![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexandraerinThis one's really not that easy to do. I have a pretty good life. There are parts of it that could use some improving, but they are by and large improving. Anyway, I'm sitting here typing this at the dining room table in a condo in a lovely little town outside of Tampa, Florida called Dunedin. I paid nothing to be here. Yesterday I was at Epcot in Walt Disney World with my parents. I paid nothing to be there, either. My parents are kind and generous with their time and the fruits of their own successes to their grown children, and that would leave me with precious little to be envious of even if they didn't have a place in Florida or regard Disney World as a sort of promised land.
I suppose I could take the description I copied for the day of "seven things [I] lack and covet" and make a list that's just seven things that I want. Wanting things is easy. As Jack Handey said, "It's easy to sit there and say you'd like to have more money. And I guess that's what I like about it. It's easy. Just sitting there, rocking back and forth, wanting that money." But that's really not what envy's about... envy requires both a direct and an indirect object. If you covet money, the money is the direct object of that coveting. For envy, the money becomes an indirect object... the person who has it is the direct object of your envy.
A lot of the things that I want, I just don't envy anybody who has them, even in general. I mean, when I find myself wanting a good steak I'm not thinking "There are people out there eating steak right now and I'm not one of them."
This is not to say that I don't experience envy. The first two items on this list required no thought at all. I just have to really stop and think to fill out seven things. If this list has any purpose, though, maybe that's it?
1. I envy Sarah for living with Jack and having known him longer. It is necessary in this case to quote a line from Cat Valente's The Habitation of the Blessed that stood out to me when I first read it (I love how easy Kindle makes it to mark and look up favorite lines): "Envy and jealousy are sisters, but not twins."
Envy is wanting what someone else has. Jealousy is not wanting to share. You can feel jealous of something that you have (i.e., jealously-guarded secrets or treasures) or something you only envy, but it's possible for there to be envy without jealously. I don't resent Sarah her seniority or proximity, and I would not trade places with her... wouldn't take away from what she has to enrich myself. I like Sarah. I admire and respect her. I hope that my happiness with Jack is able to increase the happiness in her own life. Polyamory operates on the principle that love is not a zero-sum game, after all.
But I envy her.
2. The hoopla that happens when trad-pub authors experiment with crowdfunding. This is occasionally somewhat or even very irrational, as among the reasons why I've forged the particular path that I have is a lack of desire/ability to deal with certain hooplae at the outset. There are good, solid reasons for me to move towards brighter spotlights at my own pace. But emotions are only ever reasonable by coincidence, and it usually only takes one or two Respected Names making a comment about how an experiment only worked because the experimenter had an audience, or it didn't work despite the experimenter's established audience and therefore crowdfunding is disproven forever, or invoking the need for gatekeepers to protect us from the 90% of everything that is crap* for me to start resenting how little attention is paid to the truly indie efforts.
(*How does the rest of the internet work, then? There are no editors and publishers overseeing the internet and yet we all find sufficiently entertaining entertainment on it.)
This shaded over into jealousy exactly once, and it felt ugly because it interrupted (if only for a moment) me feeling happy for a friend.
3. People who didn't inherit the hereditary hairline from my mother's side of the family. It meshes well with my already-established love of hats and it's inculcating in me a love of wigs that I'd probably keep even if I found myself the lucky victim of a drive-by scalp transplant, but it's decidedly inconvenient for someone whose womanhood is considered to be up for debate. This is envy and not mere covetousness because I really do envy people who have the kind of hair I would want.
4. Anybody I see using a smart phone with a full physical QWERTY keyboard. I used to resist the idea of on-screen touchable keyboards pretty fiercely. I got a chance to try one and found that it was easier to use than I'd expected, and I extrapolated from that experience that once I got used to it I'd be able to write on one as easily as I can with a physical keyboard. So when I lost my Pre... and wasn't interested in replacing it with another of the same for a variety of reasons... I jumped at the chance to get an Android-powered phone. The one I could get for free with an upgrade credit didn't have a keyboard. I thought it would be no big deal, I even considered it a plus since the lack of a sliding or flipping mechanism meant there's that much less that can go wrong with the phone, physically... but in the weeks that have transpired since then, I have found that no amount of practice makes up for the deficiencies of the on-screen keyboard and every time I see somebody sliding out a keyboard on a similar phone I find myself wishing I'd held out for that.
5. Visual artists. It might take a lot of practice and discipline to be a skilled artist, but no amount of either would be enough to make me even a serviceable one. I took elective art courses all the way through high school and learned quite a bit of basic theory and technique, but as for getting any actual physical results out of that learning I have some specific lacks that are at play here: fine muscle control, coordination, spatial reasoning. There are forms of visual expression that I could engage in, but in terms of using an artistic medium to visually represent something... well, my artist friends can count on me for commissions.
