Step back before the attack.

I found a wonderful quote over at Mamacita’s site.

“Do not think of knocking out another person’s brains because he differs in opinion from you. It would be as rational to knock yourself on the head because you differ from yourself ten years ago.”

–Horace Mann

This really reminds me of an old blog post I wrote (also my disclaimer) some time ago when Neal and I were both having issues with friends. As I said then:

Differences of opinion, as I mentioned in my last post, are just that. Many opinions have weight and merit. Many views hold value simply because of the strong value system of the person behind the view. If you convince me that you have thought something through and have valid, logical reasons behind your belief, I can see things your way. I may not agree. I may hold a differing value to be important to me but I can concede your way is not wrong, merely not mine.

And I truly believe that, even today. Sure, time has passed, but I really don’t feel as though I will ever believe I am right in everything. But I will also not believe that my personal opinions are wrong when there are just differing views and tastes coming into play. There is a nice balance between realizing you were wrong and realizing that you both believe different things, yet you are both right in your own way. Small things in life are like that. My favorite color is blue. Yours? Different? That’s not an issue.

I really don’t see why people feel as though they can be caught up in our decisions regarding engagement rings, children (to have or not), paint fumes, or whether I prefer red clay dirt or rich, dark loam. None of those things attack you. None of my personal opinions should make you angry enough to attack me (and none of Neal’s should make you angry enough to attack him in word or deed). We’ve both had this happen, though, for many reasons. Some attacking have been people we considered friends, at one point. Some have been complete strangers. Others have been online acquaintances. No matter the person who spewed their anger at us (generally in email), Neal and I were both shocked to be on the receiving end of such vitriol and vehemence.

Who am I that I make you doubt your beliefs? For what other reason should you be angered by my loving the color blue (for instance)? I am not hurting you by not having an engagement ring. We are not endangering your way of life by not having children. If we choose to live most of our lives off-line, does it really concern you (especially if you yourself personally choose to not be a part of our off-line life)?

I reserve the right to defend my beliefs and opinions, as I have carefully thought them out. As I mentioned above, facts and arguments may sway me, but be aware that I have a lot of careful thought and research into my strongly held beliefs and opinions. And something so insignificant as my favorite color shouldn’t enrage you anyway.

I realize some beliefs and opinions are stronger than others. My faith. My love. My friends. Certain life decisions. But until my thought encroaches upon your life in an obtrusive manner, please don’t attack. Sheath the claws and step back for a minute, examining your motives.

Do you know me? Do you REALLY know me? Are you simply angry because I disagreed with you? Or are my beliefs actually harming you and your life in some way? Are my beliefs harming ME and MY life in some way? Enough that you, who may not even know me well, feel that you should step in and correct me?

We can’t simply be stimulus leading to reaction. We aren’t amoebas (thank you, Gary Larson). There simply MUST be stimulus leading to THOUGHT leading to an appropriate reaction. Take a moment to judge your motives. Take a moment to judge your own beliefs as well as your own reactions.

Take a moment to decide if it’s worth your time to attack or if your life will be the same tomorrow whether I know you hate my thoughts or not.

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you…or perhaps not.

I made an interesting discovery today while reading this post and then bits and pieces of my own blog. I am a master at revealing large pieces of myself without really revealing anything. I have known this for some time in my “real” life where I can seem open and talkative but people eventually realize how very little they really know me myself once they stop to think about it. The good side of this is gaining confidence and trust quite easily but the downside is that almost anyone I’ve known for ten seconds will immediately open up and tell me things about themselves that I really don’t want to know. It’s a bit disconcerting at times (just ask Neal how I often get drawn into conversations with strangers that are unusual and weird.)

I often get into the same type of situation as Neal has here wherein I tell a bit of where I’m coming from and people go on to assume much more. I started posting disclaimers here because I’ve had people assume that I’m attacking them and go on the defensive with something I’ve stated about myself, which obviously then convinces me to raise my hackles. Most of the people who read this blog, as of now, haven’t met me in person and only know as much as I’ve chosen to reveal; however, people have the tendency to assume much more.

