An Argument for Collections

Today is normally (if two posts can be considered "normally") Art Day on the blog. But instead we are going to talk about collections.

Why? Because a friend of mine says she just doesn't "get" collections.
Her argument was that collections aren't useful. They take up space, and unless the collection is of useable things, it is not worthwhile. To paraphrase.
I argued that collected things are useful, for no one would collect useless things, (unless their collection were specifically of useless things, but that is a whole other kettle of fish).

However this did not deter her. So here I am, taking time to think it out further and formulate a stronger response.

1. Collections are useful. 
• Even a collection of bottlecaps or pop tabs is a useful collection. To the collector, at least. I collect pop tabs. I do not collect them because I want to donate them (though I could), or because I want to make something out of them (which I used to). I collect them because they feel useful to me, even if they are not. I collect them because there are tings I could do with them
2. There is comfort in numbers
• People like to have things. Especially a lot of things. In our culture we have been told that more is better. So it fills a usually unexpressed feeling of need for people to collect things, even if they have no practical use.
3. The thrill of the chase
• There is an adrenaline rush that comes from searching for things. Finding that one rare item to complete a set, or finding a misprinted stamp. People are very good at recognizing patterns and get a rush of endorphins when they do. Finding something that is the same but different is a real joy bringer. 
4. There is value in it
• Many collections are, or can be, quite valuable. Coins are inherently valued. Stamps can be worth hundreds of dollars. Even things that are considered worthless (pop tabs, bottle caps) can have value if they are special or in large numbers (You throw out pop tabs, yet a few pounds of them are worth a fair chunk of change.)
5. There is fun in it
• Besides the thrill of the chase, there is fun in collections. Managing them, sorting them, culling and adding to them. They all bring joy to the true collector. Just seeing your collection on display, or knowing you have it can bring comfort to a person in this hectic world.
6. There is control in it
• We cannot control the world. Things will happen that we don't like. But in the realm of collecting, we can issue some control. We decide what we collect, we decide when and how much to add to the collection. We decide how to display or otherwise enjoy our collection. It is a very personal thing, and we get to control all aspects of it.

All that said, I do not believe collections are for everyone. Some people may just never "get" the concept. And that is okay. I don't believe it to be right to judge others; based on their collections(or lack there of), or how they choose to manage them, or even if they have too many or too few. It is another quirk that sets people apart.

What about you, readers? Do you collect things? If so, what? Why?

Another response post...

Hey there. It's 4:30 on a Monday morning, and I haven't gone to bed yet. And I'm not entirely sure when I woke up. Oh well.

Another blog I read posted something interesting that I wanted to reply to. But once again, I am too verbose and would feel like I am stealing the comments with my big response.
The blog, Raptitude, posts some really thought provoking things reasonably frequently.
And I encourage you to check it out. Here, however, is the specific post I am replying to: It's another Monday morning, do you know where you are?

“Here” is on my bed, in my room in my mother’s house. My hide-y hole, the only place in this house I really feel any semblance of safe, free, true. The only place I can do what I want, say what I want, look at what I want… but I still have to be careful.

Even here I feel bound and constricted.

I am here, with the most bluntness, because I failed in a suicide attempt a bit more than a week ago.

On a more general level, I am here because I have no where better to be, nowhere else that wants me, because college ended a bit more than a week ago, because I don’t yet have a job.

How did I get to this point, of a recovering suicidal, depressive, lovesick, feel-for-nothing genderqueer? 

That is a very long story, and most of it is irrelevant to this specific post, but I think I am going to explore it after this.

Today feels unimpressive to me. 

It feels about the same as yesterday and only marginally better than a week ago. Worse than a year ago, okay enough compared to a month ago.

I have a girl on my mind, nearly constantly; and it is pissing me off. The things I feel for her are more than either of us want from our relationship, at this point.

At the same time my brain is being pulled about by the need to find a job, by the depressing facts of my past and a person I saw from it recently; by the seemingly quietly hostile environment I am in.

Returning to my thoughts? 

The nothingness of my existence. My lack of control in all things my life.

The fact that if I let myself, I would have an eating disorder. That I fuck with my sleep patterns in order to control something, the same way as an anorexic controls food.

That even that doesn’t offer me any real control over my life.

The fact I that I haven’t cut myself for exactly five months.

