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emmy [AT] curious-notions {dot} net
December 2019
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awww hicky yaw that boy is raw

I think everyone likes it better when I talk about the shit Bear says rather than the spirals that trap my thoughts. So this morning I could not go to school one. more. day. with my hair in a bun. So I burst into the bathroom while Bear was in there and he squeaks. It was adorable. Normally we are very respective of each other’s morning bathroom times.

“Will you hold the shower head so I can wet my hair?”

“No!”

“Gah. Fine. I’ll go to the other bathroom.” I pick up my hair goop bottle and start to run back out. Wait. “It’ll be faster if you hold the showerhead and wet my hair!”

He grabs the showerhead and actually is really sweet about making sure it doesn’t soak the neck of my tshirt (this is a big problem when I’m doing this myself actually). Right as he’s hanging up the showerhead and heading out he says “I held your hair and you didn’t even have to drink.”

“What? You didn’t hold my hair? Drink?” For some reason I keep thinking of holding a hose so that you can drink out of it. Did anyone else do that as a kid? You were running around outside and got thirsty so you drank from the garden hose?

Bear starts laughing at me out in the bedroom where he’s dressing.

I’m toweling my hair when it hits me. “ooooooooohhhh.”

He laugh again. “Ten minutes later and it finally hits you.”

I think his little analogy or whatever is just that much of stretch.

(Brain, the title is from Kanye’s School Spirit. Some people have the lyrics as “oh hecky naw” I disagree but to each their own.)

Do you really think that love is gonna save the world?

Sometimes my mom sparks deep thoughts in me. Often it’s because she has such a completely different view of the world. She even has such a completely different way of thinking. It’s not even generational. It’s just DIFFERENT. Most of my family members even think she has a different outlook on the world, but that’s going completely off topic.

I do know that for a long time, I’ve had the opinion that the golden rule (“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”) is mostly indulgent bullshit. That’s a strong statement, but I’m not overstating my feelings.

Let me give you a really really simplistic example. My mom absolutely loves skin scratching. If you idly scratch her scalp or her arm, she just thinks that’s a lovely touch. I cannot ABIDE someone scratching my skin unless I’ve got an absolutely mind melting mosquito bite on my back and desperately need your assistance and even then ONLY if I ask. Despite my distaste for nails touching my skin, my mom often softly scratches me with her nails because she loves it. It’s not meant meanly. It’s not done out of carelessness. It’s just done because it’s something she loves and so when she’s not paying strict attention to who she’s with, she just does it. The same way my dad’s mom loves to pat our hands when we sit next to her.

The golden rule is most often meant to be applied in a high minded way. Be “kind” because you would like others to be “kind” to you. How does kindness feel to you? Does it feel the same way to others? My bestest friend in the whole world hates when people tell her what to do. I grew up in an opinionated family where we all were very “mean” to each other. I used to just tell Linda when she was “wrong” not realizing how incredibly badly she took it and how shut down she felt when I spoke like that. I now try very hard to listen and then offer opinions only when asked. It would undermine her understanding of my love for her if I still consistently trampled all over her boundaries like that. I, personally, think she believes I love her more now than she used to. My respect for what she wants and needs out of life are the biggest part of it. She might feel differently, but I think I love her better now. Not more, but definitely better.

My grandmother often said things that she doesn’t think are in any way offensive that would offend even the least PC people I’ve ever met. She doesn’t think that calling someone mulato is offensive, so in her mind, it never occurs to her to think they might. Often they shove away any offense because, hell, she’s an old woman. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t offend them. (I’m picking the only example I bring myself to publicly share.)

I think in a world that is increasingly mixing cultures and languages and modes of thinking and religions, the golden rule is probably a terrible one to follow. I remember years ago having a discussion with Linda about how not being racist wasn’t enough. Some of that is what I’ve heard called white guilt. Some of that was my poorly stated feeling that just avoiding certain words or behaviors isn’t really enough.

