Certain things have happened to me at the political level, in Vermont, which have left me confounded, confused, dismayed and distraught.
I seem to be the kind of person who refuses to just turn a blind eye to injustice. Because of something that happened years ago, I had thought I had made my peace with the fact, that the price for yelling: "Hey, The Emperor has no clothes on!", means that I was blacklisted statewide, and the only way I could make a living in this state, would be to work for myself. Unfortunately, because I refuse to put up with bullshit, even that has it's limitations. Even when people like my work, they won't buy it. Who knows why? If I were even a tad more paranoid, I'd say that it's because they are worried about appearances.
When I can maintain any kind of objectivity, I usually scoff it up to the fact that my creative work straddles too many lines and since it can't be categorized, then it is dismissed. I am not famous enough for my work to be heralded (by the sycophants of the world), and my furniture pieces are not technically good enough to be considered accomplished, and because all of it, together, defeats categorization, it is admired and then, dismissed.
I've tried hard not to take this personally, but it's been really, really, really, difficult. I know, from knowing myself very well, that part of me does want recognition, but more then that, I just want my work (and the time and effort I put into it) to count for something. Even if it only counts to my family and friends.
But even that, seems too much to ask. So now, now I am at a crossroad. I know (from an objective standpoint) that the cost of being one of "those" people, with "A Beautiful Mind", is rejection, ridicule and even dismissal, but the reality of living with this dynamic, I am finding impossible to bear. Just impossible.
It doesn't help that the very people who I thought I could count on (family and friends) are also among the simpletons who want the association of being with "The Beautiful Mind" part of me, but can't stomach, never mind accept, that there is a cost associated with all that I have born, which has found a channel of expression, in the creative part of me.
Isaac Newton even said it. Energy MUST go SOMEWHERE as it can't be increased nor decreased, just diverted.
That is true of most creative genius's, they are rarely understood or applauded, until they achieve notoriety, or death. And then, all of a sudden, they are everybody's darling. All of the barely there followers, now want to wash their boots, and carry their coats. Gah.
Truthfully, this kind of adulation is quite sickening to me, and is not something I would ever want. I would really become a recluse, if I DID ever get famous, out of sheer self-preservation from the sycophants of the world.
However, having said this, what I would want, is the understanding from family and friends, that the creative genius side of having the aforementioned "Beautiful Mind", has a COST associated with it. I have born that cost, for the most part, bravely and adeptly, with humor and resilience, to the point where I have found, that my lovers quarrel with the world of humans, must, by necessity, exert itself occasionally, with the refrain that the emperor has no clothes.
As far as I can tell; SOMEONE has to say it. And since I have nothing to lose by doing so, (as Janis Joplin said: Freedom is another word, for nothing left to lose), then I must do. Especially when it involves injustice of monumental proportions.
I do it. Even if it means I am shunned and rejected, by the entire world, but even if it means also, that my family and friends refuse to accept it. As far as I can tell, there are just too many sheep (in the form of humans) out there, already. I never wanted to be one of them. So, I am not. I've already paid the price, tenfold.
Because I am a very fair-minded person, I don't think that others (who have to work here in the state), should have to bear the cost, as well. I know that people almost have to be schizophrenic to deal with the political manifestations of working in this long (but small) state. I do know that. Freedom for me means that I don't have to play this sickening sycophant game, anymore. So, I don't.
I thought I had made it clear that I was willing to spare those I cared about, from the mayhem that ensues, when one person does not wish to bite their tongue, when things go badly awry. I guess, that too, went mis-understood. For that, I am sorry.
The objective part of me feels truly sorry for the people who have to live with someone that has "A Beautiful Mind". Another part of me wishes they'd just buck up and realize that everything that makes us up as humans, has costs associated with it. Most of my research into other people through the ages, who were creative genius's, has shown that there was a downside to their personality. Most of the time, a pretty big downside.
Collectively, the thing that doesn't show up in their stories, is whether or not the people who cared about them, could accept this about them, and love them for it, anyway; understanding that it was just part of their psychological make-up. Sure, in hindsight, they seem to, when the stories get told, as epitaphs. But, in reality, I suspect that these stories get told, just because the people involved, COULDN'T understand them, during their lives, so they had to alleviate their guilt (and work through their own despair at their failure) by creating a story in which their loved ones creative genius was heralded, post-mortem.
