There was this cool shrink, Carl Jung.  One of the biggest concepts that came from him was the shadow.  The shadow is an extension of the ego.  If you look at the ego as the focal point of your consciousness, and especially as a sort of moral regulator, then the shadow is supposed to exist subconsciously, and is the fall-out of all that regulation.  The shadow becomes those darker networks of reasoning and perception beyond the ego’s scope.   If you hate the idea of being physically lazy, your shadow darkens over those moments when you give yourself permission to be physically weak. Perhaps it doesn’t let you see that you actually have given yourself permission to be physically weak – again, it’s beyond your consciousness, and not brought to light.

In real life, if forward is defined as towards a source of light, we almost never pay attention to our shadow.

When this concept’s brought up as some sort of popular idea

(best example)

it’s usually more associated with negative things.  Anger. Violence. Grief. Hurt. Selfishness. Things we rationalize.  Things we respin.  But easily, we could have all been raised in strange ways that put things in this theoretical shadow. Sometimes we raise the young so that they’re not too generous or nice, parents might overteach something to protect their kids from being taken advantage of, this happens with almost all of us. But in this way, we can learn to identify reasonability, kindness, warmth, masculinity or femininity with the negative.  We can put that in the shadow too.  No you’ve never had a moment of same sex attraction, look at the disgust it brings.  Hell no don’t even listen to their point of view, that’ll mean you’re rolling over again, you weak-ass pushover.  No you weren’t a selfish twat, you did that because it helped X.   Sure you cheated, just like everyone cheats. Sure you got angry and punched a hole in the wall, but it is normal to be angry when someone Y’s your Z.

Are we defense mechanisming, yet?

There is an idea of shadow work that I sort of suspect ALL assholes and dicks have done, or do regularly.  (It kind of comes with the territory of being able to self-identify as someone who can be an asshole or dick.) And I think shadow work used to be a much more popular term before the 90’s.  There’re characters in pop culture who wholly embrace their darker side whom we love (Dexter, Darth Vader, Rocket Raccoon are popular ones) who do shadow work constantly, without calling it that. Shadow work is really self-awareness combined with self-analysis, and evaluating our permissions settings.

And for myself, I’ve realized pride can and has made me a little dumb to bad things I’m doing, or rather, things I could easily do much better, or give a response that could mature way harder.

I’m just making this up, but good questions to ask ourselves seem to be along the lines of “Something I admire most about myself is _____”   and “Something I’d change most about myself is _______”   and “I wish I ______ more” and “I wish I ______” more.  Should reveal lots about anyone’s ego and the values behind it.

I don’t need to get all full-detailed on a big blog, but I certainly do myself a favor to recognize I’ve had a few authority figures in my life who gave me LOTS of options to decide what I do and don’t give myself permission to live by.  Lots.  As in, so many perspectives.  The sucky thing about being sentient is, we usually don’t consciously choose these values.  More often than not, we don’t.

There’re reasons some of us prioritize not being physically ugly more than others, and it has less to do with how aesthetically hot we actually are.

Under my dad’s wing, I was more likely to try to get to an intellectually designed result than say, next to Jaidree’s influence, who makes me feel much more like being a benevolent mammal is just correct. (Let’s just say, some scientists have to crush some of that benevolence, or rationalize it super hard to excel in their field.  They’re sometimes exclusive.) Both of these put different ideas in my head as to what impulses are ideal, and which ones to be somewhat hypocritical about. Both of those influences, without me understanding myself, can lead me to be a little more neurotic — again, unless that understanding happens.

There’s personal value designation too.  You can consciously evaluate people and weigh how they feel to you, you can dissect that person’s personality and see what rubs you the right or wrong way and if it should. I suppose you can also live in a vacuum and constantly meditate on what you think you think is ideal. That might work too.

But what I think is most useful, is thinking about your REAL tendencies and reactions
Your REAL wants
and what you recognize as your ideals.
Whatever is your ideal, look at the negative and see if maybe there’re times you act on hypocrisy about those ideals.  Give yourself permission to be imperfect, give yourself permission to be a learning individual, and see if maybe you could have given a better response.  For example, I actually like violence.  I’m never violent against people (because that’s dumb) but I sure like my punching bag, I sure like learning about it, I sure like some of it in fiction, or my games.  I like violence. I just temper that against other values too, like a normal person.

