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Because I usually am in Vino ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** In 2009, I gave up my studies as a medievalist and musician, left my home, my family, my life and moved to Provence in southern France for a guy. In 2012, I moved away from him to study wine. Today, I'm a vagabond sommelier working in Paris at one of the oldest and most famous restaurants in the world, struggling to find some purpose to what I deem the rest of my life. I'm still married and after 8 10 years, I'm still trying to fit-in with French life and culture and to understand why the French are the way they are. Because they're weird in a different way that I think Americans are weird. Perhaps it's me who's weird. |
| An excerpt from a private journal entry I wrote earlier: I feel like Writing.com has become that relationship that played itself out long ago but the parties involved are too afraid to break up because it would mean venturing out into the real world on their own. The party involved here being me. I've been doing a lot of reflecting lately. About a lot of things. About me and my identity. About writing. About wine. About goals. You know, reflection. Perhaps I'm still part of W.com because I'm afraid to venture out into the real world of writing. Perhaps I use my job as an excuse not to write. Perhaps it is fear of my own mediocrity that holds me back from being the best (I can be). I have had a love/hate relationship with W.com for the past 6 years. Today's drama had made me think about if it's really worth sticking around. |
| Monday was my W.com account anniversary. 19 years. I always remember it because it's also my sister's birthday. I wanted to write something. I wanted to celebrate and write about my time here in my blog and take a trip down memory lane, but I didn't any of that. For two reasons: 1) I've done it before. 2) I was feeling bad about myself because I was injured, tired from lack of exercise, annoyed at the world and feeling down about myself. Monday was an all around pity party. Still 19 years. Off and on of course. There have been plenty of times I've abandoned this site and I've seen so many changes. But 19 years. I think that should give me some sort of seniority. I feel like strutting around and puffing out my chest. The pity party went on for all of the weekend. Saturday, Sunday, Monday and kind of Tuesday. I was depressed about not being able to go running. Depressed because... well because. So I decided to allow for the pity party and played video games all weekend. I'm slowly trying to wind things up again, but it's a slow process. Yesterday and today, I went for a short and very slow 6 kilometer run. My ankle still hurts but in a weird way where I'm not really sure what the injury is. I can run on it. I could probably push for a 10K if I really wanted to risk a serious injury. Yesterday it felt tender and my foot hurt but not the ankle and when the ankle started to hurt it was on the side not in the back where it had been hurting over the weekend. Today it kind of hurts in the back but not in the same way and the foot doesn't hurt. So I'm icing it after my run - which I'm currently doing now as I type this and hoping that if I just take things slow it will work itself out. I also changed up my Yoga routine to much gentler poses and stretches because I think that is what partly caused all of this. My upper back and shoulders and hips are always sore lately and I think that's because of the Yoga. I'm not used to stretching and standing up straight and my body is being forced to work muscles it hasn't worked in years. The 6 kilometers kind of bums me out, but the most important thing to me is that I run. Not how far. Also my knees are hurting but I wonder if that's because I don't have a yoga mat - so I ordered one because I'm tired of being in pain all the time. My reed materials arrived yesterday so I've spent a little bit of time making reeds. I'd forgotten how long it takes. It's frustrating because I just want to play. I don't want to have to spend 3 hours a day making reeds. While I was sitting there scraping away this afternoon, I wondered if I can't get someone in the States to send me a bunch of handmade reeds because I don't really want to deal with this crap. If I was still playing seriously, I'd be more into making my own, but to just play for fun, it doesn't feel worth it. I can't order ready-made reeds from anyone here in France because they use different techniques that makes the instrument wholly unplayable for my American face. Leave it to me to become spiritually attached to the biggest pain in the ass of an instrument. I couldn't have fallen in love with the flute or the piano like a normal person. I'm going to Paris next Thursday for the weekend. I'm not supposed to because we still have the 100km travel ban but I need my summer clothes (it's fucking hot here) and I need to get my shoe inserts from the podiatrist that I was supposed to get in March. All precautions will be taken. If I'm lucky, they'll life the travel ban tomorrow in the monthly virus state of the country address. I've seen a lot of memes out there about how 2020 is the weirdest year ever, and I'm starting to agree with that. |