Fat lot of good it does them, then, hey?
Well, I am also reminded of the people who knew this about themselves (there aren't that many, neither in stories, nor in historical accounts), and chose to remove themselves from further engagements with people they care about, in order to spare them both, further struggle. Because there's truly no denying that living with creative genius/'s, IS an incredible struggle. For them. For the people they love. For the people who love them. It's truly difficult.
Maybe the best humans CAN do, is applaud them post-mortemly? I suspect so. It is for this reason that I suspect people commit suicide. They know. It ends up being a giant "fuck you", really. I totally relate. "You can't love me while I am living, so maybe you'll realize how badly you fucked up, when I am dead, and you miss being massaged, spiritually, by being in the presence of all that creative energy." Yea, I suspect that's pretty much the purpose of suicide. God knows I've thought about it, so many times. But, I won't do it. I won't waste the life the Goddess gave me, by even playing the game in this respect.
I've vowed to myself, that I won't stoop to that meanness that lies latent in the spirit of humanity, which only allows for love retrospectively. It's tawdry, and small, and so incredibly base; this inability to love and cherish the people who come into our lives. To see the gift, and want to be surrounded by it's power of life, all the while knowing that one doesn't have the courage to find it for oneself. Inviting it in because one doesn't have the courage to create it, for oneself, and then dismissing it, when it fails to satisfy, because it is shown to have marks of some sort or other. Such is the baseness and smallness of human nature. So incredibly flawed, this inability to love and cherish the gifts we are given.
It doesn't say much for the human race, does it?
Well, what I can do, and will do, is just remove myself from the mix. Just like an "Etch-a-Sketch". Shake it and it's gone. Or like the "Never-ending Story".........."why, it's like the nothing never was"...........
So. Be. It. Miss me when I am gone. Fat lot of good that'll do ya'.
As I am reading this, it comes to mind that maybe that's the point, actually. Negative based humans need negative based everyday trauma, to feed on and stay alive.
This is likely how it'll play out: "That Mona, she was a genius, and she had the best, most fun, energy, ever, but she wasn't worth living with, on account of, you know, she was nuts and it made us afraid, so finally she left. Oh, poor us."
Yea, that about sums it up, don't it?
I seem to be the kind of person who refuses to just turn a blind eye to injustice. Because of something that happened years ago, I had thought I had made my peace with the fact, that the price for yelling: "Hey, The Emperor has no clothes on!", means that I was blacklisted statewide, and the only way I could make a living in this state, would be to work for myself. Unfortunately, because I refuse to put up with bullshit, even that has it's limitations. Even when people like my work, they won't buy it. Who knows why? If I were even a tad more paranoid, I'd say that it's because they are worried about appearances.
When I can maintain any kind of objectivity, I usually scoff it up to the fact that my creative work straddles too many lines and since it can't be categorized, then it is dismissed. I am not famous enough for my work to be heralded (by the sycophants of the world), and my furniture pieces are not technically good enough to be considered accomplished, and because all of it, together, defeats categorization, it is admired and then, dismissed.
I've tried hard not to take this personally, but it's been really, really, really, difficult. I know, from knowing myself very well, that part of me does want recognition, but more then that, I just want my work (and the time and effort I put into it) to count for something. Even if it only counts to my family and friends.
But even that, seems too much to ask. So now, now I am at a crossroad. I know (from an objective standpoint) that the cost of being one of "those" people, with "A Beautiful Mind", is rejection, ridicule and even dismissal, but the reality of living with this dynamic, I am finding impossible to bear. Just impossible.
It doesn't help that the very people who I thought I could count on (family and friends) are also among the simpletons who want the association of being with "The Beautiful Mind" part of me, but can't stomach, never mind accept, that there is a cost associated with all that I have born, which has found a channel of expression, in the creative part of me.
Isaac Newton even said it. Energy MUST go SOMEWHERE as it can't be increased nor decreased, just diverted.
That is true of most creative genius's, they are rarely understood or applauded, until they achieve notoriety, or death. And then, all of a sudden, they are everybody's darling. All of the barely there followers, now want to wash their boots, and carry their coats. Gah.
Truthfully, this kind of adulation is quite sickening to me, and is not something I would ever want. I would really become a recluse, if I DID ever get famous, out of sheer self-preservation from the sycophants of the world.
