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Anti-Lazy Lent

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Okay, I figured it out, I figured out what I'm giving up for Lent this year.

Being Lazy

Yep, giving up being lazy.

Here's what I'm thinking. Depression is hard to shake. You KNOW what you need to do to move through it and arrive at the other side, but just... can't... do... it. And so you stay there. Exercise is one of those depression shakers. As is doing (something, anything, just start moving forward). Both of these require not being lazy.

Yes, yes, I know. Depression is not the same as being lazy. I know this. I understand how rising from bed some days is a f--king victory. I understand. I also know I need to shake this one, so work with me here, ignore the poor choice of words.

Routines really help you keep going when depression hits. So do thought-out rules: actions and restrictions that make sense, and prevent you from falling too far into the abyss. For example, I have a rule that I can listen to an audiobook, as long as I'm doing another activity such as running, walking, cleaning, folding clothes, bathing the dog, and other non-mental-taxing activities. That's a big one for me. When I break that rule, red flags and sirens go off in my head, DANGER WILL ROBINSON DANGER, and checking in with myself is very very important at that moment.

Routines, rules, and all that, they go only so far. They haven't gone far enough with this Dark.

And along comes Lent.

So, not being lazy. Those moments when I'm relaxing not for self-care, but for laziness, gone. Those moments when I want to play 10x10, I'll pick up my outline and keep writing. Those moments when I have 15 minutes before the next activity, ponder the serverless perpetual-motion community site I might have a chance to build. Those nights when I look at my step counter and it's only 9600 steps, I'll get up and walk those remaining 2400 steps, instead of thinking, eh, 9600 is close enough.

At this moment, this is the perfect thing to give up for Lent. And close to the hardest thing I'll be able to give up. I'm a day late starting, but day two is done.

And this hot chocolate is delicious.

Lent and Chocopocalypse

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Today is the first day of Lent. Related: Happy Valentine's Day!

As the first day of Lent, I realize I'm behind, again, with my deciding what to give up for Lent. This is apparently a trend, and unsurprising, as I'm not actively participating in any organized religion. I'm missing the cues, the reminders that tell people that, hey, think about this, pay attention!

So, Lent.

Why do this at all? Why give up anything for Lent if I don't have a religious or moral imperative to sacrifice something that brings me joy, that causes happiness, that I find satisfying?

Easiest answer would be because I want to do it.

Of course, the fullest answer is more complicated than that, and involves accepting and accomplishing a challenge. The answer also includes elements of control, even if said control is an illusion. No doubt, some childhood indoctrination into religion has some play in the answer, "because one is supposed to do this." There might be some financial reasoning in the answer, possibly some punishment or self-hatred in the mix, but I'm less sure about those two elements.

So, the easiest answer stays: because I want to do it.

Given that, what to give up? What to let go?

Giving up alcohol is a common item to give up on Lent. While I have been drinking more than I usually do, and had been drinking to relieve the pain and anxiety of the last few months (even though that never works, alcohol doesn't fix the problems, just delays the dealing with them), giving up alcohol isn't really difficult, and definitely isn't a sacrifice. So, that's out.

Tea might be a good one. I drink a LOT of tea. Keeping this one on the list.

Coffee? No brainer, not a sacrifice, hate the stuff.

Meat? Wouldn't be difficult, I prefer a vegetarian diet and have to consciously eat meat for the protein most meals. A vegan diet, however, would be difficult. This is a good one to consider.

Chocolate? Yes, this one I find difficult to give up. Made more so by the 20 bars of Patric Chocolate that Jonathan bought me.

Sugar? Oh my yes. Giving up sugar, deliberately avoiding all sweets and fruit would be hard. And health-wise very, very good for me. It would include chocolate by default.

Speaking of "in general" along those lines, food is an option, too.

** Insert sound of needle dragging across a record here. **

Fasting is a typical Lent thing. From Wikipedia's page on Lent:

For Latin Catholics, by the early 20th century the theoretical obligation of the penitential fast throughout Lent except on Sundays was to take only one full meal a day and that around noon. In addition, a smaller meal, called a collation, was allowed in the evening, and a cup of some beverage, accompanied by a little bread, in the morning. In practice, this obligation, which was a matter of custom rather than of written law, was not observed strictly.