I know I’ve written about assuming things about bloggers you read online and the (to me) obvious realization that I only can assume as much as they tell me. There is an iceberg effect within the Internet world of blogging where one can only see the tiniest bit of each blogger and there is oh-so much more buried underneath. Even one’s friends can misread something that one has written, especially when it’s been quite a while since they’ve discussed in-depth items with that friend. A lot about me has changed just in the past year let alone since I was in high school or college. I am definitely not the same person and hold many different views and values even from when I was a college senior and thought I knew it all. Each day I realize how little I really did know…and how little I do know now.

I told Neal that I’m glad he met me when he did because I was in the process of a large number of changes the year that we became friends. He is probably one of the only ones, if not the only one, who can say with any certainty that he now knows my thoughts and views on things. He is the only one who has regularly kept up with my life, my opinions, my values. Only he has been privy to the extensive list of reasons for so many, many things.

Here? Where I update you lovely folks that I mostly admire and greatly cherish? You get the visible iceberg of reason. Hence the disclaimers in previous posts. I may explain one facet of a very wrinkled object but that doesn’t mean that you know, as Paul Harvey says, “the rest of the story.” Assumptions can hurt just as perceived truth can strike a blow, especially when so little is actually known about what is going on behind this wrinkled brow.

I hate feeling as though I have to put disclaimers up but know that people have the tendency to feel close to someone if they read their writing a lot. Just think about how you feel about your favorite authors who have written extensively. I know that I often feel as though they have revealed portions of themselves to me and cherish those bits of insight into who they are, into their vastly interesting brains. I force myself to keep in mind, however, that I don’t really know them or who they are, even if I read their works, their biography, their autobiography: I only know what is chosen to be revealed. It’s so hard to really know someone else.

But we do it anyway. We presume to know this blogger or that. We think that because we knew Bob’s views on toxic paint fumes six years ago, he can’t have changed his mind. Until we find out that he was overcome by said fumes just one month ago when he didn’t air the room out, as he always had done in the past. Believe me, my friends, my family, and my dear readers: One’s views can change ever so drastically in just a few days let alone in several year’s time. Even something I thought I believed a week ago can change for me if given enough insight and reason into a different way of thinking.

But I still have to remember this: Differences of opinion, as I mentioned in my last post, are just that. Many opinions have weight and merit. Many views hold value simply because of the strong value system of the person behind the view. If you convince me that you have thought something through and have valid, logical reasons behind your belief, I can see things your way. I may not agree. I may hold a differing value to be important to me but I can concede your way is not wrong, merely not mine.

Assumptions get in the way of our doing this and allow us to wrongly put our own belief systems onto others, placing a boxed-in worldview on someone else. We have to allow for differing opinions.

But that doesn’t mean not standing up for your own.

I did not want an engagement ring. That doesn’t mean the woman at work who said, “I’ve already told my boyfriend it must be at least two karats in the main single stone,” is wrong in her desire. She simply has different opinions about engagement than I do and different wants within her relationship. That’s her prerogative and my view is mine. I didn’t argue against her view (although she did jump me about how I should have made Neal pay, perhaps assuming that this was mainly his way of saving money when, in reality, I told him I would refuse any ring I was given). I simply said, “That was my wish,” and she let it go. No need to go into the political, economic, and personal reasons behind my view, just as I didn’t see a need to go into all of that here on my blog. One side of my opinion was shown at that time and…it is all anyone but Neal (and a few close friends) will ever need to know. People may want to know more. They may assume even more than they know. But the truth remains thus: What is known is only as little as the iceberg tip that I’ve given here. And that ain’t nothin’ but a small portion of the entire reasoning behind it, baby.

Role model?

As a (another) follow-up and to semi-tie two of my recent posts together, I give you this. (And, as a precursor to her writing that, her guest-post on another blog.)

I would apologize for the many links I’m bouncing off of lately but…these people are making me think, which makes them my kind of people. And I want to share this with my friends and family and to glean, in no matter how small of a part, what others think about so many things.

Mamacita has already inspired others to think as well.

