Path: mit-eddie!wuarchive!cs.utexas.edu!rice!uw-beaver!Teknowledge.COM!polya!lucid.com!lucidboston!kdo From: kdo@lucid.com (Ken Olum) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: lovers and friends Message-ID: <147@boston-harbor.lucid.com> Date: 21 Dec 89 20:41:16 GMT References: <136@boston-harbor.lucid.com> <20940006@hplred.HP.COM> <143@boston-harbor.lucid.com> <4Y}#A$@rpi.edu> Reply-To: kdo@lucid.com Organization: Lucid East, Sharon MA Lines: 23 In article <4Y}#A$@rpi.edu> jefyoung@pawl.rpi.edu (Jeffrey Young) writes: > The Unicorn-turned-youth looks up after hearing it, sadness in his >eyes. "But what to do when that base is yanked out from under you? > Where do you turn when you find that your friends have been >dragged away while you were gone? That the base you thought was >secure has gone away, and left you?" Well, first you go to Callahan's Place, where you can be sure you have friends, even ones you've never met. And then you go on, just as you are doing, Taldin. And as you go on you meet more friends and you build a group around you again. And if that one is destroyed somehow you build another. No one has the solution to never being lonely, but you can at least try for a good situation and be supported by it and try to make it last as long as it can. And if it doesn't last forever, at least you know that you've built a good place for yourself before, and so you can again. I think that's the important thing -- to have the confidence in yourself that allows you to go out and try again until you succeed. To know that you are a worthwhile person and that people will value you. Ken Newsgroups: alt.callahans Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!athena.mit.edu!erspert From: erspert@athena.mit.edu (Ellen R. Spertus) Subject: Re: Rescuers and Real Men Message-ID: <1989Dec21.214235.28519@athena.mit.edu> Sender: news@athena.mit.edu (News system) Reply-To: erspert@athena.mit.edu (Ellen R. Spertus) Organization: Massachusetts Institute of Technology References: <1989Dec18.192207.2520@athena.mit.edu> <1989Dec19.202113.13691@athena.mit.edu> <10021@microsoft.UUCP> Date: Thu, 21 Dec 89 21:42:35 GMT Lines: 31 In article <10021@microsoft.UUCP> t-phils@microsoft.UUCP (the Eternal Stranger) writes: >Ellen writes: >| My only problem with your >| posting was that you universally quantified yourself over the males >| as opposed to over the human beings. > >However it may have sounded, I don't try to quantify myself as better >than either the human race or males, and I'm sorry if it sounded that way. No! You misunderstood me. I didn't say that you thought you were better than anyone. I was saying that you were taking t-phils (and the expressed feelings associated with him) as a specific instance of men, as opposed to human beings. That's all I meant by "universally quantify over". Any math types out there should correct me if I misused the term. >For those of us whose instincts drive us to try, it gets very >hard to carry the load on our own. We may have the drive - or the need - >to be some kind of amateur superheroes, but no-one ever equipped us with >the suits or the superpowers. But there's a lot of things anyone can do to help others that don't require being in the right spot or acquiring super powers. In the New York Times, I read about a girl who is dying because a blood marrow donor match can't be found for her, and I've been working on arranging on having my blood marrow type checked and entered into the databank. There are zillions of ways to be a hero, not the least of which is your willingness to help people you know through kindness. Great signature! Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!uwm.edu!uwvax!sabertooth!lewandow From: lewandow@sabertooth.CS.WISC.EDU (Gary Lewandowski (TA of Doom)) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: one last toast and then goodbye Message-ID: <9437@spool.cs.wisc.edu> Date: 21 Dec 89 22:08:41 GMT Sender: news@spool.cs.wisc.edu Reply-To: lewandow@sabertooth.CS.WISC.EDU (Gary Lewandowski (TA of Doom)) Distribution: alt Organization: U of Wisconsin CS Dept Lines: 23 My it's a cold day. Hustle on over to the fireplace (looking out for flying glass), and warm my hands. I'm leaving on break tomorrow, so I will see none of callahans until Jan 19th or so. That and the recent Panamanian events got me thinking, and so... "To everyone who will need empathy; may they receive it." Bye for now... gary lewandow@cs.wisc.edu "It's too late to correct it," said the Red Queen. "When you've once said a thing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences." Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!jarthur!uunet!microsoft!peterdur From: peterdur@microsoft.UUCP (Peter DURHAM) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Growing Up Summary: A similar story... with the ending. Message-ID: <10031@microsoft.UUCP> Date: 21 Dec 89 18:21:03 GMT References: <10290@pucc.Princeton.EDU> Reply-To: peterdur@microsoft.UUCP (Peter Durham) Distribution: alt Organization: Microsoft Corp., Redmond WA Lines: 278 | From: ASANNUTI@pucc.Princeton.EDU (Arun Meda Sannuti) | "To growing up, however painful it may be." After some prodding from Janelle, I walk over to the bar, put down a dollar bill, and ask Mike for a Coke. I quietly drift over to the line, and sip the Coke while looking around the room... Callahan's looks a lot bigger from up here! When I finish, Janelle smiles and motions for me to go ahead... the room is suddenly quiet. A little nervously, I speak. "To growing up... to friends, lovers, and soulmates... to learning which is which... and who is which" I continue... "I've been listening to others here at Callahan's for a while, and I wasn't sure what I could say. But when Arun told us his story, it hit close to home... I was in a similar situation not too long ago. Funny thing is, I've been thinking about what happened for the past couple of weeks... when Arun posted, I knew I wanted to talk about this, for my own benefit, as well as to share it with him. Arun, this story may be both good and bad news for you... and there's no reason that your story must turn out the same way." I take on a narrator's voice... "Set the way-back machine for 1981. Peter, a bright but hopelessly shy kid, starts prep school." And, speaking as myself again, "I wasn't so much an 'outcast' at my old school; it was more that I never really interacted with anyone there. Starting over at a new school, where everyone was new to each other as well as to me, was an opportunity to start over. "Now living in a dorm is an easy way to meet people, but I was _so_ hopelessly shy that I didn't really get to know more than two or three of my 60 dormmates for a year and a half. Members of the opposite gender required effort though (single sex dorms in high school, you see), and after a couple weeks, I started lunching with two girls, Alison and Megan. We became friends over dining hall discussions of past experiences, science fiction, and that kind of stuff. "I knew Megan thought well of me (a new and different thing) one morning in gym when she picked me quite early on to be on her team. I was so used to being picked last (I was never a big athelete); I considered it quite a compliment." I smile, recalling a fond memory. "Near the end of freshman year, Megan and Alison parted ways for reasons I never really knew; by that time, though, I was focussed primarily on Megan as my 'best friend', and we kept pretty exclusive company over lunch and dinner. "Sophomore year, and around came the Wentworth Bash, my dorm's annual dance and open house, when girls were actually allowed into the dorm without having to check in with a faculty member. Out of curiosity, Megan came to visit my room. I'm one of those folks who sets up a very special and personal 'den' somewhere... having Megan visit for the first time was a big thrill. We spent the evening talking about all sorts of exciting things... I think it was our first long talk, as up until then we had only been getting together over meals. "That was so much fun that we started visiting each others' rooms and talking many Saturday nights. As I learned more and more about Megan and spent more time with her, she became, well it's hard to describe really, she became more and more magical to me. I soon found I was developing a great deal of affection for her... I guess I was falling in love." I get a little wistful... "It's funny... things changed a bit then. The time we spent together felt more and more special, and the time we spent apart more lonely. But love, especially a first strong love, is so much a part of you that you fear terribly for its loss. You start worrying about things. Does she love me too? How can I let her know how I feel, without scaring her? What do I do? You see hints, sometimes, but you wonder whether you're reading too much into them. "We had met by talking over meals, we had got to know each other by talking in our rooms, so we started exploring our relationship by talking. Megan discovered a wonderful tool to use (which I highly recommend): the jigsaw puzzle. Keeps you occupied while you talk, gets you working on a goal together, and is relaxing. But anyway... we started talking about us. Not directly, of course, for there was too much risk of scaring her away... but talking around it, so you don't really say anything specific, but still manage to get information." I remember the recent discussion of masks, and say, "While we were very open to each other about everything else, I kept the center of our relationship and my feelings hidden in discussion." I pause for a moment, then turn to Arun. "You've done a much better job in this area. The fact that you and Jen talked about changing the nature of your relationship shows you have more courage than I did." "Our first kiss was somewhere in Junior year. It's a treasured-for-a- lifetime memory. While we were talking about something or other, Megan got a bit of a glint in her eye and perked up (perhaps mustering some internal courage; I sure would have had to!) She said, 'My brother asked me on the phone whether we had ever kissed.' (I had met her family a couple of times, flying to California to visit her in the summer). I said, 'What did you say to him?' She said, 'No, not yet', and before I knew what was happening, she leaned toward me and kissed me." I smile again... "I got a little dizzy... no _fireworks_, but still... if there was a single moment that my love for her burned brightest, that was it. "The rest of that semester was, for the most part, joyful. We added a new weekly ritual: we watched Saturday morning cartoons during the off time between classes in the TV room. Anyone remember _Mighty_ _Orbots_? That was our favorite. We sat next to each other on the sofa, our sides touching as much as they could without outwardly looking very affectionate (I enjoyed feeling her arm and hip next to me, but was afraid of admitting it...). The fear started to lessen a bit. We started thinking about college plans together." I sigh, and continue. "Then came senior year. We were both active in the computer club, and on the school timesharing system. Each year a student was picked to help run the system, and was made a privileged user (a 1,X account on RSTS... kinda like su privilege). That year, there were four of us. Megan, myself, and Tim and Lloyd, two friends of ours. We started hanging out more in the computer room as a group, the four of us, and Megan and I started doing less and less on our own. Lloyd was firmly attached elsewho (and the subject of much gossip, too... Megan and I were old news by then), but Tim was unattached. Of course, since the four of us were doing things together, Megan's attention was spread among us, and I felt, well, threatened by that. Insecurity returned, and I started to do things like: when we walked as a group or watched a movie, I tried to keep myself between Megan and the rest of us; or finding convenient excuses to be around when Megan and either Tim or Lloyd happened to be in the same place. It eventually wasn't very subtle, and I'm sure Megan figured out what was going on and justifiably resented my attempts to control her. When spring came, however, and graduation approached, I let up a little bit, and played a waiting game... you see, Megan and I were going to college together, and Tim and Lloyd were headed to different schools." I continue, a bit ashamed... "My feelings at graduation? Relief. Relief that there was still some relationship between Megan and myself, and that next semester I would have her attention all to myself. "After the fear and despair of senior year, our first year in college was much better. I no longer needed to get permission to visit Megan's room, for one thing, and I worked and studied in her room, only sleeping and typing in my own." I frown... "In one sense, I was very happy... I was spending more time than ever, as much time as could be possible, with her... but on the other hand, I was more thriving in her presence than we were actually doing things together. But sharing many experiences again restrengthened our friendship (we discovered comic books together, for one thing), and if things weren't perfect, they were at least comfortable and stable. "Or at least they seemed that way. While we were occasionally affectionate (i.e. touching or kissing) to each other, those times were short bursts separated by emptiness. There would be a couple of days where she would initiate affection between us, and then a few weeks where I would try to initiate, but would be rebuffed." I speak sadly, a little painfully. "Needless to say, I was on an emotional rollercoaster. I would be filled with joy for a short time, then longing for more. I could never understand or predict when, or if, it would happen again. Every now and then, I would talk to her about it, and she would say it was beyond her control, and I would frown, and we would talk, and I would decide to stick with it. I started to feel these 'talks' were becoming more like negotiations over some treaty." A bit of bitterness, but more regret, tones my voice. "One thing that sticks in my mind was the time she asked me to french kiss. It was so random, and so, well, clinically done, that I felt she had done it out of personal curiosity rather than because of any feelings for me. The despair returned, in force, for no longer did I believe the affection in here actions was genuine. I began to think that she kept me around as convenient company, and only acted affectionately to appease me or to satisfy her curiosity." I smile. "Then, sophomore year, we discovered the SCA. Megan was curious about it, and I tagged along. At first, I was scared. This dance stuff seemed beyond my coordination, and I _was_ a little uncomfortable the first time I wore tights. The newest and most different thing was flirting, an accepted and promoted form of art in my home barony." I shrug. "But it felt so _good_ to be in a group of friends... to have this medieval dream in common and work inside it together. "The SCA was a catalyst... it made things happen faster. At the Valentine's Day event, a group of young women from one of the other local colleges flirted with me as a group... and while I blushed often, and felt complimented inside, afterwards it triggered some unhappy memories from junior high (are there any other kind) and I cried on the subway... "Soon, one of those young women, Jennifer, had taken an interest in me... which I returned... but as it was in the context of the SCA the flirting was, to me, on a different level at the