The 1917 Code of Canon Law allowed the full meal on a fasting day to be taken at any hour and to be supplemented by two collations, with the quantity and the quality of the food to be determined by local custom. The Lenten fast ended on Holy Saturday at noon. Only those aged 21 to 59 were obliged to fast. As with all merely ecclesiastical laws, particular difficulties, such as strenuous work or illness, excused one from observance, and a dispensation from the law could be granted by a bishop or parish priest. In addition to fasting, abstinence from meat was to be observed on Ash Wednesday and on Fridays and Saturdays in Lent.[42]

A rule of thumb is that the two collations should not add up to the equivalent of another full meal. Rather portions were to be: "sufficient to sustain strength, but not sufficient to satisfy hunger".[43]

Fasting is already part of my life, but not at the level of forty-seven days in a row. Again I shake my fist at the sky over Catholics believing that SUNDAYS DON'T COUNT during the forty days of the fasting in the desert. Consider this, did he think, "Oh, I'm going to eat on Sundays?" No, he didn't. He fasted 40 days straight, not counting Sundays is bullsh-t and another power play by the church over its people. Bull. Sh-t.

And I digress.

Fasting. Part of my life. Not for FORTY-SEVEN days in a row, though. Even at reduced caloric input, being hungry for forty-seven days would be a sacrifice in a way that I haven't experienced yet. Would I be disingenuous to choose this? Does it satisfy my need to give up something for Lent? Or would it be more than that?

Other options? Screw it, other options of things to give up for Lent, this time without explanations:

Spending money, except for necessities.
Checking out books from the library.
Buying books.
Buying journals.
Cupcakes.
Buying paper.
Feeling sorry for myself.
The victim role.
The habits and routines that don't help me out of depression.
Listening to television while I work.
Unscheduled days.
Unproductive behaviour.
10x10 (argh, that game! such a time sink!)
Overplanning my days.
Underplanning my days.

Maybe some "not" options, giving up not doing things by actually doing them? Unsure.

Anyway.

Pick something. Anything. Start there, and adjust as needed. Start today. Start now. Didn't need to eat today anyway.

Chocopocalypse is in 47 days. I look forward to the day. Again. It is the most wonderful holiday on record. Time to bring it back.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Left Hand of Darkness

Book Notes

I wanted and want to like this book. Ursula Le Guin is this famous female science fiction author, and oh so many people like and love her writing and... and... and, well, I just don't. I recall reading other books of hers a number of years, okay, fine, decades ago, as a kid, and I didn't like those books then, and I'm not a fan of The Left Hand of Darkness now. I think Susan or Claire or both really like this book, which made me want even more to like it. I didn't. I am not a Le Guin fan, it seems. Even now, I wish I recalled what the other books were, so that I don't read them again. They were either A Wrinkle In Time or the Earthsea Trilogy, because, hey, they are considered Le Guin's kids books and I was a kid when I read them. Maybe I read both. I don't know, I don't recall. I do recall not being a fan of the story I had read, and that's fine.

So, this book.

Lots of terms that the reader is supposed to pick up from context (or, let's be realistic, search for the term on the Intarwebs these days) began to annoy me. There's a level of explanation required to properly world-build, and, eh, Le Guin errored on the too vague side. With an entirely foreign Envoy, surely explanations could be easier.

And the required suspension of disbelief that any sufficiently advanced planet wouldn't capture and kill any being who landed on their planet from the Void just boggles the mind. Consider our history, and, say, the Inquisition or the witch hunts or the level of blind violence in the last century? No, no interplanetary human, single or otherwise, would be allowed to live, much less have the freedom in the book.

Upside, the plot moves quickly, and is interesting. If only the words hadn't gotten in the way.

So, if a Le Guin fan, this book is worth reading. If a classic science fiction fan (this is the book that put Le Guin on the science-fiction map), this book is worth reading. If you're neither, eh, go ahead and skip, read Wrinkle or Earthsea instead.

But the very use of the pronoun in my thoughts leads me continually to forget that the Karhider I am with is not a man, but a manwoman.
Page 94

Okay, why must an entity who is both a man and a woman in our classically defined gender roles be a manwoman? Why is she not a womanman? I'm more than a little annoyed that the male gender comes first, even from a woman author.

Here man has a crueler enemy even than himself.
Page 96

An enemy, in Karhide, is not a stranger, an invader. The stranger who comes unknown is a guest. Your enemy is your neighbor.
Page 97

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Lord Estraven.”

