TACTICAL
In the decade (!) that I have been disabled, there has been A LOT for me to get used to. For instance, the non-chalantness that I had about my recollection of personal events and stories of others has went from a trait that I accounted to my “a-hole-osity”, to becoming something that I have grown to be concerned about. But if living with Mookie Dee did anything, it confirmed for me that for the most part, keeping up with the worries of other people was still something I could disregard. Mind you, this is not a statement of my lack of concern for the welfare of someone else, but that people are ever only concerned with the mundacity of their own lives and that they are not looking for anything other than pity and commiseration, confirmation that the antagonists in their lives are wrong and that they are really the better person in their struggles. Meanwhile, as for them showing me the same kind of compassion and thoughtfulness that I gave them, well… now, THAT’S DIFFERENT.
I hark back to my marriage and how my ex-wife would often erect barriers to why things were more serious and involved for her and not so for me when it came to personal issues and obstacles. Because I was a man, or because I did not have children(!!!) to think about, that my life experiences left me somehow freer and more unburdened than her, and that the social schisms that complicated my being as a black man was somehow less than hers as a black woman… yadda, yadda, yadda. Anywho, at the time I would come to identify that line of thinking and belief as the height of selfishness in a personal relationship of any kind, and was codified for me by Arthur Schopenhauer's comment on character and determining if a person was a “scoundrel” and without a care for the concerns or the well being of others. Being of the opinion that a person who can rationalize their inherent selfishness as justifiable because of a perception that they are aggrieved by their own social beliefs or position, is a person that is best left to their own devices.
Were I to mention any real complaint of mine, like that of Portnoy's, it would be of excruciatingly dense and personal, but also one which I feel that I do not have the language to adequately describe (a small part is certainly owed to my injury, but enough with the excuse making) my emotions and their processes that I would attach to my grievances. But I can say that straight away it has its roots in self-esteem, and as any real self-esteem conflict should have been settle in a functional adult, in one's high school years.
THE COOL BOYS BIT THE DUST… THEY COULDN’T TAKE THE PRESSURE…
Not that I know of, or would care to know of, how my peers from my junior high/high school days are doing. I mean, a few of them that I did genuinely care for and thought of as friends, such as the Yalie, has indeed excelled. There is the one cat who I used to train with as an amateur who has found his way in his life. And of course, there is the “Fly Skimmie Kimmie”. Other than perhaps one or two more people, I am not aware of any other person from the “Era of My Discontent” that has gone on to achieve anything that one could consider remotely enviable as far as living an examined life. I have knowledge of a few, some of whom you could call “the worst people of my existence”, who either fell into the abyss of urban poverty, or, who like my ex-Wife (and I am beginning to think the same of Pecan Sandie as well) who are barely staying afloat consciously, living their lives in that desperate pursuit of fulfillment and happiness. Because of my off-brand style of thinking and philosophy, I think that I have been allowed to see people in fractals of character traits, the vision often contradicting their claims or their display of those traits of virtue and of good moral standards.
The only time that I take personal account of what people think of me, is when it is something that would verify any trait or characteristic that I may/may not posses. Often times I picture myself as Jimmy, Quentin Tarantino's character in the movie “Pulp Fiction” trying to explain to Jules, (Samuel Jackson) that he doesn’t need to hear “how good his coffee is” when it comes to a personal assessment from exurbs of my personal gallery. How insulting is it when a person who is one of the unhappy “play-it-safers” that constantly wants without being able to recognize or ever trying to grasp the opportunities in front of them if they were somehow able to see them? Where do they gain the authority to make a statement on my choices if they have never dared to explore their own hopes and dreams?
Peeking out on Facebook and seeing the griefings of people commenting on their lives, talking about how there is lack in some aspect of it, be it money, love or hope, and especially from those who I know of intimately, is a depressing act. The salience of the meme’s and simple quotes from savvy social media promoters, expressing feelings that they would lay claim to as echoing the desires and wants in their own soul, escapes me like that of a prey animal sudden dash to escape the clutches of a predator. I just don’t get it… I never have and never will, at least not personally.
...AS A SIDE NOTE
A story that broke this week about people who were rich living in public housing struck me as odd. First off, the total amount of people who are “high-income” tenants is very, very low. It smacks of a smear job not unlike that of “The Welfare Queen” myth of the 80’s. Second, the folks who pay the higher rate of subsidized rents (like myself), represents a source of funding for the HUD (Housing and Urban Development) that the perennially underfunded agency would otherwise be without. I don’t understand how this “problem” drew such attention?
