Today could have been really bad, but it turned out not to be. We decided that we needed to get someone to look at the waster. I called them first thing this morning and left a message. You know how that goes. It was possible he might not call back today (especially considering it was a holiday AND a Friday) and a possibility that he couldn't show up until sometime next week.
Luckily, he called about half an hour later and was at the house soon after we were back from Walmart. The washer was somewhat fixed. There was nothing he could do about the cycle knob because it's discontinued. We're just going to have the make the best of it until it breaks completely. Until then, at least the thing is agitating as it should. Better yet, we don't have to try and buy a new washer. We really can't afford that.
Later in the evening, I got to have a Grandma moment. The neighbor called the cops on some kids and it involved three cop cars showing up! I have no idea the details of this situation, but I bet it's juicy. Yes, I am my grandmother now. We all know it.
The only distressing thing about the day was the fact that my Tulsa doctor's appointment was pushed back to the 17th of December. This was very annoying for me, because I was looking forward to that appointment happening in early November and then being free and happy for the rest of the year. Nope. Now I have to deal with a doctor's appointment happening a week before Christmas. I suppose it could be worse.
Anyway, overall, it was a nice, quiet holiday for me and mine. I hope it was for you as well.
Friday, October 31, 2014
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Agitated
It looks like our clothes washer is about to die. The agitator isn't doing its job. As this is kind of an important function in a washer, something needs to be done. We're calling the repair people tomorrow in hopes they can fix it. If they can't, we'll be trying to find a way to get a new washer. I'm not really sure how that will happen. Right now, I'm really hoping we can just get this one fixed.
Then again, I think this washer has been in the house for quite a while. It's not the first one my grandmother had in here by any means, but I'm guessing it's at least ten or so years old. The way they make appliances these days, that is a pretty long life span. So yeah, it's understandable that a new one has to be bought. I'm just not happy about it.
Anyway, aside from that, things are okay. We had some Halloween plans for tomorrow, but it looks like they'll be put off. I'm a little disappointed, but not too deeply so. Hell, I'm 40 years old. Waiting for a repairman is what adults DO on holidays, not have fun.
Maybe when they leave, I can fold towels.
Then again, I think this washer has been in the house for quite a while. It's not the first one my grandmother had in here by any means, but I'm guessing it's at least ten or so years old. The way they make appliances these days, that is a pretty long life span. So yeah, it's understandable that a new one has to be bought. I'm just not happy about it.
Anyway, aside from that, things are okay. We had some Halloween plans for tomorrow, but it looks like they'll be put off. I'm a little disappointed, but not too deeply so. Hell, I'm 40 years old. Waiting for a repairman is what adults DO on holidays, not have fun.
Maybe when they leave, I can fold towels.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Brain Progress
In an effort to try and retain some of my brain back, I've started doing Lumosity puzzles again. I mentioned this a while back and thought I'd note how I'm doing. And I have to say, until tonight, I wasn't doing that hot. It's been a slow rebuild. The first couple of nights that I worked on their puzzles again, I really, really sucked. My brain was pretty out of the loop on how to do those things. I was frustrated and more than a little scared.
Tonight, I actually got in the top 3 of my highest scores again. It's the first time since I started this process that I felt like I was making progress. I could honestly cry about it at the moment. My time reaction skills still aren't up to par, but I'm slowly starting to get my memory and attention skills back, at least to some extent.
Though I've noticed some things with the memory skills. When it comes to the facial recognition tests, I notice women better than I do men. Mind you, this may be because there is usually more variation in the women. Most of the men they use look traditionally gendered (short hair, conservative colors, etc) where the women have a variety of hair styles and colors. It's easier to pick out details to remember.
When it comes to random pattern memory tests, I do better when the blocks make shapes. I can remember 18 block locations if they form shapes than I can 8 block locations if they're just random. The shapes not only make more sense to me, they also put me at ease. The random patterns set off a low level of panic in me. I'm not sure, as of yet, how to work around that.
Overall, I am hesitantly pleased with the results. I'm starting to get some of my mental muscles back in shape and we all know I need them. Senility may take me one of these days, but I'm certainly going to try and put it off as long as I can.
Tonight, I actually got in the top 3 of my highest scores again. It's the first time since I started this process that I felt like I was making progress. I could honestly cry about it at the moment. My time reaction skills still aren't up to par, but I'm slowly starting to get my memory and attention skills back, at least to some extent.
Though I've noticed some things with the memory skills. When it comes to the facial recognition tests, I notice women better than I do men. Mind you, this may be because there is usually more variation in the women. Most of the men they use look traditionally gendered (short hair, conservative colors, etc) where the women have a variety of hair styles and colors. It's easier to pick out details to remember.
When it comes to random pattern memory tests, I do better when the blocks make shapes. I can remember 18 block locations if they form shapes than I can 8 block locations if they're just random. The shapes not only make more sense to me, they also put me at ease. The random patterns set off a low level of panic in me. I'm not sure, as of yet, how to work around that.
Overall, I am hesitantly pleased with the results. I'm starting to get some of my mental muscles back in shape and we all know I need them. Senility may take me one of these days, but I'm certainly going to try and put it off as long as I can.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Sleep Woes
My sleep has been strange, deep, and erratic lately. I think this is another part of recovering from the surgery. I think my body is trying to gain back some of what was lost during all this stress. I have no idea if it's working, but I do know that my sleeping habits have changed.
I'm also having really stressful dreams. Today, for instance, when I took my nap, I dreamed about body parts being cut off of my body. I was being chased by someone and when they would catch up to me, they would hack off another limb. It was very horrifying. It was also unrealistic, because I really don't RUN anywhere, but that's beside the point.
Anyway, every time I have one of these intense sleeping sessions that combines with stressful dreams, I wake up just feeling awful. I'd like some time of just easy sleeping and easy dreams. That would be quite nice. Who do I talk to about getting that arranged?
I'm also having really stressful dreams. Today, for instance, when I took my nap, I dreamed about body parts being cut off of my body. I was being chased by someone and when they would catch up to me, they would hack off another limb. It was very horrifying. It was also unrealistic, because I really don't RUN anywhere, but that's beside the point.
Anyway, every time I have one of these intense sleeping sessions that combines with stressful dreams, I wake up just feeling awful. I'd like some time of just easy sleeping and easy dreams. That would be quite nice. Who do I talk to about getting that arranged?
Monday, October 27, 2014
Thumbs Up
I talk a lot about my process of losing weight and as I do, I try my best to honest about both the struggles and the advantages to it. Sometimes those advantages are quite unexpected. I received one of them today. It wasn't one I wanted.
The van is old and the panels on the doors are a bit loose. To prevent them from coming out completely, we try our best to close the door by opening the window and pulling it shut that way. I've probably done this hundreds of times now. The problem is, today there was some heavy wind. When I was shutting the door, the wind caused it to go faster than it usually does and I didn't move my thumb quick enough to prevent it from being slammed between the door and the rest of the auto.
I can't even explain to you how much this hurt. I think time stopped for a few seconds. Seriously. Ouch.
Anyway, this is where the unexpected benefit to weight loss comes in. Before, when I was fatter, I wasn't able to reach around with my right arm to do things like open the door handle on my left side. But now, as the girth between one side and the other is less, I was able to open the door and free my poor thumb. YAY! I'm sure in days past, I would have had to wait for my roommate to get out of the van and walk to the other side of it and open it for me. This would have trapped my thumb in searing pain for far too long.
For people who have hundreds of pounds to lose, sometimes the process can seem overwhelming. Trust me, I know. There are days when it seems overwhelming to me. There are days when it seems impossible.
Then I have things like this happen, these moments when I can see real progress. Things like this remind me that losing weight isn't something you celebrate when you reach your end goal. It's something that you need to celebrate with every new change. Weighing less than you did last week is always an accomplishment, even if it's just a small bit less. The journey IS important. It can also be beautiful.
The van is old and the panels on the doors are a bit loose. To prevent them from coming out completely, we try our best to close the door by opening the window and pulling it shut that way. I've probably done this hundreds of times now. The problem is, today there was some heavy wind. When I was shutting the door, the wind caused it to go faster than it usually does and I didn't move my thumb quick enough to prevent it from being slammed between the door and the rest of the auto.
I can't even explain to you how much this hurt. I think time stopped for a few seconds. Seriously. Ouch.
Anyway, this is where the unexpected benefit to weight loss comes in. Before, when I was fatter, I wasn't able to reach around with my right arm to do things like open the door handle on my left side. But now, as the girth between one side and the other is less, I was able to open the door and free my poor thumb. YAY! I'm sure in days past, I would have had to wait for my roommate to get out of the van and walk to the other side of it and open it for me. This would have trapped my thumb in searing pain for far too long.
