So. Very. Busted.
Thursday, October 11, 2007

This morning, my partner sent me an email after reading my last post. She told me she thought I might need an intervention, and I agree with her.

She pointed out to me that I had said that I hadn't found the strength of will to stop reading toxic crap which made me ill, and that I had come to the conclusion that I would just practice "soul-puking" as a remedy.

She suggested to me that this was like having psychic bulimia (and also mentioned how I had violated about five of my own clearly-stated personal principles in the way that I wrote the post --among them -- "what you resist, persists", stating opinions as if they are "what is so", my judging of other people in ways that are a precise mirror of the judgments I don't like in them, etc.).

You know, I fucking adore this woman. She has the strength to tell me the truth, even when it's uncomfortable, and a clarity of insight that I treasure.

Sure, I shuffled my feet a bit while we talked about this, and had a (very slight) internal pout that my spiritual integrity won't allow me to just rant and spew with impunity anymore -- but in fact, these thoughts had been nagging at me, even as I wrote the post.

I won't "take it all back". In truth, those thoughts are in me, or I wouldn't have written them. However, I want to take responsibility for them, and if I rant, I want to at least be fully conscious that I'm ranting.

So, I want to state that I think I spoke in a way that was irresponsible yesterday. I judged and separated from and tantrumed in a way that doesn't reflect the world that I want to create. I did that. No one "made"me do it. There is no justification.

I'm still puzzling over this conundrum -- about how to effectively shift the toxic energy that I see in the dialogue between humans.

I realized today that a lot of the stuff that I see in the pundit-sphere that gets under my skin is really a triggering of un-resolved shit with my own history -- Christians pronouncing edicts from the high ground while acting in ways that aren't consistent with what they claim as their morality, blatant lies being told (and then denied or discounted), etc. -- I think the "danger, danger!" that rises up in me when I witness this stuff is the numb horror of a child who was abused while the "Happy Christian" facade was fastidiously maintained.

I don't want to ignore the voices of bigotry and hypocrisy.

I don't want to become them either.

I want to respond and not react.

So, I'll go back to my puzzle. I won't give up.

When I was thinking it through yesterday, I was actually aware that "soul-puking" was probably not a great solution in the long run -- I mean, you don't keep eating the poisonous mushrooms once you've been in for a liver-transplant, after all. It's one of those times when my wit-demonz got a hold of me, and I opted for a nifty, witty wrap-up rather than a long, thoughtful analysis.

Damn. And. Not Damn.

I now raise a flagon of the Champagne of Beers to my stalwart, thoughtful, and brave mate -- who helps to keep me on track. I am a very fortunate dyke.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 7:35 PM 8 comments  

Labels: Bad Behavior (Mine), Functional Relationship, Hope

Ipecac Soup for the Soul
Wednesday, October 10, 2007

I've been trying to figure out an effective strategy for dealing with the absolutely astounding out-pouring of venom from the likes of O'Reilly, Limbaugh, Coulter, Malkin, etal..

I'm a firm believer in the concept that every challenge that arises in my life is a puzzle for me to figure out, and I choose pronoia to the best of my ability, opting for "the suspicion that the universe is a conspiracy on my behalf".

Honestly, however, the recent bilious overflow from my not-favorite pundits involving: severely injured children from working-class families being portrayed as deadbeats, children being blamed for their own torture, soldiers characterized as phonies because they had the temerity to exercise their freedom of speech, and Jewish people portrayed as needing to "be perfected" -- and the resultant cluster-fuck of hateful commentary (which has scorched my retinal ganglia right back to the visual cortex because I was stupid enough to actually visit some of the gall-bladderesque websites from whence this bile emerged) -- is challenging my pronoic capacity to its limit right now.

What to do, what to do?

How do I solve this puzzle?

I want to retain my integrity and ethics no matter what faces me. How then, do I deal with someone who seems to have absolutely no concern for ethics or integrity? How do I have an honorable engagement with someone who has no honor? How do I "work with them", if they are willing to pull out the vilest bilge, lie, cheat, steal, edit tape, and redact testimony? How do I have a discussion with someone who is completely dedicated to "being right" rather than having a discussion?

Today, Michelle Malkin (I will not link to her blog, I will not, will not, will not, will not, will not link to her blog) wrote about . . . . " the continuing campaign to silence the right".

Apparently, Malkin wants us to feel sorry for us.

Funny thing is -- I actually do feel sorry for her. And O'Reilly. And Limbaugh. And Coulter. Et Al.

I feel sorry for them because I know that, as I listen to their broadcasts and read their writing (and the commentary that follows these communications), I can feel a distinct toxicity that pervades my body, mind, and consciousness, and I believe that they probably feel this too (probably more keenly, as the authors of such a toxic flow) -- whether they are conscious of it or not.

To my mind, this denied toxicity would account for all the loofahs, pain-killers, anorexia, venom, lack of logic, hypocrisy, double-standards, and the continuous, insane, performance-art renditions of "do as I say, not as I do".

