This long, long, kind of all encompassing post is something I'm posting on this "notebook blog" mainly because I'm not entirely all that comfortable with my candor in it, and have therefore decided to tuck it away in this "notebook". I know it can be found if someone were to look. That's fine. I just want this post easily removed if I want to remove it. Also, I don't want to call "main attention" to it.
Since I first started "walking for a living" (that's what it feels
like since everything I wear, buy, carry, and/or otherwise keep on hand
often involves the "walking factor"), my projects/online efforts, as
well as online writing in general (not to mention ever evolving devices)
have continued to evolve/change.
If there are actually
people who walk for a living (rather than just, say, walk for exercise
or health, or walk for transportation, I don't really know anything
about them.
It's just that where I live, the weather,
and my "actual life", make me feel as if I "walk for a living" because
of all the ways my personal "walking lifestyle" mixes in with my "actual
life" (while also remaining just a little "side aspect" of it in most
ways).
One irony is that as different devices became
available I began aiming to have some of them so that I could actually
do some work outside (not to mention the keeping track of business I
referred to in a previous post). Some were heavy. That was OK.
There's such a thing as bags with shoulder straps. If I was in
someone's car I didn't usually want, need, or plan to use certain
devices anyway (because besides errands there has usually been some
socializing under that circumstance).
There actually
have been times when I'd do a little work outside. Then, too, some
devices got smaller before they got bigger - and at some point the
bigger and heavier devices became too heavy once weight became a factor
for a person with a leg injury (and then two) that didn't "do extra
weight" very well.
In any case, right before the leg
injuries my "carrying-stuff-with-me" situation had gone from just my
usual shoulder bag and cell phone to (sometimes) my usual shoulder bag,
cell phone, and one or another kind of bag that I may/may not leave in
someone's car or else slung over the same shoulder that the purse was.
The
first leg injury changed everything, but even with that, there was a
brief time in Fall when the leg injury was good enough to start walking
on it again as long as I kept a sturdy shopping cart with me. Since I
had that little cart that was just enough "iffy support" to take a
little bit of my own weight off the still-not-that-great leg; I'd throw
in a device or two, maybe my camera , and have a brief time when I
actually thought I was getting back to at least some of my old
practices. That's when Winter hit.
If I recall
correctly (I'm not going to double-check now because it's not that
important), that was the Winter when Google's "Panda" hit online writing
sites. I just remember sitting with "The Leg" plopped on its faithful
little stool next to my little desk, with my face glued to PC screen and
my ear to television as yet another major change in my personal "whole
picture". It got my mind off "The Leg", and (like "walking for a
living") was only a small part of my "actual life".
Part
of me wants to say (and will kind of say) that "The Leg" was the least
of my problems. Part of me wants to say (and will kind of say) that
Google's Panda "shake up" was the least of my problems. Part of me even
wants to say (and will kind of say) that not driving was, in some ways,
the least of my problems.
Aside from planning to
eventually turn at least some of this into something useful for someone
other than myself, I will say that a very big part of me wants to get at
least some of this down in writing because a) I don't know anyone else
in my circle who has spent as much time as I have "all involved" with
the online writing thing. I don't know anyone in my circle who "walks
for a living" and/or who does at least x amount of business out of a
shoulder bag, rather than an office and/or a car.
And,
while I'm not ordinarily someone who cares about who understands my
situation and/or who thinks what (if anything) about what I do, I've
often found myself on the receiving end of questions, well meaning
advice, ideas, etc. etc. from people who are being kind but who don't at
least know me/my situation well enough that they clearly wonder if I'm
even sane.
People who know me at least know that I'm
obviously sane. A less "dramatic" piece of well intended information
came years ago when someone told me where I could get "help for
alcoholics" (!!!). I very close to "don't drink at all" - VERY close.
It's not that one person made that remark years ago and I "never got
over it". It's that that is an easy-to-recall example of the kind of
thing that makes even someone who normally doesn't assume other people
are thinking much about her to have to process how to deal with
out-of-the-blue remarks/advice coming from people who mean well but who
clearly have nowhere near an accurate reading of what I am.
