Hi folks,
I guess I'm on a little roll with writing diary-like posts...
Yesterday I spent almost the entire beautiful spring day indoors with about 40 composters and regulators from around Vermont in the first of a series of meetings to rethink current composting regulations. I was happy with how the meeting went. I felt that a lot of the problematic rule ambiguities, inconsistencies, and redundancies were unearthed and identified. I personally felt good about being able to articulate what I want to see in terms of regulations. I want us to move towards goal-based regulations, where we regulate our activities as if we are a part of an ecosystem, rather than definition-based regulations that bog us done in irrelevant distinctions, that at best don't get us closer to our goals of environmental stewardship, and at worst are actually counterproductive--as in the case of the Intervale. I think we can get there but it's going to take vision and real leadership from the State, and that's always a crap shoot.
Afterwards I finally got it together to send my mother something I've been meaning to send for months, which she reminded me of in a non-subtle manner when I saw her this weekend. So that was a load off. Then I went to my favorite bookstore, Bear Pond Books, in Montpelier, right before I went to see Persepolis, finally, with Alison. I thought Persepolis was powerful. I cried the first time she left Iran... That's right, folks, I'm a weepy butch!
Bear Pond is so great. Imagine those old creaky wood floorboards like in old general stores, plus an amazing selection and an informed staff. Can I just say that Montpelier is completely awesome and worth a visit no matter what? Let me know if you're coming to Vermont and I'll tell you exactly where to go, okay?
Another shot from my recent trip to Ithaca...
Also, I woke up this morning with an idea for changing the name of this blog...
For the love of god, stay tuned!
-the compost maven
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9 comments:
The goal-based idea would be a nice governing principle in general. Starting with the ecosystem instead of the rule book.
You rock, compost maven.
Also, weepy butches rock.
Do you cry in real life? I only cry at the movies and books--at art in general. I don't have anything against crying IRL. In fact, I often wish I could. I just don't.
from on weepy butch to another---I salute you!
Okay, this post is sort of like confessions of a weepy butch. Yes, June, I do in fact cry IRL. Sometimes it just comes right out of me like an open faucet. So, I would say definitely yes, but thankfully not too often. Don't know why some people get the crying gene and some apparently don't. There aren't many release-inducing experiences that can substitute for a good cry but I can think of a couple good ones!
I've just been thinking about the fact that I don't cry, and hate it when others do. I'm pretty sure that I decided when I was six that crying was just bad form, and gave it up. OK, I cry at corny commercials, and when I watch my kids in a school play, and stuff like that, but not in real life and not when I'm sad.
I have a a horrible reaction when people cry. I get mad at them. I know i'm supposed to be all supportive and stuff,and I try to be, but it just pisses me off. Not when a tear rolls down, but a boo hoo hoo.
Let's just say that I'm not a good shoulder to cry on. My children, I'm sorry to say, have not inherited my disdain for waterworks.
Crying is like voiding. I can't live constipated. And my brain clears remarkably after I cry.
But lots of people don't want to be around it, and I respect that. I don't think political leaders should be defamed OR fawned over for crying, because sometimes we/they cannot help it. But it's best to save it for spaces where you have the consent of those around you. (Like all voiding, eh?)
Well now on second thought the distinction between IRL crying and other kinds of crying doesn't really make sense to me. What does it matter whether we're crying over our children's play, a break-up, or hearing Garrison Keillor read a poem about the Triangle Shirtwaist fire, like he did this morning. I always lose it over that one.
What's the diff between crying because you're sad or hurt or scared and because you hear a poem on the radio (poems often do it for me, too, BTW)? Good question!
I like crying at the movies and all that because it proves the machinery's still working, and because, as you say, Holly, it can provide a nice release, but it feels a bit second-hand. I feel like I'm responding to someone else's emotions instead of my own. (I know saying that you're having the wrong kind of pleasant experience is a bit dumb--like someone says in Annie Hall, is there a wrong kind of orgasm?)
I've also felt something similar to what Liza describes--at least in certain circumstances. If I'm having an argument with someone, or sometimes just a difficult conversation, where being honest isn't the easiest path, I HATE it if/when the other person starts crying. Instead of feeling sympathetic, I feel like they're cheating. It's like throwing fire in a game of rock-paper-scissors. (Except, of course, that I could also throw fire, and for some reason I tend to get mad rather than weepy in tough situations.)
Sorry, we're a long way from Persepolis, aren't we? (Love her art, but the character--and I suppose it's a stretch to separate the character from the author--annoyed me. I'm glad she didn't hide the fact that she was privileged enough that she could leave and start over somewhere else, albeit without her family, and she was a teenager, most of whom are pretty self-centered, but ...)
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