I’m sitting right here – discussion of mental illness at Nethui

Nethui launched with a bit of brouhaha around a couple of jokes from the MC, lawyer and standup comedian James Elliott. A couple of his opening jokes – designed to loosen things up – were of questionable taste; one naïvely implying that the vast amount pornography on the internet was “pictures of naked women”(1) and the other faux-mistaking Vikram Kumar for a Bollywood film maker of the same name.

I responded to the brouhaha, suggesting that the MC was a distraction and not to let upset over his faux pas get in the way of the real business. I had to clarify that I wasn’t saying “let’s support gendered and racial speech”, and I now feel a need to explain what I was really getting at.

The real discourse happens after the MC stops joking. The real discourse is made by the session conveners, and the participants, particularly those who are viewed as experts.

Here are some snippets of phrases I heard variously from people conducting sessions, and personages of importance contributing:

“People who are mentally ill…”

“People who are mentally ill are…”

“You’ve got to be mentally ill to…”

When someone spoke to demean women, there was an uproar.

When someone made light of race, there was an uproar.

If someone had been foolish enough to make generalisations about the capabilities, limitations, features and characteristics of blind people, wheelchair-using people, deaf people, any kind of differently-abled person, of non-normative sexual and gender selves – there would have been an uproar.

The term “mental illness” came up a number of times in the context of the “trolling” discussion, for example. It seems that anytime someone is behaving antisocially, they must have a mental illness. Now, I’m not here to justify antisocial behaviour – there are some interesting works which explore the social constructions we put around “antisocial”, and the differing constructions we create when we wish to make use of antisocial behaviour for societal ends.

I didn’t make an uproar. Other people I know for a fact manage mental illness as part of their lives didn’t make an uproar. In my case, the “forever angry and unwell” Sean discussed matters with the “healed and well” Sean, and we agreed my (to reunite my two halves, as I must do every day to function(2)) planned outcomes from attending Nethui might be disrupted if I started laying into people who so casually prodded my deepest pain. Why? Because every time I expend emotional energy, I have to factor in the risk that I am misperceiving matters, and that my efforts to address a problem I see will make things worse. That it’s not going to change things anyway.

I want to make an uproar now. I’ve spent the last few days increasingly triggered, and I suspect there’s more to come if I maintain silence.

I’m here to say – you’re tarring a lot of good people with the same brush. That’s right – I’m not blasting anyone. My anger, as always, is my own. I’m going to speak, and hope some people listen. I’ll stick with the troll example.

Some people with mental illness troll.

Some people with mental illness experience frustration, bewilderment and an inability to understand the rules that govern interpersonal connection.

Some people with mental illness express frustration through attention-seeking antisocial behaviours at some times.

Some people with mental illness act to seek attention in online communities. In some ways, longlasting online communities are function as economies of attention, and sometimes some people with mental illness use the wrong strategies. What does that say about the other trolls – who don’t wrestle constantly with demons, who are simply choosing to seek amusement? Much easier to blame the loonies.(3)

We are not some people. We are your family, colleagues, and friends. We grit our teeth while people construct a world in which all of the otherness is laid at our doorsteps. How are we to reach out to you when you dismiss us in a way isn’t allowed for any other group in society? Can’t we come inside the PC circle, at long last? Can’t you see I’ve got a headful of bad wiring, and I’m still a good, caring and compassionate person? I know some sane, or at least stable, people who are real pricks.

Most of us mentals(3) don’t bother speaking up, because it’s too hard.

Most of us feel like we’ve failed before we open our mouths, or put hands to keyboards.

Most of us are trying to connect, however badly. Some are doing so pretty well, thank you.

I’m sitting right here. I’m next to you, wishing to work with you. Don’t say we need to stop talking about access and start talking about inclusion when you’re still leaving me out.

(1) Pornography would be vastly less problematic in some ways were this so.

(2) As Paul Simon said: “From what I can see of the people like me/We get better/But we never get well”.

(3) I will take these words back, and I’ll use it any time you want. Don’t you dare.

Written prior to waking

I woke early this morning. I have read friends’ blogs and noted that it is #blogjune so am showing support by giving them more to read.

I’m smiling at that last joke. I sometimes think that my humour and love of wordplay was somehow developed by my solitary nature – that I had to come up with ideas that amused me even though I came up with them.

