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Oct. 27th, 2023 10:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowkatIt's finally the weekend, and I'm exhausted. Mid-week my shingles began bothering me a bit. No blisters or anything. But this weird pin-pricks that came out of nowhere. And the patch - had a little weird stingy soreness.
Apparently this is normal in the healing stage? And it could be much worse.
My grandmother had serious nerve damage in her neck - and for years after her outbreak - had a crawling sensation underneath the skin.
So slight pin-pricks, that go away, is no biggie. Either that - or I'm developing an allergy to nuts, and don't realize it?
Next week is the ENT (Ear Nose and Throat - to hopefully deal with the allergies). And help get the FMLA signed. Since the idiotic endocrinologist wouldn't do it. He makes me get lab work and see him constantly, plus asks a million redundant questions, but won't sign a form so I can get out of work to see him. In retaliation - I refused to complete their survey.
I don't give negative reviews - I just don't give reviews. It's easier.
Did a get a lot done this week - and had a lot of meetings. I need a people-free weekend. Or as close as I can get to one - living in a huge city. (Actually I can get pretty damn close.) My apartment is relatively quiet - even more so now that the old Russian guy who lived catty-corner to me is dead. (He passed away in the hospital). What he'd do - is scream in his sleep. I'd hear these odd cries, to such an extent, that I turned on air purifiers and my air conditioner to block him out. He didn't know he was doing it.
On the way home from work - I passed a huge white tent being put up in the middle of our little new plaza (or piazza) that is the space between Carnival Fruit and Vegetable Store and Wallgreens. The Bengali (Bangladesh)
community is electing its local representatives. All men. They had signs up with the candidates, and I saw all these men in suits standing about. They aren't very tall - all came to my chest or shoulder. All are thin. All the color of light black olives, with jet black hair, black eyes, and no beards. Young. I'd say late twenties or early thirties. Some wear white robes, but most black suits. The language is symbols not printed letters like you see with English, French or Spanish - but more like Cyrillic. Or Arabic. I see a lot of Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Cyrillic, Arabic, and Bengali, also Hindu.
Living in NYC can feel at times like living in another country. Sometimes multiple countries. The lovely thing about it - is we're all living together, various cultures, demographics, races, religions, communities, languages, etc - and we get along beautifully. We don't care. I walk through, no one says anything. I might pause to check out what is happening, but that's it. I give them their space, they give me mine.
Alongside the tent, was a little space where children were playing and doing crafts - which was separate from their activity.
It occurred to me - when I saw it - that that was the reason for the piazza or plaza - the Bengali had reached out to the City through their representatives, and requested a place to meet, to hold outdoor events, and allow their children to play. And outdoor space. The city, which is attempting to do this anyhow, readily agreed. And here we are. See? The immigrant Bengali community found a way to create a safe space, with a painted mural. Immigrants make our nation and communities richer and kinder. We'd be lost without them.
***
I thought on my way home - how lucky I am to live in such a diverse community and neighborhood. It's changed so much over time. My workplace is pleasantly diverse, as is my living area, my church and my neighborhood.
I need to be grateful for the things I have in my life. I think. I'm enjoying my job at the moment - so that's a good thing. Although I admittedly have European Vacation Envy. (Half my workplace, people from church and the ATPOBTVS board all took European Vacations this year.) I'm thinking of appeasing that envy by planning a trip to Europe in the Spring. Maybe March or April. Or even February. Take maybe one or two weeks. Envy is usually a sign - that I want to do something or haven't satisfied an urge, or so I've been told.
Practicing gratitude has helped push away the depression, and made me happier this year. It's also helped with my grief. My mother is doing much the same thing, as is the rest of my family.
**
Making my way through Turn of the Screw - I've discovered Henry James works better read aloud, or listened to, then read. I think it is all the flowery language and description. He doesn't tend to have a lot of dialogue and I grow weary of the description - when reading. But listening - it works very well. Audio actually works better without too much dialogue - because - it's hard to tell who is talking. Emma Thompson is excellent, she can do multiple voices. And has an ability to clearly state the words.
One of the better readers, as is Richard Armitage, who is quite popular.
I'm rather enjoying it. It's not at all like the film adaptations. Although I can't remember the one with Deborah Kerr. I did read the play once, but can't remember it either.
Also making my way through Starling House - which appears to be a tale about a House built over Hell. It delves into America's nasty past history of slave ownership. Apparently Nathan (a slave) tried to dig away from his evil white masters, who chained him to a coal gang. And he managed to convince a young woman who was engaged to one of them, and horribly abused by them, that instead of committing suicide, she should go down into the mines and find what he found and use that to reap her revenge. We don't know yet what she found - but it came with a price. It's kind of an antibellium tale of just retribution against those who use others for money and gain.
Similar to The Devil Takes You Home in that sense, except told from a female perspective, and in a more positive light.
Alix Harrow is an award winning science fiction and fantasy writer from Kentucky. I've got another one of her books - but couldn't get into it.
I honestly don't care if writers or artists win awards - it's subjective. There's no real objective criteria. Awards are popularity contests and kind of meaningless - it's like reviews. They are selected by a few people (with the possible exception of the Hugo which is a lot of people, but still somewhat limited), and that's that. Winning is just luck. Somehow someone managed to get your book to an audience or people who would love it.
I know this because I've read a lot across a broad spectrum. And a lot of award winning fiction (and film, and television) - I can't remember, can't get into, and/or doesn't interest me. And a lot of more obscure fiction that has never won a thing - I've adored. So...make of that what you will.