6. The freedom that comes with having (and being able to drive) a car. When I tell people that I don't drive, the most common response is, "What, you've never learned?" But it's like the art thing above. I've received technical instructions. I understand the theory. It's more a matter of ability.
I've never had a doctor diagnose me as incapable of operating a motor vehicle, but it's not something I'm comfortable with doing. There are certain things that are more apt to be unfortunate if they occur while piloting two tons of metal at speeds that are some multiple of 15 or 20 miles per hour than they are when one is walking. These things include: having a powerful spasm or tremor in the arm or leg (or the whole body), a loss of the ability to distinguish right from left, and just completely spacing out.
There are good things about not driving. Chief among them is that it means there is little to no point in owning a car. But it means I am obliged to rely on other people for some things... as we all are, but there are some areas where modern U.S. culture, by and large, expects us to be self-sufficient... and that I am unable to assist others in matters of transportation logistics.
My lack of driving ability is becoming more of an issue now that my knees have started to go. Walking at a moderate pace has long been the most exercise my body would tolerate, and I have enjoyed it very much. The prospect of walking five or six miles (or more) to get somewhere never bothered me, so long as I knew I had two hours to spare doing it. Now? It's considerably less of an option. Pain is fatiguing.
All in all, I don't know that I'd choose to change this one if I could. I mean, a car would be a lot of complication and expense to take on at this point in my life. That's why I'm specifying that I envy the freedom. I don't envy the financial burden/responsibility, the need for maintenance... the reality of car-ownership. All things considered, I'd rather just be able to teleport.
7. People who can sleep without trying... people for whom "going to sleep" is an actual thing that a person can do. Even during the incredible stretch from late November through a few weeks ago when I was reporting 7-8 hours of awesome sleep all the time, I haven't been able to "go to sleep", only lie down and wait to see if and when sleep will deign to come to me.
And that's seven.
I suppose I could take the description I copied for the day of "seven things [I] lack and covet" and make a list that's just seven things that I want. Wanting things is easy. As Jack Handey said, "It's easy to sit there and say you'd like to have more money. And I guess that's what I like about it. It's easy. Just sitting there, rocking back and forth, wanting that money." But that's really not what envy's about... envy requires both a direct and an indirect object. If you covet money, the money is the direct object of that coveting. For envy, the money becomes an indirect object... the person who has it is the direct object of your envy.
A lot of the things that I want, I just don't envy anybody who has them, even in general. I mean, when I find myself wanting a good steak I'm not thinking "There are people out there eating steak right now and I'm not one of them."
This is not to say that I don't experience envy. The first two items on this list required no thought at all. I just have to really stop and think to fill out seven things. If this list has any purpose, though, maybe that's it?
1. I envy Sarah for living with Jack and having known him longer. It is necessary in this case to quote a line from Cat Valente's The Habitation of the Blessed that stood out to me when I first read it (I love how easy Kindle makes it to mark and look up favorite lines): "Envy and jealousy are sisters, but not twins."
Envy is wanting what someone else has. Jealousy is not wanting to share. You can feel jealous of something that you have (i.e., jealously-guarded secrets or treasures) or something you only envy, but it's possible for there to be envy without jealously. I don't resent Sarah her seniority or proximity, and I would not trade places with her... wouldn't take away from what she has to enrich myself. I like Sarah. I admire and respect her. I hope that my happiness with Jack is able to increase the happiness in her own life. Polyamory operates on the principle that love is not a zero-sum game, after all.
But I envy her.
2. The hoopla that happens when trad-pub authors experiment with crowdfunding. This is occasionally somewhat or even very irrational, as among the reasons why I've forged the particular path that I have is a lack of desire/ability to deal with certain hooplae at the outset. There are good, solid reasons for me to move towards brighter spotlights at my own pace. But emotions are only ever reasonable by coincidence, and it usually only takes one or two Respected Names making a comment about how an experiment only worked because the experimenter had an audience, or it didn't work despite the experimenter's established audience and therefore crowdfunding is disproven forever, or invoking the need for gatekeepers to protect us from the 90% of everything that is crap* for me to start resenting how little attention is paid to the truly indie efforts.
(*How does the rest of the internet work, then? There are no editors and publishers overseeing the internet and yet we all find sufficiently entertaining entertainment on it.)
This shaded over into jealousy exactly once, and it felt ugly because it interrupted (if only for a moment) me feeling happy for a friend.
