The Social Porcupine

" Know your boundaries."  Boundaries. What are they? An invisible barricade around my persona? Some sacred bubble that must not be encroached upon? "I don't think I really believe in having boundaries." I confessed to a friend. "Or maybe I just disagree with the modern philosophy of boundaries."  "Eh, I don't think anyone really knows what they mean when they talk of  boundaries."  Pinterest seems to know a lot about the topic.  Listen to yourself  Speak your needs Say no when you want  Do what makes you happy Don't let people use you Sounds so. . . selfish.  Especially compared to:  Turn the other cheek. Walk a second mile. Let your coat be stolen. Give to those who would hurt you and take advantage of you. Don't resist or fight against those who are evil; pray for them instead! Love your enemies.  (Matthew 5:38-40) So... Don't have boundaries?  Ah. But does this mean we let people do just whatever they want to us?  Funny thi...

I dreamt my tooth was loose.  I've dreamed such dreams throughout much of my life. So far I've always awoken relieved to find my teeth still firmly rooted in my mouth.  But this dream was different. Only one tooth was about to fall out, and it was one of my front side teeth. When I smiled it showed.  What follows is almost funny.  You know how fingers always want to touch and wriggle things they ought not to? It was all I could do to keep my fingers out of my mouth. I would not help this tooth come free. In fact, I would pretend it was alright. And then it would be. I couldn't lose it. I needed it. Maybe if I needed it enough, it would be fine...  No such luck. It fell out.  I thought, "Maybe I can put it back in!"  But it broke into many chunks, larger than the tooth ever could have been.  I panicked. I would not be able to live if I could not smile. How could anyone? One had to smile. They would die without happiness, wouldn't they?  I held...

I only endure the process of peeling and cutting potatoes because I like to see the joy on people's faces when they taste a bit of the Earth and find it be as God says, "Very good."  I think the worst part about struggling for anything is all the time I have to wonder.  I used to think I was quite good at patience and forbearance. You know, because I embroidered intricate, gorgeous scenes all out of tiny stitches. But then I could see my progress, feel it, and most of all know that my goal was coming closer, no matter how tiny my stitches might be.  The problem with real-life is you just can't know.  Ah, but to have the gift of hindsight. "See! I knew I would succeed!"  "One step at a time," they say. If only those steps were as visibly known as the tiniest stitches I embroidered. I simply don't know how close, if I am at all, to my finish line. And even worse, I wonder. "Is all this worth it? Or am I just wasting my time?" It's r...

Imagine being the oldest of twelve children and fifty plus cousins. You aren't sure if it is due to experience or your innate nature, but you are quite good at bossing all these "youngsters". You get huge things done with numbers at your disposal. You create economies and you are the bankster, your siblings and cousins your working class (or the counterfeiters).  Everyone honors you and burdens you with trust. But you are also the first one in trouble if something does go wrong.  Now imagine being told, "They are all looking up to you. Whatever you do they will do ten times worse."  You wish to wear a skirt that might show your knees if you sit down. "Yes, it's not that immodest," you are told. "But... if I allow you to wear that your little sister will want to wear a mini skirt when she is your age."  If you do this , they will want to that .  Be an example, you are told. It's even Biblical. You can't argue with it. And yet... an...

This post isn't really about wearing my first mask. It's about why masks are so irrelevant.  * * * I began exchanging letters about two years ago with a young woman in jail. She is my age: twenty-four. All this time she has been awaiting trial for murder. Due to COVID, she hasn't been allowed to see her family (including her young son) in nearly a year. Even before that, though, she wasn't allowed to touch or hug them. Her mother contacted me last month. "Her sentencing is beginning of April." I'd heard Biden had mandated masks in federal buildings, no exceptions. "I don't think I'll be able to come."  What am I basing right and wrong on? I wondered. On whether or not a mask was to be required?  I laughed at myself. Here I was submitting to all sorts of other outrageous violations: TSA and paying car insurance, among many others. And yet I couldn't wear a mask to be there for a friend who really needed support and comfort?  Scripture ...

 I know we anti-maskers are supposed to flaunt toothy grins. But when I shop, I just want to get out and not invite any extra attention.  If I see an employee coming toward me my glare automatically sets in. "Don't mess with me," I want to yell. Or maybe cry?  I'm not really rebellious. Just stubbornly uncomfortable.  And then the employee often drops their mask and smiles. "Need any help, ma'am?" Then shame hits me. It's all I can do to hide my tears. "Yeah. Do you all have any eggplant?"  It's odd how at ease I am eavesdropping in other people's homes. And that I get paid on top of it. Ah, but I've been so tired these days. Not sure why I clean anymore. I don't really like money this much. In fact, do I like the money? No. I think I do because I want to be free from the burden of poverty. And yet, I'm still enslaved. I want time, not money. Time to write, read, sleep.  And eat. I never eat while I clean. Maybe that...

I once worked in customer service. You know, the job where you paste a smile on your face when all you want to do is let that other person have what ought to be coming to them. But of course, you keep the smile, keep the words, and keep on serving. For the small, silly reason that you want to keep your job (though, those of us that have quit, know that we’d never take such a job back. Even when our bosses have told us over and over, “Oh, but you were made for customer service!”).  Hah. Made for it.  But how the world has changed.  Now, or so I heard, rude customer service is encouraged. Of course, only for the correct political reasons. Maybe I would have stayed in the business, had it been so in my day . . .  But then maybe not. Back then I definitely had my moments of wishing to spit in people’s faces. But now . . . with that warning constantly being bombarded into my eardrums, I’m sure I’d not be able to curb the temptation.  Back then I’d merely have been fi...