“The unexpected is what makes life possible,” he said.
Page 120

... small cups of a fierce liquor were served, lifewater they called it, as men often do, and they asked me questions.
Page 134

Yep. Alcohol. Totally life water. :eyeroll:

If you play against your own side you’ll lose the whole game. That’s what these fellows with no patriotism, only self-love, can’t see.
Page 144

To be an atheist is to maintain God. His existence or his nonexistence, it amounts to much the same, on the plane of proof. Thus proof is a word not often used among the Handdarata, who have chosen not to treat God as a fact, subject either to proof or to belief: and they have broken the circle, and go free.
Page 151

To learn which questions are unanswerable, and not to answer them: this skill is most needful in times of stress and darkness.
Page 151

Here, the government can check not only act but thought. Surely no men should have such power over others.
Page 152

I felt that the truck was going east, and couldn’t get rid of this impression even when it became plain that it was going west, farther and farther into Orgoreyn. One’s magnetic and directional subsenses are all wrong on other planets; when the intellect won’t or can’t compensate for that wrongness, the result is a profound bewilderment, a feeling that everything, literally, has come loose.
Page 168

It is a terrible thing, this kindness that human beings do not lose. Terrible, because when we are finally naked in the dark and cold, it is all we have. We who are so rich, so full of strength, we end up with that small change. We have nothing else to give.
Page 170

Kindness there was and endurance, but in silence, always in silence.
Page 170

I was extremely ill after the last examination; the other, a middle-aged fellow, had some disorder or disease of the kidney, and was dying. As he could not die all at once, he was allowed to spend some time at it, on the sleeping-shelf.
Page 179

Imagine that. Someone dying, allowed to die.

I never had a gift but one, to know when the great wheel gives to a touch, to know and act. I had thought that foresight lost, last year in Erhenrang, and never to be regained. A great delight it was to feel that certainty again, to know that I could steer my fortune and the world’s chance like a bobsled down the steep, dangerous hour.
Page 190

Estraven asleep looked a little stupid, like everyone asleep: a round, strong face relaxed and remote, small drops of sweat on the upper lip and over the heavy eyebrows.
Page 201

I giggled at this one.

He lay in the tent, writing in a little notebook in his small, rapid, vertical-cursive Karhidish hand. He hadn’t been able to keep up his journal during the past month, and that annoyed him; he was pretty methodical about that journal. Its writing was, I think, both an obligation to and a link with his family, the Hearth of Estre.
Page 209

"You hate Orgoreyn, don’t you?”

“Very few Orgota know how to cook. Hate Orgoreyn? No, how should I? How does one hate a country, or love one? Tibe talks about it; I lack the trick of it. I know people, I know towns, farms, hills and rivers and rocks, I know how the sun at sunset in autumn falls on the side of a certain plowland in the hills; but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving it a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply? What is love of one’s country; is it hate of one’s uncountry? Then it’s not a good thing. Is it simply self-love? That’s a good thing, but one mustn’t make a virtue of it, or a profession. . . . Insofar as I love life, I love the hills of the Domain of Estre, but that sort of love does not have a boundary-line of hate. And beyond that, I am ignorant, I hope.”
Page 212

Ignorant, in the Handdara sense: to ignore the abstraction, to hold fast to the thing.
Page 212

“A man who doesn’t detest a bad government is a fool. And if there were such a thing as a good government on earth, it would be a great joy to serve it.”
Page 213

“I’m glad I have lived to see this,” he said. I felt as he did. It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.
Page 220

“Fire and fear, good servants, bad lords.” He makes fear serve him. I would have let fear lead me around by the long way. Courage and reason are with him. What good seeking the safe course, on a journey such as this?
Page 228

Tormer’s Lay had been all day in my mind, and I said the words,


Light is the left hand of darkness
and darkness the right hand of light.

Two are one, life and death,
lying together like lovers in kemmer,
like hands joined together,
like the end and the way.

Page 233

“We are dualists too. Duality is an essential, isn’t it? So long as there is myself and the other.”

“I and Thou,” he said.

“Yes, it does, after all, go even wider than sex...”
Page 233

I certainly wasn’t happy. Happiness has to do with reason, and only reason earns it. What I was given was the thing you can’t earn, and can’t keep, and often don’t even recognize at the time; I mean joy.
Page 242

Estraven meanwhile engaged in his customary fierce and silent struggle with sleep, as if he wrestled with an angel. Winning, he sat up, stared at me vaguely, shook his head, and woke.
Page 242

“Why did you come alone—why were you sent alone? Everything, still, will depend upon that ship coming. Why was it made so difficult for you, and for us?”

“It’s the Ekumen’s custom, and there are reasons for it. Though in fact I begin to wonder if I’ve ever understood the reasons. I thought it was for your sake that I came alone, so obviously alone, so vulnerable, that I could in myself post no threat, change no balance: not an invasion, but a mere messenger-boy.

"But there’s more to it than that.