Over the years, something that has crystallized in my head is that the best thing in the world to do is ask someone what they would like or what they need or how they do something before giving or doing something. Often you’ll do it how you like it, and projecting how I would like to be treated onto others has consistently not worked for me. Maybe it’s just me though. I try not hard not to assume anymore.

My final thought: Even if these examples seem to you like they should be obvious things that everyone should know. You wouldn’t want people to touch you in ways you don’t like, even for innocent touches. You wouldn’t want people to tell you what to do. You wouldn’t call someone mulato. Understand that there is SOMETHING you do that you like but that plenty of other people would hate. There is something that you hate that others love. Find just one example that applies to you. Just one.

For Linda, the rest of the quote is “I really really hope so. I don’t think so.” It’s from The Cardigans.

always got time for new friends

Yesterday (and the glow is filtering into today too) was a great day. For two weeks I’ve been flirting with the guards for my parking lot because I kept forgetting to get my pass. BUT yesterday I went and got it! *does a little dance* I like the guards for our parking but I’m glad it’s over.

Then the freeway was PACKED and had horrible traffic and we were more than 15 minutes late to my appointment. Bear was a sweetheart who waited for me while I was with the doctor.

I went to get my eyes checked and get contacts and new glasses!!! Because Bear was waiting, while we were waiting for my eyes to dilate, Bear picked out some rimless frames for me. Mr Dr thinks there are some contacts that will work with the astigmatism and farsightedness I’ve got in my right eye. He’s the kind of Dr that tells you shit instead of just saying, well, this is your prescription and here’s your options. He explained why my options were limited and figured out why I’d had trouble with contacts in the past and why I hate my current glasses more than usual. He adjusted my prescription back to what it was about five years ago and said that even if we can’t get the contacts to work out that the glasses shouldn’t be as irritating.

Then we went home. Getting your eyes dilated is trippy. You think you can see, and you can, but it’s a bitch to focus. But I could drive home. We were really close. So its still sunny and about 80 degrees at 7pm, so we break out the brand new lawnmower (that runs on PROPANE, I can’t tell you how much shit Bear has gotten for that). Bear proceeds to mow the lawn that is about 4 weeks overgrown. I hung out and weeded and pruned as best as I could what with the whole not being able to focus. The lawnmower stalled out a few times with the super high grass. At one point I asked him if he wanted a break and I’d mow for a bit. He responded that mowing was a man’s job. I didn’t really want to mow so I told him sure, it absolutely was and he looked very manly. I started to walk away and he starts sputtering behind me. He should know better. After 9 years together, I don’t fall for much of his bs.

Then we got dinner, watched about half of Legion and passed out. Tomorrow we have the neighborhood get together and we’ve gotta get the raised beds for my tomatoes because they were shipped on Wednesday and should get here today or tomorrow. Sunday we think we might rearrange the furniture around the house to try something out.

(Gilligan, song is Very Busy People by The Limousines. The whole line is “We are very busy people but we’ve always got time for new friends”.)

Love if you want it

We’re going to see the house again today. In the snow no less this time.

Buying a house is hell for a million reasons. I still keep wondering why it isn’t more fun than this. Bear gets satisfaction figuring out how he wants to fix/change the house to make it more us while we wait. I think I feel really unsettled by the realization that none of the furniture he’s looking at really does anything for me. It doesn’t help, apparently, I’m horribly ambivalent about furniture and Bear refuses to leave me out of it. Which means every time he checks with me about a table and chairs or buffet or sectional I get that awful tight feeling in my chest. I don’t know. I do know our house is cute and casual it its layout and design. It’s a 1950′s ranch. The current layout and structure give it a light, bright, airy feeling. Ornate doesn’t fit on it. Heavy doesn’t fit it. Bear of course then gets upset when I tell him his taste is too formal because then I’m putting words and meaning in his mouth. We’ll figure it out I’m sure. I’ll probably also figure out why I don’t like any of the furniture we’ve looked at sometime.

When we got up this morning though, I realized that the house has personality to me. A good one. I think we can really make this home and be happy if we can just figure out what we are doing and not bankrupt ourselves in the process.