| Two things. I've injured my ankle. I don't know how. I don't know what. But it hurts. Now, I can't run or do any physical activity at all really. I have to stay off it as much as possible. If it doesn't get better by Monday I'll go to the doctor but I'm praying it's nothing serious. I really need to run. My morning and consequently my day was ruined by an old biddy at the market who blew her gasket when the produce vendor went to serve me before her. Such an insignificant thing to throw a tantrum about - and this was almost a full on tantrum for someone who was 70 years old. I don't want to hear any crap about her being high risk, the virus, respect your elders. Blah blah. If she is/was high risk, she shouldn't be out. The grocery stores deliver. If she wants respect she has to earn it, just like the rest of us and learn to ask nicely and not throw a tantrum. And she didn't say anything about the virus or being high risk anyway, she just wanted to go first because she wanted to be first. Then an old fart behind me actually took her side and started saying that I had cut in front of him too (which I hadn't) and wasn't I just a bitch? It didn't turn into a row, but it was just enough of a shit show to disturb me enough to ruin my day. All that for 4 tomatoes and a bunch of asparagus. I know that seems weird, but I get very disturbed when people blow their gasket for such trivial things. It happens at work all the time. Lemon not sliced how you want it? Throw a tantrum. Wine served 1 degree too cold? (which is actually a good thing, but whatever) Throw a tantrum. The plates aren't the same as the last time you came here - not the meal the actual plates? Throw a tantrum. Someone touched your clothes at the laundromat? Throw a tantrum. It takes me back to the first time I was teased as a kindergartener, which I actually remember vividly to this day. That someone would lie about something and then tease me about it was so enormously shocking to me I think it's still traumatized me. I remember thinking even at 5 years old "Why would you behave this way?" And I still think that. Why do people behave this way? I'm not an angel. I lose my shit all the time. And maybe I'm remembering it wrong but I can't remember one time where I've lost my shit at someone and it wasn't warranted. Usually I lose my shit at myself, or at the situation, but never at someone for something so trivial. At least I think. Prove me wrong. Maybe I'm making it up but I can't think of any time it's happened. Sometimes I lose my shit at Team Sommellerie at work when they do stupid crap that I then need to fix and yeah, it's kind of trivial stuff but I know the consequences are going to cause a drama and a scene so I think me losing my shit there is warranted. And there are plenty of times I don't lose my shit and could. Julien loses his shit for stupid crap all the time. All the time. The man needs to smoke more pot or have more sex or I don't know what but he needs to get it under control. And even then I kind of understand why he loses his shit. Our jobs are so stupidly stressful. Anyway. Between this biddy blowing a gasket and my ankle I'm feeling pretty down and haven't accomplished much today. I should write or study as per usual. Or at least play a game to take my mind off of it, but instead I've been pouting at my desk for the last 3 hours. All this for 4 tomatoes and some asparagus. You better believe I'm going to make one hell of a salad later. |
I have posted the first two sections of my story "Invalid Item"  and I'm almost done with Part 1. I wanted to finish it today but I'm getting annoyed by how long it's taking. Why does writing take so long? Did it always take this long or am I really that out of practice? Or have I become so long winded and convoluted that I can't write a concise story and instead just ramble on? Anyway, what I thought would be a 10,000 word short story is looking like it will be at least 20,000 words with Part 1 being the first 10,000 that I'm about to wrap up. I hope that I can actually finish this one and not end up dropping it halfway through like the last two stories I've written these past two months because I won't be happy. As I write, I hear the whisperings of doubt dripping constantly in my ears. "Why are you doing this?" "You don't even know where you're going with this story." "You're just going to fail and abandon this one like you've abandoned all the others." "This is the dumbest thing you've ever written. You're just ripping off - insert list of various authors