slavery, work, careers
You load four to five tons and what do you get?
Another day older and nothin' but fed.
If you cain't make it you get whipped instead!
I lost my soul to the mining of coal.
Blacks were enslaved in the mines and their only wage,if they met their quota, was dinner. I don't know what it takes to load four or five tons of coal but I am damn sure he didn't have time to moonlight for breakfast or lunch meals. What's more, when a man ultimately lost his strength, he would have gone down very fast. It's not like he could say "oh, I think I won't go in to work today to fail at loading my quota." That'd mean an extra few whippings during the day if not continuously till he fainted.
I looked it up after hearing "sixteen tons" the old coal mining folk song. As I read about it, the phrase of the song above imagined itself in my head as though I were hearing an old black miner invent the song which eventually got white-washed into a nice pop song. Along the way, it also got rewritten by the countless men who picked it up and played with the tune and theme and adjusted it as times changed. This would be part of the reason why it's sixteen tons instead of four to five tons as the mines demanded. I expect the quota was averaged from various places with their own quotas. A quota would likely be at the mine-boss's discretion so it could be higher or lower depending on digging conditions or the boss's personality.
Today we have corporate wage slaves and their various service industry personnel. They live the cushy life of a pet, more or less, but anything lacking in their care is no longer blamed on the master. Instead, the slave himself is expected to attend to all his needs using the money credits given him for the time spent. He must choose which comforts or needs he will or won't have based on how many credits he's able to cadge from his corporate overlords, or the slaves who need his services. For the "wild ones" there's adequate service industry to give most of them niches. Slavery is a complicated business, when you broaden the definition so far. We all understand "can't leave and if I resist anything, even abuse and molestation, I'll be abused worse or killed." But "if I speak up about how horrible this job is, or quit it, I'll fall into destitution and be abused by anyone on the planet who feels like it because that's how we treat our homeless."
People constantly speak longingly of some romantic wildnerness retreat where they can decide how long to spend sleeping, concentrating, playing, or daydreaming. Not one of them has ever skinned a rabbit or chopped wood. If you parked them in a basic log cabin with basic supplies they'd die of starvation while surrounded by living meat. How to catch a squirrel? how to kill such a cutie?
So much mental energy wasted on figuring out how not to get along better with people you'll never be rid of.
So many mornings my first thought of the day is "oh geeze, that's right, another one to get through. I don't even want to bother with breakfast." I think that's because there just isn't anything to get excited about in my life lately. If it weren't for my tiny house plans I'd probably be highly suicidal! I can't say my lifestyle is intolerable nor is my health, but it's goddamn boring no matter how much attention I pay to science and tech. I'm not doing anything for anybody out there. The people in this house, Dan and the pets, certainly deserve my time, but it gets so damn predictable. Imagine a movie you like well enough playing on all channels all the time. With no sign of relief. Would you keep watching tv? you'd go do something different! You know you would. You'd take up parcheesi with the wife if you had to.
that's the thing about social games like that, they're never the same because the players are always changing it up with new ideas and strategies. Computer games can't do that.
My dad had one of the first computer chess game boards. He loved chess and owned a lovely set, but due to his inability to cope with humans on a social level (rather like Dan really) he never got to play with anyone. He tried teaching his kids but he made it so aversive with his impatience that we never took it up. He was competitive, impatient, and impulsive. He didn't think is anger was anyone else's problem, but it still was a problem because he would retreat and give up. So he just couldn't teach his kids, his co-workers, or anyone in the world. He was just too aversive. Well so when he got that chess board it was a big deal. it was programmed to know every chess strategy and move option anyone had ever recorded. It took less than a year for my Dad to map it's chess program. he just played it over and over and recorded the moves and compared them with famous strategies, figured out what it was doing, and beat it over and and over. My dad was messed up from the War, but he was fucking brilliant. He knew it and he made sure everyone else did. I am a lot like him, except lacking the beard and deep voice of male authority. I also was not streamlined into the engineering trades that would have allowed me to shine. Instead, for me was the female package of being on display or serving the needs of others. There's a huge variety of options in that package from whore to waitress to wife to pop star, but they're all about being a pretty thing that focuses on the needs of others. inventing and engineering are far away and anything engineering related was dismissed the moment I brought it up. My personal failings would be listed as evidence why I could not consider doing this thing. Frankly, there didn't seem to be any career my parents felt I was fit to do. I'm not sure what even they thought they were raising me to do. I often got the idea that I was expected to be a waitress and this horrified me. I couldn't understand why anyone would suggest such a thing. Not only was I terrible at being polite and tolerant, but I couldn't tell people apart except for very broad differences of style, couldn't remember a list of items or where it was generated, and had wild emotional swings accompanied by weeping when things got stressful! Why would you put such a person anywhere but a workbench with tools and tasks? Yet nobody did, because only men did that.
Ok, I think it's time to change gears and find another activity. This day's entry is quite long enough. I could go another couple hours though. I wish I had a job writing. Just point me at a topic and watch me go! Seriously, I only had to do one three revisions of essays and was never late on an assignment in my life! What's more, my Ba focussed on language skills and I have, as you can see, amazing prose composition abilities even when casually typing directly from a thought stream.
Sadly, it's got nothing to do with skill and everything to do with politics and I haven't got a friend in the writing industry to get me hired or keep me there.
I do have some partial books tucked away. A file of ideas. Get me a partner who's good at dialog and plot but can't describe a clear blue sky to save their life. We'd make beautiful stories together!
Alas, again, not a solitary pursuit and I still don't understand people enough to craft a story for them. Probably no money in it anymore anyway.
