enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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In which I circle and muddle myself and reveal why I actually am NOT disgusted by an English breakfast.

I've been thinking a great deal. Imagine that!

I was thinking this morning, for example, as I was brushing my teeth, how difficult it must be to end up having a child very different from oneself.

I often seem to be beating up on my mother, and although she deserves some of it to be sure, I started thinking about the degree to which she must have been UTTERLY mystified by the person she got in me.

My mother and I are so incredibly different. Fifi got me thinking about this, in mentioning the reading behaviour of her daughter. My mother likes to do things quickly. I like to do things slowly and indulgently. Such a grand mismatch right there!

My mother also loves to criticize other people. She's not horrible about it - she's rather more like the neighbourhood busybody. But I've always been a hyper-empathizer - I feel for people and try to understand what must be going on inside of them and from where they came, to have motivated them to act as they did. Neither one is actually inherently much better than the other - either for the recipient or the doer. I mean that, sincerely. My insides are probably riddled with ulcerous lesions as a result of "feeling the pain." And sometimes people really ARE stupid and deserve to be criticized, even publicly.

At the opera the other night I was thinking to myself that the women behind me were incredibly d�class�. Not very nice of me. They were passing comments on various people in the audience and loudly, even the poor lady who got lost on her way in from the country and so came in after the first Act. Frankly, I should have turned around and told the snotty ladies that they were behaving in a manner that is incredibly d�class�. But then I'm too polite for that. Interestingly, though, I was not thinking, as I am usually wont to do, "They're just insecure and to be pitied. Their husbands are probably cheating on them and their faces and boobs have already fallen to their knees and these facts are causing them despair."

You see, it is a no-win situation. One cannot in general be both empathetic and sensible. And yet how do you make the world a better place if you are only determined to see petty ills in it?

I'm truly meandering. I'm not even certain that the last bit made sense. But it is Easter weekend and the sun is streaming in and I have beautiful organic sweet potatoes in the oven (and am eating baked beans for breakfast, believe it or not), and so I do not feel like editorial corrections or analysis.

So I've decided that I may update here slightly less. Or at least I hope to write more interestingly and more clearly, and not about past ills. The past is forgot. I sit here finally completely exhausted and uninterested in expressing the effects of past ills. I will go forward.

More creative thought and more vigorously literate entries would also be a move in the right direction.

Maybe later. :) I escape yet again. My intellectual feebleness rears its ugly head. Actually, at the moment, I must sit down and truly think through whether or not I will pull myself definitively from the bike tour. I remain on the fence about it, but I owe the guy a reply. I indeed did speak with Amanda during our two hour run last night, and she does indeed want me to room with her. I really would prefer to go to Italy, but the bike trip would definitely serve the better purpose of introducing me to another part of the community here. It would of course, too, be a nice boost for my fitness. (Gee, not that it matters - I have no desire to compete at anything right now...Hmmm...???) If I go to Italy I shall be by myself with my sketchpad and, oh, I dunno...a bottle of chianti.

Have a lovely Good Friday, whatever your religious preferences and affiliations! Peace be with you.

11:05 a.m. - 2008-03-21

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