![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Jun. 26th, 2001 06:04 pmI need to get some more of my junk sold on ebay... need money. Badly. How can feeding 3 adults and 2 babies cost so damn much? Arg. Too bad I don't have much to sell. Hrm, wonder if I could get much of anything for that Russian military hat I bought Tomas in Russia. He could care less about it. Probably isn't worth much unless I could figure out some way to title it to catch the right people. I can't believe how much stuff some of the people on ebay sell. I could sell off my strawberry shortcake dolls for a few hundred but then I'd only end up buying them back and probably for twice that much. *sigh* I hate this whole money thing... the not having it.
My mom is going to the beach next week. We were going to go but it looks like that is right out unless I can figure out how to make a lot of money. Ok, enough bitching about being poor. Poor is certainly subjective. Compared to most of the people in the world we are seriously wealthy. Just have to remind myself of that.
I watched a really fascinating documentary about African Americans in modern dance last night. There was a woman, can't remember her name Edna something or other, wrote to Ruth St. Denis for many years and they read some of them. St. Denis came across pretty badly.... she had this very condescending maternal-ish tone with her and called her 'girly'. It was sad, but then I started thinking about how when you imagine yourself back in these sorts of situations how you would never do such a thing, but how can you really predict how you would react. The experiences you have in life shape who you become. Who can really say that raised in the environment you would have the spirit (or whatever it is that makes those rare people what they are) to see though the ignorance and bigotry and make a stand? You work with what you have. Had I been raised in certain places during WW2, who can really say if I would have had the opportunity to know that the lies were really lies? *sigh* Maybe I'm wrong. It's just so much nicer to believe that you would always have done the right thing.
When I was a child I used to see everything in terms of black and white. There was evil and there was good and everything fell into one or the other. I believed in a god who cared, loved me, and wanted to talk to me. I believed that there was a meaning and purpose for my life. Things were much much more simple when I was a child.
My mom is going to the beach next week. We were going to go but it looks like that is right out unless I can figure out how to make a lot of money. Ok, enough bitching about being poor. Poor is certainly subjective. Compared to most of the people in the world we are seriously wealthy. Just have to remind myself of that.
I watched a really fascinating documentary about African Americans in modern dance last night. There was a woman, can't remember her name Edna something or other, wrote to Ruth St. Denis for many years and they read some of them. St. Denis came across pretty badly.... she had this very condescending maternal-ish tone with her and called her 'girly'. It was sad, but then I started thinking about how when you imagine yourself back in these sorts of situations how you would never do such a thing, but how can you really predict how you would react. The experiences you have in life shape who you become. Who can really say that raised in the environment you would have the spirit (or whatever it is that makes those rare people what they are) to see though the ignorance and bigotry and make a stand? You work with what you have. Had I been raised in certain places during WW2, who can really say if I would have had the opportunity to know that the lies were really lies? *sigh* Maybe I'm wrong. It's just so much nicer to believe that you would always have done the right thing.
When I was a child I used to see everything in terms of black and white. There was evil and there was good and everything fell into one or the other. I believed in a god who cared, loved me, and wanted to talk to me. I believed that there was a meaning and purpose for my life. Things were much much more simple when I was a child.