Residents who pay the “market rate” for their residences (set at 80% of the median rents of similar residence in an area) provide HUD with over $90 million dollars a year. And sure, it seems wild that there is a cat in Oxford, Nebraska who has assets totaling $1.6 million dollars (and a bank account holding $335,000 dollars..!), but I think that it also speaks to the liveaTACTICAL
In the decade (!) that I have been disabled, there has been A LOT for me to get used to. For instance, the non-chalantness that I had about my recollection of personal events and stories of others has went from a trait that I accounted to my “a-hole-osity”, to becoming something that I have grown to be concerned about. But if living with Mookie Dee did anything, it confirmed for me that for the most part, keeping up with the worries of other people was still something I could disregard. Mind you, this is not a statement of my lack of concern for the welfare of someone else, but that people are ever only concerned with the mundacity of their own lives and that they are not looking for anything other than pity and commiseration, confirmation that the antagonists in their lives are wrong and that they are really the better person in their struggles. Meanwhile, as for them showing me the same kind of compassion and thoughtfulness that I gave them, well… now, THAT’S DIFFERENT.
I hark back to my marriage and how my ex-wife would often erect barriers to why things were more serious and involved for her and not so for me when it came to personal issues and obstacles. Because I was a man, or because I did not have children(!!!) to think about, that my life experiences left me somehow freer and more unburdened than her, and that the social schisms that complicated my being as a black man was somehow less than hers as a black woman… yadda, yadda, yadda. Anywho, at the time I would come to identify that line of thinking and belief as the height of selfishness in a personal relationship of any kind, and was codified for me by Arthur Schopenhauer's comment on character and determining if a person was a “scoundrel” and without a care for the concerns or the well being of others. Being of the opinion that a person who can rationalize their inherent selfishness as justifiable because of a perception that they are aggrieved by their own social beliefs or position, is a person that is best left to their own devices.
Were I to mention any real complaint of mine, like Portnoy, it would be of excruciatingly dense and personal, but also one which I feel that I do not have the language to adequately describe (a small part is certainly owed to my injury, but enough with the excuse making) my emotions and their processes that I would attach to my grievances. But I can say that straight away it has its roots in self-esteem, and as any real self-esteem conflict should in an adult, in high school.
THE COOL BOYS BIT THE DUST… THEY COULDN’T TAKE THE PRESSURE…
Not that I know of, or would care to know of, how my peers from my junior high/high school days are doing. I mean, a few of them that I did genuinely care for and thought of as friends, such as the Yalie, has indeed excelled. There is the one cat who I used to train with as an amateur who has found his way in his life. And of course, there is the “Fly Skimmie Kimmie”. Other than perhaps one or two more people, I am not aware of any other person from the “Era of My Discontent” that has gone on to achieve anything that one could consider remotely enviable as far as living an examined life. I have knowledge of a few, some of whom you could call “the worst people of my existence”, who either fell into the abyss of urban poverty, or, who like my ex-Wife (and I am beginning to think the same of Pecan Sandie as well) who are barely staying afloat consciously, living their lives in that desperate pursuit of fulfillment and happiness. Because of my off-brand style of thinking and philosophy, I think that I have been allowed to see people in fractals of character traits, the vision often contradicting their claims or their display of those traits of virtue and of good moral standards.
The only time that I take personal account of what people think of me, is when it is something that would verify any trait or characteristic that I may/may not posses. Often times I picture myself as Jimmy, Quentin Tarantino's character in the movie “Pulp Fiction” trying to explain to Jules, (Samuel Jackson) that he doesn’t need to hear “how good his coffee is” when it comes to a personal assessment from exurbs of my personal gallery. How insulting is it when a person who is one of the unhappy “play-it-safers” that constantly wants without being able to recognize or ever trying to grasp the opportunities in front of them if they were somehow able to see them? Where do they gain the authority to make a statement on my choices if they have never dared to explore their own hopes and dreams?
Peeking out on Facebook and seeing the griefings of people commenting on their lives, talking about how there is lack in some aspect of it, be it money, love or hope, and especially from those who I know of intimately, is a depressing act. The salience of the meme’s and simple quotes from savvy social media promoters, expressing feelings that they would lay claim to as echoing the desires and wants in their own soul, escapes me like that of a prey animal sudden dash to escape the clutches of a predator. I just don’t get it… I never have and never will, at least not personally.