For people who have hundreds of pounds to lose, sometimes the process can seem overwhelming. Trust me, I know. There are days when it seems overwhelming to me. There are days when it seems impossible.
Then I have things like this happen, these moments when I can see real progress. Things like this remind me that losing weight isn't something you celebrate when you reach your end goal. It's something that you need to celebrate with every new change. Weighing less than you did last week is always an accomplishment, even if it's just a small bit less. The journey IS important. It can also be beautiful.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
The Brave Souls
Last night, I wrote about how I think we should accept art, even offensive art, and not try to destroy it. I talked about how even I found some things offensive, but didn't believe the nature of me being unsettled was enough to justify the censorship or destruction of said art. About two hours after that, I read this article in Wired about the brave people who wade through billions of horrible things that some assholes post online and remove them before they are seen by the general public.
The article is hard to read, and I can't even imagine what working in this field would be like. Every day, people go to places like Facebook and Twitter and do their best to post pictures of beheadings and child porn. The reason we don't see this stuff is because companies like FB and Twitter hire content moderators who spend their working hours seeing these horrendous images and removing them before anyone is forced to look at them. In the comments following the article, some people who have worked in this field mentioned that they do their best to try to report the illegal things they see to the authorities.
In light of the post I did yesterday, do I consider this kind of work wrong? NO, NO I DO NOT. There is a difference, a very big difference, between art that one creates and documenting horrific things happening to other people. These are REAL PEOPLE getting their heads chopped off. These are REAL PEOPLE being tortured and raped and abused in all manner of ways. This isn't faked. This isn't scripted. This is really happening. It is horrible enough that it happened to the person in question. The fact that other people see fit to inflict this on others is almost as bad.
There is a long list of people I am thankful for, people who make my life easier and rather pleasant. I was not aware of the work that content moderators do until I read about it, but now they are very much on this list of people for whom I am grateful. I don't care how much you get paid (and they don't get paid THAT much), having to watch hours and hours of the worst of humanity is an awful job. If you have this job, know that I think you are very brave and I wish you wonderful things.
The article is hard to read, and I can't even imagine what working in this field would be like. Every day, people go to places like Facebook and Twitter and do their best to post pictures of beheadings and child porn. The reason we don't see this stuff is because companies like FB and Twitter hire content moderators who spend their working hours seeing these horrendous images and removing them before anyone is forced to look at them. In the comments following the article, some people who have worked in this field mentioned that they do their best to try to report the illegal things they see to the authorities.
In light of the post I did yesterday, do I consider this kind of work wrong? NO, NO I DO NOT. There is a difference, a very big difference, between art that one creates and documenting horrific things happening to other people. These are REAL PEOPLE getting their heads chopped off. These are REAL PEOPLE being tortured and raped and abused in all manner of ways. This isn't faked. This isn't scripted. This is really happening. It is horrible enough that it happened to the person in question. The fact that other people see fit to inflict this on others is almost as bad.
There is a long list of people I am thankful for, people who make my life easier and rather pleasant. I was not aware of the work that content moderators do until I read about it, but now they are very much on this list of people for whom I am grateful. I don't care how much you get paid (and they don't get paid THAT much), having to watch hours and hours of the worst of humanity is an awful job. If you have this job, know that I think you are very brave and I wish you wonderful things.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Art of Offending
Yesterday some guy crashed his car into the marble Ten Commandments statue in OKC. He said "Satan made him do it." I doubt this to be true. A lot of people are in an uproar about it and I'm sure non-Christians are going to be blamed for the whole thing. The ACLU was in the process of trying to have the Commandments removed on the grounds that this violates Oklahoma's constitution. Another group was in the process of putting a statue of the Devil up in some attempt and equal religious representation. Even if this guy was just crazy, the incident is going to stir up the whole 'religion/non-religion' debate.
To me, the most offensive thing about this story is that a monument was destroyed. This was a work of art that someone took the time to make. No matter what the art said or represented, it was still art. It was still someone's creation, and as far as I am concerned, destroying someone else's art is wrong. It's always wrong.
Art can be criticized. It can be hated. It can be something that makes you angry. It can be something that bothers you so much that you stay up at night thinking about it. However, that doesn't give you the right to destroy it.
Trust me. I don't say this lightly. Over the years, especially since more and more people have decided to post pretty offensive things on the internet, my own sense of propriety has been challenged. Some people create art that I find offensive to my core. Pictures of a beaten woman chained to a stove come to mind. I really really HATE that someone would do that, would create that image. Even still, I have no right to destroy it. Art is supposed to provoke. That certainly does.
I guess my perspective on it is that the subject matter is less important that the act of creation itself. Someone took the time to do this. Someone conceptualized, physically worked on, and presented this work for the world to see. Even if the work isn't worthy of my attention, the effort should still be respected.
To me, the most offensive thing about this story is that a monument was destroyed. This was a work of art that someone took the time to make. No matter what the art said or represented, it was still art. It was still someone's creation, and as far as I am concerned, destroying someone else's art is wrong. It's always wrong.
Art can be criticized. It can be hated. It can be something that makes you angry. It can be something that bothers you so much that you stay up at night thinking about it. However, that doesn't give you the right to destroy it.
Trust me. I don't say this lightly. Over the years, especially since more and more people have decided to post pretty offensive things on the internet, my own sense of propriety has been challenged. Some people create art that I find offensive to my core. Pictures of a beaten woman chained to a stove come to mind. I really really HATE that someone would do that, would create that image. Even still, I have no right to destroy it. Art is supposed to provoke. That certainly does.
I guess my perspective on it is that the subject matter is less important that the act of creation itself. Someone took the time to do this. Someone conceptualized, physically worked on, and presented this work for the world to see. Even if the work isn't worthy of my attention, the effort should still be respected.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
The Written Voice
I've been blogging for a long while now. Sometimes it surprises me how well I've kept this up. Even when things got scary, I was still able to come back to the blog. It might take a day or so, but it would always happen. I'm not just happy about that, I'm proud of it. It's interesting to me that even in the midst of feeling like disjointed and lacking in almost all creativity, I'm still able to show up here and write about what's happening in my life. Therapy is good for me, but blogging is always better.
If you ever decide to do a blog, always keep in mind that it doesn't have to be perfection. If it is a personal blog like mine, it doesn't always have to be entertaining or informative. Sometimes it's just there to document your thoughts. Sometimes it's just a record of what is going on in your life at that moment. Sometimes, especially if you are ill or depressed or tired, that will be all you can manage to do.
I think a lot of people get confused about what blogging is supposed to do. This isn't journalism. This isn't a professional thing where I abide by ethics or guidelines. This is just the stuff that shows up in my brain and that is all it will probably ever be. I know sometimes I am only speaking into The Void, and that's fine. It's not important that I am heard. It's only important that I spoke.
Too often, we feel like we have to have outside validation in order to matter. We don't. It's nice. It's very nice, in fact, but it doesn't have to happen. At the end of the day, the person we owe the most to is ourselves. Loving ourselves, taking care of ourselves, and being aware of what is going on in our own lives is a much less precarious path to validation.
I'm 40. I blog about my life. I repeat myself a lot. I write about when I'm angry or scared. I write about the amazing moments that happen to me. I hope you read them and it means a lot to me that you do. Most of all, it means a lot to me that my written voice is able to express things, as I fear for my life or celebrate my victories or mourn for my losses.
If you don't feel like you are being heard enough, I strongly suggest you begin to blog. Don't worry if anyone reads it. Don't worry about it being perfect. Don't worry about it being witty or entertaining or the deepest thing ever. Some days it will be. Other days, it certainly won't.
What it will be, always, every time you post, is a documentation of you. And you, all of you, are certainly deserving of that.
If you ever decide to do a blog, always keep in mind that it doesn't have to be perfection. If it is a personal blog like mine, it doesn't always have to be entertaining or informative. Sometimes it's just there to document your thoughts. Sometimes it's just a record of what is going on in your life at that moment. Sometimes, especially if you are ill or depressed or tired, that will be all you can manage to do.
I think a lot of people get confused about what blogging is supposed to do. This isn't journalism. This isn't a professional thing where I abide by ethics or guidelines. This is just the stuff that shows up in my brain and that is all it will probably ever be. I know sometimes I am only speaking into The Void, and that's fine. It's not important that I am heard. It's only important that I spoke.
Too often, we feel like we have to have outside validation in order to matter. We don't. It's nice. It's very nice, in fact, but it doesn't have to happen. At the end of the day, the person we owe the most to is ourselves. Loving ourselves, taking care of ourselves, and being aware of what is going on in our own lives is a much less precarious path to validation.
