. Much dialing, redialing, cursing, and knitting on hold ensued. Finally a guy answered. And after some combined effort and cursing, we actually got a repair scheduled for tomorrow.
Next, I wanted to watch football. The customer support person just said, in a chipper fashion, you can use the app! This set me off toward many hours of trying to figure out how to log in.
Then I discovered I needed to sign on to AT&T to get to the television app. No password or user info I had worked. So I got to enjoy another customer support person. At least they answered fast. After 20 minutes explaining that I’d give them my 8 digit passcode if I had any idea what it was, I got many things reset.
Next, I tried to log in with all the various numbers and letters I’d gathered. Everything I did required a text or email verification, half of which went to me and half to Lee. By this time, even I was getting testy. They make things so damned secure that legitimate users feel like they’re being interrogated. I kept typing in the special secret passcode the nice lady had set up for me, but I could not get in. Turns out they needed the shorter passcode that had reared up way earlier in the day.
At long last the DirectTV and AT&T accounts are merged. I know the username and password, not that dang passcode or the other passcode. I watched football. Ironically, I watched it on Paramount+ not the thing I took hours to set up. Can’t watch live TV on the app without the upgrade. Crap.
Today I also wanted to watch football. We had been unable to get the phone to stream to the TV on Bluetooth yesterday, also frustrating. So, today I got the game on my laptop. Woo! Then Lee moved a shelf into the house, found an HDMI cable, and got the thing to work. Ta da.
Not pretty, but it works.
You may be a millennial or younger person, which means you’ve been watching television on many different apps for years. You may find our challenges funny. But I have an excuse!
We never watch streaming services here at the ranch, because we don’t have good Internet. We can’t stream without using up our limited data. No 5G. No cable internet. No fiber. No nothing. So, we never had to set all this up before.
Now I have some choices for emergencies. I’m not gonna get Netflix until we have something more viable. But that was sure a lot of work.
Looking forward to tomorrow. Both the hot tub and the satellite dish should function! And maybe our sick relatives will be on the mend?
Last weekend, as I was driving home from my Drew lesson, I listened to an episode of Hidden Brain, by Shankar Vedantam. I’m so glad I did, because the story he shared, gently and neutrally, made the point that I’ve been slowly and painfully trying to articulate for the past few years:
More than one viewpoint about people and situations can be true at the same time.
Me
I’ve always been deeply aware that circumstances are rarely black and white. No one’s all good or all evil. No form of government is all bad or all good. No religion is perfect or all bad. You get my drift and may even agree.
But what this episode, “Both Things Can Be True,” clarified for me is that while it is much easier to see people only one way, it is entirely possible to hold two completely conflicting views of someone. The woman in the story comes to see an important person in her life as both someone who saved her life and betrayed her. She could be both grateful and angry. And that allowed her to reach peace.
I can understand that professional football is highly flawed and can lead to head injuries with lifelong consequences. I can also enjoy watching it and be a fan. Integrative complexity?
The ability to do this is called integrative complexity, which is not a new concept, but was new to me. That’s what has let me cope a little better with the complexities in my own life (sparing you the details).
From what I observe, though, not many people are into the complexity thing. It’s easier to over generalize.
I see it so often where someone fucks up and the people around them switch from seeing them as good and label them as evil. It’s happened in my family, both to me and to someone I care deeply about. I see it, too, when people declare all Republicans or Democrats are evil, all Christians or Muslims are extremists, all police officers are corrupt…etc.
No wonder there’s so much divisiveness. Black and white thinking is just easier.
I am so tired of that bullshit.
It’s not easy to let go of ingrained patterns of belief. Don’t I know it! But integrative complexity is, I think, exactly what is needed to create a world where people can work together to solve the real problems of the world…once we accept that solutions, too, are not all black and white.
This was written sort of without editing. I’m glad I have a place to mull over my thoughts, even ones I will find silly tomorrow after some sleep.
Suna the self absorbed (yet another put-down label; maybe that should be introspective)
I’ve been thinking and thinking about a meme I saw earlier this week. It’s one of those things that’s intended to empower and embolden women in the workplace and beyond. I used to take those things to heart and work hard to be my authentic self.