If
the remarks were behind my back I wouldn't have to deal with them, but
when they're to my face I don't know what on Earth to say. It's some
version of "short-circuiting" that I referred to in the post about
having my errands plan thrown off.
I'm no different
from most people who think it doesn't matter much what someone else
thinks (although I certainly care to some to extent). Even with that,
no, it doesn't, or shouldn't, matter much what someone I don't know, or
barely know, thinks about me. What does matter is how they treat me if
they treat me based on something that has nothing to do with reality.
It
is kind of disturbing to realize that the person who gets into a late
model, or reasonably late model, car and privately scoots off to work
outside the home (or even to the supermarket and bank) doesn't even have
to think about whether anyone else thinks s/he is an alcoholic or a
"bag lady". (I actually have "great" "bag-lady" hair because no spray
in the world can help my fine, straight, hair stand up under even a mild
breeze or a little humidity, not to mention rain, snow, or major wind.
And, a hat wouldn't help. It would only add to "bag lady" look (or
else just the "weird look" considering where I walk and what else I
wear.).
I don't think too many women would prefer to be
their worst-looking when they're outside their home. Some people may
be under the mistaken impression that older women don't care. We do.
Something
else that I find disturbing is this. I'm a smoker who would prefer to
quit, or at least cut way back until I could quit. The walking thing is
not the way I can quit because of the "frazzlement" factor.
Quitting
or not, I'd certainly prefer to be more discreet about it (considering
how horrendously looked down on this particular habit is).
While
there was once a time (maybe I just hadn't seen the sign on the door,
although I don't think there was one there) when I could find a quiet
and kind of private-enough location outside the public library, (and
away from the door) I would eventually see a sign on the front door
smoking on the grounds was not allowed.
So, in a state
where marijuana will soon be on the ballot, where
God-knows-how-many-people have serious, serious, problems with both
legally prescribed and illegal drugs, where drinking is whatever problem
it is (and as far as I know drinking and driving still happens over and
over again), and where who-knows-what-kind-of mind-altering (or at
least mind-dulling) substances are all out there in "full and disastrous
and questionable bloom"; my choice is to either indulge in my less than
desirable habit (I don't pretend it's anything else) while walking down
a main street or standing at the corner of shopping center or anywhere
else I can find that's not private.
I'm NOT defending
smoking, and I'm NOT saying I think it should be allowed indoors
anywhere. Neither am I looking for some kind of sympathy or even
understanding. I'm just pointing out that not driving (at least where I
live) means, in yet one more way, pretty much putting my worst out
there in public; while other people get to look so much less
questionable (or plain, old, peculiar), keep so much more dignity for
themselves, and yet go off and do whatever they do in private without
anyone else ever noticing or judging them (or at least without whatever
they do being factored into what people think of them).
For
someone like me (who takes no medication other than aspirin and who
keeps ibuprofen in the house in case, maybe, I want to take one or in
case someone visiting asks if I have any) - I'm sorry - but, yes, this
seemingly minor thing irks the heck out of me, to say the least.
And,
what is actually frightening for me is that if I'm either trying to
quit or else just don't happen to have any of the much-despised
item-in-question; and if I get particularly "frazzled" because of that,
and want to go out and high-speed, walk-off, some steam; I'm afraid that
if it's night and if I do then there's a good chance someone will call
the police and say I'm out there walking; and have a "giant
misunderstanding take place".
Maybe I should be every bit
as worried on behalf of myself as I am for other people (particularly,
maybe, women - but anyone, really) with regard to this
potential/occasional (rare, really) urge to take off at night on a
high-speed walk in order to try to fend off the discomfort of nicotine
withdrawal. I do wonder, though, about people who may not be as well
established in their community as I am, or else maybe, say, women who
are younger than I am (and therefore don't have the thing about having
had children in the local schools and activities).
.
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