However, having said this, what I would want, is the understanding from family and friends, that the creative genius side of having the aforementioned "Beautiful Mind", has a COST associated with it. I have born that cost, for the most part, bravely and adeptly, with humor and resilience, to the point where I have found, that my lovers quarrel with the world of humans, must, by necessity, exert itself occasionally, with the refrain that the emperor has no clothes.
As far as I can tell; SOMEONE has to say it. And since I have nothing to lose by doing so, (as Janis Joplin said: Freedom is another word, for nothing left to lose), then I must do. Especially when it involves injustice of monumental proportions.
I do it. Even if it means I am shunned and rejected, by the entire world, but even if it means also, that my family and friends refuse to accept it. As far as I can tell, there are just too many sheep (in the form of humans) out there, already. I never wanted to be one of them. So, I am not. I've already paid the price, tenfold.
Because I am a very fair-minded person, I don't think that others (who have to work here in the state), should have to bear the cost, as well. I know that people almost have to be schizophrenic to deal with the political manifestations of working in this long (but small) state. I do know that. Freedom for me means that I don't have to play this sickening sycophant game, anymore. So, I don't.
I thought I had made it clear that I was willing to spare those I cared about, from the mayhem that ensues, when one person does not wish to bite their tongue, when things go badly awry. I guess, that too, went mis-understood. For that, I am sorry.
The objective part of me feels truly sorry for the people who have to live with someone that has "A Beautiful Mind". Another part of me wishes they'd just buck up and realize that everything that makes us up as humans, has costs associated with it. Most of my research into other people through the ages, who were creative genius's, has shown that there was a downside to their personality. Most of the time, a pretty big downside.
Collectively, the thing that doesn't show up in their stories, is whether or not the people who cared about them, could accept this about them, and love them for it, anyway; understanding that it was just part of their psychological make-up. Sure, in hindsight, they seem to, when the stories get told, as epitaphs. But, in reality, I suspect that these stories get told, just because the people involved, COULDN'T understand them, during their lives, so they had to alleviate their guilt (and work through their own despair at their failure) by creating a story in which their loved ones creative genius was heralded, post-mortem.
Fat lot of good it does them, then, hey?
Well, I am also reminded of the people who knew this about themselves (there aren't that many, neither in stories, nor in historical accounts), and chose to remove themselves from further engagements with people they care about, in order to spare them both, further struggle. Because there's truly no denying that living with creative genius/'s, IS an incredible struggle. For them. For the people they love. For the people who love them. It's truly difficult.
Maybe the best humans CAN do, is applaud them post-mortemly? I suspect so. It is for this reason that I suspect people commit suicide. They know. It ends up being a giant "fuck you", really. I totally relate. "You can't love me while I am living, so maybe you'll realize how badly you fucked up, when I am dead, and you miss being massaged, spiritually, by being in the presence of all that creative energy." Yea, I suspect that's pretty much the purpose of suicide. God knows I've thought about it, so many times. But, I won't do it. I won't waste the life the Goddess gave me, by even playing the game in this respect.
I've vowed to myself, that I won't stoop to that meanness that lies latent in the spirit of humanity, which only allows for love retrospectively. It's tawdry, and small, and so incredibly base; this inability to love and cherish the people who come into our lives. To see the gift, and want to be surrounded by it's power of life, all the while knowing that one doesn't have the courage to find it for oneself. Inviting it in because one doesn't have the courage to create it, for oneself, and then dismissing it, when it fails to satisfy, because it is shown to have marks of some sort or other. Such is the baseness and smallness of human nature. So incredibly flawed, this inability to love and cherish the gifts we are given.
It doesn't say much for the human race, does it?
Well, what I can do, and will do, is just remove myself from the mix. Just like an "Etch-a-Sketch". Shake it and it's gone. Or like the "Never-ending Story".........."why, it's like the nothing never was"...........
So. Be. It. Miss me when I am gone. Fat lot of good that'll do ya'.
As I am reading this, it comes to mind that maybe that's the point, actually. Negative based humans need negative based everyday trauma, to feed on and stay alive.
This is likely how it'll play out: "That Mona, she was a genius, and she had the best, most fun, energy, ever, but she wasn't worth living with, on account of, you know, she was nuts and it made us afraid, so finally she left. Oh, poor us."
Yea, that about sums it up, don't it?
