Whirlpool by A Lodge

 

Currently enjoying a little R&R before the hustle and bustle this coming fall. I did a lot of cathartic screaming while aboard an inflatable tube moving swiftly within a massive spiral tunnel slide and performed workout-worthy aquatic jumps while going against an artifical wave at an indoor water park. And it's only day one! The photo above which I took near said water park was an amazing sight. Incredible power, Mother Earth. Thank you and well done.

petty insecurities

I joined a summer weekly yoga class that accommodates all levels. This is my attempt to incorporate some structured exercise in my current routine. It has been 24 hours since my first session and I can feel the delayed onset muscle soreness. The yoga teacher was a lithe and soft-spoken lady with the body structure that I can only dream of. Like Michelle Pfeiffer as Cat Woman. After acknowledging this, I then became aware of the women around me with their yoga attire and painted toenails. I wore a loose t-shirt and ankle-length leggings all in black. My feet were dry and my toenails were unpainted. Ugh. You know what I did? I curled my toes during the first couple of minutes. My goodness, what level of sef-consciousness is that? But I was feeling really insecure. The class was 1.5 hours so I convinced myself that no one was paying attention to my feet and it would be torture to curl my toes the whole time. So I tried my best to follow along. I made sure to breathe and I softened my gaze or closed my eyes so I could focus on how my body felt per pose. Oh boy, I would shake occasionally and felt some odd sensations whenever my dormant muscles were forced to wake up and work. The class is probably considered very light for most people, but I surely struggled. And I am uneducated when it comes to yoga pose terminology so I couldn't understand the names of most of the poses as the teacher announced each one. Anyway, I resolve to control my petty insecurities and pat myself on the back for signing up for this. Have you ever been insecure about the most frivolous things? Maybe we can try to learn how to think less of those, eh?

Here's my anthem for today, aptly titled "Insecure" by Tom Misch: https://youtu.be/OF7rpAfBUSM?si=KCR8y5zR4gQZF7jb

Schrodinger-ing

Increased online anonymity. I’ve been trying to do this recently while maintaining a digital footprint as minimum verification of my existence. I recently learned that what is available about you online can be utilized as a trap. Imagine this scenario: you receive communication from a legit individual that an unnamed entity has name dropped you as a good fit for some adventure. You know it’s legit, because it is a legit project. The communication seems flattering on the surface, but it’s not through proper channels. So you thank them for the message and direct them to the standard ‘aboveboard’ procedure, which they decline to go through. Like Ultron sending you a text message saying that you were recommended to be included in the roster of folks who will be deployed in the next SpaceX mission to the ISS, because some unnamed person mentioned to him that you are an expert in docking. You’ve never docked a spacecraft before and then you remember writing a general interest article about your fascination about docking simulators. And you also remember that a similar tactic was done to you by someone with whom you experienced toxic business with (let’s say Count Dracula) who once copy-pasted your details from online and messaged you saying that they have a deadline the next day and needed you to sign off as part of a new Sokovian project that you only found out about at that moment and that they already prepped your profile and everything (the stars collided in your favour and you got out of it). Now you put two and two together: Supervillain and Vampire. Wow. If this were a film, I guess you’d be a character that gets thrust into an unfortunate situation. I think that’s a naughty way to operate, eh? Habitually twist someone’s arm? If you were close friends or if you’ve had a long-standing professional relationship, that may be acceptable. Otherwise, it’s not palatable. You can look at it in the light of, perhaps, an opportunity for growth. Who wouldn’t want to go to Space? Sure, that’s a valid point to consider. But being attached to strings connected to Ultron and Count Dracula? That may be a quick choice for some and not for others. Consider this an exercise in personal ethics.

what in the underworld heatwave?

This will be one of those non-introspective posts meant to express mind garbage. Indulge me.

It’s hot and muggy outdoors so the plan was to stay at home for the most part of the weekend. I still haven’t finished James Rollins’ Subterranean, because it was getting gory…as in human-decapitation-by-jagged-toothed-spiky-creatures level. Spoiler alert. I still like it and just needed some mental breaks. I’m avoiding nightmares involving being chased by ancient reptilians in tight underground caves.