I’m a bit intrigued by this blog, too. What? I already hear readers thinking. Is it possible to be 26 and a virgin? Especially for a guy? Well, I can’t vouch for men but, yes, it’s possible. And you know what? I agree with my doctor: It makes everything that much more special when it finally happens. See why I absolutely adore my physician? After my last visit she said, “I’d say, “God, bless your marriage”…but I think he’s already bestowed his blessing on it simply because of what the two of you have decided is right.”

Sex is everywhere and, as other posts say, it should be about choice. If I choose to remain a virgin until I’m married, who should ridicule my decision? You know, out of choosing to have sex or choosing to save myself, the easiest path would’ve been having random sex every night with someone new over choosing to stop short and refuse to lower myself that way just for that random pleasure. I’ve had to explain myself to almost everyone who’s asked me about this aspect of my life or my ring. I’m not ashamed of my choice and refuse to be embarrassed to answer the question. If someone feels comfortable enough asking me such personal questions, I have every right to tell them my viewpoints and beliefs without having to be embarrassed about it. And I could care not a whit less if they are embarrassed by my blunt answer.

Remember how I said that if you aren’t ready to deal with the consequences of sexual intercourse’s potential, you shouldn’t be having sex? I have not been ready to be a single mother. I have not been ready to raise a child and have not been financially stable enough to do so should anything happen. I refuse to bring another child into a world when it is not wanted. Yes, you heard me right. Any child of my own in my life right now would be unwanted. Is that selfish? Perhaps, but at least I know my own self-centeredness now and I don’t have to discover it after I’ve become pregnant with a casual encounter’s child only to have him leave and disappear, leaving me with a child to care for and bitterness to feed off. (But, no matter what, I still do not think of pregnancy as a parasitic condition. It’s a child that you’ve chosen to have by mete of your having chosen to *gasp* HAVE SEX! Which, in case you missed that day in middle school, may lead to PREGNANCY. Also, burning while peeing, genital itching, and other symptoms.)

My choice is right. For me. I am satisfied with my own moral decisions and personal decisions. If you want to laugh at me for my “naivete”, go ahead. (I know more about sex than some of my friends who are very sexually active, have been married, and have kids. They are often amazed with my knowledge. No, I don’t tout knowing what feels good but…that’s all opinion anyway. And I won’t be surprised going into having sex and wonder what the heck to do. There’s a lot to be said for just knowing enough about the human body in both forms in knowing what the heck is going on under the covers. *chuckles* One of my friends told me that her sex life changed for the better after a discussion with me. Figure that one out, eh?) If you want to giggle that I’ve reached my mid-twenties and I haven’t had several men between my legs, go ahead. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Heck, just last week I heard all about how it’s “gonna go” when I get married. Believe me, honey, I think I know what’s going to happen. I don’t need graphic details from you. (And who knows what happens in another person’s bedroom? Don’t we all differ in some ways? Or am I supposed to believe that all people are doing the same things, reacting the same ways, and choosing the same positions?)

I get all sorts of reactions, from “Why?” to “Is that possible at your age?” to “Don’t you want to?” to “Are you a prude?”

Let’s get one thing straight: I love the idea of sex and have normal passions and desires, if not ones that exceed what one normally feels a woman “should” have. I just know sex’s place and am willing to make it a priority and something that is important to me.

Wait? Did I say I was going to make sex a priority? Something that’s important to me?

Yes. I did.

My meaning? I want it to be something that I share with only one man, the man I make a lifetime covenant with. It is already a priority and, not having had it with every Tom, Dick, and Harry I’ve come across, it will be very important to me to have a fulfilling and excellent sex life when I do get married.

I know this post covers an area that I don’t normally talk about but I feel saddened by the oversexed culture I live in. Yes, there are some of us who choose, for whatever reason: moral, healthful, personal, or otherwise, that we do not need to have sex to have a fulfilling relationship. We don’t have to screw around to know if we are compatible with someone or if we love them.

I am 26 years old. I have not had sex. I will not until I’m married. That’s what’s called a choice. Sorry, my dear feminists, if that doesn’t fit your idea of a sexual revolution. Sorry, dear men, if I have let you down by not becoming a “free woman.”