I believe words have power, too – another reason I joke. I’m learning lately how to be more clear when I am serious. Some use the “safe” channel of shared humour to deliver hidden barbs and set downs. A clear categorical denial is a wondrous thing.

These are my thoughts pre rising. I ponder language and myself, and rehearse social strategies. Not much has changed about me.

Reviewing something current: This is My Jam

Here’s what this one is about. I just want you to like this site, this product.

I’ve used it for just over a week now. I’d like to give you a nutshell, and then explain my experience of it. Hopefully that will support me in explaining why I want you to use it.

The nutshell

The concept: Tumblr, but just for music. Industry experts can correct me.

Signup: Easy, as usual. Link your social profiles, emails etc. Follow people you know who are on there, expand as your other friends join.

You start on the “My Jam” page. You have the option to search for a jam, and your search gives results from soundcloud and youtube. Once you choose your jam and optionally add a little comment, it is set for a week.

There’s some design options for you people who care about that stuff. I don’t think they’re that complex, more a kind of flavours thing.

Embed-on-request rights are respected. As a consumer of a service, I assume the provider(s) of that service are vigilant to protect me from inadvertent rights misuse. I’ll happily discuss that (1) in the comments should anyone be interested.

Your jam and those of your follows are displayed in reverse chronological order on the site home page. If you click the play button on an individual jam you will start the list playing in reverse order until the one week event horizon is reached.

Developing of your network occurs virally, and through the discovery tools. I’ll discuss them under:

My experience of it

The social discovery tools are very interesting – I’ve just linked through to my last.fm profile, which should give me some crunchy recommendations for random follows.

Social Recomendations are categorised three ways that I’ve found so far:

Derived from my jams – I’m introduced to people who are jamming similarly.

Trending jammers – not necessarily so fond of that.

Friend-of-friend recommendations via likes – I saw a jammer (into the lingo already!) recommended as “most liked by your follows”.

If you want things to change on your jam, throw down some records

It’s ok to change one’s jam anytime – you’ll remove your previous one, so you won’t be spamming in terms of “post count”. I’m not sure if I’d get annoyed at someone who continually threw out new tunes. Sure they’d stay at the top of the list, but if they were sharing good songs I’d go with it.

Your playlist isn’t evolving the way you’d like? Add people to it. Prune it. Throw out tracks. Most importantly: Respond to the community you’ve created.

I don’t use TiMJ constantly – I check in on it. I give the people on it time to surprise me. My favourite kinds of surprises are new songs, which is

Why I Want You To Join

The limitation – music only – is where the victory lies.  It’s a perfect answer to my issues around sociality – sometimes words don’t work at all for me, but sound always does.

Yep, it’s all about me

It’s good therapeutic practise to ask for what you want, in an honest and respectful way. Anyhow,

Bowtie it with a story seanfish

Someone laid down a remix of Blue Jay Way, which I liked.(2)

I threw out Fiona Apple singing Across the Universe.

Someone #2 shared “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” by Eddie Vedder (which wasn’t to my taste).

Someone #3 rolled out “Creep” by Radiohead – the acoustic version, which I “liked” and love,

@wilwheaton stepped up with Massive Attack – Protection, and

I got all the squee

This is My Jam.

(1) At nauseating length.

(2) In airquotes and simultaneously not in airquotes. Please view this as standard practise.

Why I desperately want the National Government to love me, sex me up.

I have a need for attention and validation, as I have mentioned before.

I manage to moderate this day to day so that begging doesn’t take place, but being shown an absolute disregard for my worth as a person can just push me over the edge.

Treat me badly, and I’ll be yours forever. This government treating me – us all, really – extremely badly indeed. The best kind of bad is when lies are involved – and the best kind of lies are ones delivered despite all evidence to the contrary. Oh god does this government make me hot.

I’m just putting on my gimp mask.* This might get uncomfortably personal for some of you.**

I’m reminded of a close family member I caught giving my name to the police for traffic violations whilst disqualified.

The first time I was really a little annoyed. The person pleaded with me to let them pay the fines  to make amends.

The second time hurt, as did the mention I found on my police file of domestic disturbance I was apparently active in at that person’s house. Which I’d never visited.

Because I so desperately want to be loved, I still tried to repair that relationship*** – as if it was on me to do so at all.

