Thoughts in Journal

As a science-minded person, I am cautious of bias. Specifically my own bias. I experience bias on a personal level. As in, if I haven’t actively tried to disprove a concept that is primarily or secondarily responsible for providing me with relief (the removal of a negative) or comfort (the provision of a positive), then I feel a distinct sensation within myself. This distinct sensation I would describe as a sense of un-ease. It is fundamentally a distrust in my own ability going forward to see clearly and observe with any objectivity. It is the feeling of distrust in myself.
And I think because I am aware of this phenomenon within myself, as well as it’s cause and it’s motivating forces, I can more easily than most others see this same phenomenon at work at large. Not that I’m a savant or anything. It’s just a learned skill that has made my life better and in doing so, I’ve become hyper aware of how this largely unknown skill can help others. Unknown is not exactly the right word, as I may or may not make a case for later. Hit me up if you’re interested in an explanation.

So anywho, I have bias. I know I have bias. Which is why I actively try to do nothing without concrete measurable objective parameters. I had some suspicions of EMF and RF affecting our health for some time, but no objective way to measure it. So I read some books. After I read a few books, I bought a cheap-o but respected meter that is insensitive, but provides enough rough feedback for general use. That was when I discovered readings far in excess of what the professionals are deeming safe.
After having some objective feedback, I did more research. Yes, I felt distraught. I felt anxious. I was and am fearful of the biological effects these fields may have on growing children. I feel angry that there is this widespread and ubiquitous pollution that no one talks about or even acknowledges. I am angry that the real, documented, objective biological effects are denied.

And, I feel relieved but exhausted. It is, it seems, simply one thing after another. I don’t even really recall what it was so many years ago during my formative phase that brought me to bear on what is taken for granted. Why do I believe what I believe? And, is it true?
Why do I have these questions and no one else around me apparently does?

I do remember when I was young- listening to my mother say that no matter what the ‘experts’ say, she was going to continue on eating whole bread, butter, eggs, bacon, whole milk, and the same foods of her past. This was back in the 90’s when the low-fat craze was in full swing and you were considered crazy or just an idiot for eating eggs and bacon. And, for all her flaws and other bad decisions, my mother was and is very healthy. Heck for this day and age, when everyone is overweight and diabetic, she’s a superhero. LOL In reality, though, her shape should be average. Not overweight. Fit. Can run 10 miles, do sports and lift her bodyweight. That’s… asking a lot or impossible for the current average person. Especially one who’s in their 60’s.
So when I was little, I had a grossly overweight (obese I think) daycare attendant. She was in charge of snacks. I never ate them, and was often outspoken against the awful (90’s propaganda fueled) contents of them, like uncooked spinach leaf salad, rice cakes, low-fat milk, margarine, etc. One day as I lined up like everyone else to receive a tasteless cardboard imposter, I asked why we couldn’t have the “real” equivalent- I don’t recall the exact snack of that occasion but assume it was something like rice cakes. The exchange that occurred went something like this;
“Because this is Healthy and Good for You.” said the obese single mother working as a daycare attendant.
“But my mom gives us the real alternative.” I asserted. And, even at this tender age of I’d guess 5 or 6, my insinuation was that my mom was a success in this realm, while she was an obvious and utter failure.
“Well your mom doesn’t know anything about nutrition.” replied the fat woman.
I looked at her like she must be insane. I knew the position I was in. This woman had power over me- she could basically do anything she wanted to me- and I was in the tenuous position of trying to get what I wanted, trying to voice an opinion- without upsetting her or inviting her ire. My technique was to compare her idea to reality. “Hey, lady. Your idea isn’t working. So why not try something better?” But, this woman rejected my plea to consider the evidence. What’s more, she had no interest in my preferences or desires, or even if better food would be good for me, or if her cardboard incarnate was causing me harm. She cared not at all.

Well. People are capable of being inconsistent, insane, cruel, uncaring, etc, according to their own whims and fantasies. Perhaps that world was simply too unpredictable for me, as a child, to rely on for any sort of security. The alternative was, then, pure and simple logic, evidence derived from my own senses since those of others’ was so ubiquitously suspect.
The idiots around me drove me away from them, mentally.
Not that they were all idiots. Some of them were sadistic, and providing no consistency was a benefit to them.