I refuse to be a slave to my body and its desires. I refuse to let one moment of desire weaken what can be such a wonderful thing, a way of showing love to the one person who I’ve chosen and who has chosen me as a lifetime mate. I refuse to cheapen something that holds so much promise when to do so would, for me, make it less promising.

So laugh at me. Laugh at the woman who has made a choice to be strong in the face of temptation, in the face of pushing to “just do it” from others, in the face of ridicule. Laugh until you realize one thing: In today’s society, my choice has been a harder path. I have shown a strength of character that takes someone who can hold their head high and forge through all the people who tell her it’s not natural to not have sex with many partners, someone who can withstand attacks of character and thrown insults of thinking she’s better than everyone else (I’m not…I’ve made different choices that are mine and mine alone), someone who has lived through men who were only interested in her to attempt to make her succumb to desire and forget her beliefs and responsibilities, someone who has chosen to go against a majority of friends and family members who find the idea odd and ludicrous.

But someone who knows that this idea is right and good and fair to my future husband, someone who has believed this since she could think about the possibilities of sex and its consequences…and responsibilities.

And someone who, after looking around her and seeing how many problems sex can cause and how much pain it spreads, through disease, broken relationships, unexpected and/or unwanted pregnancies, loss of jobs and/or educational opportunites. Someone who has chosen to face taunts and ridicule over hurting others with loose treatment of something that, while fun, is a very serious subject.

And then tell me how much humour remains in your laughter.

(The title of this does not imply that I see myself as a role model. Far from it. It is in response to Mamacita’s idea that we place too much emphasis on “celebrities” as being role models when, in fact, they are nothing that I want to be. You decide for yourself: Hence the question mark.)

(Also, should I place this disclaimer now?: The total views of those to whom I link may not completely reflect the views of this post-writer herself. Just most of ‘em. *winks*)

Disclaimer 1.a.: Reflection, not accusation.

I am consistently amazed at people’s abilities to simply assume things to be just because they’d like them to be that way. For example, a person’s ability to delude themselves into thinking that just because they’ve known someone a long time they know the person very well. I’m unsure why they think time equals knowledge of someone. Be assured, all, that this is definitely not so.

Neal and I, for instance trusted each other immediately, something rare for both of us. He knew me better than any of my long-time friends in a few short months and I, he. (Said confidently and with his permission, as he is sitting right here in front of me. *Neal says, “HI!” and waves at the imaginary Jess-audience*) We can honestly say that we opened up to each other as we had opened to no one else previously, friend or family member. No one. So when my long-time friends said they knew me, well, yes, they did, but not better than this newer friend by far.

I said before that the things that other friends had found annoying in him and things that my other friends found frustrating in me, we both found endearing in each other. This is true and is probably the reason our friendship grew close very quickly. The other reason is inexplicable because neither of us knew why we trusted so quickly and so fully. It just came naturally within our friendship. In fact, my trust in him and knowledge that I could tell this new friend anything was a mitigating factor in my becoming more open with some of my more long-time friends.

Time does not equal knowledge. Take, for example, the minister who thinks that because he has known a person since he was young that he will be invited to a friends-and-family-only wedding. Take, also for example, the friend who calls himself a great friend to someone and, in public, pretends to know them well when, in truth, she doesn’t even know his email address or phone number and can’t get in touch with him…and repeated attempts at contact to maintain the friendship go unheeded. I am unsure why people want to put forth the façade that they know another better than they do but, for me, it is a frustrating quality that I abhor.

As we were discussing who to invite, Neal and I discovered people we once considered close friends and, after creating the list and discussing it more, we wondered to ourselves why we had included some. Sure, we used to be in close contact and used to know them well but…can we even say that we know them anymore at all? But, propriety prevails and they’ve already been told they are invited, so what are we to do? Call them up (assuming we know their phone numbers) and say, “You know what I just realized? I was inviting close friends to the wedding and I automatically invited you because I have just become so used to calling you a good friend, still maintain an old habit that is no longer based on reality”? Can you do that? I doubt it. They wouldn’t understand and would be upset, content with their little charade that they still know us well, even without knowing who we know are and how we’ve changed in the past year.

