How Can You Know Me?

A bit of a pretentious analogy for the way in which I am so very very deep...!

OK, so, the idea is that my blog represents me, right, and the message I "put out there"? And that it is a big jumbled up mess of thoughts. Some of it is personal, some (well a lot) silly, but not even together do all the posts give a full picture. I can't always write and when I do it is honed to give you the impression I want and the insights that I am in the mood to share.

Really, if you could login to my dashboard, you'd find TONS of half-drafted posts. Some too personal. Some a poor representation of who I want you to see. Lots and lots and lots I just haven't had the chance to finish and share. Then there are the ones I haven't quite worked through yet and it might take a conversation or two with others to get things to a point of greater clarity.

Which is how I feel about relationships with people. That what we give out is the tip of the iceberg and that it takes a hell of a lot of time and probing to get to the things that there just isn't a chance for day-to-day. Even with those people that in theory you would let in, it takes a major effort in this day and age (or perhaps in every day and age, how can we tell?).

Which isn't even taking into account the fact that for some things you will need my private password to get to read...

People, with all their complicated messages and ideas. Some private personal soul wrenching details; others just a bit sideways that take unraveling. The vast majority un-chartered for no reason other than lack of opportunity. Logistically we can't get close to too many but I think if we take the time it is worth it for a few.

Maybe the only person you will ever get to know is yourself. That alone would take a lifetime+ Of course it may be rather nice to share it with another and have them help you on the journey - work out those posts/areas in which you have come to a brick wall and need a conversation to move forward and grow.

LOL, did Miss Independent get all soppy about boys for a minute? Not likely! Just, you know, I concede that it can actually be a good thing. Say, for example, when you want to give strangers a bed for the night and don't like the idea of being alone in the house with them... ENTER The Husband! :-P Until then, I've got my friends to keep me talking and walking. Plus, there aren't enough Christian men for everybody and it would feel selfish to nab one for meself!

Ha ha ha. I'm going to bed. This is just the tip of the iceberb...

Hobophobia

So, that could not be more politically incorrect or judgmental. In fact, it may not even be relevant to what I wanted to say but I like how it sounds so it stays.

There are quite a few homeless people (or at least those scruffier than me) in Geneva and particularly around Cornavin one can feel like they are running a bit of a gauntlet. After a few conversations on the topic and questioning of my own view point I have rather recently decided to embrace a culture of giving and just say Yes. I mean, there are many arguments for why not but I sort of reasoned it down to the fact that they are poor and sad and want money, I have some to spare and think that showing love to fellow man is a nice thing to do. It's not really my money anyway (yes, I am the ring leader of an organised crime agency, hence location...). Plus who am I to say what they should do with it, if you lived on the streets maybe you would want to get drunk too. [Please feel free to fervently bash my flippancy I can happily debate this for hours.]

Anyway, it is easy enough for me to fish in my small change purse, dole out the silvers without missing the cash and the benefit is a warm fuzzy feeling. I'm not trying to buy a smile (which is good 'cause seldom does it get one) but it is pointless to try and deny that when we do things for other people it does feel nice.

I quite like local beggars too, they are a characteristic of a place and evoke a feeling of familiarity in the same way that the jet d'eau or giant floating football do; but today something so extraordinary happened that I did pause and say hang on mate, there is a line and that's just rude. Fortunately it was so hilarious that it leaves me with no lasting grudge.

I was walking to town to buy a train ticket ('citing but another story) and was in the park just behind the station when this guy on a bench asks me for some money. I am a bit rubbish in these situations and often pull the "I don't understand but I do care card": smile, thrust a token amount of jangly their way and wish them a good day (Queen of Glib). To my shock and hindsighted delight, the gentleman reviewed what I had offered (admittedly not that much, maybe only about 1CHF altogether) and returned to me the 5cent pieces.

Maybe he felt patronised; like the performers in Covent Garden who announce that this is their art so please don't bother if you aren't giving a pound or more. Sitting on that bench may not look like fire juggling but he sure had perfected it.

The ironic thing is, the week before when I had lost my card (turned up in the COOP btw, when I thought to ask for it 10 days later, which was nice) I had collected all my coinage together. Those 5cent pieces were what I had considered my salvation when I was temporarily without income.

So I guess it goes to show that no matter your 'status' in life you can still sit firmly above it. I'm not sure I am the hobophobe in this situation. Maybe Swiss vagabonds are just a little bit weller-to-do.