The first forays were responded to with outright lies. Yes, this person agreed they had done so before. They nonetheless felt I was unreasonable in asserting they were by far the most likely culprit. Surely, they said, many people in the world have my full name and birth date at close recall.

We did better later – up to a point. Wrongs were acknowledged. I had to ask, how do I know this won’t happen again?

“I have my license back. I don’t need to.”

Good one.****

That’s how it is with this government. Each time they’re caught they lie until put on the spot. When they’re honest, it’s worse.

I’m not asking for much. I’m very eager to please. I just want John Key to look me in the eye while he fucks me.

* I do not own a gimp mask.

** It sure is for me. Jokes! Not.

*** I still am, by the way, and will always be.

**** I might be an emotional victim, but I’ve now got a note asking police to check for a fish tattoo on my right arm should anyone give my name without ID.

graffiti

Never a truer word said.

Remember last post? Oh those good old days of clarity. If only the sporting life were my concern this week.

Some undue mental energy has become bound around currently-unshiftable work issues. I’m meditating, and consulting with appropriate channels. I am engaging with my support community, and not letting my negatives define me.

As far as the remaining task of self-management; I’m a big believer in the art of applying minimum effort at the right moment as a path to success – it allows room for more right moments to be found. There’s also that cheesy metaphor about the glass jar, the rocks of varying sizes and the sand.

The sand is where my comfort lies right now. Some larger rocks are sitting still, but I’m gaining traction on stones and pebbles.

Monday was a glory – I got to do the real stuff, and stand in front of a group of very intelligent and capable seniors and tell them all about ebooks. Will write about said in eLibrarylife  soon enough. I spent the afternoon handling real books. Weird.

Tuesday was getting little things done with a series of wonderful moments interspersed. I’ll discuss the excellent talk from Netsafe on cyberbullying (statistics! Joy!) over on the other blog to which I sporadically contribute at a later point.

As Tuesday is  band practise, I’ve arranged to leave a little earlier and make up time later in the week. This lets me get in before Northern stops moving and gives me a couple of great hours to enjoy the town.

I was in the mood for walking, so made my way down Queen Street.

I discovered an amazing trio jamming at the bottom of Vulcan Lane. Their music sounded like it was from Sesame Street.

Electric bass, tin drum and didgeridoo at Vulcan Lane

I turned, looking for refreshment. Rakinos suited my need to change from professional person to Bohemian, so I sat at one of the terrace tables to enjoy the sunshine and the cup.

I was trying unsuccessfully to wrangle my phone when a lady asked if she could share the table. She was smoking, I wasn’t – I could hardly object. Bronwyn, a Bohemian herself, was in her young sixties. She introduced herself by showing her business card. Her title: Artiste.

We talked of the education system, locations of opression, and the need for all citizens of good standing to understand the concept embodied in the song Gaudeamus Igitur.

I then went up to Albert Park for a short but enjoyable meditation.

Dinner was Double Cheese Pancake from No. 1 Pancake! (their apostrophe), my first time. It was… light and bland, but fried. Oh my poor arteries. Good thing my day was spent walking up hill and down dale.

After dinner – music practise. Lots of fun as we were exploring something new and different.

I got home just in time to kiss Sal goodnight – I’m never ready to sleep the minute I get in, and she was ready for an early one.

Today was spent just sifting through the sand. Some grains were moved. That’s a positive, right?

Confessions of a…

Just like that, things snap into place.

Work has moved into some very interesting phases, and my hamster of a mind has a number of very satisfying hamster wheels to run in at present. Sometimes the wheels even move forward. This is the art of public service.

On the personal front, the work done in therapy on mindfulness have culminated in a series of useful decisions about how to manage being me. A bit of a deep hack with a few helpful kicks up the arse by kind onlookers.

There is still – and may always be – work to go, but the next steps are clear in my own journey. As always – finding ways to be more comfortable and open about who I am.

So here’s this year’s one. I am, as I was discussing with a friend on the twits today, a flirtaholic.

This is because:

1) My mother.

2) My father.

3) I genuinely like women and enjoy life when I can have lighthearted jocularity of a grown-up nature with them.

4) And some men. Whatevs.

Not such a hard thing to state, actually.

How does my wife deal with it? She knows who’s boss. I tell her I am very lucky very often.

All is well in the world.

I’ve thrown this one out before, but it seems appropriate.

In your dreams, seanfish.