here - and doing a bad job of it.' Yeah well, fuck that. Even if this has no point and never gets read at least I've done something with my furlough from work. Yesterday, I did nothing. Literally nothing. I sat around and played a game on my phone and listened to true crime podcasts. The goal was to work- write, study, play oboe. I even got dressed and looked good for the occasion. But I ended up back in my pjs, laying on the couch and doing nothing by 1pm. I'm trying to be better about concentrating on my work, but without any actual goals that need to be met in the long term it's difficult. The fact is that I don't really have any goals in my life period. Don't most people have goals - like buying a house, or a car, or having kids, raising kids, earning a promotion, painting the house, traveling to Cancun, learning Spanish? I don't mean they have to be super ambitious goals like discovering the cure for cancer or taking over Russia, but I suspect most people have some sort of goal in life that they work towards. My husband's for example is buying a house and having enough money to live comfortably and not be bothered by anyone. He works to arrange his life so that his life is as people-free and as stress-free as possible. He just doesn't want to have to deal. That might sound well - lonely and irresponsible to some people - like he's shirking any responsibility to be an active member of society, which he is, but that's his goal because he doesn't trust or like people and that's fine. I don't even have that. I tried once to come up with some long term - bucket list - kind of goals but they ended up feeling far fetched and impossible. I suppose they aren't impossible, but given that I don't like my life as it is, it feels like learning Russian and visiting Gobekli Tepe are weird goals to have right now. Anyway today I wrote, did yoga. I'm going to run when the sun stops burning the street. And I'll play oboe. My reed stuff still hasn't arrived, which is weird. No word from the company where I ordered it either. M said he's stop by my apartment in Paris this afternoon. He's probably on his way now. I'm terrified of what he's going to find. But at least I'll know if I have to go up to Paris immediately to deal with a disaster or if the disaster can wait until travel restrictions are hopefully lifted in 10 days. |
| I don't give trigger warnings. I don't really believe in them. If I had a trigger warning placed at every little thing that might set me off, I'd literally never leave my bed. That being said, if you have body issues and don't want to read about someone else's, go away. Today the mailman came three times. Three. The first was to deliver my Lookiero clothes box. It's the European version of Stitch Fix or whatever. They send 5 items of clothing in a box one a month or once every two months and you send back what you don't want. I had cancelled my bi-monthly subscription a while ago when I'd decided my wardrobe was pretty complete and was living in Paris anyway where I could actually shop (as opposed to Arles where there are three stores and I hate them all.) But because I'm bored out of my mind I decided to order a random box, just to see what they'd throw in it this time. I'm not a huge fan of fast fashion either - which this company seems to promote by the landfill full, but eh I feel like seeing what's up. Oddly enough they sent nothing for summer, which as I've already explained, is what I really need. Insert eye-roll here. But I like everything they've sent and I might keep it all. The second delivery was a lettre recommandé which is a letter you have to sign for in France. It was face masks that my friend M, in Paris sent me because I couldn't find any here and apparently where he lives in Paris (a rather rich area) they're just giving them away. So he got me two cloth masks - made in France! - and sent them. This is supposed to be incentive for me to hop on the next train and go visit him, but I can't do that yet. I could say more about Mr. M and our friendship, but I won't. Not today anyway. The third delivery was the actual mail. Which included a letter from work about something I already knew about. Thanks to Julien who tells me everything, even when I don't want to know. Usually because it annoys him and he needs to vent and 90% of my job as his assistant is listening to him vent because he has no one else to talk to. And more face masks of the low-quality variety that I'd also ordered on Amazon. We can use them as a back-up I guess. My husband asked me if all my deliveries were done now, but unfortunately for him, I have reed-materials coming Friday. Supposedly. So three times in two hours. I had to sign for two of them. Why they couldn't just come all at once, I'll never know. Someone obviously didn't bother to sort his mail before he set out this morning. He must have been seriously annoyed to pass by our