silver-backed gorillas

so i was watching this video today, and at around 2:45 john began talking about something i had very nearly but not quite blogged about recently.
on my second last shift at work i wrote a blog about something i wanted to discuss, but i didn't publish it because it came off as an incredible combination of sappy, cocky, idolatristic and vain. i know, it is a truly magnificent blog that can accomplish all of these tones. the entry in question absolutely did. but this is not that entry, this is just a shaddow of the entry, touching on the theme of the silver-backed gorilla.

so in the video posted (and if you don't watch it, don't worry. i just posted it because it reminded me of this topic) john talks about how we seek approval and acceptance of the people who we respect - the "silver-backed gorillas of our personal jungles".

i think that is a pretty fair statement. i know that personally, i don't seek approval and acceptance from the general populace - i'm comfortable and even unusually pleased with my perceived niche on the outskirts of popular culture, style, thought and opinion. there are people who accept and love this about me. they are my friends. and they wouldn't be my friends if they didn't. i don't feel the need to seek out their respect or approval, because i expect it. within the confines of the friendship, there is the unspoken precedent of mutual respect.

but then there are some people who i respect unilaterally - my respect isn't based on the premise of friendship, but rather respect for a person's thoughts, actions and philosophical outlook.
i respect key historical figures like rosa parks, mother theresa, einstein and william wallace.
i respect artists like picasso, beckett, warhol and piaf.
but more than that, i respect people who make things matter to me.

i know that probably seems a bit simplistic, and it is an oversimplification of something more difficult to articulate. but essentially, people with passion make me passionate. people who care deeply and passionately about things and thoughts and people - and who in turn make me care deeply and passionately about those things/thoughts/people - are the people i respect and seek respect from the most.

i could list these people, but i won't. because i don't want to embarrass myself or anyone else, and because i think that respect and idolatry are easily confused in circumstances like this.
but basically, i've been lucky enough to have a few silver-backed gorillas in my life. all of whom have touched me personally and taken an interest in my development.
they have said things, little things, that will stick with me for the rest of my life. and i'd like to share them here.

~ We need smart teachers
~ If you care about the equitable treatment of all human beings, you are a feminist
~ You're very intuitive
~ You're brilliant

this might seem like an ego trip, since all of those comments are directed at me and my personal state of being, rather than the larger philosophical concerns of mankind. but the reason these "compliments"(?) will stick with me for the rest of my life is because they came from people who i respect. so much so that simple statements like these - which could easily be read as platitudes - accrue deeper meaning simply by virtue of the 'sayer'.
these are my silver gorillas. some have been teachers, peers, employers and friends. do i think they are shining examples of humanity? no. they're normal people. they do normal jobs. they have normal needs and concerns and dreams. but they have passion, which in turn makes me passionate.

somehow, these people kindle the little light inside of me (which i suspect is inside of all of us), inspiring me and reminding me of the things that i'm passionate about.

so yes. that's the blog that got away.
silver-backed gorillas.

History

Have you ever thought about what it would be like to travel back in time a thousand or so years? Have you imagined the culture, the language, the quality of life? I think I would be safe in assuming that I'm not the only one - the academic pursuits of history, anthropology and the humanities are founded on our natural curiosity; our desire to know, understand and imagine 'what came before'.
But today I'm not interested in how the Mesopotamians organised their calendar or how the architecture of Gaul was influenced by Roman occupation. I'm not concerned by the dental hygiene of the Incans or the wedding rituals of the Goths. Actually, I am interested in all of those things. But not as much as I'm interested in this:
Excluding all language barriers and technological gaps, how would a person from any of these civilisations view us?
Our semiotic code, even down to our use of gesture and expression, has evolved from being culturally-specific to a more universally-recognised 'language'. The high-five is perceived as a sign of congratulations, fellowship and goodwill in the USA, but also in the former Soviet Union. A wink is as good as a nod to a blind bat in New Zealand and Portugal alike. With the exception of the world's most isolated and impoverished comminities (for whom access to global media is limited), our repertoire of internationally-recognised symbols is vast.
So what would happen if I were to visit Ancient Greece and go in for the fist bump? If an Aztec saw me sucking face with someone (because that's likely), would they think we were conducting some elaborate tongue-battle? If a Roman met a Roman-Catholic and saw the crucifix about their neck, would they find it about as tasteful as wearing a guillotine during the French Revolution?
Today we have a coda which enables us to communicate effectively with others even in situations where language and technology are not accessible. I don't need to be able to use google.translate to visit France and communicate my need to use a bathroom. No Turkish required to order a piece of Turkish delight. The fundamental needs - food, shelter, bathroom facilities - are all easily communicated through a delightful array of gestures, images and facial expressions.
But to someone completely locked out of that discourse, how must we look? If the miracle (or curse) of time travel should ever eventuate, how easily would I be able to order a honey cake or ask for the vomitorium? Even if I were fortunate enough to find myself in a civilisation speaking an earlier dialect of which modern English is derived, I imagine it would be difficult to make my meaning clear.
So I suppose that's what this entry is about, really. The idea of being locked out of an entire culture because of a total lack of commonality.
I don't know if this entry will be interesting to anyone else... probably not. But these are the kinds of things I think of when I let my mind wander.