beginning; my emotional loyalty was still to Megan. Funny thing... Megan was playing the flirting game too. To me at the time, she seemeed a bit more unrestrained... I pause. "You know, I guess there's a bit of a double standard there, and I only just realized it now. I had spent a couple of evenings with Jennifer by this time... to me, they were going out with a friend. I guess Megan might have seen it differently..." I continue... "Let me explain about flirting in the SCA... central to this is the concept of the 'cloved lemon'. A cloved lemon is to flirting as that jigsaw puzzle 110 lines back was to conversation. Someone of the opposite gender presents you with a cloved lemon. You bite one of the cloves, 'to freshen your breath', and then kiss the person who gave it to you. You must then pass it on. An easy and painless way to flirt, for it explicitly implies no committment, and has well-defined rules for behavior." "Well, we were told that the cloved lemon was an easy way to find out if someone is interested in you. You give it to them, and what you get in response is often quite informative. There was a Spring event in March. Well, when I gave a cloved lemon to Megan, I got a little kiss. On the other hand, when some other folks gave one to her, there was (as I might have phrased it at the time), 'a protracted demonstration that drew the attention, if not cheers, of the populace'. So I figured I knew where I stood. That night, full of fury and tears, I decided that I had stuck with Megan long enough, that she did not have any real feelings for me, that I was making myself miserable. I decided that I would no longer have anything to do with her. I left when she entered the room or sat at my table in the dining hall, and did not say a word to her for months. "I guess that was an especially nasty way to end it, for she did not learn what had happened and why I had done this for many months. She was hurt, confused, and upset, from what my friends told me. I'm ashamed, now, to admit it... but at the time, that was my goal. I had felt that she had manipulated me, and had caused my life over the past two years to be miserable. I felt triumph that I had finally done the same to her. That summer, I did my best to remove my relationship with her from my memory... which is why some of this story, especially what happened which year (!), is not exact." I realize that I have been looking at the floor for a while, and that there's a very sad frown on my face. I turn again to Arun. "You may not think it now, Arun, especially since you're going through similar times... but that _was_ a happy ending, even not considering what happened later. I _was_ too dependent on Megan. Until that very last night, no matter what had happened, she was always the most important thing in my life. When it's mutual, and both people are comfortable with it, it's wonderful... but otherwise, well, it's not healthy... both people are miserable, and eventually it has to end. Ending it _was_ painful, but continuing it would have been more so. I walk over to the bar, as my throat has got a little dry. "Mike, another Coke," I say, place the dollar bill on the counter, and receive the Coke from his hand. I drink, getting some energy back, and then return to the line. "To Megan. Not my soulmate, but a friend-through-life." I toss the glass to the fireplace, and it crashes happily. I smile. "You see, that fall, I met my soulmate, Janelle. With the strength I gained from her, I eventually apologized to Megan, and after working past my bitterness over the last two years, I once again count Megan as a close friend, as is appropriate for someone I have shared so much of my life with. Someday soon, I really want to talk to her about all this (we're on different coasts now), and learn what she was feeling at the time." I turn to Arun. "I don't know whether this story will help you, or whether it will hurt. Maybe both. I guess what I want to tell you is you need to understand what you want/need, and understand what she wants/needs. You _do_ need to talk it out with her... but, if it doesn't work out, you also will need to move past it. I wanted to tell you my story to let you know, from someone who has been through this, that doing that will not be the end of the world... well, actually, I remember it being the end of the world as I knew it, but also the start of a new and different world, where I felt a lot freer. I won't lie to you... it _will_ hurt. A lot. But the hurt _will_ pass. Staying away from her may help... but please, be nicer about it than I was! "Meanwhile, I wish you the best. You've got a better chance at it than I did with Megan... you seem to be able to talk with her honestly about it, and she seems willing to listen." I return to my seat next to Janelle, give her a big hug and wipe a tear from my eye, and return to our discussion of whether we want to buy a queen-size bed or a CD player this month. - Peter Durham ... wow, this was longer than I thought ... Path: mit-eddie!rutgers!