|Are you in? What does it take?||
Sep 19th, 2006 8:30:28 am - Subscribe
|I went to a dance audition as a spectator. Only one dancer made it. It was hard for me to see the others' disappointment. I honestly don't think the dancer who made it was any more talented than the others, but he had put the work into it, and it showed. The team was treating him like he belonged, even as he was trying out. His moves were there for him because he had practiced and practiced. He belonged before he belonged; his heart was in it, and his time too.
When I think of belonging, it reminds me that I'm a nerd. I get mad at the social aspects of belonging, insider/outsider sometimes, but only because …
it seems to mock all of my weakest skills.
It's not enough, apparently, to be a decent person and want greater good for humanity; apparently you also have to be socially adept, kind in your words, genuinely interested in other people, and funny and eloquent. I finally gave in and phoned a speech therapist. She hasn't phoned me back though. She probably thought I was joking. She probably thinks I speak fine.
I'm not getting the results I want, though.
What's up?: I tutored my friend in statistics. (I could communicate THAT real well.)
Sep 18th, 2006 7:30:40 am - Subscribe
|I drove Aunt Sarah to a wedding she wanted to attend, and so I crashed the wedding. (Actually she forewarned them that they needed an extra plate, but she didn't even need to do that because it was buffet style anyway.)
Somehow we ended up sitting at a table with the bride's college friends, and they had brought dates who were on their college football teams. The one to my left was like, "Hi, I play football," and "Do I love this song? I can play it on my guitar."
And I didn't know the kid, but I was thinking, "Oh, yeah, you're the kid with the dad who had connections and could get your coach in high school to play you even though you weren't that talented," but it was just jealousy really, of somebody who had found a streamlined way to win everyone's approval. Or rather approval from everyone except Daria. (NO - that's not me! But there are some striking similarities.)
Hmm. That was my favorite show once.
What's up?: My friend Sabine calls people who don't like people "misanthropes"
|Call it like you see it||
Sep 16th, 2006 11:51:48 pm - Subscribe
|A lot happened. I don't want to talk about it. Maybe on a better day.|
What's up?: I think he called it straight.
Sep 15th, 2006 11:39:29 pm - Subscribe
|Today I wore the new suit with the new hairdo and the new necklace. Before lunch time I stopped at a hobby store to buy craft items.
Everybody there was in their grungies. Baggy t-shirts and nondescript pants. I thought they looked like they should be sitting on a couch eating cheese-its. What a horrible thing to say! That's why I write it in my blog instead of saying it out loud.
Now, normally, when I go to the store to grab something, I am in my grungies, and my hair will have 24 different fly-aways. Plus my makeup will have fallen off by the time I'm dulled enough in my senses to actually go to a store. (Stores and over-heightened senses = bad combination.)
But today was different because I was dressed up. Today I didn't fit. These ladies, their eyes would get wider, then they would look away, and then the companion lady would crane her neck to get a look at whatever her friend was insisting on not looking at, and when they saw me - it was an affront. I felt self-conscious. I couldn't figure it out. "Do I look good?" I wondered. "Is looking good an offense to them? Do they think I'm rich and they're offended by it?"
In some ways I wish I was bitchy enough to stare 'em down, and twang, "What the hell are you looking at?" They would love that.
What's up?: I wish I got along better with people.
|Fatalism as an option||
Sep 14th, 2006 4:54:45 pm - Subscribe
|I went to the mountain today to pray. I watched the birds and listened to the cicadas. Something that I'd been thinking before clicked. Just like you can't get to be a good fighter without getting hit, you can't fully learn to live without being dealt some crappy hands. I don't know why, but it all goes together. It has nothing to do with odds. Odds can be used to describe what is, but they cannot be used to determine the outcome: there is only one outcome. Odds are only useful for describing what is, not for determining what the outcome will be. Somebody may say, there is a 40 percent chance of A and a 50 percent chance of B, but they will be wrong. There is only one chance: 100% of what will happen will be. Let's say you are going to roll a die, and unknown to you, the die will land with six dots up. You, on that roll, have a 100% chance of rolling a six, and 0% chance of rolling anything else. You only say that you have an even 100% divided by six chance of landing on any one side because you don't know what you will get. The odds are descriptive, not actual. If you knew, you'd know.
The odds of a winning horse winning are 100%, the odds of it raining on a rainy afternoon are 100%.
There is not more than one outcome.
We are only in suspense because this outcome is hidden from us, thus causing the illusion of multiple outcomes.
What's up?: I wonder if I will still be a fatalist tomorrow. Actually, I don't think I truly am one today. I don't believe all that crap that I just wrote.