Sunken
I'm not sure how long I've had this chair elevated. But it is so, so, so much more comfortable now that I can place my feet on my floor. I wonder if someone else had adjusted it because why did I pump it so high?! I'll never remember.
Only two months into isolation, I have experienced a whole developmental phase of growth and pain; love and tragedy.
The tragedies in my life has always served an empathetic purpose. It's helped me understand other people on a really deep, nuanced level.
Oh, I know why now, the edge of the table is cutting into my arm. It's not a nice feeling.
For some reason, I'm still reading up on epilepsy and anti-seizure medication despite not needing to know anything about it anymore. I've become very curious about it after dating someone with epilepsy. I wondered if it affected intelligence because his cognitive abilities were extremely slow. From what I read, it does not. He just happened to have that condition and be at that mental level.
That relationship has made me a lot more compassionate for people with disabilities. Seemingly easy and common activities and duties take a whole lot more mental labour for them. I took it for granted that people my age and older would have developed and even surpassed a base level of ability and competence for everyday things. This is ableist thinking. Normal shouldn't be a benchmark, no one is normal. Everyone has an abnormality.
It is an extremely erroneous thing when meeting new people to expect them to behave in a "normal" way. We've all lived in our own worlds, our groups that we've mimicked from, so when we come across people from other (metaphorical) planets, we find them strange, and tend to exclude and mistrust them.
Everyone's an alien.
That is my one great lesson of the year. My past two partners were both very alien to me. They shattered my mental model of people and love and loyalty. Loyalty is grey and means very different things to different people.
Some people expect loyalty to mean blind support. That is very unhealthy in my view.
I think the best type of loyalty is love. A love that not only encourages you but also challenges you for your betterment. I see the latter sorely lacking in most relationships.
It could be due to televised competitions labeling the opponents as "challengers." Now challengers are all viewed as the other, the enemy, the one to fight to win.
People are more comfortable and positive in dealing with academic or professional challenges but the moment it is a person presenting a different perspective or behaving in a different way, they turn on their heads and become a goddamn menace.
It boils down to discomfort, unfamiliarity, and fear.
I remember in improv how angry I'd be at other players for making a scene supremely challenging to work. I would actively wish I wouldn't be in a scene with them, I would feel annoyed with them, and that displeasure showed on my face.
Being trusting and strong enough to hold yourself up in a scene while supporting someone else is the level of play I want to be capable of.
Being OK with aliens is an alien concept for sure.
Only two months into isolation, I have experienced a whole developmental phase of growth and pain; love and tragedy.
The tragedies in my life has always served an empathetic purpose. It's helped me understand other people on a really deep, nuanced level.
Oh, I know why now, the edge of the table is cutting into my arm. It's not a nice feeling.
For some reason, I'm still reading up on epilepsy and anti-seizure medication despite not needing to know anything about it anymore. I've become very curious about it after dating someone with epilepsy. I wondered if it affected intelligence because his cognitive abilities were extremely slow. From what I read, it does not. He just happened to have that condition and be at that mental level.
That relationship has made me a lot more compassionate for people with disabilities. Seemingly easy and common activities and duties take a whole lot more mental labour for them. I took it for granted that people my age and older would have developed and even surpassed a base level of ability and competence for everyday things. This is ableist thinking. Normal shouldn't be a benchmark, no one is normal. Everyone has an abnormality.
It is an extremely erroneous thing when meeting new people to expect them to behave in a "normal" way. We've all lived in our own worlds, our groups that we've mimicked from, so when we come across people from other (metaphorical) planets, we find them strange, and tend to exclude and mistrust them.
Everyone's an alien.
That is my one great lesson of the year. My past two partners were both very alien to me. They shattered my mental model of people and love and loyalty. Loyalty is grey and means very different things to different people.
Some people expect loyalty to mean blind support. That is very unhealthy in my view.
I think the best type of loyalty is love. A love that not only encourages you but also challenges you for your betterment. I see the latter sorely lacking in most relationships.
It could be due to televised competitions labeling the opponents as "challengers." Now challengers are all viewed as the other, the enemy, the one to fight to win.
People are more comfortable and positive in dealing with academic or professional challenges but the moment it is a person presenting a different perspective or behaving in a different way, they turn on their heads and become a goddamn menace.
It boils down to discomfort, unfamiliarity, and fear.
I remember in improv how angry I'd be at other players for making a scene supremely challenging to work. I would actively wish I wouldn't be in a scene with them, I would feel annoyed with them, and that displeasure showed on my face.
Being trusting and strong enough to hold yourself up in a scene while supporting someone else is the level of play I want to be capable of.
Being OK with aliens is an alien concept for sure.
Comments
Post a Comment