(no subject)
Jan. 24th, 2025 06:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snowazaleaYesterday afternoon, I greatly enjoyed my porcelain dolls safely ensconced in their bookcase, viewing them as I recovered from a caffeine-withdrawal headache. They are beautiful and comforting and are a link to the past, similar to the porcelain dolls I collected in high school. As I cowered in the pillow and, by degrees, the headache medicine started to work, I wanted to cower before my high school self, as though she is better and wiser than the person now. I thought about the very first time I ever tasted coffee. It was at an honor society banquet we were putting on at the end of my senior year. I was standing in front of the cafeteria line and put the paper cup to my lips. I had added a lot of sugar and powder creamer because the smell had been so repugnant, I feared the taste of it. It was bittersweet, not too bad. It must have been evening, and the coffee must have been for the parents attending the banquet.
I decided to cultivate a taste for coffee after that time, and my bond with tea weakened by degrees ever since.
When I think of my high school self, I think of hot tea, practicing the piano, reading gothic novels, and cross stitching. I think that life must have been so simple then, when I still believed that allergies and panic attacks were forms of hypochondria, though I politely kept my opinions to myself on that. I had only seen one East Asian person in my entire life, a lady named Noriko who took lessons from my piano teacher, and I had never seen a South Asian person before, such that I was in my college honor society for an entire year before I was ever able to figure out what race the other girls in it were. They did not seem to be Hispanic, but I did not know beyond that.
There was a lot I did not know, but I took opportunities to learn, especially about other countries and cultures. A CD-ROM program on the counselor's office computer had different languages to learn, that actually included Turkish, which I was very keen to learn. I had read all about Turkey, and all of the cross-references, too, such as Islam, in my World Books encyclopedia and had written a novel set in my idea of what Turkey must be like.
Graduate school, which was relatively only a few years ago, caused me to feel ashamed to articulate these things: my ignorance, past and present, about other races; my great interest in non-Western literatures and cultures.
This entry is cut short because I have to leave for work, and I have been trying to find something to say to draw everything together. It's hard to make sense right now of anything. What do I want to say? "The killer in me is the killer in you, my love."
Well, it is my lunch break now, and I have little I feel like doing. I have been tired of all of the food I have, and it’s hard to know what to eat, so I am not eating. I will see how that works out this afternoon. Lots of people fast, I guess. I have never tried it.
Anyway, I have felt at a loss to make sense of the present and future of my country. I guess that’s what provoked my musings this morning. I have an issue with people who have a rigid mindset and won’t see another side of things. And after my heated encounter on Thursday, which led to a great degree of musing, shame, and frustration on my part, I wondered how many people around me, when challenged, will prove to be as completely inflexible to another’s reading of a situation.
I decided to cultivate a taste for coffee after that time, and my bond with tea weakened by degrees ever since.
When I think of my high school self, I think of hot tea, practicing the piano, reading gothic novels, and cross stitching. I think that life must have been so simple then, when I still believed that allergies and panic attacks were forms of hypochondria, though I politely kept my opinions to myself on that. I had only seen one East Asian person in my entire life, a lady named Noriko who took lessons from my piano teacher, and I had never seen a South Asian person before, such that I was in my college honor society for an entire year before I was ever able to figure out what race the other girls in it were. They did not seem to be Hispanic, but I did not know beyond that.
There was a lot I did not know, but I took opportunities to learn, especially about other countries and cultures. A CD-ROM program on the counselor's office computer had different languages to learn, that actually included Turkish, which I was very keen to learn. I had read all about Turkey, and all of the cross-references, too, such as Islam, in my World Books encyclopedia and had written a novel set in my idea of what Turkey must be like.
Graduate school, which was relatively only a few years ago, caused me to feel ashamed to articulate these things: my ignorance, past and present, about other races; my great interest in non-Western literatures and cultures.
This entry is cut short because I have to leave for work, and I have been trying to find something to say to draw everything together. It's hard to make sense right now of anything. What do I want to say? "The killer in me is the killer in you, my love."
Well, it is my lunch break now, and I have little I feel like doing. I have been tired of all of the food I have, and it’s hard to know what to eat, so I am not eating. I will see how that works out this afternoon. Lots of people fast, I guess. I have never tried it.
Anyway, I have felt at a loss to make sense of the present and future of my country. I guess that’s what provoked my musings this morning. I have an issue with people who have a rigid mindset and won’t see another side of things. And after my heated encounter on Thursday, which led to a great degree of musing, shame, and frustration on my part, I wondered how many people around me, when challenged, will prove to be as completely inflexible to another’s reading of a situation.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-28 12:24 pm (UTC)