I'm 40. I blog about my life. I repeat myself a lot. I write about when I'm angry or scared. I write about the amazing moments that happen to me. I hope you read them and it means a lot to me that you do. Most of all, it means a lot to me that my written voice is able to express things, as I fear for my life or celebrate my victories or mourn for my losses.
If you don't feel like you are being heard enough, I strongly suggest you begin to blog. Don't worry if anyone reads it. Don't worry about it being perfect. Don't worry about it being witty or entertaining or the deepest thing ever. Some days it will be. Other days, it certainly won't.
What it will be, always, every time you post, is a documentation of you. And you, all of you, are certainly deserving of that.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
The Day of Three Boobs
I wanted to see if some of my other bras would fit. It's been a while since I tried to wear any of the ones I own other than the casual comfort bra, because it was the only one that didn't cause me tons of pain. As I've lost some weight though, I thought maybe I could fit into them without it hurting so much. I riffled through my stack of bras to find one that wasn't ripped up and decided to put it on.
Sidenote: I need to get rid of the brokeass bras. Why am I keeping those around?
Anyway, I put the bra on and it fit! It was even comfortable. I wore it for about five hours with no noticeable pain. This is wonderful for me. Seriously, bras can be some of the most painful things in the world after a while. I like the support of the sports bra, but pulling that evil thing off is like the highlight of my day.
So here I am, tooling around in my now-comfortable bra, when I notice my reflection in the mirror. The way the bra cup set on my right breast was very strange. The cup wasn't fitting properly and kind of holding part of my breast, being kind of empty, and leaving the rest to bounce out the side.
It made me look like I had three boobs.
The unfortunate thing was that I was out of the house when I noticed this. All I could do was try to keep my right arm as close to my body as possible to hide the weird level of third boobness for the rest of the world. As you know, I try my best to be as comfortable and happy with my body as I can, but I don't think that means I have to hide parts of it that are casting illusions of things that don't really exist. If I had a third boob, I would celebrate it!I don't though. I just have fat boobs with a strange sense of humor.
Having said that, I don't want to distract from the fact that I now fit better into my older bras. This is a victory! I just....probably need one with better side control.
Sidenote: I need to get rid of the brokeass bras. Why am I keeping those around?
Anyway, I put the bra on and it fit! It was even comfortable. I wore it for about five hours with no noticeable pain. This is wonderful for me. Seriously, bras can be some of the most painful things in the world after a while. I like the support of the sports bra, but pulling that evil thing off is like the highlight of my day.
So here I am, tooling around in my now-comfortable bra, when I notice my reflection in the mirror. The way the bra cup set on my right breast was very strange. The cup wasn't fitting properly and kind of holding part of my breast, being kind of empty, and leaving the rest to bounce out the side.
It made me look like I had three boobs.
The unfortunate thing was that I was out of the house when I noticed this. All I could do was try to keep my right arm as close to my body as possible to hide the weird level of third boobness for the rest of the world. As you know, I try my best to be as comfortable and happy with my body as I can, but I don't think that means I have to hide parts of it that are casting illusions of things that don't really exist. If I had a third boob, I would celebrate it!I don't though. I just have fat boobs with a strange sense of humor.
Having said that, I don't want to distract from the fact that I now fit better into my older bras. This is a victory! I just....probably need one with better side control.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Back on the Farm
I started playing Farmville 2 again. Mock all you want to. I understand the mocking. However, right now, Farmville 2 is about the limit of the depth I can handle in terms of goals and accomplishments. It's sad, yes, but so is getting your uterus pulled out your hoohoo. I'm coping as I can. Anyway, the thing about Farmville 2 is that there have been some changes to the game that make it less annoying to play (at least for the moment). I've also made some changes about my approach to playing it that also make it more enjoyable.
The game now has a family option. You can have a spouse and a child. There are some other slots, implying you may get other children later on (or in-laws or something). This is actually the feature that lured me back to the game. I'm kind of a sucker for family games, which is in complete opposition to how I live my life. I guess it's because I separate my avatar's wants and needs from my own. Farmville-Me is happy to have a husband and a kid. She displays both of them a lot of affection. It wouldn't really be the same for me in real life. Then again, none of this would, because I would never live on a farm or be as ambitious as that little avatar.
There is also a weekly market goal, that, while difficult, is certainly achievable. I usually finish it in a couple of days. The market gains you extra points that allow you to get really great things for the farm, like a water tower that holds a lot more water than your wells do. It also takes up less room. I didn't know about this feature when I started playing the game again, but I really love it. It's one of the few times when I've seen a game improve itself in a way that was intelligent and actually useful for the player. Let's face it; most rewards from FB games are useless. The fact that Farmville 2 has altered that is impressive.
One of the major differences in my level of enjoyment of the game is that I've changed my approach to how I handle quests. When I played before, I would do EVERY QUEST that showed up. This gets overwhelming because Farmville will do a lot of quests all at once. I get that they're trying to add some excitement to the game (because just feeding goats gets boring), but often this gets to be WAY too much, especially when you have to keep asking friends for stuff and there is a cap on how much you can get per day.
A FB game should never feel like it's your job. It should never feel like it's an obligation. When it starts to, that's when I get sick of the game and quit. I think that this game realized people were quitting for these reasons and have tried to find a way around that. So far, it's working. They could get back to messing up, but so far, they're not. And I like that.
For the moment, Farmville 2 (and some other FB games) are my coping devices. They help me to just zone out and get through my days. And, as I said, it gives me some meaningless goals. I needed those as well. Is this the road to recovery? Maybe in a small way. I hope it's just in a small way. No one wants to say that Farmville saved their brain.
The game now has a family option. You can have a spouse and a child. There are some other slots, implying you may get other children later on (or in-laws or something). This is actually the feature that lured me back to the game. I'm kind of a sucker for family games, which is in complete opposition to how I live my life. I guess it's because I separate my avatar's wants and needs from my own. Farmville-Me is happy to have a husband and a kid. She displays both of them a lot of affection. It wouldn't really be the same for me in real life. Then again, none of this would, because I would never live on a farm or be as ambitious as that little avatar.
There is also a weekly market goal, that, while difficult, is certainly achievable. I usually finish it in a couple of days. The market gains you extra points that allow you to get really great things for the farm, like a water tower that holds a lot more water than your wells do. It also takes up less room. I didn't know about this feature when I started playing the game again, but I really love it. It's one of the few times when I've seen a game improve itself in a way that was intelligent and actually useful for the player. Let's face it; most rewards from FB games are useless. The fact that Farmville 2 has altered that is impressive.
One of the major differences in my level of enjoyment of the game is that I've changed my approach to how I handle quests. When I played before, I would do EVERY QUEST that showed up. This gets overwhelming because Farmville will do a lot of quests all at once. I get that they're trying to add some excitement to the game (because just feeding goats gets boring), but often this gets to be WAY too much, especially when you have to keep asking friends for stuff and there is a cap on how much you can get per day.
A FB game should never feel like it's your job. It should never feel like it's an obligation. When it starts to, that's when I get sick of the game and quit. I think that this game realized people were quitting for these reasons and have tried to find a way around that. So far, it's working. They could get back to messing up, but so far, they're not. And I like that.
For the moment, Farmville 2 (and some other FB games) are my coping devices. They help me to just zone out and get through my days. And, as I said, it gives me some meaningless goals. I needed those as well. Is this the road to recovery? Maybe in a small way. I hope it's just in a small way. No one wants to say that Farmville saved their brain.
Monday, October 20, 2014
Steps
There seems to be some law in the universe that if I start to like a product found at the store, the store will, eventually, get rid of that product. I understand this is just the nature of business, but it doesn't make it any easier on me. Yes, I know I have to just adjust, but I've done a lot of adjusting of late, and I think I'm out of adjustment points. I know I'll gain them back, but it takes a while.
That is the trick to this point in my life. As I talked about a couple of nights ago, I am basically just drained of all the stuff. I function, as well as I can. I do my best to try and do what is helpful for me. I sometimes don't succeed, but I try. Beyond that.......there is precious little happening for me. I'm not quite dead inside, but I am, as I said, very drained.
I've been thinking about how to rebuild my internal self. When I lost all of my physical strength, I began with just arm motions. I think I need to start rebuilding my creativity and inner being in the same way. Just small steps, but consist steps, repeated daily and added to as I can manage. I'm not sure what these should be yet, but I'm going to give it some thought for the rest of the week.
That is the trick to this point in my life. As I talked about a couple of nights ago, I am basically just drained of all the stuff. I function, as well as I can. I do my best to try and do what is helpful for me. I sometimes don't succeed, but I try. Beyond that.......there is precious little happening for me. I'm not quite dead inside, but I am, as I said, very drained.