People are content to remain stagnant, without really thinking relationships through. A good, close friend will not always remain so without firm maintenance of the relationship. You cannot assume that because you’ve known someone for eight, ten, or even fifteen years that they are the person you think they are…unless you have actually continually talked to them, discussed with them, built the basis for the friendship through following through on that oh-so-important maintenance necessary.

Who is at fault when a friendship or relationship is no longer what it once was? Without knowing circumstances, I can’t say. I can’t say it is only one person’s fault but, then again, I can’t say it isn’t either, especially if one person wished to hold on to something so dear but the other one willfully let it slide through his fingers.

I should probably disclaimer this post by saying that it is not motivated by any one person I know or that Neal knows. The feelings behind this came about through much discussion and many experiences over the past year that have left me jaded when a Plato-like (think “Rebel”) person says they know someone well. “Yeah, they’re my good/best/close friend.” Before making that statement, perhaps we need to take close looks at each relationship in turn, especially if it’s been around a long time. We can no longer assume that length of knowing someone really means that you know who they are and you are close to them. That month that you go without contacting someone? Could be the most life-changing month in their entire life. I know that from much experience with quick, hard, painful changes. I also know that I don’t know some of my friends from the past as I once did…and I don’t presume to be so assuming as to believe that they’ve not changed, have remained just as I remember them being just for me.

Many factors play into distance in a friendship: real, physical distance when one or both move, emotional distance when we don’t maintain the contact necessary to be true friends to one another, perhaps emotional distance when we choose to maintain contact but not true knowledge of who our friend is. Whatever the reason, regular examination of relationships is necessary. Think of it as your emotional checkup, I suppose, and reflect on who you are today, who your friends are, and how your relationships have changed. You may be surprised (and saddened, if you are like Neal and me) to find out that your long-time, once-close friend has now become an acquaintance, that you have grown apart without realizing it.

Come together

No creo que el mar algún día
Pierda el sabor a sal
No creo en mi todavía
No creo en el azar

I just took another of those online personality tests, something I do just for fun when I’m a bit bored and procrastinating on doing my home-job. This latest one is a fairly new one that’s been in development for some time and, since I’m not really in the mood to hype someone else’s site, I’m not going to link to it or tell you what it is. *chuckles* That’s not really important, though, now is it?

Within each sub-grouping of “personality,” a person is given a main group to be placed into. Mine fell quite a bit into one main group (and a subordinate grouping) that is apparently within the smallest percentage of men and women (3.4% of women and 4.8% of men). The test is still in beta and they are requesting people who fall within this small group to answer several questions about relationships between the groups:

You scored high on Intellectual Curiosity. I am researching relational patterns of the intellectually curious so I would greatly appreciate if you would use the comment form below to answer the following questions.

1. Have you ever been in a relationship with someone as intellectually curious as you? How did it work out?
2. Have you ever been in a relationship with someone far less intellectually curious? How did it work out?
3. How have you met people that you have had relationships with generally?
4. What have you learned from experience regarding relationships?

I find these questions quite interesting, given the personality indicators that this test supposedly tells you about yourself, one of which is “more comfortable around adults as a child.”

I started thinking about the follow-up questions given and that one little line amongst all the other personality indicators, such as “regularly uses ideas and tools to transform understanding, enjoys playing with random interconnections between ideas and patterns, would describe self as a nerd in high school, feels both special and defective, knows the dark side of life well, is not bothered by going long periods without speaking with people,” etc.

“More comfortable around adults as a child.”

When I was younger, I was always told I acted older than my age. Of course, those friend who’ve known me a long time will attest to the fact that I finally have given up and grown down; however, I still find myself most comfortable among people who have had many interesting life experiences. I find myself attracted to people from whom I can learn something, not only about life itself but about myself as well. Fortunately or unforutnately, whichever way you look at it, these people usually tend to be older, something I recognized in myself in college when I realized I would rather discuss things with the non-trads and the professors than the other traditionals as myself. One of my favorite people was a woman of 53 years who had had so many interesting life experiences that just sitting and talking with her was a lesson in itself.