Another day older and nothin' but fed.
If you cain't make it you get whipped instead!
I lost my soul to the mining of coal.
Blacks were enslaved in the mines and their only wage,if they met their quota, was dinner. I don't know what it takes to load four or five tons of coal but I am damn sure he didn't have time to moonlight for breakfast or lunch meals. What's more, when a man ultimately lost his strength, he would have gone down very fast. It's not like he could say "oh, I think I won't go in to work today to fail at loading my quota." That'd mean an extra few whippings during the day if not continuously till he fainted.
I looked it up after hearing "sixteen tons" the old coal mining folk song. As I read about it, the phrase of the song above imagined itself in my head as though I were hearing an old black miner invent the song which eventually got white-washed into a nice pop song. Along the way, it also got rewritten by the countless men who picked it up and played with the tune and theme and adjusted it as times changed. This would be part of the reason why it's sixteen tons instead of four to five tons as the mines demanded. I expect the quota was averaged from various places with their own quotas. A quota would likely be at the mine-boss's discretion so it could be higher or lower depending on digging conditions or the boss's personality.
Today we have corporate wage slaves and their various service industry personnel. They live the cushy life of a pet, more or less, but anything lacking in their care is no longer blamed on the master. Instead, the slave himself is expected to attend to all his needs using the money credits given him for the time spent. He must choose which comforts or needs he will or won't have based on how many credits he's able to cadge from his corporate overlords, or the slaves who need his services. For the "wild ones" there's adequate service industry to give most of them niches. Slavery is a complicated business, when you broaden the definition so far. We all understand "can't leave and if I resist anything, even abuse and molestation, I'll be abused worse or killed." But "if I speak up about how horrible this job is, or quit it, I'll fall into destitution and be abused by anyone on the planet who feels like it because that's how we treat our homeless."
People constantly speak longingly of some romantic wildnerness retreat where they can decide how long to spend sleeping, concentrating, playing, or daydreaming. Not one of them has ever skinned a rabbit or chopped wood. If you parked them in a basic log cabin with basic supplies they'd die of starvation while surrounded by living meat. How to catch a squirrel? how to kill such a cutie?
So much mental energy wasted on figuring out how not to get along better with people you'll never be rid of.
So many mornings my first thought of the day is "oh geeze, that's right, another one to get through. I don't even want to bother with breakfast." I think that's because there just isn't anything to get excited about in my life lately. If it weren't for my tiny house plans I'd probably be highly suicidal! I can't say my lifestyle is intolerable nor is my health, but it's goddamn boring no matter how much attention I pay to science and tech. I'm not doing anything for anybody out there. The people in this house, Dan and the pets, certainly deserve my time, but it gets so damn predictable. Imagine a movie you like well enough playing on all channels all the time. With no sign of relief. Would you keep watching tv? you'd go do something different! You know you would. You'd take up parcheesi with the wife if you had to.
that's the thing about social games like that, they're never the same because the players are always changing it up with new ideas and strategies. Computer games can't do that.
My dad had one of the first computer chess game boards. He loved chess and owned a lovely set, but due to his inability to cope with humans on a social level (rather like Dan really) he never got to play with anyone. He tried teaching his kids but he made it so aversive with his impatience that we never took it up. He was competitive, impatient, and impulsive. He didn't think is anger was anyone else's problem, but it still was a problem because he would retreat and give up. So he just couldn't teach his kids, his co-workers, or anyone in the world. He was just too aversive. Well so when he got that chess board it was a big deal. it was programmed to know every chess strategy and move option anyone had ever recorded. It took less than a year for my Dad to map it's chess program. he just played it over and over and recorded the moves and compared them with famous strategies, figured out what it was doing, and beat it over and and over. My dad was messed up from the War, but he was fucking brilliant. He knew it and he made sure everyone else did. I am a lot like him, except lacking the beard and deep voice of male authority. I also was not streamlined into the engineering trades that would have allowed me to shine. Instead, for me was the female package of being on display or serving the needs of others. There's a huge variety of options in that package from whore to waitress to wife to pop star, but they're all about being a pretty thing that focuses on the needs of others. inventing and engineering are far away and anything engineering related was dismissed the moment I brought it up. My personal failings would be listed as evidence why I could not consider doing this thing. Frankly, there didn't seem to be any career my parents felt I was fit to do. I'm not sure what even they thought they were raising me to do. I often got the idea that I was expected to be a waitress and this horrified me. I couldn't understand why anyone would suggest such a thing. Not only was I terrible at being polite and tolerant, but I couldn't tell people apart except for very broad differences of style, couldn't remember a list of items or where it was generated, and had wild emotional swings accompanied by weeping when things got stressful! Why would you put such a person anywhere but a workbench with tools and tasks? Yet nobody did, because only men did that.
Ok, I think it's time to change gears and find another activity. This day's entry is quite long enough. I could go another couple hours though. I wish I had a job writing. Just point me at a topic and watch me go! Seriously, I only had to do one three revisions of essays and was never late on an assignment in my life! What's more, my Ba focussed on language skills and I have, as you can see, amazing prose composition abilities even when casually typing directly from a thought stream.
Sadly, it's got nothing to do with skill and everything to do with politics and I haven't got a friend in the writing industry to get me hired or keep me there.
I do have some partial books tucked away. A file of ideas. Get me a partner who's good at dialog and plot but can't describe a clear blue sky to save their life. We'd make beautiful stories together!
Alas, again, not a solitary pursuit and I still don't understand people enough to craft a story for them. Probably no money in it anymore anyway.