But if I could, I would.

The fact that I don’t want to be in love, at the very least ever again.

That I can’t let myself feel things, because it ends in pain.

The insanity and obvious depressive elements to how I think.

My life, at this precise moment, is heading nowhere. I have no prospects for change. All I keep thinking is “If you change nothing, nothing will change.”. And yet it feels like I have no choice in my inactivity. That I have no option but to do the same things “If you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always gotten.” And that’s all I’ll ever get.

Coming up? 

Eventually I’ll have to find a job that’ll take me. I’ll probably hate it—majority of the world hates their job. Maybe I’ll actually find a girl who will look past how broken I am and try to love me—I’ll probably fuck it up, as I have told myself I am not allowed to love again. That, and I am never enough, or the right thing for anyone. And that cycle will continue. New girls, new jobs. Eventually I might come across some I don’t hate, and can allow myself to love. Then I mess with that until I time out. Until life finally f’ing ends, and I finally get what I want. For what will feel like the first time.

What seems to be exiting my life… Relationships, a whole lot of them. Some not so important, some so crucially important I felt like they were tearing me to pieces to leave them. But now I have killed that feeling. Put it away somewhere dark and quiet. Maybe I’ll take this box out again someday and actually feel the emotions. But until then, I am as close to happy as I am capable of. So I’ll keep shoving it aside because I have cried too many tears.

So in the end, right now I am coasting. I am doing whatever makes sense at the time with the hope that it’ll all turn out. Because in the most fucked up way possible, I am one of the most hopeful people in the world.

I wield my hope like a sharpened boomerang. 

Did I chose to be here?

No. On even the most basic level, no.

I chose death over everything that I currently have.

And if I thought I could pull it off, I'd still chose it. 

If I had anywhere better to be, I would be.

So everything just sort of settled this way.

I am waiting to hear back from a job that I am hoping against hope I will be called to an interview for. That I want more than nearly anything else at this point to get.

I am avoiding a great number of things.

I am not really excited for anything, because nothing really feels worth getting excited about.

And finally:

Do I feel like I am where I am supposed to be?

I feel like I am in the only place I can be. Which is very close, but not at all the same thing.

That feels like a good snapshot of where I am. Depressing, hopeful, apathetic, over emotional. 

That said I do like the exercise, because I am a big fan of self-reflection. I hope others will participate as well.

A response

So I was reading a post from a blog I follow, and I wanted to respond. However my response got quite long. So instead I am posting it here.

The original post is this one:

http://bizzycrochet.blogspot.ca/2012/03/politically-incorrect-post.html

And my response follows.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I agree with some of the backing to your points, the feelings I think are behind them, but not the points themselves.

I can't speak for everyone, but I can speak for myself.

I don't feel the need to go around telling everyone I'm queer. And, in fact, I rarely do any more. Most people can figure it out for themselves based on my comments and actions. It comes up passively in conversations nowadays.

But I did go through a period where I did tell people. The whole "coming out" thing.

I guess the reason that people feel the need to tell everyone is because people tend to assume "straightness".

I'm not straight. No more than I am black, a man, red headed or long haired.

But people can tell that I am white, can see my short hair, assume I am not a man; all just by looking at me.

But they can't tell my queer status. And while that is fine (most people don't need to know) it can make for awkward times if I want to get closer to someone.

I want people to know I am queer up front because it can save a lot of pain later on. There are people out there that reject queer people. And the sooner into the relationship I can determine their stance, the less pain will be brought from the rejection.

As for a personal blog of a queer person not having much in common... I think that is a bit presumptuous.

I still have relationship issues, I still go to work, I still talk about reading and movies, if I had kids I might talk about them... I still eat, drink, do arts. I could still own a home, run a family. I still go to school. Honestly, the issues we could face are much the same.

It is very similar to saying you wouldn't want to read the blog of a black man because you are a white woman, what could you have in common?
I'm a reasonable example, I've had maybe two out of seventy posts revolve around a queer issue-- and that is because I am currently going through some things.

Keeping it to yourself on TV/Movies... do you protest the idea of a straight person playing a queer person? A Christian playing an Atheist? What about a perfect husband playing a wife-beater?

The joy of actors is that they can play roles that they don't fit into perfectly in their home life. I'd protest more the idea that someone has to embody who they are playing in their personal life-- we'd have a lot more murderers running around.

