Following is the best video about this out there. I have watched many many videos on this topic over the last 4 days and researched in-browser as well plus read the many thousands of comments on the FTC website that youtube channels have written in via the petition to stop this BS. I won't repeat what's going on, there are plenty of videos you can watch to update yourself on this fiasco. Please watch this video, posted on the UpperEchelonGamers channel. It shows what a manual review of a video by a youtube employee can do to a channel which was set to "Not Made For Kids" by the owner, the channel owner complying with all rules SET BY YOUTUBE!
We are so glib (inside) when there is nothing wrong with us. When things start falling apart we are a shivering mass of jelly. When we are not aware of our bodies it's bliss, but that is forever changed when we encounter accidents, illness. From then on we are more wary, suspicious, paranoid (or so everyone says) and self-aware. The world feels a more dangerous place.
My family (all over 70) have had a bunch of accidents (3 busted feet already this year). I broke my arm falling on concrete 3 years ago, range of movement will never return. Facing a failing body is facing our mortality.
Social media has easy answers. Those "answers" don't work for the aging. They usually involve having/setting goals, making lists, going places, being positive, communicating, loving, caring for others. All good things but for someone with dementia or waylaid by breaks etc, this doesn't always work. Memes especially are the rage.
What has set me thinking about this more than usual is the neglect in nursing homes. It's on the news and it's escalating and it's scary. I spoke with a close friend about this yesterday and we both decided it wasn't for us. But what can we do about if if it comes to others making decisions for us because we can't, our children deciding it's time to move mum on, on to a home that's not hers.
Like the Bible says, "When you were young you dressed yourself and went wherever you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."
I'm definitely digging my heels in.
I wonder how many elderly like being looked after?
Many need to be. Fair enough. Of course.
But what is going on inside their heads? When they are woken at the crack of dawn for a shower, for medication, for getting dressed? They say nothing but are they missing their previous life? Do carers even believe they could be thinking this way? Do carers even know anything about them at all?
We as independent individuals should prize our lie-ins, that we can do whatever we like when we like if we like because we like. This includes those of us like myself, retired, nearing 70, not needing to work anymore, married but definitely not the type to jump up whenever husband needs something.
We don't have to deal with being shipped off to different hospitals and institutions, suddenly separated from our friends, suffering dementia, uprooted, saddened and deflated because of the temporariness of life. Yet. All because of a pay dispute in said nursing home. Like last month, in Australia. Insufferable jerks.
Aging is not for the fainthearted, as is quoted. Since my fall in 2015 I am not the same. I am not looking forward to further aging. The alternative is death as my mother would say, but I'm not looking forward. Period. I don't want to know. But I know. I have researched. I have even researched my own mind because there's a lot in there that doesn't have to be told, taught, touched, tampered with. It's truth, to me. I know what's ahead.
But I'm glad I know, that I've looked into it, looked into my mind and seen. That I've always, since young, known what's down there, in there, faced the darkness. I don't run away from it for more projects, more earning, more of the newest, like some I know. No, I stand and face.
Maybe I will still be standing and facing in 20 years.
Maybe standing and facing will help me when my carer says stand, time for a shower, face me face the wall.
Entering the online craft and art journalling world some years back has been an eye-opener.
Here are my impressions of watching both traditional and craft artists at work. This is not stating a preference for either because both types have something to teach:
I have a few bugbears though and will gladly note them here.
* I hate (yes, strong word but applicable here) the way artists WASTE PAINT! Ok, I'm not being precious here about using paint. However, I've seen artists frantically washing out their brushes when only ONE COLOUR is on the palette. Then they use the same colour again! Why wash out the brush if only one colour is used? Adding a little water to add flow and transparency is fine, but wash out all the colour only to use the same colour again? Ok enough now :D
* How people hold their brushes, pens. So uptight, restricting their view and their flow, although that is never mentioned in a video about freedom and self-expression!
A "traditional" watercolour by me:
An art journalling piece by me:
PEACE FROM NERVOUS SUFFERING
Dr Claire Weekes (11 April 1903 – 2 June 1990) was an Australian general practitioner and health writer and
also had an early career as a research scientist working in the field of comparative reproduction. She is considered by some as the pioneer of modern anxiety treatment via Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. She continues to be noted for her books on dealing with anxiety disorders. Many of today's anxiety self-help books cite her work. I was greatly helped by her books in the 1990s and have just found her on youtube. Click the "PEACE FROM NERVOUS SUFFERING" link above to be taken to her playlist.
