You know, the news is really sheltering gentiles from the full horror of what happened this morning when they keep using the phrase “Brit Milah.” Yes, that’s what was happening in the synagogue this morning, but do you know what it is?
It’s a baby naming.
Every bit as important as a christening or first birthday.
That is what this shooter opened fire on. A baby naming with people praying for that baby’s health and happiness and future.
I grew up hearing the phrase “you never stick with anything, what’s the point” a lot. I’ve always been attracted towards seemingly disconnected interests, and gone through phases of being really into something. But eventually my interest would fade and I would move onto something else.
Or at least that’s always how it’s been phrased for me, by others. Now I realize that my interest for the old thing didn’t fade so much as my interest for something new outshined it, and that’s vastly different.
I was always made to feel bad about it, with every abandoned endeavour I was told I needed to stop starting things if I wasn’t going to stick with them. I was told I was wasting time and money picking up these random interests and abandoning them after a year.
So eventually, I stopped picking things up. I told myself “what’s the point, I’m going to give up in a year anyway”. Even worse, I started dismissing every new interest, because I had no way of knowing if my interest was “real” enough or just another passing phase. I stopped trying new things, I stopped looking up stuff that piqued my curiosity, and having chronic depression made it really easy to leave everything on the dirty floor of neglected ideas. The more they piled up, the more depressing it was. All these things that could be nice, but I just can’t take care of them.
I realize now how bullshit that kind of thinking is. So what if I stopped doing karate after a year? That’s one more year of karate than most people I know. And in that year I learned discipline, I learned to listen to a teacher, something I had never done before in all my years of private education. I learned the true meaning of respect, that it’s something you do out of faith at first and maintain as it’s reciprocated, not something you do blindly and regardless of how you’re treated.
It gave me the foundation for the determination and grounding I needed to practice yoga. Another year. Not enough to be good at it maybe, but again a year more than most people I know and a year that is not lost, but gained. I learned balance, I learned to listen to my body, I learned how to let go of emotional tightness through physical stretching.
And then iaido, only a few weeks because I couldn’t afford to keep going. The year of yoga I had done a couple years previous had given me a better starting point than the other newcomers to the class. I already had balance, I had strength in my legs and I had better posture. In those months I learned the importance of precision, the true definition of efficacy, the zen state that is incessant repetition.
Did I practice long enough to get good at iaido, and yoga, and karate? No. Of course not. It takes years to become proficient and decades to master any of those things, but I learned other skills and those skills were an invaluable part of my growth both spiritually and emotionally. Likewise for my forays into painting, sewing, graphic design, film. I’m a photography student now heading into my second year of school, and every single second of practice I have in those other disciplines has given me more experience in those areas and made learning easier.
Skills carry over. They intersect and connect in ways that are sometimes unexpected. Nothing is ever lost, experience is never a waste of time or worthless or stupid. Allow your focus to wander, reflect on what you learn, and consider how you can keep using it in other aspects of your life. Stop telling people their interests aren’t worth their time.
‘A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one’
^^^^The real jack of all trades quote if anyone’s i interested.
For a week I was super into making LED arrays.
For a few months I was really into costume makeup.
For a year I was into sewing clothes
For a few months I was into sculpting and molding and casting
I’ve always had a sustained interest in animals, but the hyperfocus on birds in particular made me very familiar with feather formations.
Couple months I loved the idea of engineering moving sculptures.
Add all that together, and hot diggity shit, that’s some SOLID basework for making costumes, cosplay, and other impressive props.
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For a week I was into welding and took a welding class.
A year of interest in woodworking and fiddling with the tools means I’m fairly good at that as well.
Add that to the engineering from earlier and the focus on balance and stable structures means I can make my own furniture – Couches, shelves, desks, just give me the material and tools and I can make it happen.
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Brief interest in business law meant two classes taken in college, and an accidental qualification for a business degree.
Those same classes let me point out some serious litigation bait in a friend’s startup company.
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A wide array of interests means I also have a TON of little nitpicky facts about how the world works, which translates into amazing immersive writing.
I know how it feels to use a chisel, and the delicate precision of electronics. I know the smell of forests and barns and old yarn being put to use again. The bloody smell of a freshly slaughtered chicken, and the anticipatory fear moments before skydiving.
The pattern of a bad weld and a good one, and the careful calculation of load bearing walls when building underground.
Anyway, this world is HUGE and really cool. Why on earth would I want to stick to learning ONE thing, when there’s HUNDREDS of THOUSANDS of things I could learn?
For anybody still struggling with this, I highly recommend this book:
Oh, that looks like a book for me… 😉
I really tried a lot of crafts over the years, including wickerwork (yep, I can make a basket ;)) and drop spindle spinning.
My dad always put it as “better a shallow sea than a deep puddle”
In case you had any doubt fascism has come to America. Squirrel Hill is a neighborhood I visited and patronized more times than I could count during my seven-ish years in Pittsburgh. I have friends there. Thoughts, prayers and support to the victims. Fuck this guy and his enablers. You have blood on your hands.
My advise: if you see a suspicious woman washing laundry at a river, don’t talk to her, just walk on. Or talk to her, I’m not your mom. But be warned, she will foretell death. Yours or someone else’s, but death is most assured.
I feel like Banshees are misunderstood tbh, like they’re not causing death nor trying to make you scared; the only thing they’re doing is being like “hey! X person is gonna die soon, you might wanna say goodbye or fix your stuff with them” but like, that’s just my opinion
I was specifically referring to the Washer Woman at the Ford, which, admittedly, is a type of banshee. Personally, I’d suggest a stealthy approach to talking to her, if you happen upon her. You might even get three wishes—-though this requires you to catch hold of her.
On a different note—-I agree that banshees are misunderstood. Media depictions are almost assuredly responsible for this. They’re not the scary monsters they’re made out as, since yeah, they’re only warning you of the death and not bringing it about themselves.
also Scottish Banshees: there were at least one per clan, and they foretold the deaths of members of the clan (usually members of the royal family)…which is awesome, because it was more of a ‘heyyy just a heads up, when this guy rides unto battle, he’s gonna die.’ They looked out for the members of the clan and were seen as important. They weren‘t avoided like the plague
The woman washing clothes in the river sounds like a Red Cap, a fae from Scotland and Ireland that uses the blood of her victims to dye her clothes
I want to point this out before anything else—-I am not trying to disprove you. Rather, I just haven’t come across this particular story/stories. I LOVE learning about different version of myths, legends and folklore!!!!
That being said—-I haven’t heard of a Red Cap in relation to the Washerwoman at the Ford, but I have heard of a Redcap before. Specifically:
Redcaps as a type of goblin-like creature, and live in ruins—-specifically along the border between England and Scotland. They’re called Redcaps because they dye their hats with the blood of their victims. They’re depicted as solely male, unlike the Washer at the Ford, who is a bean sith and therefore a woman. If their cap ever dries out, they die, since they need a continual supply of blood. There is a version where they’re benevolent, but it’s not a particularly widespread version.
What happens if you just quietly help her with her laundry, because hand-washing laundry by yourself sucks?