house 3 times. Or maybe not. What do I know? Anyway, I was worried about this clothes box. Over the past two and a half years I've noticed a serious change in my body that I'm not a fan of. I've gained weight. My hips are wide enough to fit a watermelon through despite never having been pregnant and my thighs are tree-trunks. My stomach when flexed, has clear abdominal muscles but most of the time looks like a bloated blob of too much cookie dough. This is infuriating to me. I am very vain and care a lot about my appearance. I used to be fat and when I lost the weight, and kept it off like I have for the past 11 or so years, I was very proud of myself. But now I just look really unbalanced. I don't mind curves. I don't mind hips and a butt, but jesus. My hips and thighs are way out of proportion with the top half of my body. The top half is thin, petit, can barely fill out an XS and the bottom is round and flabby despite running a 10K almost everyday. I don't snack, I work out, I don't over eat anymore. So what the hell? I know that I'm getting older and things change but the way my body looks makes me really unhappy. I'm not fat. I know that. My weight is still well within the limits of thin. I never changed the sizes for my box (XS on top and Small for the bottom), and I fit into everything fine. Almost. The pants are tight around the thighs but everything I own is tight around the thighs. It all still fits though. So I haven't gone up a size. Yet- I tell myself. But the way I look just looks disproportionate and flabby and I hate it. And am I just going to continue to get wider? Am I going to wake up one day and have to buy all new clothes because I can't fit into my pants anymore? It also makes it really hard to find clothes that look good on me. Anyone who has a curvy figure with a really tiny waist will know that finding clothes that don't accentuate the hips and thighs into gross proportions is difficult. I feel like it's gotten worse over the years. Everytime I look at myself in the mirror I cringe. I'm angry and depressed over it. On top of that, I am a hairy lady. If I don't trim with tiny scissors everyday, I could grow a goatee within five days. Sometimes at work- if it's been a really long day and I haven't had time to look in the mirror and make proper adjustments I can go home with a 5 o'clock shadow. But wait- it gets better. The sun and smoking have stained the skin on my upper lip to look like a moustache. It's not hair - which I could bleach - it's the skin. I look like I have a moustache. A moustache and a beard. Give me a week, a suit and a tie and I could easily pass as a man. And who wants that? Makeup barely covers the moustache. I could get heavier makeup, but I'm loyal to my brand and I don't want to be one of those people who coats it on. I have always preferred a more natural look. So at the moment, I feel like a sideshow freak. Out of proportion with myself, fat, and mannish and it's bringing me down after years of working to keep the weight off and becoming comfortable with how I look. That's been the sole advantage of being required to wear a face mask out of the house. No one can see the moustache and beard. Eventually I'm just going to wrap myself in burlap and put a paper bag over my head. I know I shouldn't care. I know I should own the curves. I know I'm not fat. Butts are in. But I can't. I just feel like every aspect of my life just isn't where it should be. Internally and now externally. |
| Lots happened today: New glasses! I can't believe I went over two months without them. I was such an idiot for leaving my only pair on the train. My script for the lenses isn't that strong, the correction is rather slight, and I can get by totally fine but what a difference it makes to be able to see properly again. It feels like a constant pressure on my eyes has been lifted and my eyes can open wide. Plus the frames are super cute. I really hated my other glasses. They were always smudged, the script felt slightly off, and they didn't look good on me. These are much better suited. New hair cut! Like many of us finally released from lockdown I went to have my hair cut. Can you believe at 38, I don't have a grey hair on my head? But because I never have time when I'm working and most hair salons are closed when I'm on weekend I hadn't cut my hair since last July. So I needed a cut long before lockdown. My hair ... god my hair. I don't know what's happened to it over the past 2 1/2 years. Even though it hasn't gone grey, it's become this frizzy, stringy, limp struggling mess. Combined with the fact that I hadn't cut it in over 8 months and I think I shocked the entire salon when I walked in. Plus curly hair tends to shock people anyway. My stylist asked what I wanted to do, like they do, and I told her just to cut it until she got rid of the damage. She had to cut about an inch and a half. Maybe more. So it's