I didn't realize so much of my adult life would be keenly balancing different numbers. How much caffeine have I had? How many miles have I run? How much alcohol? How much food? How much money do I have? How much time left before the next meeting?
All this management puts me in an isometric view of myself. I’m not so much experiencing the things I do, as much as I’m solving some equation for x, and watching myself fulfill the equalization from afar. I need to run at least 6 miles tomorrow, drink 2 or less cups of tea, have no alcohol, eat a salad for lunch (some of these are less quantifiable than others), do a chapter of my Malay language book, and complete my Unity (a game engine I’m taking a class in) homework. I need to do this after finding and performing 8 hours of billable work for my “real” job.
I’m often less being Taylor and more being Taylor’s manager.
This system requires repetition. It’s pretty easy to fall off the balance beam, dropping all but the essential “real” work (the one that pays money). And failing in one department often means failing in another. Drinking too much, or running too much or working too much will require me to sleep more or drink more caffeine, AND IF YOU GIVE A MOUSE A COOKIE….
So while I know that stable repetition is the best way to accomplish long term goals, (pay off loans, lose weight, learn things, record music), it can get so boring, that the reward neurons for accomplishing parts of those goals don’t really fire as much.
So to re-up on those pleasure center dispensaries, I have to throw out the routine. In college this was harder to do. I’d do stand up comedy as the definitive method of “making myself uncomfortable for the sake of mental health”. Stand up is hard, and even 5 minutes can be enough to be able to appreciate the time that you’re not on stage, responsible for making others laugh. The prep time of writing and practicing jokes, though I don’t think I was ever good, was enough to shake up the School -> Run -> Homework -> Drink cycle, that’s was too dominating in my higher ed lifestyle.
Here's the only joke I've ever written that I'm proud of. Performed at an open mic in Brisbane.
I just remembered all the pimples that used to pop up in the pit of my elbow during high school and college. Glad that doesn’t happen anymore.
Post college I have fewer pimples and more freedom. I’m lucky enough to be able to do whatever I want. This may not always be the case, so I think it’s important to take advantage of that while I can.
One great guarantee for “making myself uncomfortable for the sake of mental health” is to visit a place with which I have very little understanding. I don’t know the language, the land, or the culture, and that facilitates a feeling of nervousness and excitement. And an appreciation for the things I have become desensitized to when I return. I feel like I’ve written this before...
It’s also just fun to see the political/racial/socioeconomic status of a country and not really have any context or input. It’s like living in a fictional place. I know that sounds solipsistic, but hang with me. I’m gonna tell a story. I’m going to include the races of the people, as this story is about power dynamics/ mental health/ class in America and, c’mon, race is a pretty fundamental part of that.
Last night I was taking the BART (the subway) home around 9pm. I was super tired so I wasn’t even reading a book, or playing 3DS, or looking at my phone. I was just hanging on the subway handles, eyes half open, listening to Iron Maiden. There was a black lady, presumably homeless, yelling stuff, but I couldn’t really hear, because Bruce Dickinson’s voice is like a cannon. So at first I didn’t really notice, but then an older black woman stood up, visibly upset, and left for another car. The homeless woman then stood up as she was leaving, barking racial slurs at her and threatened to cut her. I moved into Bruce Dickinson’s earlier work with Samson, so I could half pay attention in case there was actual danger. (Sorry for the musical details, just trying to keep some levity).
For context:
Now that the homeless woman was mobile, she approached a younger white woman with a hat. A string of obscenities still spewing from the woman’s mouth, she was trying to determine if the hatted person was Swedish or Amish? Or potentially both. Either way, the hatted lady left the car upset as well.
Now the woman started to pick a fight with a white South African man, talking about how he should end slavery in South Africa, but then also making fun of him for being Australian and antagonizing him with a bad English accent? Obviously the woman was either on drugs or having mental issues.
The next stop the South African guy got off and the BART police got on. At this point I removed Dickinson my ears, because prior to this, guns were not involved. The officers were white and asked if there was a disturbance on the car. Nobody said anything and then the sergeant approached me and asked what was happening in the train. I motioned to the woman in the back and briefly explained the story as I had observed it.
The officers approached the woman and asked for a BART ticket, while a younger asian woman got in the car, filming the interaction with her phone. The homeless person refused to show a BART ticket, and while not babbling completely incoherently, her jumps in logic and context were wild.
She was truly controlling the conversion, deflecting any of the officer’s questions and I believe at one point asking the question, “How is it, in 80 years you haven’t found a body on a train?” I do not know the answer. Somehow, she completely ignored the lower ranking officer but observed the stripes on the other and said “well now I respect you because I can tell you’re in charge”. She would talk about how police officers had been killing black folks, and referenced recent murders that I wasn’t familiar with. She asked why they hadn’t found bodies of missing folks. I’m not sure if these were BART police or national police incidents.
But the most disturbing part of the whole incident was the woman who was filming. At first I was relieved someone was filming because, better to have a clear record in case anything happens. But she was like, cheering on the homeless woman berating the cops. I can understand being concerned about cops getting involved with a distressed person of color. But, the cops were calm and reasonable, and the filmer was adding pressure to the situation.
I can understand wanting answers for police killings, but that’s not the topic, and also probably not related to the people standing in front of you. This woman verbally abused other riders and they felt threatened, so the cops were called. How could you side with her? Just because she wasn’t the cops?
Eventually, the police asked if anyone would like to file a complaint against this woman. Which, uhh, dumb way to get any honest feelings from anyone. No one’s going to raise their hand right there in front of her. When no one said anything, the cops left the car.
And then the filming woman did a fist pump in the air! Like something good had just happened!!
Look, I don’t think that giving a destitute person a fine or having her face legal action would have been the right thing to do. She absolutely had enough problems. But, she also received no help, and she was still on the train to potentially harass more people. I got off at the next stop.
I was pretty stressed out about the whole thing. I don’t know if there was a right thing to do in that situation. One hispanic man (what a colorful melting pot we had on the train), told her to sit down while she was irritating the Amish Swede. I don’t know if I should have spoken more with the cops, or spoken even with her. But l am highly conflict averse (AKA a coward). Even if I did know of a place where she could get help, like, a white man telling a woman of color what to do, call a Lyft for Problematic Promenade cuz that's where we are.
I'd love to chalk up my stress and emotions over the incident to toxic masculinity. As some sort of need to control and resolve the situation. Replaying it over in my head is not fun. Writing helps. Also, I get it. Boohoo, you had to be uncomfortable for a half an hour, it's nothing compared to what she’s going through.
NOW! If that all happened in a Malaysian subway A) I probably wouldn't understand any of the words so I wouldn't be as upset. And B) I would just be able to go "huh, Malaysia's crazy right?" And I wouldn’t feel any need to “fix” the situation.
I probably SHOULDN’T participate in Malaysian decision making or intervene in Sabahan qualms. I have no responsibility in local politics but get to witness their impacts first hand. And how many other times is the right thing to do, to do nothing and just observe? What a luxury.