3. People who didn't inherit the hereditary hairline from my mother's side of the family. It meshes well with my already-established love of hats and it's inculcating in me a love of wigs that I'd probably keep even if I found myself the lucky victim of a drive-by scalp transplant, but it's decidedly inconvenient for someone whose womanhood is considered to be up for debate. This is envy and not mere covetousness because I really do envy people who have the kind of hair I would want.
4. Anybody I see using a smart phone with a full physical QWERTY keyboard. I used to resist the idea of on-screen touchable keyboards pretty fiercely. I got a chance to try one and found that it was easier to use than I'd expected, and I extrapolated from that experience that once I got used to it I'd be able to write on one as easily as I can with a physical keyboard. So when I lost my Pre... and wasn't interested in replacing it with another of the same for a variety of reasons... I jumped at the chance to get an Android-powered phone. The one I could get for free with an upgrade credit didn't have a keyboard. I thought it would be no big deal, I even considered it a plus since the lack of a sliding or flipping mechanism meant there's that much less that can go wrong with the phone, physically... but in the weeks that have transpired since then, I have found that no amount of practice makes up for the deficiencies of the on-screen keyboard and every time I see somebody sliding out a keyboard on a similar phone I find myself wishing I'd held out for that.
5. Visual artists. It might take a lot of practice and discipline to be a skilled artist, but no amount of either would be enough to make me even a serviceable one. I took elective art courses all the way through high school and learned quite a bit of basic theory and technique, but as for getting any actual physical results out of that learning I have some specific lacks that are at play here: fine muscle control, coordination, spatial reasoning. There are forms of visual expression that I could engage in, but in terms of using an artistic medium to visually represent something... well, my artist friends can count on me for commissions.
6. The freedom that comes with having (and being able to drive) a car. When I tell people that I don't drive, the most common response is, "What, you've never learned?" But it's like the art thing above. I've received technical instructions. I understand the theory. It's more a matter of ability.
I've never had a doctor diagnose me as incapable of operating a motor vehicle, but it's not something I'm comfortable with doing. There are certain things that are more apt to be unfortunate if they occur while piloting two tons of metal at speeds that are some multiple of 15 or 20 miles per hour than they are when one is walking. These things include: having a powerful spasm or tremor in the arm or leg (or the whole body), a loss of the ability to distinguish right from left, and just completely spacing out.
There are good things about not driving. Chief among them is that it means there is little to no point in owning a car. But it means I am obliged to rely on other people for some things... as we all are, but there are some areas where modern U.S. culture, by and large, expects us to be self-sufficient... and that I am unable to assist others in matters of transportation logistics.
My lack of driving ability is becoming more of an issue now that my knees have started to go. Walking at a moderate pace has long been the most exercise my body would tolerate, and I have enjoyed it very much. The prospect of walking five or six miles (or more) to get somewhere never bothered me, so long as I knew I had two hours to spare doing it. Now? It's considerably less of an option. Pain is fatiguing.
All in all, I don't know that I'd choose to change this one if I could. I mean, a car would be a lot of complication and expense to take on at this point in my life. That's why I'm specifying that I envy the freedom. I don't envy the financial burden/responsibility, the need for maintenance... the reality of car-ownership. All things considered, I'd rather just be able to teleport.
7. People who can sleep without trying... people for whom "going to sleep" is an actual thing that a person can do. Even during the incredible stretch from late November through a few weeks ago when I was reporting 7-8 hours of awesome sleep all the time, I haven't been able to "go to sleep", only lie down and wait to see if and when sleep will deign to come to me.
And that's seven.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2011-02-17 04:50 pm (UTC)7. I refuse to believe these people exist.
no subject
on 2011-02-17 05:27 pm (UTC)OMG, that would have been my number one. My girlfriend's head hits the pillow, and she's asleep. I just lay there and watch her in seething envy. Thank god for sleeping pills, that's all I'm saying.
no subject
on 2011-02-17 06:33 pm (UTC)Also, just out of curiousity, do you ever use a bicycle? Six miles on a bike is a lot easier on the knees... I'm kind of wondering if your nervousness about operating cars also applies to bikes, which you have more direct control over.
no subject
on 2011-02-17 06:44 pm (UTC)I've had a couple of opportunities to experiment with an adult tricycle. It seems like a better match for my needs/abilities than a bike.
no subject
on 2011-02-17 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2011-02-18 06:20 am (UTC)6. I totally agree with you on this one. In my case it's slow sensory processing that makes me unable to drive. Top of my list would probably be 'people whose lifestyles aren't restricted by sensory issues.' Being unable to drive (and thus needing to live somewhere with a functional public transportation system) but not being able to tolerate big cities kinda limits the possibilities :P
7. Jack's right. These people are a myth.