...AS A SIDE NOTE
A story that broke this week about people who were rich living in public housing struck me as odd. First off, the total amount of people who are “high-income” tenants is very, very low. It smacks of a smear job not unlike that of “The Welfare Queen” myth of the 80’s. Second, the folks who pay the higher rate of subsidized rents (like myself), represents a source of funding for the HUD (Housing and Urban Development) that the perennially underfunded agency would otherwise be without. I don’t understand how this “problem” drew such attention?
Residents who pay the “market rate” for their residences (set at 80% of the median rents of similar residence in an area) provide HUD with over $90 million dollars a year. And sure, it seems wild that there is a cat in Oxford, Nebraska who has assets totaling $1.6 million dollars (and a bank account holding $335,000 dollars..!), but I think that it also speaks to the livability of public housing, as well as the industriousness of its residents. See, the thing is, where the people STARTED from is often overlooked, as they had to qualify to be granted public housing. For instance, I am living on disability and a part-time job. Going to school and eventually the jump to a full time profession, I have often wondered “why would I move?” I have no problems with my fellow residents and my tower is located within a 30 minute ride of wherever I want to go. So even as my presumptive income grows, I can’t see why I would want to move from where I am at, to just pay for the right to be in a different cramped apartment?
Anywho, I think that the investigation of HUD residents who are paying for their homes should not be a mark against the agency. I am sure that they weren’t well-off when they begin their residence. It seems that corporate welfare and tax dodgers at the top of the economy would bring in much more money and not hurt people who worked through the system.
bility of public housing, as well as the industriousness of its residents. See, the thing is, where the people STARTED from is often overlooked, as they had to qualify to be granted public housing. For instance, I am living on disability and a part-time job. Going to school and eventually the jump to a full time profession, I have often wondered “why would I move?” I have no problems with my fellow residents and my tower is located within a 30 minute ride of wherever I want to go. So even as my presumptive income grows, I can’t see why I would want to move from where I am at, to just pay for the right to be in a different cramped apartment?
In the decade (!) that I have been disabled, there has been A LOT for me to get used to. For instance, the non-chalantness that I had about my recollection of personal events and stories of others has went from a trait that I accounted to my “a-hole-osity”, to becoming something that I have grown to be concerned about. But if living with Mookie Dee did anything, it confirmed for me that for the most part, keeping up with the worries of other people was still something I could disregard. Mind you, this is not a statement of my lack of concern for the welfare of someone else, but that people are ever only concerned with the mundacity of their own lives and that they are not looking for anything other than pity and commiseration, confirmation that the antagonists in their lives are wrong and that they are really the better person in their struggles. Meanwhile, as for them showing me the same kind of compassion and thoughtfulness that I gave them, well… now, THAT’S DIFFERENT.
I hark back to my marriage and how my ex-wife would often erect barriers to why things were more serious and involved for her and not so for me when it came to personal issues and obstacles. Because I was a man, or because I did not have children(!!!) to think about, that my life experiences left me somehow freer and more unburdened than her, and that the social schisms that complicated my being as a black man was somehow less than hers as a black woman… yadda, yadda, yadda. Anywho, at the time I would come to identify that line of thinking and belief as the height of selfishness in a personal relationship of any kind, and was codified for me by Arthur Schopenhauer's comment on character and determining if a person was a “scoundrel” and without a care for the concerns or the well being of others. Being of the opinion that a person who can rationalize their inherent selfishness as justifiable because of a perception that they are aggrieved by their own social beliefs or position, is a person that is best left to their own devices.
Were I to mention any real complaint of mine, like Portnoy, it would be of excruciatingly dense and personal, but also one which I feel that I do not have the language to adequately describe (a small part is certainly owed to my injury, but enough with the excuse making) my emotions and their processes that I would attach to my grievances. But I can say that straight away it has its roots in self-esteem, and as any real self-esteem conflict should in an adult, in high school.