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabs!hplred!egly From: egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: end of growing up Message-ID: <20940017@hplred.HP.COM> Date: 18 Dec 89 19:45:41 GMT References: <10291@pucc.Princeton.EDU> Organization: Hewlett Packard Labs, Palo Alto CA Lines: 12 / hplred:alt.callahans / ez000691@pollux / 7:43 pm Dec 17, 1989 / > "Whatever you do, discard suicide as an option, immediately. You can > live without her. You won't have to, but if everything came crashing down > around your ears, you could go on. You *could*. Use logic, if you wish, as > there are a couple of beautiful arguments for living, but it's better to just > feel it in your gut. I wish you'd tell me what those couple of beautiful arguments for living are. Even when I'm not suicidal, I can't construct an argument that convinces me that suicide is not an option. Guess you could say that I never feel it in my gut... Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!usc!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabs!hpfcso!daq From: daq@hpfcso.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: More to the cynic Message-ID: <9060006@hpfcso.HP.COM> Date: 19 Dec 89 01:55:49 GMT References: Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA Lines: 133 >One's private pain is always complex. Never quite like another's >pain, or experience. But I don't see as that makes it incomprehensible. Yes, the differences in experience are complex, but the basic emotions, and even some of the specifics, tend to be pretty common. >"I know just what you're feeling" IS cheap familiarity, and probably >untrue as well. I think of understanding as being able to touch the >strongest emotions and their overtones -- and to resonate with them. >But I've never found the need for words on the occasions where I have >touched someone's private pain and followed the web that it took in >their private thoughts -- to touch that deeply is to be touched in >return -- which mitigates the need for words. Yeah, when I was in high school, I wanted people to understand me and my complexity down to the finest detail, but now I realize that one cannot really ever fully understand oneself, so it is totally unreasonable to expect that from others. People who do expect that from others tend to be a real drag. Believe me, I know. >Well, then, you give us practice in self-control. Geez, maybe I should charge for this. >May diety find other means for teaching you patience -- eventually. Maybe, but if you are planning on holding your breath for this, you had better have BIG lungs. >> Most of my cynicism comes from attempts from a very early age to >> create a philosophy that can encompass such things as concentration >> camps and saturation bombing. I have contempt for the collective >> juggernaut of humanity that hurtles headlong down the halls of >> history past holocaust after holocaust. >Reminds me of my spiritkin's sweatshirt -- "I love people, it's >humanity that I can't stand" Well, I can't say that I love people. There is a long passage in The Brothers Karamazov where one of the brothers talks about how he has a great love for people, but he cannot stand to spend even a day closed up with any individual in a room. I feel that way sometimes too. I really like privacy, and am very put out when it is violated. >> "You also mentioned that people who see the terrible things in >> the world choose to be different and become empathic. I am >> not sure if I agree. >Are you saying that no one makes this choice? Shall I give you >counterexamples? I know that most people do not chose kindness. >BUT some of them, some of them, DO. No, I am not saying that. In fact, I think that the difference between people is not really difference of emotion but the differences in how they choose to deal with it. I think that my brain has gotten to the point where it is just incapable of being totally positive about anything. >I acknowledge that not all can or do feel the effects that are produced >by alternate choices. There may even be some who *like* to feel the >soul-withering of others... Never run into one such myself, but I've >heard of such. I don't like the suffering of others, but I have come to the conclusion that I take some odd pleasure from my own. In fact, the only time I can really be creative is when I am frustrated or angry or upset. I mean creative in artistic terms not in engineering terms. I am not sure that I consider engineering to be all that creative. I also feel that there are a good number of people out there who enjoy their own suffering. They feel the need to be loyal to their pain. >Reminds me of an image I once read of... An image of an ocean of >darkness. An image of drowning in that ocean of darkness. And >in the image there came to be a light, a light that the darkness >could not swallow up. Would that you could find a light in your >ocean of darkness... I feel that way some times and perhaps most of the time, but do not get me wrong. I have a very passionate relationship with life, and a good sunset or a rainstorm can have a very deep effect on me. I live very intensely in my mind and see many good things about life. I am not sure they outweigh the bad though. Some time I will post an essay here in callahans about the relationship between beauty and pain (or perhaps more appropriately, melancholy). I