I've been thinking about how to rebuild my internal self. When I lost all of my physical strength, I began with just arm motions. I think I need to start rebuilding my creativity and inner being in the same way. Just small steps, but consist steps, repeated daily and added to as I can manage. I'm not sure what these should be yet, but I'm going to give it some thought for the rest of the week.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Fact Collision
You know how sometimes two unrelated facts can collide together to make one embarrassing situation? If you don't, trust me; at some point in your life, you will experience this. It helps when said unrelated facts are both annoying. And in my case this morning, they were.
Fact #1. When it is allergy season, it takes my eyes a few hours to clear. I can see.....ish. I can function with sight, but distance vision and things close up are a little sketchy. I tend to take some guesses about what is going on. It never lasts long. By the time I've had coffee and looked at my computer for a bit, I'm fine.
Fact #2. I have friendly neighbors. I know this shouldn't be a cause for annoyance, but it is. I'm a rather antisocial person and I don't LIKE to talk to people. . . . especially when it's in the morning, I'm trying to walk, and I'm out of breath. Still, I know that as a human, I'm supposed to go along with the social ques. If someone is friendly, it's best to be at least marginally friendly back.
How these two facts collided:
I got up this morning and my eyes were fused shut by the various things that allergies can do to you. I try not to think about those things too much. Anyway, after washing my eyes out for a while, I could see....ish and knew I had to do my morning walk. When I got outside, I noticed a tall man in my neighbor's driveway. He was leaning against the truck and talking on the phone. As I couldn't see that well, I made some logical assumptions that it was my neighbor, who is friendly. Luckily, he was on his phone, so all I had to do was wave in order to fulfill my duties as a friendly person.
I waved.
The man stared at me.
I assumed he hadn't seen me, so I waved again.
He lifted his hand slowly and waved in confusion.
As I walked closer to him, I realized, to my horror, that it was NOT my neighbor. It was someone there to work on their house. I had been waving at someone who had no idea who I was. Sigh.
I need to wash my eyes out more in the morning.
Fact #1. When it is allergy season, it takes my eyes a few hours to clear. I can see.....ish. I can function with sight, but distance vision and things close up are a little sketchy. I tend to take some guesses about what is going on. It never lasts long. By the time I've had coffee and looked at my computer for a bit, I'm fine.
Fact #2. I have friendly neighbors. I know this shouldn't be a cause for annoyance, but it is. I'm a rather antisocial person and I don't LIKE to talk to people. . . . especially when it's in the morning, I'm trying to walk, and I'm out of breath. Still, I know that as a human, I'm supposed to go along with the social ques. If someone is friendly, it's best to be at least marginally friendly back.
How these two facts collided:
I got up this morning and my eyes were fused shut by the various things that allergies can do to you. I try not to think about those things too much. Anyway, after washing my eyes out for a while, I could see....ish and knew I had to do my morning walk. When I got outside, I noticed a tall man in my neighbor's driveway. He was leaning against the truck and talking on the phone. As I couldn't see that well, I made some logical assumptions that it was my neighbor, who is friendly. Luckily, he was on his phone, so all I had to do was wave in order to fulfill my duties as a friendly person.
I waved.
The man stared at me.
I assumed he hadn't seen me, so I waved again.
He lifted his hand slowly and waved in confusion.
As I walked closer to him, I realized, to my horror, that it was NOT my neighbor. It was someone there to work on their house. I had been waving at someone who had no idea who I was. Sigh.
I need to wash my eyes out more in the morning.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
The Things You Lose
I was talking to a friend who follows my blog and she suggested I might have PTSD after everything that has happened this year. I know that PTSD gets thrown around a lot, but I think after all the bleeding, fear of death, poking, prodding, and scars, she may be correct. I've probably even talked about it in the blog since then, but you know how that goes. I repeat myself a lot.
I decided to do some research about the PTSD after hysterectomy, and while one doesn't cause the other, doctors admit that usually the reasons that one needs a hysterectomy are pretty traumatic (cancer, lots of bleeding, internal organs a wrecked mess) and once you finally get it, you still may not feel safe. When you add in the hormonal issues, pain, and various drugs you end up taking, it's kind of the perfect mix for post traumatic stress.
I think two of the biggest issues for me right now are not feeling like myself and a lack of creativity. I've blogged a lot about my issues with feeling disoriented in my own body. This is a continual issue with me lately. Things always feel different, odd, and unfamiliar. Sometimes just walking through the room feels wrong. It's like my gait had changed, how I carry myself.....and while I know both of these things are both good and positive, it's still enough to sometimes throw me off-balance.
As for my creativity, it's just gone. I've been trying to finish a simple, crocheted hat for weeks now. This is a hat pattern I can usually finish in a night. But I just can't force myself to do it. And it would be forcing because my creative drive is, well, pretty dead. My imagination feels broken and any skills I have feel lost to me at the moment.
Maybe I've just used up too much energy right now. Maybe I am just so drained from everything that has happened that I just don't have anything else to give. To be honest, sometimes even just getting through the day and talking to people is more emotional work than I can handle. There are times when I just can't be on. I feel myself shutting down, more and more. I really hope this is just because so much has happened, but sometimes I worry that it isn't.
As always when I have questions about this process, I lurked on the hysterectomy forums to see if other people are going through this as well. I'm not unique in my experience. So many people feel like they're not themselves now. Many people feel like they can't seem to find a grip on how to function within the confines of their lives. Some people find that even with the hormone replacement therapy, they cry a lot. They mourn. They ache.
This time last year I was starting a huge creative phase. I was working on the zombie head for the Halloween party. This was the start to many projects to follow. My mind and hands were busy and I was very happy. If I tried that now, I would probably just sit there and stare at the head in front of me and never finish it. I just don't have it in me right now.
Will the change? I honestly don't know. I hope it does. Being creative has always been the cornerstone of who I am. Losing my ovaries was a lot easier than the idea of losing that. It will probably just take time. I just need to ride it out, take care of myself in the most gentle way possible, and continue to heal.
I decided to do some research about the PTSD after hysterectomy, and while one doesn't cause the other, doctors admit that usually the reasons that one needs a hysterectomy are pretty traumatic (cancer, lots of bleeding, internal organs a wrecked mess) and once you finally get it, you still may not feel safe. When you add in the hormonal issues, pain, and various drugs you end up taking, it's kind of the perfect mix for post traumatic stress.
I think two of the biggest issues for me right now are not feeling like myself and a lack of creativity. I've blogged a lot about my issues with feeling disoriented in my own body. This is a continual issue with me lately. Things always feel different, odd, and unfamiliar. Sometimes just walking through the room feels wrong. It's like my gait had changed, how I carry myself.....and while I know both of these things are both good and positive, it's still enough to sometimes throw me off-balance.
As for my creativity, it's just gone. I've been trying to finish a simple, crocheted hat for weeks now. This is a hat pattern I can usually finish in a night. But I just can't force myself to do it. And it would be forcing because my creative drive is, well, pretty dead. My imagination feels broken and any skills I have feel lost to me at the moment.
Maybe I've just used up too much energy right now. Maybe I am just so drained from everything that has happened that I just don't have anything else to give. To be honest, sometimes even just getting through the day and talking to people is more emotional work than I can handle. There are times when I just can't be on. I feel myself shutting down, more and more. I really hope this is just because so much has happened, but sometimes I worry that it isn't.
As always when I have questions about this process, I lurked on the hysterectomy forums to see if other people are going through this as well. I'm not unique in my experience. So many people feel like they're not themselves now. Many people feel like they can't seem to find a grip on how to function within the confines of their lives. Some people find that even with the hormone replacement therapy, they cry a lot. They mourn. They ache.
This time last year I was starting a huge creative phase. I was working on the zombie head for the Halloween party. This was the start to many projects to follow. My mind and hands were busy and I was very happy. If I tried that now, I would probably just sit there and stare at the head in front of me and never finish it. I just don't have it in me right now.
Will the change? I honestly don't know. I hope it does. Being creative has always been the cornerstone of who I am. Losing my ovaries was a lot easier than the idea of losing that. It will probably just take time. I just need to ride it out, take care of myself in the most gentle way possible, and continue to heal.
Friday, October 17, 2014
Fall Blues Continued
You would think I would have slept better last night after finding out my test results, but I didn't. I guess I was just way too riveted by it. The last two nights ended up restless for me. It was around 3:30 before I could sleep last night. This is rather counter productive. I'm not going to be too upset about it though. At this point in this weird little journey, I've somewhat accepted that often my body and emotions will react in ways I can't predict.
I'm not sure if it's just the energy from finding out about the no cancer thing or just the change in season, but I've been on edge all day too. Despite my meds, my mood has been dark and dreary. It's this way for my roommate too. We're both pretty dark right now. I think we need some Halloween specials to cheer us up. Or something.