As for school... ideally no one would be bullied. But that dream is a long way off. Right now it is being targeted because of all the suicides. If a rash of 'drama geeks' were to suddenly decide suicide was the best option, chances are there would be action taken.

Honestly, I was bullied for a lot of things in school. I am shy, I don't do sports, I like video games and the internet too much, I got too good of grades... Only once was I ever targeted for being queer. And that one time I was beaten black and blue. All the other things were taunts, a push maybe. It is the severity of the bullying around this issue that makes it so important at this point.

I've always had a hard time understanding Pride parades. For any reason, race, orientation, religion... They seem excessive.

I don't wear a shirt that says "Gay Pride". The closest I have is one that says "4 out of 5 cats prefer lesbians". I wear that because a friend gave it to me, not because I'm queer.

However they are good ways to keep the issues at hand.

There are no straight parades because there is little need to celebrate a majority. They aren't under duress.

As for the Chritianity/religion/Jesus/God thing... Not everyone believes the same thing, as you said. Unfortunately some people believe in spreading hate and fear. With time, and luck, those people may become less common.

Honestly, I did find some of your opinions questionable, but I can agree to an extent. The only thing I found affronting was the idea that you should pray for people who you are trying not to judge. It seems inapproriate to pray for the person. Perhaps pray for an understanding of the person (for your own use), but the person them selves should be able to make the choice of hw and who and what for, when it comes to prayer.

I am sorry you could not keep your friend on Facebook because of their friends, and I am really sorry they attacked you like that. Unfortunately on every side of any issue there will be people like that.

I'm not trying to sound hostile, I hope it didn't come across that way >.>

A short response

So a teacher of mine (or past teacher? I'm not sure if this is the last we get of her? anyway: ) posted an interesting... post... about her relation with the short story. Read it here. It got me thinking about my relationship with short stories, and I started to write a Facebook response, but it got too long. So I thought I'd share it here.

Alex makes some good points on the thought of short stories. Their very nature can be annoying to people. They're just so dammed short! And yeah, that can seem like a silly complaint. I mean, it's a short story for a reason, right? But if you're not in the right place for one, it's like a kick to the teeth.

"Oh, good characters, neat idea for a plot annnnd-- wait, it's over? What?"

As I said, good points.

I'm on the other side of the spectrum, however. I have a hard time settling into novels anymore (though school may have been a big factor in that as I've devoured two novels in the last three days of being off school for the summer (though I slept through one day...). Short stories have kept me well fed for a few years now.

I didn't always like them though. In fact, I used to be so against them that I dragged my writing out into longer stories simply because I didn't want to be a short story author. Enter Letters Unsent, Letters Unwritten (or LuLu) and I started to see the appeal of shorter stories. Now I have a good number of anthologies in my collection and I have to say that I am all for them.

But what is drawing me to them? The short nature of the story is still frustrating to me, I still often find myself at a loss at the end, wondering where the rest of the story went, or feeling I've been abandoned.

And it isn't a lack of time that is making me read them. When you read a three inch thick paper-back of back-to-back short stories in a sitting, it may as well be a novel.

It is the very brevity of the stories. When you only have ten pages to get a point across, there is little to no room for flowery language. Only things of great importance are mentioned. Even if their importance is only to make you think that other things are not so important.

My interest in shorts may come from my found love of writing them. The author gets to play with a story that size. Where is the harm in writing an ultrashort? (varyingly defined as less than 1000, 100, 10 words. ) I can put out 1000 words in a half hour trying to get a paper done.

There is no fear of getting it perfect. You don't like it? Toss it. You've wasted nothing.

So you get to read something just a little more raw. If you don't like it, you've wasted nothing. Ten minutes.

So I'm glad she's getting back to short stories. A cut up look at the world(that is, could be, would be, was, never will be, isn't, etc) is a nice mirror to the daily life that plagues so many people this side of the globe.

Shorts are a zap to the brain of a new thought, new way of seeing. Easily digested, like precut cubes of meat. And like precut cubes, they shouldn't be the only thing in your diet. But they can become a staple, and can become a delicious alternative to the chewy steak-like portions of Pride and Prejudice, A Tale of Two Cities and Moby Dick.