So last night, I decided to browse through available romance ebooks from the public library via the Libby app and found one that had an interesting description. I will disappoint you by NOT revealing the title, because it was *insert this post’s title + fanning myself*. maybe I’m embarassed—I know I shouldn’t be, because the author writes well, but the sides of my face are now very warm. The book’s heroine was an autistic econometrician (well, you could Google that and you’d simply find out, eh?). So many relatable aspects about her character, that…that…it’s as if someone picked my brain. I’m not on the spectrum, but share some characteristics. You know what? Fine. I’m embarassed that you, my imaginary/ non-existent, possibly bot readers will look down on me for having enjoyed a steamy piece of prose. I just finished the book. Read it in less than 12 hours. 🤓

So there’s that. I will now publish this post, go to the fridge and pour myself a glass of cold sparkling water.

Global social media toxicity needs neutralization

Presenting some de-stress kitchen activities during physical distancing brought to you by my attempt to spread only good vibrations *cue The Beach Boys’ “Good Vibrations”*...

I’ve removed the handwritten recipes taped on the fridge (it’s steel and doesn’t attract magnets) and organized them in letter size papers inserted on plastic 3-holed sheet protectors within a red binder. Got a bottle of Weiman steel cleaner and now the fridge is so shiny. Very happy. Better use of my time than exposing myself to all the political and really disheartening social media posts back in the Republika ng Pilipinas. 

Recurring theme of dolor

Oh well, my rainbows/unicorns/stardust previous post was dampened by a usual theme of you-must-think-I'm-an estupida coocoo. I have a (insert sarcasm) lovely decade-old post about preferring to swim in my own putrefying remains (sheer poetry *applause*):

 

Notice my post entitled 'true.' Alas, it is easier to say sorry than to give a heads up. Hypothetically, it's easier to gaslight and pretend that doing googly eyes with another humanoid in a swimming pool offering a massage, or being discovered in a photo whilst in a hot tub with another humanoid, or being professed with ti amo by another humanoid, or receiving lavish things from another humanoid, or paying for a pair of humanoids' meals, or taking a humanoid to dinner because said humanoid is a person-of-authority, etcetera etcetera....are simple acts of kindness and need not require informing the other party with whom one has co-ownership. 

Friends, friends, friends....don't do that. Don't permanently damage a person's self-esteem by making that person question his/her/my sanity. Don't be...I can't believe I'm about to say this...don't be Mary Poppins (but heaven knows I love her)...

Image source

You might want to check this provocative article about how Mary Poppins is a sociopath:

https://www.themarysue.com/disney-mary-poppins-returns-sociopath/

Go on, read it, spit spot!

*ouch ouch ouch*

Trust your innate wisdom

Image source

I was prompted to write this entry due to current events encompassing harassment, normalization of hate and bigotry, violence, false news, divisiveness, and an article shared on Twitter about how harassers use "gas lighting" to sow seeds of self-doubt on their prey.  The term gas lighting was also used a few hours ago by a writer (who identifies as a person of color) who decided to leave the online newsletter she used to work for due to the "hipster racism" that one of its creators represented.  

Gas lighting is a manipulative tactic employed by a person that begins with provocation (e.g. a racist remark) and then when called out on it will divert his/her action by stating that the provocation was not intentional or that the other person is over-reacting or making things up.  This strategy effectively causes anxiety and oftentimes (a sort of) submission by the manipulated person.  I have witnessed this and even experienced this through the years.  What my parents taught me was to trust my gut. 

My mother had excellent intuition--a lot of us think she may be of the supernatural kind, actually (haha).  My visceral reaction is what I (up to this day) trust.  If I feel I am being manipulated, there's a twitch that happens inside my head. I blink. Red light bulb flashes. It is not something you can read on, unfortunately, but really only develop after years of various interactions.  My simplistic course of action is to disengage cordially.  No volcanic eruption-type confrontation or pyromantics.  Honest words. The low-syllable count kind, if possible.  I often pride myself as being able to handle many difficult situations, negotiations, and confrontations in a sophisticated manner without being sly or dishonest. 