Part of the problem is that all the fans are off and the noise isn't being filtered. Of course, I love the quiet of the fans being off. After a while, that constant hum can grate on my nerves. At the same time, when they're off, I hear every other little noise in the world. When I'm already on edge, I assume these noises are going to be something fucking up with the house? See how bad it is right now?
Maybe I'll be out of this funk by the end of the month. I'd like to go into the holidays with a good spirit. After all, I survived the year! That's impressive.
I'm not sure if it's just the energy from finding out about the no cancer thing or just the change in season, but I've been on edge all day too. Despite my meds, my mood has been dark and dreary. It's this way for my roommate too. We're both pretty dark right now. I think we need some Halloween specials to cheer us up. Or something.
Part of the problem is that all the fans are off and the noise isn't being filtered. Of course, I love the quiet of the fans being off. After a while, that constant hum can grate on my nerves. At the same time, when they're off, I hear every other little noise in the world. When I'm already on edge, I assume these noises are going to be something fucking up with the house? See how bad it is right now?
Maybe I'll be out of this funk by the end of the month. I'd like to go into the holidays with a good spirit. After all, I survived the year! That's impressive.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Test Results and New Emotions
I got the results from my lab tests back. I am, as of now, cancer free. That might change in the next three months, but for now, cancer free.
When I received this news, I experienced an emotion that was somewhere between relief and joy. It was very intense and sudden. It hit me so hard that I almost cried. The funny thing is, while I knew I was concerned about the results of this test, I didn't realize just how truly nervous and frightened I was about it. Being told I was cancer free was like being let out of a cage. I didn't even know what to do with myself. Really, I'm still somewhat in that state.
I suppose if there is any upside to the torrent of horrible emotions you have to process during this kind of thing, it is moments like the one I had today. I've been joyful before. I've been relieved about stuff before, but never, ever like this. It was profound. I'm not sure I could have felt this kind of relief without first experiencing all the hellish uncertainty before it.
Things could go sideways again. I could regrow some cancer or develop it in some other part of my body, but I haven't done it yet. For right now, things are okay. For right now, I am okay. I can sleep without fear and doubt. I am so damned thankful for that.
When I received this news, I experienced an emotion that was somewhere between relief and joy. It was very intense and sudden. It hit me so hard that I almost cried. The funny thing is, while I knew I was concerned about the results of this test, I didn't realize just how truly nervous and frightened I was about it. Being told I was cancer free was like being let out of a cage. I didn't even know what to do with myself. Really, I'm still somewhat in that state.
I suppose if there is any upside to the torrent of horrible emotions you have to process during this kind of thing, it is moments like the one I had today. I've been joyful before. I've been relieved about stuff before, but never, ever like this. It was profound. I'm not sure I could have felt this kind of relief without first experiencing all the hellish uncertainty before it.
Things could go sideways again. I could regrow some cancer or develop it in some other part of my body, but I haven't done it yet. For right now, things are okay. For right now, I am okay. I can sleep without fear and doubt. I am so damned thankful for that.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Common Knowledge and Thankfulness
Someone posted a picture of a woman standing beside a clothes line. She had quite a lot of clothing on there and by the clothes were swaying, it was clearly a windy day. The interesting part is that she had placed a 2x4 against the clothes line, to help keep it in place. If you've never been exposed to a clothes line, wind was always a big problem. Unless your lines were really tight (and most of them rarely were), wind could cause a lot of problems. Putting the board against the line would prevent some of the worst of it though.
As I looked at this picture, I kind of marveled at the resourcefulness of the woman for putting the 2x4 against her line. I also realized my grandmothers never did this. I'm not sure how common the board thing was, but clearly not enough to have reached them.
And this is one of the many reasons I love the internet. Common knowledge is so wonderfully at our fingertips now. I've written before about how great it is to have YouTube videos about every bit of knitting/crocheting ever. It was also helpful during my recent bout with health issues to be able to read about the things people had experienced during this process. It's like being able to talk to hundreds of people all at once.
I think I really wanted to talk about this today because I've been really down about the online experience of late. There have been a lot of people getting attacked by mobs of trolls. Some people have received death and rape threats. Most terrifying, some people have had their real life information published, so that those who hate them know where they life, their phone numbers, everything. The internet can be terrifying because there are people who want nothing more than to make it terrifying for everyone else.
Happily, they're not the only people out there. I am deeply thankful to the myriad of strangers who have made my life a better place over the years. They have shared their stories, their skills, their wisdom, and their humor. Reading a hysterectomy blog helped me to get through the process. Reading people's various stories about what they loved the most about old cartoons filled me with happiness for hours. And I would have basically precious to no crafting skills without the blogs, videos, and online discussions.
So to all the people out there who are pushing some good into the world, thank you. What you have done has made a lot of difference in my life. Thank you so much.
As I looked at this picture, I kind of marveled at the resourcefulness of the woman for putting the 2x4 against her line. I also realized my grandmothers never did this. I'm not sure how common the board thing was, but clearly not enough to have reached them.
And this is one of the many reasons I love the internet. Common knowledge is so wonderfully at our fingertips now. I've written before about how great it is to have YouTube videos about every bit of knitting/crocheting ever. It was also helpful during my recent bout with health issues to be able to read about the things people had experienced during this process. It's like being able to talk to hundreds of people all at once.
I think I really wanted to talk about this today because I've been really down about the online experience of late. There have been a lot of people getting attacked by mobs of trolls. Some people have received death and rape threats. Most terrifying, some people have had their real life information published, so that those who hate them know where they life, their phone numbers, everything. The internet can be terrifying because there are people who want nothing more than to make it terrifying for everyone else.
Happily, they're not the only people out there. I am deeply thankful to the myriad of strangers who have made my life a better place over the years. They have shared their stories, their skills, their wisdom, and their humor. Reading a hysterectomy blog helped me to get through the process. Reading people's various stories about what they loved the most about old cartoons filled me with happiness for hours. And I would have basically precious to no crafting skills without the blogs, videos, and online discussions.
So to all the people out there who are pushing some good into the world, thank you. What you have done has made a lot of difference in my life. Thank you so much.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Other Paths
I read an article about a person who believed themselves to be a benign stalker. They felt they loved this other person, though the other person had made it quite clear, over and over, they did not return this affection. At one point, the person being stalked had to call the police on the stalker (who was shocked, of course). At another point, the stalker came up with a plot to ask the object of their affection if they would agree to to be fake-kidnapped for a few days. The person being stalked freaked out when they say the stalker and never even heard about the kidnapping plan. This was probably for the best.
For those of you who are picky about grammar, yes I know I was using plural pronouns. However, I wanted to mask the gender of the stalker and the person being stalked as best I could. Both stalkers and the victims of stalkers are common in both genders. This is one of those problems that can strike just about anyone.
I know I've written about this before, but it should be written again. Perhaps again and again. Love isn't forced. Either you love someone or you don't. Either someone loves you or they don't. There is no logic or manipulation or threat you can use to change this. If someone doesn't love you back, as much as this hurts, start the process of accepting they aren't the right fit for you and move on. This is nothing against them and nothing against you. Some people just aren't compatible.
I don't say this without experience. There have been a couple of times in my life when I loved someone who didn't love me back. It hurt, yes. I ached. I obsessed. I thought about all the logical reasons why they should be with me. I prided myself on being a great catch on lamented why society had convinced them to be so shallow. I also kind of cringe when I think about this now. It embarrasses the hell out of me that I was this illogical and obsessive.
The truth was, I was not suited for these men. I wasn't the kind of person they found attractive and there was nothing I could do to change that. Even if there were some things I could have done to put the odds more in my favor, I don't think it would have made a difference. Besides, I honestly wasn't willing to do that stuff. I wasn't a great catch then and I certainly am not now (unless someone is just seriously attracted to laziness, scars, fat, and sarcasm).
And you know what? Even though I never found this kind of traditional love that many people find (and I used to think I wanted), I'm fine with that. I found other paths. I realized that there is a great bliss in living a life where you aren't objectified. I realized that being single doesn't mean you have to be lonely. It also doesn't mean you have to live alone.
I know my path doesn't suit everyone and I am not claiming it is better than other life choices. I'm only saying that it was the best choice for me. And I will say that being single certainly IS better than living a life of romantic uncertainty. It is better than always worrying if this person is going to leave you or if they are lying to you or wondering when they will realize how much they love you. That kind of obsessiveness is a constant hell. If you're in that, I hope you can find a way out of it. I really do.
For those of you who are picky about grammar, yes I know I was using plural pronouns. However, I wanted to mask the gender of the stalker and the person being stalked as best I could. Both stalkers and the victims of stalkers are common in both genders. This is one of those problems that can strike just about anyone.