a bit shorter than what I was hoping for because I liked the length, but no shorter than what I've had in the past. She also suggested a product for me to buy as a leave in treatment, which I took because what's one more hair product to my collection? Between my hair, face, and body products I take up all the considerable space around the bathroom sink. She was also nice enough to give me a rather large sample of the shampoo they used on my hair and said it should help calm the disaster. Curly hair is no fun folks. It looks awesome when it's in good condition, but keeping it in good condition is a nightmare. New face masks! The medical kind, not the beauty product kind. I ordered face masks on Amazon three weeks ago and they arrived today. It was very exciting. The landlord came to look at the apartment. As we are moving he wanted to come by and take photos of the place because he's going to do work on the apartment when we leave. Poor guy. I came barreling in at 16h rambling to my husband in English with no idea he was in the next room. The cats followed him around like two sentinels, making sure he didn't disturb their kingdom. I went running and did yoga. And ran some other errands like buying juice and ice cream (necessary) and tampons as well as study supplies (pens, paper, white-out - all those things we word lovers love). I wrote just a little bit. Because the day was rather packed with out of the house things and getting the apartment ready so that the landlord could photograph it, I didn't have much time to work and I don't think I'm going to bother trying today. Going out and getting errands done is enough. It's hot and windy. Both things are annoying to me. The wind - well - in Arles the wind is not just wind. It's Wind. And my frizzy hair is not a fan. The heat I'd enjoy if I had any summer clothes down here. But as it is, I was walking around Arles in 80°F/27°C sunny weather in a sweater and jeans and Timberland boots. I'm hoping that the travel ban will be lifted in June so that I can go up to Paris to collect my clothes, otherwise I'll have to go shopping which I don't want to do when I have a bunch of summer clothes already. |
| Did you know that you can eat zucchini (better known as courgette in the rest of the world) raw? This was one of the first things I learned when I moved to France. Forget the language or any social skills. I learned about zucchini. My MIL was cutting up vegetable to have with a dip and I saw the zucchini sitting on the plate. I couldn't conceive of eating them raw so I asked her what they were and was so surprised when she told me they were zucchini and yes, it was totally possible to eat them without first cooking them. Until that moment, I had never eaten a zucchini raw. I'm making pizza with zucchini on top. That's why this story came to mind. So to recap what I did yesterday vs what I had planned. Run  Yoga Writing Sleep for three hours in the middle of the afternoon I did actually write though it was close to midnight. I started a story based on a prompt that I've continued this morning. I'm now 2000 words in. I'm not going to say more because yes, I'm feeling superstitious and don't want to talk about it. I also played oboe this morning. It didn't go so well. The muscles associated with oboe playing are quite angry with me. That includes the brain muscles required to pay attention to the music and coordinate finger/tongue/face movements. So I only played about 25 minutes total, but it's better than nothing. That's all I have today I suppose. My husband is starting to catch on to the fact that my constant fatigue and sleeping is unnatural. He asked me what I did yesterday and I said "You didn't notice that I was sleeping from lunch until 5:30pm?" He used to say it was because my job took a lot out of me and I used to agree with him - in part. But I haven't worked in two months and I try to stay active. So what's the excuse now? It's nice out today. I'm going to run later. A lot of people are sitting by the river quai in small clumps drinking and being social. Most aren't wearing masks. But I don't really mind. They are spaced far apart and the more people that are around the less chance I have of being harassed by the idiots that are by the river all the time because they don't want any witnesses. This is the south of France, so they are all kind of judgey but it's a small price to pay for a quiet run free of sexual harassment. That's one thing I miss about running in Paris. Just being one of the faceless running masses. |
