Well, its been over a year since I posted. I’m not really sure why I stopped – got busy I suppose. Here’s a better question – why am I back?
Well, turns out I’m allergic to formaldehyde. Why does that matter? Because in the age where information is readily available, info on this allergy is annoyingly difficult to find. Rather than complain about the problem, I figure that I’ll try and be part of the solution.
Moving forward I’ll post about products that do/don’t contain formaldehyde, how to cope with reactions, and of course the usual photography, musings, and other interesting bits and bobs I come across.
Berlin 2009: Finally rebuilding following the repayment of war debts accumulated more than 50 years prior.
Today, I ran out of “good” jeans. You know – the type without holes in them. The type you wear to work because you’re a technician and can get away with it.
What did I wear?
Well, I damn well couldn’t wear one of my (two) existing skirts. Crawling around under desks and lifting server equipment would be extremely comical in the unstructured, revealing, fabric that most other women wear.
So, I went with a par of pinstripe slacks and a black top. Simple, different, and definitely a step up from my normal jeans and a t-shirt. I couldn’t have predicted the aftermath.
Everyone I came across held a door open for me – guy and girl alike. One poor soul held open a door that I didn’t even need. People let me on the bus ahead of them. My German professor acknowledged my existence.
It’s not even that I looked attractive – I just looked noticeable. I wasn’t the short nondescript hunk of human flesh that they usually cut in front of. For the first time in awhile – I feel confident.
Hell, I should dress nice more often.
Read, Reflect, Write, Re-write, Paraphrase, Punctuate.
We are constantly learning, and accumulating information.
Interpretation, Inspiration, Ideas.
We then compile that information into notes, and then into higher media.
Books, Papers, Radio, Film, TV
Then someone else takes this media and…
Read, Reflect, Write, Re-write,Paraphrase, Punctuate.
There is a thin line between arrogance and pride.
Both denote confidence – in our abilities, our personalities, our looks. A proud individual is someone who seemingly works hard, who has made something he or she can be proud of. An arrogant individual, however, is someone who thinks they know best. Someone who sees his or her way as the best,and sometimes only, way.
What a lot of people miss is the underlying, deeply buried, stigma that is attached to these words. I’m willing to bet that your thoughts of ‘pride’ include Soldiers, Firefighters, EMTs, laborers, and family members. Now think of arrogance. I’ll put down money that you’re thinking of an intellect. A scientist, a professor, an artist.
We as a society see physical work as more honest work.
Thinkers, problem solvers, laborers alike – we are all proud of what we strive for.
It’s that pride that toes the line of arrogance,
but it’s that same pride that spurs us on.
Guilt. It tears at the soul and pulls at the heart.
Humanity, sympathy, empathy. Swirling around, drowning my very core in sorrow and panic.
Once again I feel guilty for something I shouldn’t. Something trivial. It seems like the instant I feel like someone is mad at me I loose all confidence. Am I really this desperate for acceptance? It’s possible. Acceptance is hard to come by. Especially when you’re not the average Jane on the street.
Guilt stricken. It’s a phrase that seems to imply a sudden illness. An accurate image for the lightning strike of nausea and foreboding.
What about this time? A coworker drove a round trip of almost 3 hours due to a mess up he himself caused. I feel guilty for the miscommunication that caused him to arrive at an empty work building. Its trivial, and not even an event that I caused. Yet here I am, guilty of a conviction I’ve created in my head.
I bet they don’t realize the sincerity of how sorry I am. Honestly – I shouldn’t even be sorry.
But I am.
I’m a person of many personas, and many quirks. Ask anyone about me and you’ll likely get a different answer.
What you will see from me is no exception. As a jack of all trades, I bring you musings, logic, fiction, poetry and prose. Perhaps even a little art.
A jack of all trades, and yet a master of none.
Maybe one day I’ll prove the master.