I know I've written about this before, but it should be written again. Perhaps again and again. Love isn't forced. Either you love someone or you don't. Either someone loves you or they don't. There is no logic or manipulation or threat you can use to change this. If someone doesn't love you back, as much as this hurts, start the process of accepting they aren't the right fit for you and move on. This is nothing against them and nothing against you. Some people just aren't compatible.
I don't say this without experience. There have been a couple of times in my life when I loved someone who didn't love me back. It hurt, yes. I ached. I obsessed. I thought about all the logical reasons why they should be with me. I prided myself on being a great catch on lamented why society had convinced them to be so shallow. I also kind of cringe when I think about this now. It embarrasses the hell out of me that I was this illogical and obsessive.
The truth was, I was not suited for these men. I wasn't the kind of person they found attractive and there was nothing I could do to change that. Even if there were some things I could have done to put the odds more in my favor, I don't think it would have made a difference. Besides, I honestly wasn't willing to do that stuff. I wasn't a great catch then and I certainly am not now (unless someone is just seriously attracted to laziness, scars, fat, and sarcasm).
And you know what? Even though I never found this kind of traditional love that many people find (and I used to think I wanted), I'm fine with that. I found other paths. I realized that there is a great bliss in living a life where you aren't objectified. I realized that being single doesn't mean you have to be lonely. It also doesn't mean you have to live alone.
I know my path doesn't suit everyone and I am not claiming it is better than other life choices. I'm only saying that it was the best choice for me. And I will say that being single certainly IS better than living a life of romantic uncertainty. It is better than always worrying if this person is going to leave you or if they are lying to you or wondering when they will realize how much they love you. That kind of obsessiveness is a constant hell. If you're in that, I hope you can find a way out of it. I really do.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Sunday Blues
It didn't rain today, but we had the lingering after affects of it. It was still dark and dreary. It was still pretty depressing. Oh and best of all, despite there being nary a cloud in the sky, the internet and cable STILL went off. We have no idea why. They fixed it quickly, but it was still an hour or so. I'm very sick of that company.
I've spent the better part of an hour fighting with a cat. She's decided she wants to lay on my mousepad again. Yes, a whole rest of the house and she insists on sitting there. It was driving me crazy. I have a tactic with her though. I kissed her a bunch of times and she ran off. As always, no one wants my kisses. Bwahaha!
Things should feel more Fall-like this week. I hope they do. I need it to be cooler for a while. I realize I've said that for a while now.
I've spent the better part of an hour fighting with a cat. She's decided she wants to lay on my mousepad again. Yes, a whole rest of the house and she insists on sitting there. It was driving me crazy. I have a tactic with her though. I kissed her a bunch of times and she ran off. As always, no one wants my kisses. Bwahaha!
Things should feel more Fall-like this week. I hope they do. I need it to be cooler for a while. I realize I've said that for a while now.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Autumn Storm
We knew it was going to rain yesterday, but I have to say that even for a storm around here, things were dramatic and weird. The roommate and I had gone to Walmart. The drive over was strange, with odd winds and a grey overcast. By the time we arrived, there was a black cloud above the store. He walked in and the wind picked up.
Actually, 'picked up' is kind of mild. The winds were vicious. They were blowing pots full of flowers off of the stands by the entrance to the store. I have to say I was impressed by the number of people who stopped what they were doing to set the plants back up. I was also impressed by the people who would move stray shopping cars out of the driving lanes.
I halfway expected it to just start pouring when my roommate left the store, but it didn't. He was back in the van before it got too bad, but even then, the rain was unusual. It fell in strange droplets that didn't run the way they usually do. They seemed to just float on the windshield, not moving or breaking apart until I hit them with the wipers.
For the rest of the day, and even into today, the rain fell in violent spurts. Often it would just fall straight down, hitting the house loudly. During the middle of the night, it woke me up as rain slammed against my windows. When I woke up this morning, it was still falling. All the while, it's been strange.
I somewhat wonder if that is an omen for how Fall will be this year, just....strange and unsettling. I hope not. I think I kind of need some normal for a while. It would be really nice.
Actually, 'picked up' is kind of mild. The winds were vicious. They were blowing pots full of flowers off of the stands by the entrance to the store. I have to say I was impressed by the number of people who stopped what they were doing to set the plants back up. I was also impressed by the people who would move stray shopping cars out of the driving lanes.
I halfway expected it to just start pouring when my roommate left the store, but it didn't. He was back in the van before it got too bad, but even then, the rain was unusual. It fell in strange droplets that didn't run the way they usually do. They seemed to just float on the windshield, not moving or breaking apart until I hit them with the wipers.
For the rest of the day, and even into today, the rain fell in violent spurts. Often it would just fall straight down, hitting the house loudly. During the middle of the night, it woke me up as rain slammed against my windows. When I woke up this morning, it was still falling. All the while, it's been strange.
I somewhat wonder if that is an omen for how Fall will be this year, just....strange and unsettling. I hope not. I think I kind of need some normal for a while. It would be really nice.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Private Decisions
I read this article today about a man's account of the emotional torture he and his wife went through due to Texas's strick abortion laws. It's a very sad story and one that will be repeated again and again as states continue to decide to make laws about our bodies. Abortion has become such a hot button topic that states are passing laws that never taking individual cases into account. Of course, how could they not? Every abortion and every termination of pregnancy is an individual case with varying circumstances. It also used to be a private decision.
I'm always a little in awe at how people will scream about how the government should stay out of people's lives . . . unless it's something said people find morally objectionable. Then they want all the laws they can get. And if they can't get laws to stop whatever they find objectionable, then they want laws to restrict it as much as possible, no matter what. And often that 'no matter what' also means 'no matter who it hurts.'
One of the hardest things about being an adult is that sometimes you have to make decisions that are horrible. Your options are awful and equally awful. Often, the best thing we can do is go with what is going to do the least damage to us in the long run. That is the decision that the man and his wife in the article where trying to make. Their son was going to die. Prolonging the time of that death was just hurting everyone. Unfortunately, the government had taken their decision making power out of their hands.
I have to ask, is that really the level of power you want the government to have?
I am a very fortunate person. I was never faced with decisions of this nature. Now, due to cancer and having all my innards ripped out, I never will be faced with this decision. I have to confess, it is a relief to know that. As these laws become more and more restrictive, as people trade common sense and compassion for dogma and outrage, I am so thankful I will never have to face a moment when my choices are both equally horrible and then be told that I don't even get to make the choice.
At the same time, my heart goes out to all of you who still run the risk of this.
I'm always a little in awe at how people will scream about how the government should stay out of people's lives . . . unless it's something said people find morally objectionable. Then they want all the laws they can get. And if they can't get laws to stop whatever they find objectionable, then they want laws to restrict it as much as possible, no matter what. And often that 'no matter what' also means 'no matter who it hurts.'
One of the hardest things about being an adult is that sometimes you have to make decisions that are horrible. Your options are awful and equally awful. Often, the best thing we can do is go with what is going to do the least damage to us in the long run. That is the decision that the man and his wife in the article where trying to make. Their son was going to die. Prolonging the time of that death was just hurting everyone. Unfortunately, the government had taken their decision making power out of their hands.
I have to ask, is that really the level of power you want the government to have?
I am a very fortunate person. I was never faced with decisions of this nature. Now, due to cancer and having all my innards ripped out, I never will be faced with this decision. I have to confess, it is a relief to know that. As these laws become more and more restrictive, as people trade common sense and compassion for dogma and outrage, I am so thankful I will never have to face a moment when my choices are both equally horrible and then be told that I don't even get to make the choice.
At the same time, my heart goes out to all of you who still run the risk of this.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Golden Age
You know, the thing about perspective is that you can believe you have all the facts sorted out in your head, but miss so many aspects of the issue because of how you filter those facts. A few posts back when I talked about the origins of HIV and discussed the Blame Game going on about it, I mentioned how the noise of the blaming masked the situation. That can basically apply to almost anything.
A man recently published a book on the Golden Age of Nickelodeon. This article discusses his perspective on it, which seems to be filtered through current anti-feminist/anti-diversity thinking. He uses all the tired arguments about why diversity (forced on the writers by the women who run the channel) has ruined Nickelodeon. He dismissed shows about women (such as Clarissa Explains it All) and shows with a diversity of characters (such as All That) to focus on shows that he believed were aimed at males. Pete and Pete, Ren & Stimpy, etc.
Of course, none of these shows were just for boys or girls. Even Clarissa had males watching it. During the Golden Age of Nick, one of the reasons why things were so successful is because none of the shows, aside from the ones CLEARLY meant for small children, felt aimed at anyone.