This made me stop and think, just now, about why this is. In college, it was obvious: I was there to learn, not because my friends were there or because I just thought it was what I was supposed to do. I wanted to know as much as possible and I wanted to glean it in as many ways as possible. Just sitting in a classroom gained me nothing, as I generally found myself bored there anyway, and prone to distracting others with my talking and discussing. *laughs* Just like all the other years of schooling I’ve had and one reason both I and my teachers liked me better in independent study classes. *laughs again*

This isn’t a question of identifying with people, although in some smaller way it is. It’s mainly, though, about learning. I grew up in a rural area but know more about life than a lot of people who grew up in large cities. People I’ve met throughout my life were amazed at the “knowledge” I’ve gleaned about human nature and my ability to “read” people. I’m not saying this with a pat on the back, though, because this all comes from letting others teach me, from being willing to let others influence my thinking to the point where I can take all of their ideas, mull them over, muddle through their meanings, and come out in the end with my own ideas, taken from so many but made my own.

I don’t do this to be different, no matter what it seems like to those outside. I’ve often been heard to say that you can’t have faith without, at some point, having doubt. How do you know it’s faith if it hasn’t been tested? That’s like saying I can float all over a pool and know the water will buoy me for hours on end without ever getting in the pool to test this theory. If you know me and my intense dislike for water, you’ll know that water does NOT buoy me because I usually fight it, for reasons that…just for reasons. My feet cannot leave the bottom of the pool. Without letting my feet leave the bottom, without giving myself that split second of wondering, “Will it carry me?” I won’t know the truly amazing feeling of being upheld by water. (The sad part of this, in an off-point side note, is that I have been buoyed by water and know the comfortable feeling it holds to be floating along…unfortunately, that faith is long gone for now.)

I love dichotomy, even within myself. I love solitude but also enjoy being around people, the extroverted person that I tend to be. I’m comfortable still and reading a book or dancing all over the place. I identify more with adults but also eight graders.

Wait…what? What did she just say? Let’s ask me a question, eh? What grade level, if given any choice, would I return to teaching? Junior high schoolers, preferably eighth graders. My cousins think I’m weird, as one wants to teach Pre-K and one just K. *winks* They think eighth graders are too mouthy and mean. *shrugs* They can be, oh yes. I’ve had to comfort students when others were downright cruel. *shrugs again* Let’s call that getting ready for the “real world,” shall we? Not excusing the behavior, just saying that it’s not uncommon, even among adults. Perhaps especially among adults. (Have you ever worked in my office or one like it? If so, you’ll know what I’m talking about…) However, I think of this grade level as the perfect mini-culture of adulthood, all pre-packaged for observation, yet still fresh enough to call a spade a spade without first checking to make sure that no other spades are around to be offended by being called a spade. They are also still fresh enough to discuss the whys of their behavior in shockingly adult ways yet in ways that adults are too world-”wise” to allow themselves to condescend to.

What the heck is this chick talking about and how does it pertain to being more comfortable around adults? Let’s put it this way: Eighth graders are on the cusp of adulthood, stereotypically enough. Yet they haven’t learned yet that their brains should be set in a certain way. They look around and are beginning to see that they either are or aren’t “NORMAL.” But, they are still willing to be openminded enough to state the ways that make them different. They are still willing to discuss the ways that they may not have fully discovered the world and what they “should” be. *sighs* They are able to take a good, hard look at themselves and see what the dislike and want to be something else without completely hating themselves most of the time.

I’m often reminded of discussing cultural setting with my four eighth grade lit classes. Each class surprised me in their depth of realizing stereotypes and hatred of what’s different. They were willing to talk to me about perception. My first question, to get them to open up: “When I first walked into this classroom, what did you think about me?” I expounded on this: What personality traits did they automatically assumed I had? What influenced that? How did the way I dressed influence their belief that they knew who I was? How many were comfortable with me immediately? What if I were like [this] instead? Would they have felt comfortable with me? Able to joke and tell me more personal notes of self?