If you aren't already sick of my work blogs, let me know. I may just post another one or two before I finish there forever. you snooze, you lose!

waiting

last night i drank a little too much
and i told him. (yet again. i know, i know)

yeah.

i think it's okay.
i think i'm okay.
i hung out with him today and things felt normal. pleasant.
i didn't feel the overwhelming urge to make a fool of myself or proclaim my love.
i didn't want to kiss him or ask him why he didn't love me back.
i just wanted to hang out with my friend - and that was nice. i've been missing that. lately i'd been building up our every interaction as something exciting and remarkable and life-changing. every minute with him was a minute to be recorded and replayed whenever he wasn't there.
today was a nice day. we had fun. we hung out. and that was that.


did we spark the way we usually do? hmm, maybe not. we were us still, but i think a small element of the 'us-ness' was missing. and i'm pretty certain that this element was me. or rather my eagerness to be brilliant and entertaining and lovable at every turn.
i don't know how i'm supposed to feel at the moment. i mean, obviously i still love him. but the quality of that love has already begun to change.
i'd experienced this same feeling earlier on when we'd been on prac for a few weeks. absence made the heart grow forgetful. i was comfortable not hearing from him for a few days at a time. if he was online, i didn't feel compelled to talk. i didn't update my LAG folder on a daily basis.
but then he got back and we started spending time together again. i remembered how amazing he was with my family and how much i loved his. i remembered how much we had in common, what good company he was, how pretty his eyes were (shut up, i'm not gushing). and it all just flared up again - like a rash. an itchy, uncomfortable, bright-red rash that was just so irresistable that i just had to scratch it.
but now that he's rejected me (again!), i can feel myself re-entering that lull. and i'm wondering if this is a coping thing: letting my feelings fall dormant until my heart seems to have forgotten the last assault. i don't have any answers right now, just a million questions.
the paramount one being this:
how?
how did i let myself get here again? what happened to make me go "hmm, you know that boy who definitely isn't in love with you? have you considered giving him another go?"
someone smart told me that i should let myself mope for a bit.
i should be allowed to feel like shit and accept that i have feelings. i'm a person and i deserve to be as pathetic as i need to be in order to move on.
i can already feel myself closing up again though. i can feel myself shutting it out as something that happened because i let myself get carried away. i let myself hope.
and my natural reaction to this is to not hope. to not feel.
i've let myself be miserable for weeks - but i did have some degree of control over the situation. i hadn't told him. i was the one in control of the situation by virtue of the fact that i was keeping my feelings to myself. and that hurt, and it sucked. but it was up to me. i knew i could end that misery any time by letting him know how i felt and releasing the pressure.

now i've done that.
so if i let myself be miserable now, i don't know when that might end. i don't have any control in this situation. the idea of being retrospectively miserable - of moping at a situation that i have no control over - is scary. i don't know when i'll feel better. i don't know how to make that change come about. it feels like some waiting game.
it feels like godot.
i don't know what i'll be waiting for. i don't know how relief will manifest itself. i don't know how long it will take. i don't know if it will come at all.
so the idea of not walking down that road is a much more attractive prospect.


this blog isn't really here to communicate a point or a thought or an 'answer'.
these are just my fears.

