One Size Fits All

I’ve been having a hard time lately in trying to read some of the blogs I read regularly. They are filled with such happy, positive information about reaching out and forming communities. About doing good, about being a happy, shiny, person that I’d like to be.

And I’m reading meditation articles about doing metta meditation on various people: me, people I like, people I don’t know, people I dislike. I finally gave up and just decided to focus on me because I am important and I should learn to like myself first instead of all these other people I may or may not care about.

I am aware and its true that I am leaving this city in a little over a month (~36 days), but the negative feelings I have toward this entire city is getting worse and worse everyday.

I just hate this city. I hate the people, I hate the trash, I hate the noise, I hate the aggression, the anger,  the abuse I see on public transit between parents and their kids, the people who don’t pick up after their dogs, the crappy public transit, the aggressive drivers, the pervasiveness of certain institutions, the political corruption, the homeless people,  the lack of enforcement of noise ordinances, the crappy service from service workers, and on and on and on.

I read this post by Daharja last week and thought a lot about her message, the point that hit me the hardest was this one:

If you are in a large city (anything above about 200,000 people counts as large in my books), get out of it.

Because:
In times of unrest and uncertainty, that’s where the riots will be.

And I realized with a start that that was true - at least considering where I live now.

But first I should explain why I wound up living in crappy areas to begin with. 

When I first began studying about racial relations and American history in college, I learned the importance of taxes. I learned that property taxes and income taxes (city/state) play a big role in who gets what: public playgrounds, pools, trash pickup, street cleaners, libraries, etc. After some bit of thinking, I decided to voluntarily live in economically depressed areas because I wanted to effect some sort of change with my money in whatever tiny way I could, because money talks. Picking an economically depressed area in this city is easy-peasy: there are only three pockets of the city (of roughly a few city blocks - small city blocks) that are not actually "ghetto". The rest is all crap. So I just began living in crappy areas. Its true that I wanted to save money, but overall the savings on rent was basically minimal, especially considering the fact that I have a tendency to live in small spaces and have a very frugal lifestyle.

But now…I am just beaten and the optimism I used to have is replaced with just hardened anger. Yes, I had this grand illusion that I would be some sort of saviour - that was naive and foolish of me. But its a bit hard to be the only person on a block to recycle/bicycle/sweep the sidewalk/contain marital conflicts indoors/contain trash and entertainment choices indoors/etc/etc. One of the reasons I moved into my current neighborhood was because the place is ethnically one of the most diverse in the city. I had alot of positive thoughts of how I thought life would be like here. But it isn’t how I thought it would be. I don’t know…it just makes me very sad. Its very depressing to ride through the city (one of my big hobbies is exploring parts of the city by bicycle), and see all this decay everywhere. I am not Mike from Satan’s Laundromat, I don’t find urban decay fascinating anymore. I feel very sad seeing how this city was poised for greatness 40-50 years ago and then just fell apart and never quite recovered.I’m sad that the general attitude I perceive is one of negativity. In a nutshell, this is not the place for me. I think I’m going to keep running away until I find a place that I can tolerate. I hope that happens before I am senile.

—-

The odd thing is I don’t live in a area where there are burned out shells of buildings. Its true that there is some sort of crack den a block away (per scary newspaper stories) from me, but its basically a middle class neighborhood. I think its the people that make the city, and I just dislike the people in this one. 

Its….shingles. Very exciting and excruciatingly painful. What is with all these painful ailments visiting me? I’ve got my kidney stone my UTI and now this. I really hate the fact that I have a high threshold for pain because I start having discussions like…what exactly is the criteria to be admitted into the ER? And where on the scale of pain does "I want to commit a killing spree"* fall? And lets not forget that shingles are ugly as hell. I had half a mind to walk around my neighborhood showing off my shingy zits to all the pervs saying something like "I have gonorrhea! Here’s proof. Please don’t bother me any more." But these men are pervs not masters of logic…so I let go of the idea. Also it hurt to walk. And sleep. But looky! Not hurtful enough to blog about it.

Apparently it got activated because of stress. And I’ve been undergoing some really f*cking severe stress. So now in addition to having clumps of hair fall out and my skin look like crap I have to deal with a crazy nerve.

I also was lucky enough to have a textbook case of shingles. So all the little med students came to have a look. I started announcing: "welcome to the shingles museum". But I didn’t even get a giggle. And that stressed me out. Which led to some more pain. Ecetera.

The doctor also told me that only dead people were allowed to be around me. Not quite. But I can’t be around babies and old people and sick people and people who haven’t had chicken pox and so on.

Perhaps I should also stop reading all the gloom-and doom peak oil stuff. I’m sure it didn’t help to adopt a very depressive worldview. 

One thing however…tea tree oil works wonderfully to numb the pain. That is…it numbs the pain after several 100 mgs of ibuprofen don’t do the trick. Tea tree oil is some sort of antiseptic plus has other wonderful properties. And it numbs pain. 

So while I am not quite dead. I am taking a break. Please send funny jokes. Thank you.

—-

*Big brother: this is a joke. As in "tee hee". Please do not throw me into the gulag.

Now I have a heat rash. Or that’s what I think it is. I think my body (or rather my belly) is cooking itself. Maybe I can offer myself as part of a one local summer meal. I’m sure I’m tasty.

I am trying some natural remedies and am going to see how this works out. If not, I’m heading to a doctor next week. The remedies call for a ice pack to be placed on the rash plus wearing cotton and keeping the area dry. I have an ice pack, but the rash + boils hurt. I don’t have many cotton clothes because I like wearing clothes that don’t need to be ironed. So I should visit the thrift store soon. And I bought a dusting powder from Burt’s Bees that is talc free. I recently read that talc is a carcinogen(!!??). I think I will be shocked if I manage to live my life out without getting cancer.

