this week, applying for a place to live and waiting — find am experiencing levels of anxiety i haven’t felt in a long while. strange thing is that my digestive system has decided to work correctly, causing me to wonder if anxiety is a key ingredient for functioning innards. have to wonder.
a bigger fear, is how time marches on and the perspective then on labels dispensed by the medical community. because while those who lived through 2 world wars and saw the rise and further rise of mercantile-flim-flam are educated sufficiently to understand the nature of those capitalistic draws — those of younger generations cling to explanations that are simply words to categorize enemies. but they don’t “see” that as finding enemies, because have never experienced the extreme of that process. they see it as a way of making themselves ‘right’ while making others neutral, or nothing.
so the generations that understand the malarkey involved with the whole process are dying or dead, while those up and coming generations have adopted the names such as bi-polar for a way to distribute insult. as a name to taunt someone, with the inference that bi-polar is this awful thing to be. and in clinging to those insults, a natural reinforcement arises for its validity.
which is extremely tiring. too many are completely unaware that such labeling is nothing more than the tagging of an animal, with a designated hunting season established for this or that particular quarry. and with the gullibility of the ill-educated masses and what becomes thoroughly demonstrated by our youth — i have no assurance that things will graduate to better ends.
they swallow it all hook, line, and sinker — because it’s convenient.
such is life, as my grandmother would say. often i wonder if it would be easier to have a metal tag in my ear or a chip so they can tag and hunt you. or easier to have a star sewn on your clothing. truly — not to minimalize the trials of those times. but to say very loudly, that the focus and the discriminations have only shifted — to ranges designed as acceptable within the scope of the intellectually challenged.
not a big thing. but i do like to voice my outrage and subsequent disappointment with my fellow man. such is life.
this week i got to talk to a friend for hours on the phone, and he probably doesn’t know how much that means to me. see, i used to talk to my grandmother like that, for hours and hours. not about anything in particular, more of a commiseration of souls that understand there is much more under the surface. more to life and our decisions to marshal some strength and god forbid, some tolerance not only for others, but for situations.
so i thank him, because there is no way to bring that woman back, even in writings. i have tried penning letters, or pretending to talk to a ghost. but in this particular case, none of that even comes close. not without an “answer back.” and i can’t in my mind, pose as the person on the other end of that communication. i don’t know why, but there is no way to pretend that. no path of fooling the mind that you can make up for 2 with one very creative 1.
so I’m stressed, hoping i am accepted to live in these one set of buildings. knowing how my credit report reads, half the addresses they list places i never lived. many of the debts reported, ones i never incurred. ID stolen years ago, and has floated around and multiplied the number of “Eileen Brinkers” out there. on google, even a listing of an Eileen Brinker as a voter registered in florida with my birthday. (the closest I’ve been to florida was my son went to boot camp there.) one of the worst problems was a tax lien i had to straighten up years ago, someone using my ID to register a business.
there are only 4 debts that i know are mine, the rest go into a gray area of “heck if i know.” i know the number reported is incorrect, but since the price never stays the same, go up and up. and since owners change as debts are sold and resold, it’s very difficult to make out. to complicate things, at one point during a hospitalization, my aunt just went and paid on everything being sent in my name, not realizing and therefore validating many incorrect listings. it’s a mess.
so mostly i don’t bother a wit. and am only reminded at times like these, when waiting to hear about an application to rent an apartment — that too many things revolve on this perceived gathering of tags, the credit report. a number you are stamped with, that i have known many to brag about. yet another label that is supposed to somehow determine the nature of a person, because getting to know them instead is too logical.
no time. busy and busy. but busy doing what? our lives are relieved of the time to beat laundry on a rock, or cook food over a fire. heck, more “extra” time than ever before. and yet there is no time. so when i find a person willing to talk to me for hours in the manner i had in the past with my grandmother, the whole thing hits home. i remember grandma roma saying how she was afraid to call my sister, that she might be too busy. now i have a better idea of what she meant, everybody is too busy.
everybody request and want labels, rather than understanding that you can’t put a person in a box, stamped “same as the next.” it doesn’t work that way. believe it or not, everyone is different. and the one thing that is true, is that you cannot exist moving through time without growing and learning. changing for the fact that every moment is different. each person a pattern and work of the progress of their life.
there is certainly a problem when to consider how others perceive oneself, must take into consideration how many labels need to be pushed aside just so they can get a better view. fact is, some of us look better OFF the paper. out of the collective box. and most everybody can hold their own, when personality is allowed to shine beyond all those labels.