Surprisingly, in a mixed sub-culture classroom, I got these kids to talk about this, slowly moving outward from myself and what they thought of me (cool, fun, taskmaster, easy to talk to, a listener, etc., mainly based on my haircut, my clothing choices, my jewelry choices, and my first week in the classroom) to a more pervasive explanation of stereotyping within their classroom and their school. We read a story and this led to more discussion: Can we base our own moral issues on people from another culture just because their beliefs aren’t necessarily coinciding with ours? Can we say that this culture’s ideal woman is wrong? Just because she has full hips and a tummy? What if I told you that this particular story was set in this time period and culture? Would you think it wrong? No? Well, then, how can you say it’s wrong within the culture it SEEMS to be set in? (No exact places or dates are given, just mere guesses based on spoken language and family unit structure.)

Slowly, realization dawned on their faces and was voiced throughout the classroom. These kids were seeing something about themselves: I’m from somewhere different than any one of these other people in this room, in this world. I have seen things and done things they haven’t. I am made up of all of these thoughts and experiences. My desire to wear a padlock around my neck is not wrong in comparison to Ms. [last name]’s decision to wear a bumblebee. It’s just…different.

We also discussed morality and wrongs that are “just wrong.” These kids opened up in a way that I was amazed with and I didn’t want that week of classes to end when we would move on to another story and plot device. I was saddened, knowing that most, if not all, saw something in themselves and in their classmates that many would probably later lose. I thought of something that has always comforted me, though. If letting one student see herself as a person of worth, even if someone who is “different,” lets her be herself and allows her to be a “good person”? If only one “got” this, then I’m content. And, having discussed this since and having realized that sometimes we have a greater, if seemingly fleeting, impact on people we meet, it makes me content to have this small part in someone’s life, this brief moment of opening a door and a window on themselves so they can see out and still allow others to see in.

I learned so much from those kids. The older the grade that I taught and the higher “level” the class I stood in front of, the less I learned myself, sadly enough. I’m quite fortunate, though, that I am still able to find those older people who’ve lived through bad marriages and good marriages, bitter divorces and amicable ones, awful losses of loved ones and amazing findings of others. I’m grateful to be able to say that who I am today is based a lot on the people I’ve found and what they’ve been able to teach me about themselves, about the world, about who I am and want to be. I’ve taken every idea that someone has given me, shaken it down and gnawed on it for all it’s worth, and then stood back to look at the mangled bits. Then, I’ve placed it beside another overly-chewed but similar idea from someone else and an opposing idea from yet another someone else. Then, and only then, have I taken all of those ideas, thoughtfully mangled and masticated, and discovered what I was within the pieces.

My ideas are all mine alone, yet none have come from me solely. I have reasoned out each reason, thought about each thought, and discovered thoroughly each discovery. I have beliefs that are mine because I’ve been given so many to learn from and think about.

When Neal says that I know the whys of my beliefs, he knows what he’s talking about, believe me. I don’t have a belief that was simply handed to me in my cradle. I have beliefs that I’ve fought for, that I’ve searched for, that I’ve given all to find the reasons for.

But. Oh, the dreaded “buts” of a discussion, eh? But, my friends and readers, know this: My beliefs, no matter how scarred my brain is from their conception, are no threat to you and yours. An opinion is just that, a belief that is mine. Yours are safe from outward blasts from me, especially if you know your own whys.

Do I believe that some things are “right” and some things are “wrong”? Is there a such thing as black and white, at least…in some things?

Oh, yes, my dear readers. In some things, there is a right and there is a wrong, no quotation marks needed to offset their supposed validity. But, a lot of the reason I’m here, much of the reason I began this notebook within the vastness of space and time that is Internet, is that I want to put some of my opinions out for scrutiny. I want to make you think. I want to hear your thoughts and, hopefully, continue to learn from you as well.