...do people hold their pen/pencil wrong? It is painful to watch and their writing is a sorry excuse. Here are three different youtubers:
To the person above on youtube, I commented: "When I'm watching a stream I cannot see what the person is drawing because their hand is in the way. Why stream at all if viewers can't see what you're doing? Also, the "right" way is the relaxed way. RSI is a problem with incorrect handling, and you won't know that until you're a lot older."
Check out the below image. It was live-streamed. I can't see what she's colouring in nor can her hundreds of chat viewers. Can she? Obviously not. (And yet she has over one million subscribers on youtube, 62 thousand followers on the live-streaming site Twitch, companies sponsor her, young tens and teens look up to her and the channels are her livelihood.)
The saddest thing is that young children are watching these videos because they're "wholesome" art channels (except when there's a scandal). Millions of copycats. Commenting things like "I loved watching how you color in real time. It inspired me to use my markers more" and "seriously no one can tell you how to hold a pencil , you just hold it however you want" and "You can hold your pencil however you like so long as you're happy with the end result! " and "No body really taught me how to hold a pencil "correctly" so i hold it between my middle finger and ring finger" (can you imagine?!?).
I'm so glad I was taught how to hold a pencil correctly in school. It just comes naturally. I love writing, I write beautifully and artistically, even in simple letters to a sister. Yes, I take pride in what I love to do. I take pride in the type of art tools I buy, love holding them, love using them. There is no beauty in holding a pencil like above, no beauty at all. Just plain ugly.
That's a quote from Dr Leah Kaminsky.
I've been reading two books - The Long Goodbye by Meghan O'Rourke (U.S. author) and We're All Going to Die by Dr Leah Kaminsky (Australian author). I found them at the library by chance, in the 155.937 section.
As I've said in an earlier blog, I was born thinking about death, terrified of it, bemused by it, fascinated with it, my artistic temperament trying to make sense of it. Year after year after year.
Kaminsky talks amongst other things about the marketing of death, how the medical profession is more about cure now than helping the dying face death. "We keep people alive, hooked up to ventilators and IV drips, pumping drugs into withered bodies to keep them going when the life force has clearly left them. Preserving the dying in ICU like living mummies, we no longer know how to let them go." She mentions how the stethoscope is being replaced with "gadgety digital LCD readouts based on some super voice recognition technology" and worries with humour that she'll be listening to someone's heart and there'll be silence because she's pressed the wrong button. The company assures that you can record and share sounds like never before, that it has power that will amaze and volume that rocks. She addresses as a GP her and our fear of death and dying. It is truly an indepth personal look, yet very uplifting.
Meghan O'Rourke finds she is unprepared for the intensity of her sorrow at her mum's death of cancer at only 55. Woven throughout with references to her relationship with her mother and the process of dying, it's also a story about resilience in the face of loss. Lyrically written, it's an eye-opening memoir.
I highly recommend both books.
I turn 67 in a few weeks. Woah, that's confronting but as my mother said "what is the alternative". Wise words. At a sisterly gathering a few weeks ago, one of my sisters said that she thinks about death every day.
I was born thinking about death. I was brought up in Calvinism so many nights I would lie in bed looking at the stars through the window wondering if Jesus would come back on the clouds to the sound of trumpets that night. And freaking out about it. Of course now I know it's all nonsense but as a child, being taught the 10 Commandments every Sunday morning at our Reformed Church was like being beaten about the head with a stick. Believe or die! So of course I wondered about the Five Points of Calvinism:
1. TOTAL DEPRAVITY
So according to Calvinism, as a child I was totally depraved and sinful until rescued. God had chosen who was to be elected as a Christian and too bad if I wasn't on the list. Only if I was elected and chosen would my sins be forgiven. God would only be gracious to me if I was sovereignly chosen and only then could I not resist his grace. This was all set in concrete and God's will could not be changed, or "frustrated" as we used to say.
So now I'm an adult and what do I think about all this? I don't think about it. Ever. I'm more concerned with the now and what the hell is life all about and on the other hand being happy with my life, then not being happy, vacillating, up and down wondering about it all. I don't think any one of us is going to be on our deathbed thinking wow I did great, what's next! We are always looking for the beauty, for the spiritual. As for me, I have my antennae out all the time, twitching, sensing, wondering, loving, hating, worrying, content.
I write stuff.