infantile livestock on digital identity

*disclaimer: this entry was written at work*

the more observant (and stalkeresque) of you may have noticed that my digital accounts have sustained a few changes lately. names have been replaced with aliases, privacy settings have been increased, vlogs removed and selected photos un-tagged. i want to make it very clear that this is not because i am ashamed of anything i have posted - i think i've constructed an accurate and honest online representation of myself which is not vulgar, offensive or explicit.

that being said, i also recognise the conservative (albeit somewhat antiquated) views of governing bodies regarding the proliferation of 'private' information in the public domain and how this can affect a person in a professional capacity. whilst i don't believe that my digital identity might impede my abilities to perform my function as an employee of the public sector, i respect the sectors' right to both suggest and impose limitations on the accessibility of information pertaining to my personal life. it is for this reason that i have decided to further limit the information i publish. i want you to know that i still intend on blogging on a regular basis, maintaining my social networking profiles and even vlogging to a small extent - however the privacy settings on these sites will be increased and the content edited so as to ensure that no compromising details of the nature of my work or personal life are made available to the wider public.

i wholeheartedly believe that i have a right to a digital identity. the online persona i have cultivated has grown with me, informing and being informed by my IRL identity. in our society, i believe that we have an unique opportunity not available or even fully comprehensible to our predecessors - our 'need' to document and curate digital artefacts of our experience is not unusual (as some would have us believe), but rather natural. a key aspect to humanity is our ability and desire to share in the human experience, to relate and be relatable to our peers. what better way to develop, maintain and enrich relationships than by making contact with both the IRL and digital self?

i look to my parents' generation and note the quality and quantity of their friendships. in a family where both earners were employed by the public sector, relocations were a regular occurance. as such, my parents found it difficult to maintain strong, lasting friendships and became somewhat insular as a result (in my opinion, at least). i know that i don't want to be a perpetuator of the 'us against the world' maxim, and i largely credit my ability to form and sustain meaningful relationships to the technological means at my disposal.

i know it seems like cowardice, but i feel there are some things which are best shared in online abstraction. the dislocation of mind from physical presence allows us to reach out for others without the same fear of judgement. perhaps this is because we cannot witness a visceral response, or perhaps it is because we aren't judged as harshly across digitised media - the dislocation allows the audient to separate the content from the individual. regardless, it can sometimes be easier to be more open and empathetic when we cannot see the furrowed brows or hear the inflections of others.

effectively, i believe the point i've tried to make is that i respect the department's stance. i will comply. but i have no intention of being deleted. this digital voice of mine is an entity in its own right, and has a right to that existence. if it is necessary that my audience be limited and my words censored, so be it. but am i liable to fall silent?
no.

Ah to be old

So little known fact: i'm a published poet. Nothing major, just a few magazines and poetry anthologies. Anyway, i haven't written poetry since 2008, but at work i came up with this.
A patient saw me staring into space (presumably with a goofy look on my face) and said "ah, to be young and in love".
This is my response:
------------------------------------------------------------------

Ah to be old and out of love.
That's the life for me.
To not be constantly wanting more:
Completely un-naive.

Ah to be old and out of love.
To know just what to say.
To understand life's expectations.
To be steadfast, come what may.

With youth comes health and beauty a'flower,
Excitable, bright, starry eyes.
Bah! Give me wealth and knowledge and power.
Cynicism, greed and lies.

Ah to be old and out of love.
There really isn't much to it.
To skip the confusion, shatter the illusion,
I can't see why you won't do it.

Ah to be old and out of love,
With the same face morning and night.
To be comfortable, cold and contented;
To feel too dispassionate to fight.

The old have bested the battle.
Their plight, the fight well fought.
We young mill about like lost cattle,
Un-calloused, no malice, love-wrought.

Ah to be old and out of love.
To have one foot firm in the grave.
To be tired and irate and infirm, filled with hate.
To be too far gone to save.

Ah to be old and out of love.
To complain of dramatic commotion.
I might just sit and wait for it to hit,
Yes, that sounds like a marvellous notion!

But as I wait for the age to pile on,
For my psychotic heart to take heed,
I realise that vibrancy, vivacity and love:
Those are things that I kinda do need.

So although to be old and out of love,
Sounds like it would make my heart skip,
Much like many things in this life (so I've found)
The idea is a huge crock of shit.