I was talking to my best friend about this. She and I were roommates during this era of Nick and watched a lot of their shows. Most of the people we knew who were in college DID watch a lot of Nick shows. Even if they were about children/teenagers and starred children/teenagers, they still spoke to us. My best friend believes that one of the reasons why shows at this time were so good is because they, like The Simpsons, aimed to appeal to everyone. It wasn't about the characters being white or black or female or male, it was about creating stories that everyone could relate to.
I think one of the best examples of this was Are You Afraid of the Dark, another show seen during the Golden Age of Nick. The cast was racially diverse with a good mix of gender. The kids all respected each other, even though there were the occasional conflicts. As much as the author of the book wants to state that this sort of thing comes off as forced, on a show like AYAofD, it certainly never did. These kids came together for a common goal. They had a club where each week, one of them told a scary story. I really can't remember anyone being offended by this.
Then again, this kind of being offended seems to be more popular these days. I've noticed that there is a certain segment of people who seem to believe that saying anything they view as 'edgy' or 'not politically correct' will make them seem more genuine or with it. It doesn't. However it does serve to gain them more attention. I realize that even writing this is doing the same thing, but only about ten people read this blog, so that isn't so much of a big deal.
A man recently published a book on the Golden Age of Nickelodeon. This article discusses his perspective on it, which seems to be filtered through current anti-feminist/anti-diversity thinking. He uses all the tired arguments about why diversity (forced on the writers by the women who run the channel) has ruined Nickelodeon. He dismissed shows about women (such as Clarissa Explains it All) and shows with a diversity of characters (such as All That) to focus on shows that he believed were aimed at males. Pete and Pete, Ren & Stimpy, etc.
Of course, none of these shows were just for boys or girls. Even Clarissa had males watching it. During the Golden Age of Nick, one of the reasons why things were so successful is because none of the shows, aside from the ones CLEARLY meant for small children, felt aimed at anyone.
I was talking to my best friend about this. She and I were roommates during this era of Nick and watched a lot of their shows. Most of the people we knew who were in college DID watch a lot of Nick shows. Even if they were about children/teenagers and starred children/teenagers, they still spoke to us. My best friend believes that one of the reasons why shows at this time were so good is because they, like The Simpsons, aimed to appeal to everyone. It wasn't about the characters being white or black or female or male, it was about creating stories that everyone could relate to.
I think one of the best examples of this was Are You Afraid of the Dark, another show seen during the Golden Age of Nick. The cast was racially diverse with a good mix of gender. The kids all respected each other, even though there were the occasional conflicts. As much as the author of the book wants to state that this sort of thing comes off as forced, on a show like AYAofD, it certainly never did. These kids came together for a common goal. They had a club where each week, one of them told a scary story. I really can't remember anyone being offended by this.
Then again, this kind of being offended seems to be more popular these days. I've noticed that there is a certain segment of people who seem to believe that saying anything they view as 'edgy' or 'not politically correct' will make them seem more genuine or with it. It doesn't. However it does serve to gain them more attention. I realize that even writing this is doing the same thing, but only about ten people read this blog, so that isn't so much of a big deal.
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Brief Post
Not a long post tonight. I'm not feeling very well and I need to go lay down. It's been one of those days when my allergies are really nasty. My eyelashes were completely caked this morning. It was nasty.
American Horror Story started back up tonight. Jessica Lange sang "Live on Mars" and it was glorious. It feels like the first official start of Halloween. Yay!
American Horror Story started back up tonight. Jessica Lange sang "Live on Mars" and it was glorious. It feels like the first official start of Halloween. Yay!
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Culture Political Communication
Putin's birthday has rolled around and in his honor, there has been a series of art pieces done that depict him as Hercules, completing his own modern day Labors. The pictures can be seen here. This runs along the usual lines of propaganda sent out about Putin. He is masculine, strong, able to defeat things, able to protect his country.
I think these pictures are a good example of how artistic propaganda can fail as a form of communication when one moves from culture to culture. The idea behind the Putin pictures was to honor him, to show how strong he is, how manly. It is also, on a grander scale, supposed to show other countries that the leader of Russia is someone to fear and respect (because he is manly and strong, etc).
The problem is, when it comes to countries like America, such images fail completely. In any country where irreverence, critical thinking, and a basic understanding of pop psychology exist, images of a man dressed in a toga as he fights a terrorist are not respected, they are laughed at. We do not see a strong man, rather, we see a man who is egocentric, delusional, and full of narcissism . . none of these are really good qualities in a leader. Instead of making us fear Russia, it just makes us roll our eyes. This is also what we do when people in our own political commercials wear camo or hold guns. That kind of pandering would actually make me want to vote for you LESS.
You know, honestly, if there is one trait I love the most in Americans, it IS our irreverence. I like the fact that many of us see nothing as sacred. In fact, I believe that a lot of us see everything as equally sacred (which still basically makes nothing sacred). I like the fact that we can blow off just about anything and laugh at our own tragedies. It's how we get through them. It's how we move forward. I think when people start taking things to seriously is when we usually screw up as a nation.
I think these pictures are a good example of how artistic propaganda can fail as a form of communication when one moves from culture to culture. The idea behind the Putin pictures was to honor him, to show how strong he is, how manly. It is also, on a grander scale, supposed to show other countries that the leader of Russia is someone to fear and respect (because he is manly and strong, etc).
The problem is, when it comes to countries like America, such images fail completely. In any country where irreverence, critical thinking, and a basic understanding of pop psychology exist, images of a man dressed in a toga as he fights a terrorist are not respected, they are laughed at. We do not see a strong man, rather, we see a man who is egocentric, delusional, and full of narcissism . . none of these are really good qualities in a leader. Instead of making us fear Russia, it just makes us roll our eyes. This is also what we do when people in our own political commercials wear camo or hold guns. That kind of pandering would actually make me want to vote for you LESS.
You know, honestly, if there is one trait I love the most in Americans, it IS our irreverence. I like the fact that many of us see nothing as sacred. In fact, I believe that a lot of us see everything as equally sacred (which still basically makes nothing sacred). I like the fact that we can blow off just about anything and laugh at our own tragedies. It's how we get through them. It's how we move forward. I think when people start taking things to seriously is when we usually screw up as a nation.
Monday, October 6, 2014
Toe Milestone
My roommate and I were discussing exercise increases and what would be beneficial for me to try next. Not that I want to turn into someone who does this all day long, but at the same time, I think it's a good idea to push my body to do new things. Even if I can't do much of the new things at first, I believe challenging my body is helping me a lot.
We were going over various possible things I could do. My roommate suggested lifting my hands straight above my head and going for a toe touch. I snorted a little. Yeah, that was a nice thought. Then again, even if I couldn't go all the way through with it, I could at least do the arms above my head and bend over part. Even I can bend forward somewhat. I stood up to try it.
You know what? Somecrazyhow, I actually managed to touch my toes! I had enough limber going on to achieve this. The months of walking must have helped my sense of balance enough to keep me from falling over. I touched them and then repeated a few more times. After that, I was kind of getting dizzy, but still! Toe touching! Wow.
This is a big thing for me. This is a moment of celebration. I can now do something with my body that I haven't been able to do in a long, long time. I feel like I'm reclaiming territory that was lost to me, like I'm some kind of exiled queen who is finally able to retake her lands. This is victory for me. It feels very good.
We were going over various possible things I could do. My roommate suggested lifting my hands straight above my head and going for a toe touch. I snorted a little. Yeah, that was a nice thought. Then again, even if I couldn't go all the way through with it, I could at least do the arms above my head and bend over part. Even I can bend forward somewhat. I stood up to try it.
You know what? Somecrazyhow, I actually managed to touch my toes! I had enough limber going on to achieve this. The months of walking must have helped my sense of balance enough to keep me from falling over. I touched them and then repeated a few more times. After that, I was kind of getting dizzy, but still! Toe touching! Wow.
This is a big thing for me. This is a moment of celebration. I can now do something with my body that I haven't been able to do in a long, long time. I feel like I'm reclaiming territory that was lost to me, like I'm some kind of exiled queen who is finally able to retake her lands. This is victory for me. It feels very good.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Mourning my Morning Ritual
Yesterday, the CW showed its last ever round of Saturday morning cartoons. All of the other network stations have stopped showing them already, making the outlier CW as the last one continuing this tradition. Now it is gone and no more children will have Saturday morning cartoons are part of their weekend ritual. This makes me very sad.
As far back as I can remember, I had Saturday morning cartoons. It wasn't something that was questioned. It was just a fact of life. Children spent their Saturday mornings in the living room, watching the continuation of various animation programs. Some of them were very adventurous. Some were silly. Some were just really bad ideas. Some were disappointing. Some were so intelligent and wonderful that they became a part of you for the rest of your life.