want to see what other people think because it may be more common than I think. I will probably post this pretty soon. >I think of the close of V.Frankl's book _Man's Search for Meaning_. >After talking of his experiences in the Nazi concentration camps, >and his observations of his fellow prisoners, he concluded by saying >that Auschwitz teaches us what mankind can be and Hiroshima shows us >why it matters. We can choose to be destroyers... or not... >And some of us at alt.callahans have chosen. To me, Auschwitz is worse. Hiroshima could be an act of passion or madness on the part of onw man. Auschwitz was slow, methodical, organized butchery of human beings by an entire nation. And it is a good more common in the twentieth century than alot of people realize. >> Could it not just be neurosis seeking >> company?" >Some forms of understanding, and compassion, are something akin to >neurosis seeking company. Some aren't. You have to look carefully >to find the difference, but I assure you that there is one. Yes, when I was young, I am sure that most of my desire for understanding was the former. Now I think it is more the latter, although I still tend to be attacted to people who are a bit dark in their relationship with life. >> "I really do enjoy philosophical rambling though, so I am sure >> that I can find some interesting people with whom to converse. >> But I must warn you, some of my attitudes really are quite >> outside the norm." >So are some of mine... Oh yeah? Well I bet my dad can beat up your dad. So there. > Diana > egly@hplabs Me Somewhere out there Path: mit-eddie!bu-cs!snorkelwacker!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!brutus.cs.uiuc.edu!usc!ucsd!ucsdhub!hp-sdd!hplabs!hplabsz!sartin From: sartin@hplabsz.HPL.HP.COM (Rob Sartin) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Message-ID: <4548@hplabsz.HPL.HP.COM> Date: 20 Dec 89 03:08:21 GMT References: <129010@sun.Eng.Sun.COM> <11360@csli.Stanford.EDU> <1989Dec9.054205.15710@agate.berkeley.edu> <8457@ttidca.TTI.COM> <4546@hplabsz.HPL.HP.COM> Reply-To: sartin@hplabs.hp.com (Rob Sartin) Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Software Technology Lab Lines: 29 In article <8457@ttidca.TTI.COM> hollombe@ttidcb.tti.com (The Polymath) writes: > 'Child, this establishment is a bar. It is not a daycare center. > Take your toys and go play with the other children in alt.flame. > Come back when you've read news.announce.newusers and grown up enough > to be fit for polite company.' Good concept, but the implementation needs some modification. You don't get rid of flamers by insulting them. Calling someone a "child" and implying they need "daycare" to play with their "toys" is bound to increase, not eliminate a flaming thread. A simpler, and less judgemental, restatement of the introductory message for alt.callahans might do better. Ignoring the flamer is also extremely important. A flame is a multi-way exchange, one that is very difficult to continue without at least one other person cooperating (kind of strange to consider a return flame as cooperation isn't it) in the continuation of the exchange. A pair of toasts - "Mike, two Anchor Steams please": "To the flamers and to them staying in their place." *CRASH* "To endings and beginnings." *CRASH* Is Pyotr here? Rob Sartin internet: sartin@hplabs.hp.com Software Technology Lab uucp : hplabs!sartin Hewlett-Packard voice : (415) 857-7592 Path: mit-eddie!snorkelwacker!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!ucbvax!mtxinu!unisoft!greywolf From: greywolf@unisoft.UUCP (The Grey Wolf) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: Scapegoats Keywords: eep. Message-ID: <2723@unisoft.UUCP> Date: 22 Dec 89 00:36:05 GMT References: <8912191503.AA06674@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM> Reply-To: greywolf@unisoft.UUCP (Roan "R-O-A-N-2dotsoverthe'o'" Anderson) Organization: none. Lines: 103 ( I was going to make this a letter, then I decided it would go better as a posting...) The wolf metamorphoses into Roan...(Don't ask where Martin is.) "Jilara, *** HUG *** if you so permit me. "Nobody should have to go through that degree of pain -- not like that; I must grant it does make the world a more interesting place to be, but I do feel the pain of the poor (yet rich) souls who must bear that destiny. "I could feel at least -- probably at most -- a small fraction of what you described. "What is it called when the vulture is one who waits for one to bleed or hurt, and comes down not to hurt, but to nurture and care and love? I find myself doing this a rather great deal of the time. "I have another question, a paradoxic anomaly, if you will: I have seen all the stories of the people who have grown up under horrific circumstances, child abuse and what-not, the people who have taken their hard knocks through life (no pun intended, really). "I went through my hard knocks too, but I grew up in a very loving family. My peers were the ones who didn't like me much. The more they bothered me, the more I hid away, and consequently, the more they bothered me. "Now I am at a job where I (more or less) really like what I do, and my friends are the best I think I could ever hope