Authentic me, pondering.
I added: Negative: Keep pointing out problems.
I grew up being told to be quiet, that children should be seen and not heard. I was labeled bossy, a lot, for being assertive. I asked way to many questions. When there was an elephant in a room, I pointed it out. These were not good. I was difficult.
Also, I was empathetic, tried to help others, and didn’t mind sharing credit. I asked things politely rather than barking out orders, and didn’t mind at all explaining why I wanted things done a certain way. I felt like that got buy-in and created cohesive teams. That was good, I think.
It can truly be exhausting to have to pretend you are someone you’re not in order to keep a job, keep the peace, keep your reputation, etc. And whoa, have I done a lot of all those things in the past few years. I’ve been constantly checking my Zoom camera to be sure I’m smiling and looking pleasant in meetings. I’ve deleted and rewritten so many emails, chat posts, Facebook statuses, and so on. I do pretty well most of the time.
But, damn, when you are suffering from anxiety and dealing with a lot of difficult family and work situations, you can let your real self leak out without meaning to. You can express an actual opinion, point out something that’s not right, ask if something is true or the best thing to do, use the wrong tone of voice (guilty as charged)…you know, all those things that get you labeled like the ones that are in that meme.
Can we, as women, who are expected to smooth things over, agree with what the leaders say, follow instructions rather than making rules, and all those frustrating unspoken expectations, ever, actually be ourselves? What if yourself is sarcastic? What if yourself gets tired of inefficiency? What if yourself gets irritated when told to just follow orders when you’re used to helping make decisions? (Or if you are my male spouse, your real self is tired of being told not to be so brusque. They have their own sets of expectations.)
Nope, we can’t be those selves. We have to spend years in therapy, reading self-help books, and getting sanctimonious “coaching” from our bosses, so we can meekly fit in, and only speak up when it’s time to do what we are asked to do.
The dogs don’t even try to be fake.
So, no, I do not plan to act on the meme above. I give up. I think it’s just as stressful and unproductive to let my more prickly nature show as to try to smooth my nature out to meet expectations. I’ve thought about this a lot. I’m not going to make waves, express my opinions, or debate in work or public.
I’ll be me with my inner circle, and just do what I have to do to get by with others. I’ll make a bad impression to some and a good impression to others and it won’t matter at all, in the long run. The key is that I won’t be stressing myself out either trying to conform or trying to be my fierce self. No wonder both Lee and I are plumb tired. We’re tired of trying to matter.
I’m tired of being tired. The price of authenticity is just too high for me.
How good are you at just letting go of things? I’m not talking about physical things, where you ate on the continuum between hoarding and extreme minimalism. I mean mental stuff, from past hurts and disappointments to things going on right now. How are you doing with that?
Wishing you could fly away doesn’t help…much.
Now, are you getting better or worse at letting go? In the current situation, where pandemics, wars, political differences, poverty, and growing inequalities surround us all, I notice people seem to be clinging to their grudges and gripes as if they are a lifeline.
I think we feel powerless much of the time and need somewhere to direct our frustration that we can’t fix the big things. So, we go after smaller things, like our friends and families. Or we repeatedly spread inflammatory content on social media or in person, just to feel like we’ve done something. Just so much acrimony.
I’ve considered being inflammatory lately. I walked away from the useless debate. You can see it wasn’t easy.
Since I’ve become more aware of this, I’ve been repeating my mantras more and more. I’ve also made more time for meditation and hanging out with plants and animals. An image that helps me a lot is one where I’m a mountain and the wind of other people’s burdens just flows over and around me, but doesn’t move me or get inside.
Let it flow.
I was never good at letting other people’s energies wash over me. I’d always pick up on it and mirror their state. Now I reflect it back, gently. This empath is finally getting the hang of protecting myself, and setting boundaries , but without abandoning others. How long can I do this? I don’t know! It’s hard!
But it feels good to see the struggles around me and reflect back loving kindness, not take it all in and add to my own struggles. It’s progress. And there will be twists and turns along the path.