"Alone, I cannot change your world. But I can be changed by it. Alone, I must listen, as well as speak. Alone, the relationship I finally make, if I make one, is not impersonal and not only political: it is individual, it is personal, it is both more and less than political. Not We and They; not I and It; but I and Thou. Not political, not pragmatic, but mystical.

:In a certain sense the Ekumen is not a body politic, but a body mystic. It considers beginnings to be extremely important. Beginnings, and means. Its doctrine is just the reverse of the doctrine that the end justifies the means. It proceeds, therefore, by subtle ways, and slow ones, and queer, risky ones; rather as evolution does, which is in certain senses its model...

"So I was sent alone, for your sake? Or for my own? I don’t know. Yes, it has made things difficult. But I might ask you as profitably why you’ve never seen fit to invent airborne vehicles? One small stolen airplane would have spared you and me a great deal of difficulty!”

“How would it ever occur to a sane man that he could fly?”
Page 259

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I went on, “except acute chronic fear.”

“Fear’s very useful. Like darkness; like shadows.”
Page 267

“It’s queer that daylight’s not enough. We need the shadows, in order to walk.”
Page 267

On the blank leaf glued to the inner back cover I drew the double curve within the circle, and blacked the yin half of the symbol, then pushed it back to my companion. “Do you know that sign?”

He looked at it a long time with a strange look, but he said, “No.”

“It’s found on Earth, and on Hain-Davenant, and on Chiffewar. It is yin and yang. Light is the left hand of darkness... how did it go? Light, dark. Fear, courage. Cold, warmth. Female, male. It is yourself, Therem. Both and one. A shadow on snow.”
Page 267

We lay in the tent for three days while the blizzard yelled at us, a three-day-long, wordless, hateful yell from the unbreathing lungs. “It’ll drive me to screaming back,” I said to Estraven in mindspeech, and he, with the hesitant formality that marked his rapport: “No use. It will not listen.”
Page 268

His loyalty extended without disproportion to things, the patient, obstinate, reliable things that we use and get used to, the things we live by. He missed the sledge.
Page 269

Hunger can heighten perception, but not when combined with extreme fatigue;
Page 270

To those fishermen-villagers who live on the edge of the edge, on the extreme habitable limit of a barely habitable continent, honesty is as essential as food. They must play fair with one another; there’s not enough to cheat with.
Page 272

“Sometimes you must go against the wheel’s turn,”
Page 276

And I wondered, not for the first time, what patriotism is, what the love of country truly consists of, how that yearning loyalty that had shaken my friend’s voice arises, and how so real a love can become, too often, so foolish and vile a bigotry. Where does it go wrong?
Page 279

I did not know if I had done right to send it. I had come to accept such uncertainties with a quiet heart.
Page 280

I had not had in mind when I spoke the contemptibility of suicide to these people. It is not to them, as to us, an option. It is the abdication from option, the act of betrayal itself. To a Karhider reading our canons, the crime of Judas lies not in his betrayal of Christ but in the act that, sealing despair, denies the chance of forgiveness, change, life: his suicide.
Page 286

“Estraven would be a good man to pull with, on a crazy trek like that. He was tough as iron. And never lost his temper. I’m sorry he’s dead.”
Page 294

Do It Yourself Guide to Fighting the Big Motherf--king Sad

Book Notes

I'm not convinced this book needs a review per-se. It's an itty-bitty book. I picked it up when I was at Powells picking up a book I had already purchased online (mmmmmmmmmm... used books, such a wonderful, wonderful thing). As I was wandering around the bookstore (I think I was in the literature section, looking for nicely bound Hemingways or Fitzgeralds), this one caught my eye. It was on a carousel, along with a number of other small books, clearly set up for an impulse purchase. So I impulsively looked.

And subsequently bought.

I figured at the time that I was purchasing it to signal to the publisher that I wanted books like this to exist. Tonight, however, I needed this book. Today was a f--king crappy day. The score is 5-0, with my score being the zero, and that's a good thing health-wise, but the 5 hurts and it hurts a lot.

If you are in the grip of a depression, or even "just" a depressive episode, or really really sad, this book can help. It reminds you that you can get through this. It recommends ways to get through this. It tells you to keep going, because there's beauty on the other side.

If you are not in the grip of depression, this book is a rah-rah-rah. It reads like a rah-rah-rah-you-can-do-it. And that's okay, this isn't the moment for you to read this book. See the previous paragraph to understand when could be the moment for you to read it.

The book is short, less than a half hour read, even if you read slowly. It's worth reading, however, if you are in the moment of need.

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