for." He smiles, a tear forms. "I look at all of you who have fought your battles, and it makes my battles and scars look like candy stains from a day at Disneyland." His pride is gone from his frame, for the time being. He pulls out a silver pitcher from his backpack, places it on the bar and asks Michael if he'd pour two Harps into it, asks for a mug, and gives him a dollar-fifty. After the ales are poured into the pitcher, the dark- haired, green-eyed youth ( 24 years of age is still a youth, isn't it? It is for an Elf anyway... ) pours himself a mug of the golden-amber liquid. He downs about half of it before continuing. "My problem is the path I have chosen for myself, and it is my own doing. The name I have chosen -- or rather, found -- for myself, is not the same as the one I was given at birth. Recently, my love and I had a discussion on names, heritage and the like. She maintains that I am throwing away my heritage by staying with the name I am choosing, that I am being thought- less of any children we may have, for they will not be able to find their heritage. "I rue the day I ever told her that it was not the name I was born with, for all she has done is held it against me. I changed my name because it was not one I was comfortable with. The name I go by suits me much better, I think. I don't feel like so much of a stuffed shirt. "Having talked with my father, it's all the same to him. He's proud of the things I have achieved in my life, proud that I've made my own way pretty much from ground zero." He downs the rest of the mug and pours another. "She fell in love with my birth-name; I still think it sounds like a stuffed shirt type of name..." He sighs and drinks half a mug. "Everything will probably work out all right, but I'm still stuck kind of in the middle. I'm still afraid to make the commitment one way or the other -- it's on my driver's license, but I haven't had it legally changed yet." Gulp. "I'm still trying to figure out what the big deal is; I mean, a name is just a label, isn't it? Isn't the heritage in the blood? My father fought WWII (ay-yi-yi...), and my grandfather on my mother's side used to work for Raytheon (I should call them and try and trace him). I figure as long as I can provide my children with the history and the family tree, isn't that all that matters?" Gulp. "I guess the thing is that I have not truly accepted it myself. My family for the most part has said, 'Sure, go ahead. You're an adult, do what you feel is right.' I wish I knew the difference between right and wrong in this case." He finishes the second mug. "Here's to the sanctity of one's personal identity. May it remain so. Thanks for listening." He hurls the heavy mug as hard as he can into the fireplace and watches, puzzled, as it just kind of bounces around a bit, and lands, base down, on top of a burning log, at which point cracks form, and it falls apart. Funny, he muses, it's never done *that* before... He dejectedly plods over to the bar and, relinquishing the other two quarters, asks for another mug, which he takes over to the table with him. He sits down where the wolf was and pours himself another mug of Harp... -- "You guys are NUTS! En-Vee-Tee-Ess, NUTS!" -- History of the World, part I. Path: mit-eddie!mintaka!think!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!pt.cs.cmu.edu!nl.cs.cmu.edu!mjc From: mjc@nl.cs.cmu.edu (Monica Cellio) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Re: end of growing up Message-ID: <7396@pt.cs.cmu.edu> Date: 22 Dec 89 05:32:29 GMT References: <10291@pucc.Princeton.EDU> <20940017@hplred.HP.COM> Organization: Carnegie Mellon University Lines: 52 Diana Egly writes: >I wish you'd tell me what those couple of beautiful arguments for living >are. Even when I'm not suicidal, I can't construct an argument that >convinces me that suicide is not an option. Guess you could say that I >never feel it in my gut... First, suicide is always an option. I believe there are cases when it is the best option. But most of the time it's not. I disagree with the person who said to discard it as an option. There are *no* "unthinkable" options. But think about it *carefully*. The way I generally look at it is this: I'm unhappy now (no, not at precisely this moment; I mean when I'm depressed). Things might get better. They might not. If I live, there's a chance. But being dead kind of cuts down on your options. Besides, you can always decide to kill yourself later; this is not your only chance. So why rush it? Now, to put this in perspective a bit.... Probably we would all agree that a, say, 14-year-old kid who is upset because (choose one or more:) (1) he's not getting straight A's in high school, so he's not going to be able to get into a good college, so he's going to be a failure in the real world, or (2) he isn't popular in high school, so obviously he's a complete loser, or (3) he broke up with his girlfriend, so obviously he's not capable of love, or... will probably agree, if he looks at the situation 5 years later, that he really shouldn't kill himself over these things. They're *major* things in his life, but they *pass*. Similarly, those of us who are a bit older than the typical college