Labels

We all are faced with being labelled every day by every person we meet. And we do the same with others. It's human nature, to catagorize everyone, to simplify to what we remember. Compexity isn't our nature. So with that in mind, here is what I am according to the labels most recognized.

I'm shy and an introvert. I prefer being and doing things alone, something I've known from childhood. I'm a very private person, but when I retired I decided to tell the world about myself and my life, or at least what I want to share with the world.

I hoard empty boxes. Yes, everything I buy I keep the box. I recycle shipping boxes, or most of them as I keep some to ship things to others, but I will almost always keep the original box, just in case I'll need it. I never do and never have outside of moving and then only using the boxes for special things, stereo, computers, etc. But I still keep the boxes anyway.

I have genetic, lifelong Dysthymia. It's a milder form and doesn't require drugs. I use exercise and personal work in place of drugs. I have fallen into periods of double depression at various times of my life - the feelings are never out of my mind. I have thought about and even come close to suicide. Twice, at 28 and 50. There won't be a third time, or at least to live.

I'm an INTP person on the Myers-Briggs personality test with a few differences or quirks, whichever fits. I tend to trust my intuition slightly more than my logical thinking. I'm also very hard on myself when I make mistakes, good or bad, dwelling on how stupid I feel or how bad of a decision I made, to where I often end up hating myself.

I'm also a great procrastinator about decisions, which often leads me to reply to requests or questions, "I'll think about it.", meaning either I don't want to answer no or don't have an answer right now. Small note about this is that if I respond with that twice, it means I'm not interested, and if it's the third time, it's a polite no, meaning don't ask me again.

I can not sing, dance or play an instrument. I love listening to music, but I can't understand it beyond that it feels good. I once tried to learn the guitar, actually my parents tried and I failed, because I realzed my hands work together, which works well for coordinating movement and control, but doesn't when playing an instrument.

I used to stutter, from age 6 to past 21, and while I've learned to adjust for it in public situations, it's always hiding and waiting. it's why I also respond with some sentences when a few words will answer, the sentence overcomes the possibility of stuttering. This is all instinctive to me now.

And the rest of me is something too. It's just who I am. Just am. Just like everyone else who they are, I am.

Iron Butterfly

I saw this group in concert in 1969 at the Denver show with other bands, Big Mama Thorton, Frank Zappa and Three Dog Night. I wasn't high, stoned or drunk, and this band blew me away, especially with the really long rendition of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, like 30+ minutes.

Well, I've never forgotten them or this album I bought a few months later when I had a stereo system to play. I was in technical training at Lowry AFB in Denver, Colorado before being assigned to McClellan AFB in Sacramento, California. The concert was in the old Denver stadium about where Mile High Stadium is today. The accoustics were all that great but no one minded.

We attended the Friday concert and the next night the concert had a fight with erupted into a riot and closed the concert. The Sunday afternoon concert went better. But the Friday concert was great, outside of the occasional individual being too far gone to realize where they were and needed to be helped or escorted out of the crowd.

We had good seats and stayed the whole time getting back to the barricks well into early morning. After that what can I say, I was 19 years old, it was 1969, and music was cool. And they were awesome. And for what it's worth, Erik Braun, one of the guitar players, was a violin prodigy before playing the guitar. And folks then thought rock musicians were self-taught, garage practicing players.

It's always a turn-up-the-volume album and ... the neighbors music. Even now in my 60's.

Veterans Day

Before there was a Veteran's Day, there was Armitice Day. This occasion was the day of the signing of the treaty to end World War 1, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918. The day was changed in the US to Veterans Day after World War II and remains as it was created, a time for reflection on the sacrifices of our ancestors

My maternal grandfather emigrated from Germany around 1912, changed his name and joined the American Army to go fight against the Kaiser. He returned from that war to Boise, Idaho where he married a young woman from Soda Springs, Idaho, and become the Postmater of Boise. She was as strong minded and willed as he as she spent some of the younger years working as a cook in lumber camps.

One of their daughters, a young socialite, fell in love with and married a year later (1943) a young Army Air Corp officer stationed at Mountain Home Army Air Force Base. The officer, my father, served from 1940 to 1964, transfering to the new Air Force on its inception after World War II. They had three children, and one son, me, who served in the Air Force during the Vietnam War era, 1969-1973.

Let us give thanks to all veterans over our country's history and let us hope and pray we'll need fewer in the future and fewer still who will be injured, disabled or killed.

Being Naive

I am naive. I've been naive all my life. Often stupiditly naive and occasionally innocently naive, but still naive. I still am and will probably always be somewhat naive. Less than in my youth for obvious reasonsIt's who I am and will be. The reality of how I see the world.

I have been so naive I sometimes forget where I am and what possible risks I have found or put myself. This was and still is true when I do street photography. I love to walk around and take pictures of the ordinary, or what I call walking around images, and occasionally find I have lost track of the world around me.

I have also often, but less often now, when meeting people of all descriptions and walk of life. I remember a time a homeless person was walking down the other side of the street yelling at the world and people. He suddenly walked across traffic to the plaza were I was standing still yelling. People anywhere near him were scattering.

When he saw he everyone leaving he approached me who was just watching the whole event. He kept yelling untill he got about 5 feet from me and stopped. After a short while he stopped yelling and I asked, "What's your name?" He suddenly froze, he face blank. I asked, "How can I talk to you if I don't know your name?"

He remained still and quiet, just looking at me, without knowing what to say. I have no idea what he was thinking but when the police arrived and walked up to him, he gently put his hands behind him to be handcuffed and walked with them, calmly and quietly. He looked back once to see I was still there watching.

It occurred to me all he wanted was someone to talk to and when he found that person, he didn't know what to do or say. I didn't see him as a threat. I didn't see any real risk, and could have easily avoided anything if he had. I just thought he deserved a chance. Yeah, naive.

I often wonder what happened to him. Did he get the help he needed. Did he find someome to talk with. And more importantly did he find a friend. That's all he wanted, we just didn't see it. And I doubt we helped. Yeah, naive of me too.

Halloween

Update November 1st.--Well, between 7 and 9 pm I had all of 3 trick-or-treaters, all small kids from the apartment complex where I currently live. Last year I had none and about half a dozen the year before. And now I have a really big bowl of snack-size candy bars. Hmmm...., far too many calories and sugar for me.

Original Post.--I hate halloween. I don't know why I do and I've tried to overcome it but it's always there, the desire to hide halloween night by covering the bell with a big pillow so I can't hear it and going to bed with everything dark. Not matter how much I've tried to enjoy the halloween parties, I just don't get interested let alone excited.

I've often wondered if it's because I can't remember one Halloween we celebrated as a family. I just can't remember one. I don't remember any school parties. I don't remember ever going out to trick or treat. It's a big blank what we did that night. So I have no childhood connection to make it a happy holiday.

It's also since leaving home I don't really like parties. I'm one of those who lingers in the corner in quiet conversations until I can leave. I don't seek attention, and in fact hate it. I don't like be anywhere near anyone who's the "life of the party" as I've found those people often irritating.

Ok, I'm not a fun person. Blame it on my Dysthymia and being someone comfortable being alone (and yes, we're normal too). It's who I am. Even these days, when I out and find all the socialization tiring, I want to say, "Can I go home now?" and mean it. And then leave. And I don't like people invading my privacy, like with Halloween.

Such are some people. We're all normal, just different. Not any better or worse, just ourselves.