But even knowing that doesn't really answer my question -- how do I solve the puzzle of "If I've welcomed this into my reality and I don't like it, what is the response that will change my reality?"

I really want to solve this puzzle.

I don't think that complete avoidance is the answer, because, truthfully, I haven't actually found the strength of will in myself to completely avoid it.

Thankfully, I think I've discovered a hint in the many, many posts and comments that I've read recently that begin with, or include these words: "I think I just threw up in my mouth a little".

Yes, I think that Soul-Puke is the answer.

If I ingested something toxic into my digestive tract, my good old discerning stomach would bring it back up my alimentary canal and save my life and health in the process.

So, from now on, when I read, hear, or hear of any of this toxic, inane crap, I'm going to take a big dose of Ipecac Soup for the Soul and just have a spew. I'm not going to try to restrain it. I'm not going to hold back. I'm going to say things like: "This is completely unethical and lacks integrity and it's un-Constitutional and hypocritical and if you say you're a "Christian" and do shit like this you are going to burn in a hell of your own karmic invention and furthermore - - I WILL NOT STOMACH IT!

There. I feel better now.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 8:50 PM 2 comments  

Labels: Bad Behavior (Mine), Mainstream Media

Stat-Heads and Integrity
Wednesday, June 27, 2007

The internet is strewn with information. It's my delight, and my dread.

Recently, when perusing one of Kate Harding's fabulous posts on Shakespeare's Sister, there was what I affectionately refer to as a "Stat Fling".

I'm a Stat-Head. I admit it. I can calculate a mean, median, mode, and range with the best of them. I worked for the guberment -- for ten years (don't get me started).

Basically, a commenter was citing some studies in order to reinforce their point.

So, being the dutiful commenter that I am (and it being my day off and all), I followed the link to the cited study and actually scrolled down to the research abstracts at the bottom of the article, and went from the abstracts to the full text of the study and determined who funded the study, and researched the funding entity, and, and, and . . . . (you can read it in the comments to that post).

The long and short of it is this: Statistics mean exactly SHITE.

I know this, because I used to generate a quarterly report so that the Reagan-Era Congress would not cut a wonderful program that helped low-income elderly people. I never lied. I never falsified anything, but you can be damn sure that I highlighted, in my abstract, the statistics that backed my point of view, knowing that the abstract was all that most decision-makers would ever see.

The grace and grotesquery of the information age is this:

I have, at my literal fingertips, a world of information--

And I can pervert that information it however I want, if I want to.

So it is, that my electronic experience has challenged my own integrity in ways that I never imagined.

The other day, I actually typed (yes, I did, I admit it) an insult about the size of some person's (I would say "guy", but that was an assumption, I now realize) pee-pee. As if I would care what size his/her pee-pee was -- even if I was his/her lover. As if that is in any way an adult or thoughtful or emotionally mature manner in which to communicate (and I do generally consider myself adult, and usually, thoughtful and emotionally mature-- although I did warn you about Teh Temper).

It's worse than that, though -- I wrote the insult in a way that was very oblique -- stated in such a way that , if the commenter had confronted me, I could have said "Well, I didn't actually say that you had a small pee-pee -- if you inferred it, then what does that say about you." How Ann Coulter of me.

It's been haunting me a bit. That is NOT who I want to be. It's just so tempting when I'm feeling pissed off and over it and all righteously wrathful and shit.

And there is the little, nasty voice inside me that says: "It's one comment in millions -- no one will notice."

I notice, though.

Those of you who read my entry from yesterday may note that I commented about "an unexpected turn of events" at home. It wasn't anything huge -- but it touches on what I'm speaking to today.

I'm fairly smart. I have a big vocabulary, and a memory that has a peculiar facility for assimilation of facts and figures. I was on the debate team. I can remember shit, and if we're in an argument, I can whup you up one side and down another with these combined skills/propensities.

I didn't actually have an argument last night. I just talked with a friend about an argument that I had in the past, and her perspectives on this argument. She pointed out to me (in her own rather oblique way) while my particular skill-set might enable me to "win" the argument, it might actually prevent me from connecting with the human at the opposite podium.

I hate that, but I think she's at least partially right.

The whole point of this post is that I want to lay down my "statistics stick" -- partially because it's a lame weapon anyway -- if my own logic and knowing can't support my position, why would I go running to some study that backs my opinion? Because the fact is, at this point, I can pretty much find a study that will support or oppose any particular opinion I want it to.

Sure, if someone parries and thrusts at me (or my friends) with a statistic that's lame, I will probably be tempted to "fight fire with fire". I may even give into that temptation. I adore research, and the internets, and a good argument. (No to mention the excuse to break out Teh Temper once in a while.)

Yet somehow, in my digital guts, I sense that it takes me away from the intention with which I float out to the great electronic ocean each day -- to connect with other beings, and through this, to connect with myself.

In parting I will just say this: I fucking love my computer.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 6:54 PM 5 comments  

Labels: Bad Behavior (Mine), Bad Behavior (Others), Connection, Poo in the Kiddie Pool, Shakesville, Smart People, Statistics, Teh Internet