I want to be able to discuss those things that aren’t black and white. I want to know why you think what you do and what you think about my whys. Most of all, though, I want you to realize this one thing:

Just because I disagree with your opinions, no matter how longheld and precious to you, doesn’t mean I’m threatening your thoughts. We can disagree. That’s allowed in this society, luckily for us, right? We can always disagree. And that’s fine. That’s precious to me, actually, the ability to take what I’ve said and still disagree with me because of the road that’s led you here. But, what I want more than anything, is for civility to reign within these posts. I am not here to diminish your beliefs and your actions based on those beliefs. I shouldn’t hold that power over anyone.

I, most of all, want everyone to believe this: We can be different. We can think differently. We can come to different conclusions about things in life. But, we can still learn from one another and take things away to chew on later. And, if we end up still holding on to our previous belief? Then it’s stronger and less likely to be torn down by a simple argument. Letting someone’s differing belief be a sounding board for your own can help you determine your own whys. And can mean that you no longer need be threatened when someone’s opinion is different.

No creo en Venus ni en Marte
No creo en Carlos Marx
No creo en Jean Paul Sartre
No creo en Brian Weiss

Not an anti-automaton; just myself.

I feel the need to clarify for everyone:

When I make a decision, I don’t do it lightly. I don’t do it to “show someone” that I can be “different”. I don’t do it to be “cool”. I do it because I have sound reasons. When asked, I can give them to you forthwith. (Ask Neal. He was saying last night that he agrees with that statement. Apparently I am too logical when I argue and I’m hard to counter. Huh. Whodathunkit? *winks*)

I’m not against marriage. I am all for it for those who wish to be in that state. I haven’t prepared and waited for marriage in the ways I have in order to just spout against it because it’s common practice. I’m not anti-tradition. In fact, I lament many traditions that have faded into distant memory for many and wonder where they went. (I am not, however, adverse to mixing tradition with the creation of new memories and “traditions”.)

I’m not against wedding rings. I’m not against the white dress. I’m not against many things that are involved in the wedding planning.

“What, then, are you against?” you might be asking yourself.

I am against expecting a man to buy me some expensive bauble that I won’t wear anyway just so he can ask me to marry him. (I have about a dozen rings in my drawer that have been bought for me. I don’t wear them. I wear one ring regularly at this point in my life.) I am against being greedy that way when he won’t get a thing in return for the asking. I am against expecting more and more money being spent on me just because some man is weird enough and a large enough glutton for punishment to want to marry me. I am against the idea that a wedding is just for the girl and, therefore, she needs to have all the expensive crap to gather around her. (If I could? I’d elope. I have enough bills already.) I am against having an large, unrare but still overly-priced rock on my hand that I’m going to wish I didn’t have to wear and that, as soon as the “engagement” is over, will sit in a box in the drawer with the other rings people have bought me. (I don’t wear rings with stones in them: I only wear bands.) I am against having a symbol that means nothing to me personally just because someone else in an ad campaign a few years ago decided it was necessary for every “pampered” woman to have one. If her man “truly” loved her, of course.

What am I for, then? *looks at ring* *looks at necklace* I am for wearing things that mean something to me. I am for having my chastity ring on my left hand, Hebrew intact, reminding me of old tradition and newer vows. I am for having my dragonfly around my neck, reminding me of my late-fall Messenger one sunny day years ago.

If I looked down at my left hand and saw a diamond perched there, it would signify nothing. It would signify things that I’d rather not remember, pain and loss and manipulation. And not only my own feelings of such, but for all of those whose sweat went into pulling that diamond from the rough so I could have a meaningless symbol to show for a few months, waving my hand like a dying butterfly on the wind and giggling behind bejeweled hand.

That’s not me. That has nothing to do with who I am. Not because I have something to prove to you or to anyone else. But because I feel so strongly within myself that this is good and right.

And that is enough for me.

And, as I am for many other things, I like what I like and I dislike what I dislike. Because I have personal preferences. And I have opinions. I have nothing to prove. I have no one to impress.

I am who I am. (And, no, I’m not Popeye.) For one of the few times in my life, quite recently, I’ve begun liking who I am more and more. My feelings aren’t “so there!” feelings. My beliefs aren’t “take that!” beliefs. I’m not sticking it to anyone. My thoughts and beliefs are, all together, mine alone.