THE COOL BOYS BIT THE DUST… THEY COULDN’T TAKE THE PRESSURE…
Not that I know of, or would care to know of, how my peers from my junior high/high school days are doing. I mean, a few of them that I did genuinely care for and thought of as friends, such as the Yalie, has indeed excelled. There is the one cat who I used to train with as an amateur who has found his way in his life. And of course, there is the “Fly Skimmie Kimmie”. Other than perhaps one or two more people, I am not aware of any other person from the “Era of My Discontent” that has gone on to achieve anything that one could consider remotely enviable as far as living an examined life. I have knowledge of a few, some of whom you could call “the worst people of my existence”, who either fell into the abyss of urban poverty, or, who like my ex-Wife (and I am beginning to think the same of Pecan Sandie as well) who are barely staying afloat consciously, living their lives in that desperate pursuit of fulfillment and happiness. Because of my off-brand style of thinking and philosophy, I think that I have been allowed to see people in fractals of character traits, the vision often contradicting their claims or their display of those traits of virtue and of good moral standards.
The only time that I take personal account of what people think of me, is when it is something that would verify any trait or characteristic that I may/may not posses. Often times I picture myself as Jimmy, Quentin Tarantino's character in the movie “Pulp Fiction” trying to explain to Jules, (Samuel Jackson) that he doesn’t need to hear “how good his coffee is” when it comes to a personal assessment from exurbs of my personal gallery. How insulting is it when a person who is one of the unhappy “play-it-safers” that constantly wants without being able to recognize or ever trying to grasp the opportunities in front of them if they were somehow able to see them? Where do they gain the authority to make a statement on my choices if they have never dared to explore their own hopes and dreams?
Peeking out on Facebook and seeing the griefings of people commenting on their lives, talking about how there is lack in some aspect of it, be it money, love or hope, and especially from those who I know of intimately, is a depressing act. The salience of the meme’s and simple quotes from savvy social media promoters, expressing feelings that they would lay claim to as echoing the desires and wants in their own soul, escapes me like that of a prey animal sudden dash to escape the clutches of a predator. I just don’t get it… I never have and never will, at least not personally.
...AS A SIDE NOTE
A story that broke this week about people who were rich living in public housing struck me as odd. First off, the total amount of people who are “high-income” tenants is very, very low. It smacks of a smear job not unlike that of “The Welfare Queen” myth of the 80’s. Second, the folks who pay the higher rate of subsidized rents (like myself), represents a source of funding for the HUD (Housing and Urban Development) that the perennially underfunded agency would otherwise be without. I don’t understand how this “problem” drew such attention?
Residents who pay the “market rate” for their residences (set at 80% of the median rents of similar residence in an area) provide HUD with over $90 million dollars a year. And sure, it seems wild that there is a cat in Oxford, Nebraska who has assets totaling $1.6 million dollars (and a bank account holding $335,000 dollars..!), but I think that it also speaks to the livability of public housing, as well as the industriousness of its residents. See, the thing is, where the people STARTED from is often overlooked, as they had to qualify to be granted public housing. For instance, I am living on disability and a part-time job. Going to school and eventually the jump to a full time profession, I have often wondered “why would I move?” I have no problems with my fellow residents and my tower is located within a 30 minute ride of wherever I want to go. So even as my presumptive income grows, I can’t see why I would want to move from where I am at, to just pay for the right to be in a different cramped apartment?
Anywho, I think that the investigation of HUD residents who are paying for their homes should not be a mark against the agency. I am sure that they weren’t well-off when they begin their residence. It seems that corporate welfare and tax dodgers at the top of the economy would bring in much more money and not hurt people who worked through the system.
bility of public housing, as well as the industriousness of its residents. See, the thing is, where the people STARTED from is often overlooked, as they had to qualify to be granted public housing. For instance, I am living on disability and a part-time job. Going to school and eventually the jump to a full time profession, I have often wondered “why would I move?” I have no problems with my fellow residents and my tower is located within a 30 minute ride of wherever I want to go. So even as my presumptive income grows, I can’t see why I would want to move from where I am at, to just pay for the right to be in a different cramped apartment?
Anywho, I think that the investigation of HUD residents who are paying for their homes should not be a mark against the agency. I am sure that they weren’t well-off when they begin their residence. It seems that corporate welfare and tax dodgers at the top of the economy would bring in much more money and not hurt people who worked through the system.
2 comments:
The first part of your post reminded me of something a priest said once (I'm sorry I forgot his name): "There's really only one sin: selfishness." That does seem to be the real root of all evil.
The second part reminded me of how, in general, conservatives prefer anecdotes to statistics. Ninety-nine percent of people may benefit from a program, but if they heard of a guy that knows a guy who took unfair advantage, that's the only thing they'll want to talk about.
You have to stay true to yourself, admit your limitations, and love the life you live.
You have some duplication things going on with this entry, you may want to edit...
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