Dishonesty and sesquipedalian rhetoric--just not classy. Hah, I used sesquipedalian. Anyway, I do not mingle with the low integrity, insecure types. I would rather befriend an uneducated street sweeper (who, based on experience, tend to be the wisest kind of people you would meet) than a multi-hyphenate, multi-trillionaire, who owns multinational companies with the business acumen of Mojo Jojo....you understand my drift. I also detest witnessing a gas lighter gas lighting a gas lightee.  Ew.

Thought cloud filler: You can cover the smell of excrement with bottles of lysol, but really, excrement is excrement. Correct? High five.      

Salt of the Earth people

Millet's Man with a Hoe source

Are we on a blog roll this month, it's like going back to 2006/7 when MySpace and Friendster still existed. This morning at work, I learned about a man who did a lot of gardening and other manually intensive activities. I think it's an admirable hobby and when someone is very hands on in terms of labor--I automatically put that person on an imaginary pedestal. I've met too many people who scoff at getting their hands dirty. People who prefer to pay other people to do what they obviously are capable of doing. Just because manual labor is too blue collar--doesn't go well with an Onesimus or Zara suit. I find that off-putting. Especially for a man. My husband doesn't like suits (unless he has no choice) and prefers to stubbornly tinker and do a lot of DIY projects. It doesn't always result to his planned outcome, but when he achieves whatever he wants to achieve--screened windows, bidet spray installation (LOL), extended extension cord--oh, that smug look on his face. Cracks me up; but I pat him on the back. I remember one of the first gifts he gave me was a paper weight he made in shop class--a chrome-plated dice (or die) where one of the corners was screwed on an x-shaped base so it looked like it was permanently tipped diagonally. Well he took it back and made it a reference model for all his students when he taught a machine class in university. But I thought it was a fantastic gift.

Going back to getting one's hands dirty as in gardening--I think it says a lot about a person. That there's a certain degree of humility and unassuming-ness. I like blue collar jobs; not to say that I want to shift careers and go into construction--but you know what I'm implying. I suppose being overexposed to a few persons in air-conditioned, hard-wood themed offices who can't be bothered to go get their own coffee made me "umay." When I had the fortunate opportunity to run an office with 2 administrative staff and a few student assistants, I made it a point to make my own coffee in the machine, clean the coffee maker myself, and get my own lunch. I remember at the beginning, one of the staff would ask what I wanted for lunch or what they could get me--I would respectfully decline just because lunch was across the street. I tried to avoid using the Intercom, because the walk towards the administrative offices was good exercise. I thought my office was excessively big. Too big. Look at me being all hypocritical when it was only last year when we moved to a different country that I started to do chores. I'm technically berating myself right now for letting other people do things at home in the past--things I could clearly do myself, sort of. Guilty. It was convenient. Feel free to judge me, I'm not proud of it trust me. But there's always a form of rebirth right? While I feel incessantly exhausted now, I feel more decent--more real.

My point is, we shouldn't succumb to the social norm of being impressed with superficiality. Wealth, stature, and power worn on one's sleeves don't necessarily equate to character and dignity. I'm not making a hasty generalization. And I'm not saying that blue collar is better than white collar. That all blue collar people nor all white collar people are decent. There are always exceptions. This morning's events simply triggered a reexamination of what makes an ordinary person extraordinary. Wouldn't it be great to aim for that?

On Non-Relationships

Non-relationships may be highly fictional, moderately fictional, or platonic. Fangirling on characters from TV shows or movies makes up the highly fictional non-relationship. Moderately fictional non-relationships involve actual people who are either strangers or acquaintances and personal speculations. The platonic relationship is all too common and may or may not develop into an actual relationship.

The nature of highly fictional and moderately fictional non-relationships may include the romantic kind and friendships. The platonic kind always potentially dips its toes on romantic interaction. 

I made these up. Consider this post highly fictional. 

*brace position to receive imaginary tomatoes aimed at this post*

(image below from cartoonstock.com; no intention to infringe...just entertain)

Post #396

Six years of blogging and still no "tags" feature. It's been 396 posts overdue and I can't be bothered to conceptualize categories or tag each post. I might have some sort of cringe-ing episode if I had to force myself to read every crap I've written for my past catharsis-es...catharses(?)...hmm

-----> 2013 update: Labels are in! Order is cleanliness. And cleanliness is next to godliness....not godliness as in being or wanting to be God akin to eating the forbidden fruit, but you know what I mean.