| I played oboe today and yesterday. I had ordered some reeds and reed-making materials last week but they haven't arrived yet. I even kind of practiced, trying to go over some rough passages and smooth out the errors and bad intonation. There's not much I can do about the intonation though until I get better reeds but also build up my face muscles. Right now, I can kind of manipulate the reed into producing the right sound but only for a short amount of time. I don't have the stamina I once did. While working on my Short Shots story, I realised that I had reached a dead-end mid-way. There's nothing there. I don't want my characters do die and the evil spirit isn't going to change. I had a nice setting, even an interesting if somewhat cliché premise. But the story fell flat and I can't finish it. I've tucked it away for now. Maybe I'll be able to go back and start over - from the top - as it were and pull something out of it, but I can't do it now. So no Short Shots this month. I wrote a haiku about it instead. But writer's block is officially here. The rest of the afternoon was spent staring at my computer trying to write and getting nowhere. I fiddled around looking for prompts, for ideas, took a look at my novel outline - still haven't started the actual nove there. A few were inspiring and intriguing, but I couldn't write. I just stared at the prompts not knowing how to bring story to prompt. Eventually, I gave up and decided to study wine. That went just as badly. I had some notes laid out from my research a few days ago and was reading a few other articles and preparing to consolidate everything into my overview page on the Languedoc-Roussillon Region and couldn't even get that together. I put that aside and went to focus on just the AOC Languedoc. As I was reading the entry in Jancis Robinson's Oxford Dictionary, my mind just gave up. It wasn't working. I understood what I was reading. I was taking the information in, but it was like my brain just said "Who cares, I'm not listening to this bullshit." It seems I have a full Block not just writer's block The rest of the afternoon was spent reading Haruki Murakami's Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. At some point my brain told me "I'd like to play the fucking oboe." Just like that. And so I did. My brain swears a lot. Much more than I actually do. Today feels like it's going in much the same direction. My husband and I went to the market, with masks and hand sanitizer of course. We bought some things for the rest of the weekend. Walked around town for a few minutes. I played oboe. I told him I'd make bread today, but I don't really want to. Haven't been running yet. Last night, after spending some time reading and lamenting the writer's block or full block or whatever is going on with me, I bought a book full of writing prompts. I downloaded a sample to my Kindle first that showed lots of genuine realistic and interesting prompts and just figured I'd go with the whole book. It was 6 Euros - so what do I have to lose. The prompts all seem pretty good, though I haven't used one yet. They aren't silly like I often see like use these three items in your story: a fake moustache, a pineapple, and a rotten staircase. What kind of a story can I make into that that isn't just a throw away, absurdist, slapstick? Or "Two monks and a cactus walk into a saloon on an interstellar space station, what happens next?" That's not a prompt. But if you want crazy prompts- I think I've just discovered a new talent. Hell, maybe this is what I should be writing. Absurdism. I do think life is incredibly absurd. I was playing around with it a while back. Murakami's books are very absurd. I feel a kinship with him at times. Here's a man who runs marathons, loves baseball, a good whiskey or cocktail, classical music, and writing. Except for the baseball, that's basically me. He even likes true crime, which is my guilty pleasure. Just change baseball to playing oboe or studying wine. Maybe I could write absurdist haiku. Anyway. The plans for today: Lay down for a bit. Because let's face it: that's what I want to do right now. Yoga and run. Or at least one of the two Write and study. Or at least one of the two Make bread. I'll check in tomorrow to see how many of those things I've accomplished. Playing oboe was already an accomplishment. |
| Yesterday, Julien called to freak out about some work stuff. Even when the restaurant is closed, it seems there is something to freak out about. I won't go into details because it's all rather stupid and irresponsible on the part of the administration and as usual, they are trying to put it on me and Julien when we have emails that show we were just following orders like good little soldiers. Anyway, he gave me an update on the situation in Paris and the restaurant. While restaurants in the "green zones" might be able to open on June 2nd, they still aren't sure about the "red zones" which of course, Paris is one. We, according to the Prime Minister are all allowed to go on vacation within France in July and August. So maybe restaurants in Paris might be allowed to open in July. That's all great except in Paris, anyone in the city who is not working in tourism or hospitality leaves - the non-touristy parts of