But if I was in denial, if I was all “I am absolutely not violent!” not only might that help me be a coward or twist events in all sorts of ways which’ll suck, but it’s also a step towards saying anything that escalates to violence is bad. Heck, let’s say my force of denial gets so powerful that I never check it, and that gets twisted into “if anything, I’m always positive!” which eventually puts me into the territory of “Anger is bad.”
Well, you know what happens when you don’t give yourself permission to be angry, ever? Bullshit.  Lots of bullshit, that’s what.

I feel the same way about profanity.  People who think they’re too good to use profanity? Watch ’em.  I’ll bet you 20 bucks that they profane something.  It’s part of human nature to evaluate something with contempt.  I think this’s probably why it can feel damn therapeutic to let yourself give out a few fucks.

All I’m going to end with is, I think it’s extra important to think about these permissions in times of high pride.  For me I’m sending query letters to agents again.  I take that seriously, which means pride comes into play.  These permissions affect what I’m able to see in the work.  I’ve also got to manage property strangeness in tough times with tough people.  Again, pride.  Pride can make people full of their own virtue, but it can make ’em full of their own bullshit too.  It can make that shadow 10x longer.  It can make your subtle permissions that much more important.  It can make your self-awareness help you, or a shroud over it screw you that much harder.

I knew making wikipedia my homepage was the right move 🙂

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bobbie_the_Wonder_Dog

Haven’t been able to sleep for 5 hours straight in past few days.  This is because the management of my house has gotten that insane (gas leak, lead to discovery of a CO issue too.)  We’re tackling these problems so hard and fast, and it’s gotten pricey, but it’s getting done fast.

I’m just so tired and feel like a different person today.  Hoping a good night’s sleep makes me feel like the man because I’ve got one more solo day left, and that timing could work poifect for my latest project.

Gee I could public transport and spend 3 bucks to get to the hospital with 12 blocks of walking still required in 45 minutes

Or I could jog, enjoy smartphonality, and do the 4 miles in 50 minutes.

#NoBrainer  #WhyAmItheWeirdNewYorker

DISJUNCTURE

THE EDITS CONTINUE

I’m still ploughing and ploughing.  There’s literally a floor being built over my head which is driving me crazy and creating the urge for meowing.  Also, my writing contest thing is picking up with the exact amount of momentum I was hoping for.  Reading a thing a day has been nice, and the entries I’ve gotten already are giving some liberties with what I pick.

Setting my ducks up

and bang bang bang

That plus MUA as recreation, things have been kind of nice.  With the way my cash and living situation’s worked, I think the technical term is “totes fine” with that being how I close this december.

I used to cringe and wince and hate when I read my ms and things that are bad.

It sucked, because I obviously want it to be certainly good.

But today, just that’s…giving me dopamine.

It’s like, my work’s cut out and, “ok, you’ve gotten better, so this could be better.”

Shaving 5k is significant.

Going to start helping this off the ground and more public, soon: short story contest.

http://www.ethillery.com

Good news:

Went to the Sterling Lord christmas party and MY GOD, ARE THESE A BUNCH OF TALENTED, WONDERFUL, SWEET and SMART HARDASS PEOPLE.  Open bar that was so classy, so covered that it was rude to tip.  No, I don’t want your house cocktail, let’s go straight to the perfectly made classics, thanks!

I went mostly to christmas and party, and mostly to be j’s +1 and scope out her scene that I so so love and support.  It’s a workplace she loves – LOVES – working at – as she should, unlike her last house which via intimidation, succesfully negated their workers movement to unionize.  (Article alludes to how fucked up that small press was….AND ITS PUBLISHER’S WEEKLY.  They’re usually on the side of a publisher….) But there were writers, agents, big honchos, people who know technical aspects of contractual stuff which make my head spin, influencers…..like, as an example, I bumped into (or rather, was bumped into) the most spry, awesome, impish elderly lady, asked her what she did around to help me remember meeting her later and everyone around me sort of stiffened.  I went “uh oh.”  and she smiled and waved me closer, I leaned in and she whispered into my ear

“I own the company.”

As memory has it, she proceeded to run then away before coming back and doing things that only amazing people do.