Recently, I was talking to one of my old friends about being mistaken for a man. It happens to her fairly often, depending on how she’s dressed, since she is not shaped like the stereotypical Barbie-doll person, has short hair, often dresses androgynously, and is blessed with a deep voice (one of my favorite former singing partners). It doesn’t happen to me very often, probably because I like shiny accessories so much. Neither my friend nor I are particularly bothered by being mis-gendered, though I know it can be really difficult for some of our other friends, especially those who are trans.
I’ve talked about this before, but I tend to see my father’s face when I look in a mirror; I don’t have especially “feminine” features. And, now that my hair is quite short, it’s more noticeable, even though we all probably know enough people with different lengths, styles, and colors of hair to realize that any hair stereotype out there is pretty outdated. So, I was prepared to see interesting results when I tried that new AI software that turns your photographs into cartoons or paintings. As you can see, one setting gave me blue eyes and made me look like a 12-year-old boy.
My lovely friend.
I’d seen a few that my female-identified friends had done, and they looked cute/pretty and like women. I admit my example here is extremely lovely, but you can see they gave her eyelashes, lipstick, and such. That makes me think that the software makes a guess about whether an image is of a male or a female. I’d love to see more images from people who don’t identify one way or the other or who provide few cues to what they are trying to tell the world about themselves.
Adding glasses made me look more like a woman, but increased bye crossed-eyes.
Another thing that I notice about this software is that it’s very literal. I appear to have a “lazy eye” in most of the AI renderings, though at least in some of the photos I used I had appropriately brown eyes. The thing is, these things look nothing at all like me, whereas the ones I’ve seen of other people at least resemble them enough that you can say, “Ah, that’s so and so.” Well, it’s no big secret that AI is not perfect and that it is worse with women and people of color than men. Of note: none of my friends with darker complexions posted their little cartoon heads, unless I just didn’t see it in my feed, which is a possibility.
The bottom line for me is that the images are just plain…plain. Dare I say unattractive? I don’t imagine myself as some raving beauty, but I hope I am not as aesthetically displeasing as these images came out. The ambiguous, gender-fluid aspect is fine, even fun, but I’d like to be an attractive guy!
It did a great job on the wrinkles and blew up my eyes.
I look like someone’s Uncle Ernie
This one is just plain spooky.
I don’t know who this sneering person is, but it isn’t me.
Oh, vanity, thy name turns out to be Suna, and THAT is not pretty, at all. Let’s change the topic, so you can enjoy Alfred and Goldie getting along well, and a nice photo of Goldie. I wish they hadn’t cropped her ears, but she’s still got a sweet, yet noble face. Like me!
Things are good in the dog department.
Have you tried playing with the AI toy? Do you find it fun? I guess it appeals to fans of the selfie. Sometimes I am one of those, just because observing and recording the aging process is pretty fascinating.
This is a note to myself. Maybe if I write it out, then read it, then listen to myself reading it in the podcast, I can have a reasonable weekend.
So, Suna, ponder this:
Stressing over something you can’t do anything about helps nothing.
Me
Hypothetically, if someone sends a message at the end of the work day on Friday that completely changes work you’re supposed to start at 8 am Monday, but won’t explain what’s going on until 7 am Monday…you might be inclined to spend all weekend guessing what might be going on. That could ruin your weekend, right?
But, I’ve been doing my damnedest to not get myself all worked up over things I can’t control. I can’t change whatever decision happened that my input wasn’t wanted on. I don’t even know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, because I don’t know the details. I’m just gonna have to deal with the consequences. Monday.
Worry doesn’t change a situation other than to make you feel bad the entire time you’re worrying.
I do have a hint that I’ve figured out through this situation, that might lead to happier relationships, whether with family, friends, or colleagues. Nah. I don’t. Hints you share for people who will never actually read or hear your words are sorta passive aggressive. Give that up, Suna.
Look, pretty flowers.
I’m guessing that, being human and fallible, I’m going to remain annoyed from time to time this weekend. But then I’ll remind myself that I wrote these messages to myself to remember to be way more philosophically consistent, more Zen, and kinder to myself.
You can only change your reactions, not the actions of others. Deal with it.
Suna
End of advice to self. You’re welcome, if you also needed to hear this. C’mon, we can practice what we preach! Let’s start now.
The Hermits' Rest 