the city are EMPTY - and all of the restaurants like ours are full of tourists. Full. Of Tourists. We get a few French tourists of course. People who are passing through from one place to another and decided to make a stop over in Paris for a night or two, but the ratio of non-French to French is pretty wide for those two months. So even if our restaurant is open, and Parisians are not quarantined to the city, well the restaurant will be empty. It's still not sure if inter-European travel will be allowed. Long story short, the owner of the restaurant has said that if we can't fill the restaurant properly, he's not going to open until September. For a long time I've wanted to find a way to have complete freedom to "figure shit out" while not worry about money and it is quite possible that I am now going to have that opportunity for at least a few months. I'll still have 75-80% of my salary, which is enough for me to get by even if I won't save much and I won't have to work. Of course, for the past two months, I've been in the same situation but it's different when the entire country is confined to their homes and no one is really sure what's up anymore. It was like a weird purgatory. Knowing that there is a very good chance I won't be going back to work until September feels very different. The question now is what is the "shit I want to figure out?" What do I want to do? Write? Study wine? Find a new job? Learn woodworking? Study medieval philosophy? Play oboe? Three and a half months of freedom to reshape myself. I can do whatever I want. If I decide it's all bullshit, I can spend the next 3 months in bed. I feel like I should take suggestions. Open up a poll to those who know me. What would you do if you were me : 38, childless, with many useless degrees, and free from any serious money concerns? (And can't travel) It's a huge opportunity that has dropped into my lap and I'm afraid if I put to much pressure on myself to "figure shit out" I'll just cry and hide in my bed. At the same time, I feel the pressure, because I know that I should take advantage of this opportunity to accomplish/change/grow/learn. Especially considering how much I bitch that my job doesn't allow me to have time for the things I love. In three months with nothing else to do, I could probably get back into oboe-shape if I really kicked my own ass about it. |
| There was an article in the NY Times on May 5th. But I heard about this yesterday during the 13h news broadcast my husband was watching during lunch. Ireland sent aid to the Navajo tribes in return for their aid in the Potato Famine 170 years ago. Can we back up a bit? The Navajo did what now? I learned about the Potato Famine. I learned - albeit in a watered-down, light version - about how we were genocidal assholes to the Native Americans. But I had never heard about this. Why is that? Why are we not learning about how despite being beaten down, killed, chased out of their homes and off their land, and having everything taken away from them a group of people stood up and said "What is happening to that group of people we barely know anything about, thousands of miles away is awful. Let's help them." Why are we not learning about how the people we treated like shit, turned around and gave a helping hand to our relatives overseas? This is what we should be learning about. While the atrocities our ancestors committed should be studied and brought to the forefront so that we learn that racism, xenophobia, genocide are wrong and the fear of what is different is an unnecessary fear, we should also be learning about how compassion and empathy can still survive. We should be learning about how a group of people stood up for others. That it is possible to be strong even when you've lost everything. We don't learn about the sides of humanity that show the good. Not in the right way. Good actions aren't rewarded because we don't reward them. They aren't remembered the way they should be. I have more to say about this subject, but I don't know how to put it into words. Topics like this lead into other topics and I am out of practice writing opinion, non-fiction, what-have-you essays. But I had to get that off my chest. I'm angry I never learned about this in school. I'm angry that this isn't common knowledge in the US. I'm angrier about how we treated the Native Americans. I often liken it to how the Jews were treated in Europe and being Jewish, the Native American experience resonates strongly with me. That's it for now. For today. I don't know. I'm getting angry. |
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I think it's awesome that you're using that negative experience to get creative. It's hard not to just wallow when those things happen. I use a paper journal for most of my actual coping process too, but I do share bits and pieces on WDC as well.
Might try a short story a day instead. Stay safe. 