I met the sci-fi person, and, this is one of those times MAYBE I could elevator pitch but, I DONT WANNA. Not only do I think my edits have gotten better to the point that I want to finish what I’m doing with my work, but I was there to have a real conversation, which we did.  Wound up talking about the stuff around writing, I brought up my appreciation for Stephen King as a speaker, and personable story-teller (that’s what makes him shine for me, much more than the horror) and it was nice being able to see her smile and guy “You know, he’s also really nice. :-)”

I wanted to send good follow up vibes because I sure as heck meant ’em, I just got vibes that genuine and great, but it’s too easily considered as sucking up with all the skin we have in the game.  I don’t believe acting in a conflict of interests, so I’ve just had to deal with that glow, just me and J.

But all in all, it was a christmas party that compared to the first one we went to, proves how we (and her, really – mostly her) have come such a long way. It was so casual and special for me at the same time, which is one of the best blends.  They made great conversation basic because, I was surrounded by lovers of books.  Not pop culture dependents.  Not gossipers.  Not people who are easily threatened by words (if at all) but  driven, thinking, calculating, aware, fun-loving, productive 3d citizens.  I loved it.  Woke up the next day swimming in warm, fuzzy memories of great encounters, and I’m just so, goshdurn proud of where J’s going.  For me, at this stage, that kind of an open bar’s a once in a lifetime.

Bad news:

My grandmother’s in the hospital.  Major seizure. Folks spoke of her like she’s brain dead….next to her….and while I was literally thinking to ask “Do we have any thoughts on a DNR?” and before I did….her brow furrowed.   She looked like she was about to cry.  I pointed this out to my cousin and dad who were with me and focused on each other, and I also went over, rubbed her head and yes, I guess started using tones like she’s a wounded cat, and her expression softened.  Dad went over and grabbed her hand and told her to squeeze….she did.   (Palmar reflex IS a thing, however. That alone means little.)  He proceeded to literally pry her eyes open (they were stuck together….) and her retina oriented.  I called the sister on speaker, and jessica monologued in the room, and my grandmother oriented to the phone. This is a big deal because my father, her son, has a vivid memory of “seeing the light go out in her eyes.”  He didn’t expect it to come back. God, he’s being really thick skinned, but believing that has got to stab him deeply on a few levels – he’s a bit of a momma’s boy, and I know him well enough to know that.

I honestly want her, and her soul, as comfortable as fucking possible.  That’s all I want.  She currently can’t swallow, and in her moving around and starting to respond, the feeding tube came halfway out.  Folks, it’s not pretty. She’s pinned and needled, she can’t express, her brain is truly dissolving. The way she reacted before…..the brain damage is real, I’ve seen messed up videos you can only find on today’s internet (things so messed up even I won’t describe them.  Just nope)  and her shifts in expressions, reminds me of people who’ve gotten major head injuries. The movie Little Miss Sunshine had a grandfather who was constantly doping out, and while that took a tragic turn, the old man was comfortable and wickedly enjoying of life until the end.  This is very close to the end but, I think she was listening closely enough that she was processing a deep sadness….really picked up on that. It wasn’t subtle.

Party was a great note, but that plus property management’s proving to provide a trialing, tough week.

I uh,

I think it’s clear as fuck that I’m a weird person.  I think I’m kind of evolved, but all my life have been asserting that there’s more personal evolution at work to happen, always.

Which makes me cringe at my own personal history, sometimes.  I think that’s a good thing – like, imagine waking up one day and then having realized that everyone’s got their own mental issues, like you, and the way you’ve lashed out for your own sake, has come to the cost of others.  And imagine waking up one day, for whatever reason, more compassionate, and able to re-evaluate.  Guess what: that’s NOT a warm and fuzzy awakening.  It actually makes you feel very sad, like a shitty person.  That remorse, while affectively, is a ball of sucktitude, is one of those very healthy unpleasant trials that’ll make you a better person for its experience.

It’ll still make you a better human, and is worth doing.

So when I look back at my freshman year in college,  you know, I think present day me would have a LOT to say to past-tense me.  I’d like to believe we’d both have a LOT to teach each other, but I know I have a lot I’d like to teach past-tense me about when to be stubborn, when to take risks, when to be cleaner (pretty much always) when to fashion, when to brag, when to troll, when to quietly observe, when to express, when to go for the girl, when to switch classes and realize 24 credits involves 7 credits which waste time and that 17 minutes of sleep a night is not cool….etc.

I think I was embarrassing far, far more often than I am today.