Apparently this is normal in the healing stage? And it could be much worse.
My grandmother had serious nerve damage in her neck - and for years after her outbreak - had a crawling sensation underneath the skin.
So slight pin-pricks, that go away, is no biggie. Either that - or I'm developing an allergy to nuts, and don't realize it?
Next week is the ENT (Ear Nose and Throat - to hopefully deal with the allergies). And help get the FMLA signed. Since the idiotic endocrinologist wouldn't do it. He makes me get lab work and see him constantly, plus asks a million redundant questions, but won't sign a form so I can get out of work to see him. In retaliation - I refused to complete their survey.
I don't give negative reviews - I just don't give reviews. It's easier.
Did a get a lot done this week - and had a lot of meetings. I need a people-free weekend. Or as close as I can get to one - living in a huge city. (Actually I can get pretty damn close.) My apartment is relatively quiet - even more so now that the old Russian guy who lived catty-corner to me is dead. (He passed away in the hospital). What he'd do - is scream in his sleep. I'd hear these odd cries, to such an extent, that I turned on air purifiers and my air conditioner to block him out. He didn't know he was doing it.
On the way home from work - I passed a huge white tent being put up in the middle of our little new plaza (or piazza) that is the space between Carnival Fruit and Vegetable Store and Wallgreens. The Bengali (Bangladesh)
community is electing its local representatives. All men. They had signs up with the candidates, and I saw all these men in suits standing about. They aren't very tall - all came to my chest or shoulder. All are thin. All the color of light black olives, with jet black hair, black eyes, and no beards. Young. I'd say late twenties or early thirties. Some wear white robes, but most black suits. The language is symbols not printed letters like you see with English, French or Spanish - but more like Cyrillic. Or Arabic. I see a lot of Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Cyrillic, Arabic, and Bengali, also Hindu.
Living in NYC can feel at times like living in another country. Sometimes multiple countries. The lovely thing about it - is we're all living together, various cultures, demographics, races, religions, communities, languages, etc - and we get along beautifully. We don't care. I walk through, no one says anything. I might pause to check out what is happening, but that's it. I give them their space, they give me mine.
Alongside the tent, was a little space where children were playing and doing crafts - which was separate from their activity.
It occurred to me - when I saw it - that that was the reason for the piazza or plaza - the Bengali had reached out to the City through their representatives, and requested a place to meet, to hold outdoor events, and allow their children to play. And outdoor space. The city, which is attempting to do this anyhow, readily agreed. And here we are. See? The immigrant Bengali community found a way to create a safe space, with a painted mural. Immigrants make our nation and communities richer and kinder. We'd be lost without them.
***
I thought on my way home - how lucky I am to live in such a diverse community and neighborhood. It's changed so much over time. My workplace is pleasantly diverse, as is my living area, my church and my neighborhood.
I need to be grateful for the things I have in my life. I think. I'm enjoying my job at the moment - so that's a good thing. Although I admittedly have European Vacation Envy. (Half my workplace, people from church and the ATPOBTVS board all took European Vacations this year.) I'm thinking of appeasing that envy by planning a trip to Europe in the Spring. Maybe March or April. Or even February. Take maybe one or two weeks. Envy is usually a sign - that I want to do something or haven't satisfied an urge, or so I've been told.
Practicing gratitude has helped push away the depression, and made me happier this year. It's also helped with my grief. My mother is doing much the same thing, as is the rest of my family.
**
Making my way through Turn of the Screw - I've discovered Henry James works better read aloud, or listened to, then read. I think it is all the flowery language and description. He doesn't tend to have a lot of dialogue and I grow weary of the description - when reading. But listening - it works very well. Audio actually works better without too much dialogue - because - it's hard to tell who is talking. Emma Thompson is excellent, she can do multiple voices. And has an ability to clearly state the words.
One of the better readers, as is Richard Armitage, who is quite popular.
I'm rather enjoying it. It's not at all like the film adaptations. Although I can't remember the one with Deborah Kerr. I did read the play once, but can't remember it either.
Also making my way through Starling House - which appears to be a tale about a House built over Hell. It delves into America's nasty past history of slave ownership. Apparently Nathan (a slave) tried to dig away from his evil white masters, who chained him to a coal gang. And he managed to convince a young woman who was engaged to one of them, and horribly abused by them, that instead of committing suicide, she should go down into the mines and find what he found and use that to reap her revenge. We don't know yet what she found - but it came with a price. It's kind of an antibellium tale of just retribution against those who use others for money and gain.
Similar to The Devil Takes You Home in that sense, except told from a female perspective, and in a more positive light.
Alix Harrow is an award winning science fiction and fantasy writer from Kentucky. I've got another one of her books - but couldn't get into it.
I honestly don't care if writers or artists win awards - it's subjective. There's no real objective criteria. Awards are popularity contests and kind of meaningless - it's like reviews. They are selected by a few people (with the possible exception of the Hugo which is a lot of people, but still somewhat limited), and that's that. Winning is just luck. Somehow someone managed to get your book to an audience or people who would love it.
I know this because I've read a lot across a broad spectrum. And a lot of award winning fiction (and film, and television) - I can't remember, can't get into, and/or doesn't interest me. And a lot of more obscure fiction that has never won a thing - I've adored. So...make of that what you will.
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Date: 2023-10-28 01:38 pm (UTC)