crowd look at the people posting about their first love, which went sour last week (or whatever), and say, this too will pass. It won't be easy, but it *will* pass. (If you give it a lot of time and it *doesn't* pass, then what have you *really* lost by living through that? You can *always* quit later.) I know what it's like to be a depressed teenager. I know how much college can get you down; I've been there. I know what it's like to be depressed about one's first true love. I probably considered suicide all of these times (some memories are intentionally made fuzzy...). I did more than consider it on more than one occasion. None of these things were worth dying over. I can think of situations where, for me, I think suicide *would* be the best option. I hope they never occur, but I'm prepared to consider all the options if they do. So go ahead and consider it. It's even more stressful to try *not* to think about "evil, unthinkable thoughts" anyway. But try to step back from the situation and consider the long term implications. No one knows if we get another chance, so I'd hang on until I was *sure* it was going to get worse rather than better. Cheers. Monica mjc@cs.cmu.edu Path: mit-eddie!bloom-beacon!bu-cs!ckd From: ckd@bu-pub.bu.edu (Christopher Davis) Newsgroups: alt.callahans Subject: Me? A lurker? I suppose so... (plus thanks to lots of folks) Message-ID: <45070@bu-cs.BU.EDU> Date: 22 Dec 89 05:39:26 GMT Sender: daemon@bu-cs.BU.EDU Reply-To: ckd@bu-pub.bu.edu (Christopher Davis) Distribution: alt Organization: Boston University School of Management Lines: 83 The young (and extremely unshaven, as several BU posters could attest) man walks out of Dark Corner #Aleph-Null and up to the bar. "Root beer, Mike." "Thanks." He walks slowly to the line, pondering something. "This is not a goodbye, despite what it may sound like; I *will* be back. I'll sorely miss those of us who won't, for whatever reason, be returning; I do suggest you try to find a public-access site somewhere 'round you, if at all possible." He looks at an empty cushion where the Tabbifli had been. "Ah, there are yet ways of connecting; much as a technological fix brought Jilara out into her own light, so can I--*will* I--find a way to keep our family, as family they are, here. "But enough of temporary absences, though I myself am leaving for the west coast in fewer hours than I care to think about (and I'm not packed! but I had to stop by the Place first, of course...). I'll be on, rarely enough to be sure, but I will be around. With the way I've been lurking, lately, it really won't be that different... "I guess I just want to look back in awe at what's come to pass here. Here, and on irc, and in person at the irc.gathering... people reaching out. People *caring*. People having some fun, too--I haven't the wit for Riddle Night, unfortunately, but I have a hell of a time trying. "Damn, I'm sorry I waited as long as I did. 'This place is magic.' "A short, and very incomplete (so if you're not on it, don't worry, I probably wanted to thank you too :-), list of people I'd like to thank, while I'm up here at the line: Ethan Young , as the prima causa of the newgroup message (and just because you dropped the real blame on me doesn't get you out of it, Ethan...); Karl Kleinpaste, Brian Reid, David Lawrence, and the rest of the newsadmins who created this group on their systems (despite the fact that most of them probably didn't know who I was, and there was no immediate indication of what it was about); Gene Spafford, who probably isn't reading this, but listed the group in his monthly posting anyway (and even described it nicely in one line); Greg McMullan , who set up the anonymous ftp archive and therefore saved my poor site's mailer lots of work; Gilly, Tabbifli, Kelly (if you're reading this, I haven't forgotten you--I've just been feeling a little awkward. Expect email soon), and several other people for being additional inspiration for the creation of the group (and continued propagation thereof); The folks at ucbvax, for the mail-to-news gateway that brought us Jilara--and a little something else, back when the group was new; The B news folks, the C news folks, Phil Lapsley and Brian Kantor (the NNTP folks), and everyone else who makes the net possible in the first place; everyone who's been there for me when I needed them, whether here or in IRC or on the phone or in person... and last but not by any means least, Spider Robinson." "Ah, a toast to technology that is *humanizing*. Always remember Spider's _Involuntary Man's Laughter_." The glass flies toward a spot about a radian away from the fireplace, but a small flying robot deflects it into the fireplace where it shatters. "Showing off? Perhaps. If the magical wizards are going to ply their trade in here, I don't see why I shouldn't have a few gratuitous gadgets pop up." He grins widely as he walks to his corner... or someone else's corner... or something (hey, where'd all the corners come from, anyway? :-). -- Christopher Davis, BU SMG '90 "Many verbal attacks are part of someone's aim to establish their rank in a dominance hierarchy, the same sort of behavior common among nesting fowl." --Daniel Mocsny