But I was also quirky, interesting, cool in my own way.

And one of the guys who saw that in me, cause I saw it in him was a suitemate, Brandon.   Brandon was always cool as fuck, and I think he recognized these quirks, faults and values I bring, and we got along no, problem.  Because with a guy like Brandon, you have a problem if you can’t get along. You’d meet him, appreciate the fact that he was 6’2 and smiled the way he did, and after a little observation just get the instant impression that he was a good guy and never doubt that he had his invites to parties.  You couldn’t say the same for me, unless you assumed those parties were strange.  But for a college freshman, Brandon brought something else to the table besides that

He brought himself.

You see, Brandon wasn’t a bro.  Brandon was Brandon.  Brandon was smart enough to evaluate people, young and fun enough to want to do things college guys do, but he was always nice about it.  Counter-example: my original roommate, and Brandon’s roommate, were both bros.  They joined the same frat, and acted like it. They both yelled at their mothers. They both caused property damage via drunk antics and never, ever, ever took responsibility.

Brandon would smile and play super smash brothers (REALLY WELL) and studied, had fun, and studied, and had fun again.  He and I became roommates that semester.  We did it illegally, cause he was that used to practical reasoning, and we were both too….fun, for our broski roommates. Campus halls called for meetings when they found this out, but when we explained the personality determinants, the hall director agreed, and just told us to do the paperwork next time. And that’s how I got my favorite college roommate.

I’m going into all of this because I just found out that Brandon is dead.

Brandon was a cool adult way, way before I was a cool adult.  Really.  He bartended before I did (when I started bartending in nyc, I remember looking him up on facebook and going FUNNY! We both chose to do that for a while how’s that treating ya?) and it was one of those pleasant, exclamation point type of talks. lolyeah, thatsgreat! See ya later.  When I went to buffalo, I stopped by his bar and left because he wasn’t working there.  Catching up with Brandon alone was easily reason to venture buffalo’s cold, strangely wandered walks, it was a no brainer.

He and I were very different, but had enough similarities that there was plenty to learn from.  At least definitely so on my end.

Brandon was one of those guys who was so nice, it was not surprising at all when he set a wedding date with a beautiful girlfriend.  Brandon was one of those architecture students who had managed to have fun working crazy hours that it became clear, even if he didn’t practice architecture as his profession, he’d be successful doing whatever he did.

Brandon decided to open his own business.  His store was doing fine. Brandon’s wedding date with a beautiful, also smiling fiancee is no surprise, either.

He was just so fine, he made doing fine basic.  And on top of that, he smiled.

Plus he was good at super smash brothers.  The only reason my princess peach is as amazing at it is, is because he and I spent probably a hundred hours playing, and he was a peach master, because owning people with a veggie throwing princess, is just funny.  So Brandon.

It’s weird, when your interaction with someone can be qualified by a skill you learned just out of the way you two interacted. I mean it, I can’t play that stupid game and select that silly character without a couple synapsis flowing with an echo of “lol remember brandon?”  if I’m feeling really silly, those synapsis go “Peach room 602! Represent.”

I don’t think anyone knows that, because it’s silly.

Brandon wasn’t silly.

Apparently, Brandon had an allergic reaction to an allergy shot.  This put him in cardiac arrest, and then worst, and apparently it was hours until he could be connected to machines. That was too late.  Days later, those machines were disconnected, and Brandon was no more.

Fuck.

Just fuck.

I think he made it to 31.

Store was doing fine.  Lovely wife was looking forward to wedding date.

I’m gonna quote our mutual pal’s view on it, cause I have feels and grief at this very second, but he said it right:

“Yea you figure you’re golden when you’ve got an awesome person in your life like that, then it goes away

Great thing I read while browsing reddit:

“You may have accidentally setup an asshole filter for yourself.

To summarize briefly: “An asshole filter happens when you publicly promulgate a straitened contact boundary and then don’t enforce it; or worse, reward the people who transgress it.”

For instance, if you respond to flirting by playing hard to get or flirting with other people to arouse jealousy, you’re inadvertently turning away healthy partners who respect your (signaled) lack of interest by leaving you alone, resulting in your dating pool being composed solely of aggressive people who may disrespect your boundaries, or are overly jealous. Take time to self-reflect and consider going to therapy if this dating problem is as serious as you make it sound. Best of luck.”