I’ve also been hiding in air conditioned areas being much colder than I like to be because of this rash. 

Clearly I have pissed off the gods somewhere. This month has begun with every imaginable thing going wrong. As well as some unimaginable things going wrong. I suspect my riot numbers this month will be equal to that of an average U.S. consumer. What joy.

The most recent bad thing was the heat wave + motherboard melting + hard drive crashing (data was recovered). Oh…and all my worms died because of the initial set of bad things happening that made me forget about them during the last week’s heat wave. And my cilantro plant died.

I haven’t posted last week’s meal for One Local summer because I was out of town and busy and stressed and sleep deprived. Yes, I ate meals of questionable origin.

I won’t be submitting this week’s meal to the FarmtoPhilly site, but I think it counts anyway. I made this for husband this morning. Its scrambled eggs in duck fat. I made duck curry for husband yesterday and the resulting fat was saved for the scrambled eggs this morning which also had fried onions and mushrooms.  Husband liked both the duck curry and the scrambled eggs.

Hopefully things get back to normal in a few days so I can putter around in the kitchen again. 

Apparently the 4th episode didn’t teach me anything.I have no idea what made me ill. Was it the non-local strawberries? The ice cream? The restaurant kim chee?

This poisoning meant that I purchase many nonlocal items: oranges, orange juice, and other items. I’ll post my riot4austerity numbers when I feel better.

I suppose the main thrust of the post is due to some of the posts I’ve read today, specifically, m’s post on the tao of making money on finding an blog audience she can relate to on some level.

This post is going to be some what disjointed, but I’ll try to make it coherent.

As of now, neither me nor my husband have any significant health problems. I have back ache on an ongoing basis that I’ve had for years and never checked out, but that’s something for a different post.

I don’t write about personal stuff too much here despite this being a “anonymous” blog. One, I am very shy and really nuts about my privacy. Not in the sense that I don’t want people to know my name, but in the sense that I don’t want to subject my private life to the scrutiny of strangers or even friends. I am not too bothered with letting others know how much I make or my (and my husband’s debt), but I am a bit uneasy about letting strangers know how the debt came to be. People are very judgmental and I am extremely thin skinned. And while I am not generally prone to depression, an unkind word has a tendency to ruin my day.

While I read about 15 or so blogs regularly, I occasionally pop by blogs I used to read but don’t any more (usually because they now have ads - and I really despise advertising). So when I read people posting their salary along with their age, I feel a bit down. I cannot relate. I feel like a LOSER.

I think about how former friends have judged me because of choices I made, about “choosing” to leave my family and cut all connections with them because of the emotional and mental stress I was being put through. “But everyone’s parents are annoying and pig headed!” That may be so, but I didn’t enjoy actively thinking about ways of killing myself and causing least amount of stress on those that might find my dead body.

I think about how lucky people are to have emotional and mental support from families, even if they are annoying. About how lucky people are to be born in a country with a work permit. About how lucky people are to be able to pay for gasoline for an automobile. About how lucky people are to give birth and not really think about it. I mean really think about it. Not in the sense that “whoops, a little mistake”. I had an abortion fund before I even thought about an emergency fund.

I used to think that the one bad quality I didn’t possess was the ability to be envious. I was lying to myself. I am jealous of college students who can live in a dorm, and have someone who will be willing to be a reference on the student loan form. Or better yet, have parents who will pay ongoing cell phone bills. Anyone that has a pet is lucky.

Living on about $500/month without losing dignity wasn’t easy. Having a maxed out credit card (maxed by parents) and trying to explain to the credit card rep that I can’t pay even the minimum bill and then listening to her tell me that I should lower my gasoline bill for my car and then her not understanding - that there is no car, I was walking several miles a day.

I am in a lot better position now than I was before. But, its still a struggle. Trying to mentally grow while dealing with numerous setbacks isn’t easy. But I appreciate everything I have, including the ability to make the choices I do.

Well the posts here aren’t going to be very cheery for awhile. I am very tired and down about school, about college life, about college administration about every thing college related. Yet, I did make the choice about returning to college. I suppose I’m just in what Seth Godin calls the dip. Except I feel its more like a dip filled with quicksand with a sinkhole ahead of me.

The constant exhaustion and sleep deprivation.

Classes are in session along with loads of homework, papers due, assignments due, exams due. I am severely stressed as evidenced by the vast amount of hair I manage to shed. Only a few more months and I will be done. And I can’t wait.

Classes begin today. Blogging will be light from now onward.

I think I may never eat at a restaurant ever again. Or for that matter at any place where I haven’t personally cooked the food.

I am slowly coming out of my 4th lifetime food poisoning episode. I suspect the food poisoning episode is due to the breakfast I ate at a local Mexican restaurant on 13th and Ellsworth. I couldn’t sleep last night because I was in incredible pain. After throwing up and nearly collapsing from weakness I was finally able to sleep. But I still felt weak all day today.

I began thinking about how much trust I put into strangers to ensure that I can consume food safely.

For example, I made ketchup yesterday (recipe found here). After purchasing several pounds of pesticide free tomatoes I first washed them in water with a few drops of vinegar. In fact I wash every vegetable I eat with a vinegar solution. I began to wonder if the workers who work for mega corps that package the fruit and veggies I buy at the supermarket take the precautions I do. Do they wash their hands as well as I do? Do they look at each leaf of lettuce to see that there are no bugs hanging around? When I observe food service workers, they don’t treat food with the respect I think food ought to be given. So I would assume that, no, workers who work for Goya or Heinz don’t take that much care. So I think I am on the road to stop relying so much on outside entities to ensure that I have safe food.