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Oct. 14th, 2011 02:11 pmToday is a high pain day for no apparent reason at all. Unless there are thunderstorms coming, my body has just decided to hurt unless I rest. This means that I do some work and then some rest and then some quiet exercise and then some work and then some rest and then some quiet exercise. The housework is not happening. The frilly extras are not happening. And really, I'm not getting through work at a whacking great pace. I am, however, making progress and several things that need to reach my in-box before I can do anything on them haven't yet reached my in-box so I'm not particularly falling behind. Things could be worse.
I managed to work myself into a state of irateness earlier, because of people who - when discussing food allergies - talk happily about how clever they were in when they introduced their children to what food and how their children are well and happy as a result and how other children, less cleverly handled, have developed allergies. I think I'm very tired of parents being blamed for allergies. If my parents had thrown me out of a moving vehicle and I had broken a leg, then they should be blamed. They really shouldn't be blamed for handing on their genes. I will stir Mum about it, but I would never tell her that if she had handled my eating habits differently when I was little, my life might have been safer. Because it would not have been. The allergy experts have worked this one out, aided by many tests. The big thing is that - despite the allergies - I'm alive. That's good parenting, not bad.
There's all sorts of holier-than-thou going on right now around me. My Chinese grocer (actually, he's Malaysian Chinese and a Dr Who fan) was wildly anti-Jewish the other day. It was anti-Semitism couched as anti-Israel sentiment. He shook my hand when I argued back and has promised to look into the politics of hate a bit more. Before then, however, he said some things that weren't so good. It's the usual stuff and I won't go into it. It leaves me feeling vulnerable, as always.
I'm hoping that no-one will feel the need to tell me what to think or feel about any aspect of anti-Semitism for the next few days. I just want to let it fade. I know why many people will not admit to being Jewish - the world feels a lot safer when one hides it.
This is all life as usual. It's just that the usual aspects of life are a bit more direct than they have been recently and it all feels a bit looming. Pain makes me feel vulnerable, perhaps.
Some of it also echoes in my fiction. I found the conversation with my Chinese grocer echoed scene by scene in Secret Jewish Women's Business, upon which I'm currently working (unexpectedly). I predicted this conversation several years ago! It's especially odd when one considers one of the other themes of the novel, now that I'm doing interesting things to a once-straightforward narrative. Something Stephanie Smith said to me at Conflux made me realise I might have the answers to the problems with two novels within my grasp, here and now, and that's the good thing about my week. I think I might have my answer, but it's taking a lot of work. And I'm discovering scenes that have recently appeared in my own life. This is disconcerting.
In fact' disconcerting' is a good word for the last few days. If 'disconcerting' and 'normal' belong together, this is the week that is so.
I managed to work myself into a state of irateness earlier, because of people who - when discussing food allergies - talk happily about how clever they were in when they introduced their children to what food and how their children are well and happy as a result and how other children, less cleverly handled, have developed allergies. I think I'm very tired of parents being blamed for allergies. If my parents had thrown me out of a moving vehicle and I had broken a leg, then they should be blamed. They really shouldn't be blamed for handing on their genes. I will stir Mum about it, but I would never tell her that if she had handled my eating habits differently when I was little, my life might have been safer. Because it would not have been. The allergy experts have worked this one out, aided by many tests. The big thing is that - despite the allergies - I'm alive. That's good parenting, not bad.
There's all sorts of holier-than-thou going on right now around me. My Chinese grocer (actually, he's Malaysian Chinese and a Dr Who fan) was wildly anti-Jewish the other day. It was anti-Semitism couched as anti-Israel sentiment. He shook my hand when I argued back and has promised to look into the politics of hate a bit more. Before then, however, he said some things that weren't so good. It's the usual stuff and I won't go into it. It leaves me feeling vulnerable, as always.
I'm hoping that no-one will feel the need to tell me what to think or feel about any aspect of anti-Semitism for the next few days. I just want to let it fade. I know why many people will not admit to being Jewish - the world feels a lot safer when one hides it.
This is all life as usual. It's just that the usual aspects of life are a bit more direct than they have been recently and it all feels a bit looming. Pain makes me feel vulnerable, perhaps.
Some of it also echoes in my fiction. I found the conversation with my Chinese grocer echoed scene by scene in Secret Jewish Women's Business, upon which I'm currently working (unexpectedly). I predicted this conversation several years ago! It's especially odd when one considers one of the other themes of the novel, now that I'm doing interesting things to a once-straightforward narrative. Something Stephanie Smith said to me at Conflux made me realise I might have the answers to the problems with two novels within my grasp, here and now, and that's the good thing about my week. I think I might have my answer, but it's taking a lot of work. And I'm discovering scenes that have recently appeared in my own life. This is disconcerting.
In fact' disconcerting' is a good word for the last few days. If 'disconcerting' and 'normal' belong together, this is the week that is so.