I would do my best to wake up as early as possible so I could catch as many cartoons as were shown. There was always an internal conflict about this, because on one hand, I wanted to sleep. On the other, the cartoons were important. Cartoons were the reward for making it through a school week. They were the time when children got to rule the television. They were compensation for the endless hours of boring sportsball that would follow them.
Now that is gone. It's so strange to think that it's gone. It feels wrong. I feel outraged by it, really. It makes me angry at the networks for betraying kids like this and angry at Cartoon Network and Nick for dropping the ball on being really good children's entertainment, for stifling the network cartoons. It's just one more peace of my childhood that is gone.
Rituals are important to humans. They keep us calm and they help us to be part of the culture around us. If we keep removing the rituals of childhood, what will that mean for these kids when they grow up? How will they relate to each other, to us? Animation on Saturday morning seems like such a small thing, but to me, and to many of those former children who experienced that, it isn't a small thing. I feel a great loss about this. I am mourning the passing of this ritual. A lot of people are. So clearly, it meant a lot to us. Now what will the children have?
As far back as I can remember, I had Saturday morning cartoons. It wasn't something that was questioned. It was just a fact of life. Children spent their Saturday mornings in the living room, watching the continuation of various animation programs. Some of them were very adventurous. Some were silly. Some were just really bad ideas. Some were disappointing. Some were so intelligent and wonderful that they became a part of you for the rest of your life.
I would do my best to wake up as early as possible so I could catch as many cartoons as were shown. There was always an internal conflict about this, because on one hand, I wanted to sleep. On the other, the cartoons were important. Cartoons were the reward for making it through a school week. They were the time when children got to rule the television. They were compensation for the endless hours of boring sportsball that would follow them.
Now that is gone. It's so strange to think that it's gone. It feels wrong. I feel outraged by it, really. It makes me angry at the networks for betraying kids like this and angry at Cartoon Network and Nick for dropping the ball on being really good children's entertainment, for stifling the network cartoons. It's just one more peace of my childhood that is gone.
Rituals are important to humans. They keep us calm and they help us to be part of the culture around us. If we keep removing the rituals of childhood, what will that mean for these kids when they grow up? How will they relate to each other, to us? Animation on Saturday morning seems like such a small thing, but to me, and to many of those former children who experienced that, it isn't a small thing. I feel a great loss about this. I am mourning the passing of this ritual. A lot of people are. So clearly, it meant a lot to us. Now what will the children have?
Friday, October 3, 2014
Kinshasa
My roommate linked to and discussed an article about the origins of HIV/AIDS. The article talks about how a version of HIV can be traced back to the 1920s in the area then known as Kinshasa, which is now part of the Democratic Republic of Congo. The area was a hub of railways and, as usually follows, the sex trade. It was also an area where colonization was in full force.
This is interesting to me for several reasons. First of all, this pushes the origins of HIV back farther than we thought. Before this, we were thinking the 1950s. This gives it 30 years more to circulate. When we believed HIV was something that just suddenly showed up in the 1980s, it seemed so fast and overwhelming. The fact that it has a slower spiral into epidemic levels gives the spread of the virus a whole new perspective. It also lends itself to more questions. Why did it suddenly go from something that spread at a slow rate to something that was killing vast numbers of people off quite quickly? Was this just a further advancement in the mutation of the virus or something else?
It also has a link (perhaps relevant, perhaps not) with further advancement in travel. All conspiracies aside, we know for a fact that when people have no immunity to a disease, they are more susceptible to it. The HIV virus is very adaptable as well. It adapts faster than we do, finding the best mode for its own survival. Travel and therefore greater chances of exposure are always going to play into something like this.
And I do want to leave all conspiracy theories aside because one of the things I noticed from reading the comments to this article is that a lot of people indulge in a great deal of blame-assigning when it comes to HIV. Some people blame homosexuality. Some people blame bisexuals. Some people blame white people trying to kill off 'undesirables.' Some people blame Africa. Some people blame corporations. Sadly, past that, the blame just gets more and more strange.
There are a lot of problems with this kind of blaming, but I think the biggest one is that it becomes this just horrible mental noise that drowns out any scientific or rational discourse about HIV. It serves no purpose other than to anger one group or the other. It also usually makes the conspiracy theorist look like an idiot.
As to how knowing the origins of the virus may assist in curing it, I'm not sure. It may not actually affect HIV one way or the other. However, it may be able to help us chart and estimate the way other viruses spread, especially if they move from something slow and steady into something alarmingly fast.
This is interesting to me for several reasons. First of all, this pushes the origins of HIV back farther than we thought. Before this, we were thinking the 1950s. This gives it 30 years more to circulate. When we believed HIV was something that just suddenly showed up in the 1980s, it seemed so fast and overwhelming. The fact that it has a slower spiral into epidemic levels gives the spread of the virus a whole new perspective. It also lends itself to more questions. Why did it suddenly go from something that spread at a slow rate to something that was killing vast numbers of people off quite quickly? Was this just a further advancement in the mutation of the virus or something else?
It also has a link (perhaps relevant, perhaps not) with further advancement in travel. All conspiracies aside, we know for a fact that when people have no immunity to a disease, they are more susceptible to it. The HIV virus is very adaptable as well. It adapts faster than we do, finding the best mode for its own survival. Travel and therefore greater chances of exposure are always going to play into something like this.
And I do want to leave all conspiracy theories aside because one of the things I noticed from reading the comments to this article is that a lot of people indulge in a great deal of blame-assigning when it comes to HIV. Some people blame homosexuality. Some people blame bisexuals. Some people blame white people trying to kill off 'undesirables.' Some people blame Africa. Some people blame corporations. Sadly, past that, the blame just gets more and more strange.
There are a lot of problems with this kind of blaming, but I think the biggest one is that it becomes this just horrible mental noise that drowns out any scientific or rational discourse about HIV. It serves no purpose other than to anger one group or the other. It also usually makes the conspiracy theorist look like an idiot.
As to how knowing the origins of the virus may assist in curing it, I'm not sure. It may not actually affect HIV one way or the other. However, it may be able to help us chart and estimate the way other viruses spread, especially if they move from something slow and steady into something alarmingly fast.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Musical Kinship
I stumbled across this blog post from Sinead O'Connor. I don't always read her blog, but when I do, it's always quite interesting. She has a fluid, free form style that reminds me somewhat of Virginia Wolfe. In this post, she was talking about hearing a Kate Bush song for the first time and how akin that was to a religious experience. The song floored her and she couldn't stop listening to it.
There is something truly beautiful when an artist that you love writes about how much they love another artist you love. It's this strong feeling of kinship that binds you together (in a nonstalker kind of way) through the art. This person influences this other person. Both of them influence you. Ahh, glorious.
O'Connor talked about how she was having a really shitty weekend and how the Kate Bush sound could have made all the difference for her. I know the truth of this. I love how certain pieces of music can just really shut out the rest of the world and make everything better. There are songs that can reach inside you and heal you. You can be healed from hurts you didn't even know existed until they were no longer harming you.
It's also amazing how you can know an artist for years and not really pay attention to certain songs, then suddenly one day, you hear that song and it becomes a part of your DNA. There are songs that structure me. They are the foundation of who I am and tell the history of where I've walked. When you find out that certain songs touch other people in that way, the song takes on new layers, as their experience adds to what you consider when you think of the song.
I'm happy she found that Kate Bush song. She wants to cover it and I hope she does. I want to hear that and feel her passion as she sings it. I'm grateful she wrote that post.
There is something truly beautiful when an artist that you love writes about how much they love another artist you love. It's this strong feeling of kinship that binds you together (in a nonstalker kind of way) through the art. This person influences this other person. Both of them influence you. Ahh, glorious.
O'Connor talked about how she was having a really shitty weekend and how the Kate Bush sound could have made all the difference for her. I know the truth of this. I love how certain pieces of music can just really shut out the rest of the world and make everything better. There are songs that can reach inside you and heal you. You can be healed from hurts you didn't even know existed until they were no longer harming you.
It's also amazing how you can know an artist for years and not really pay attention to certain songs, then suddenly one day, you hear that song and it becomes a part of your DNA. There are songs that structure me. They are the foundation of who I am and tell the history of where I've walked. When you find out that certain songs touch other people in that way, the song takes on new layers, as their experience adds to what you consider when you think of the song.
I'm happy she found that Kate Bush song. She wants to cover it and I hope she does. I want to hear that and feel her passion as she sings it. I'm grateful she wrote that post.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Bathroom Dreams
The plumber came today and fixed the thing that was wrong with the toilet. This is a great thing. No one wants a messed up toilet, especially when it's the only one in the house. They didn't show up until almost 4:30, so we basically had to wait around all day, looking decent enough to receive guests. It was muggy as all hell, so this wasn't very much fun. I'd like my October with a little more chill, thanks.
Speaking of bathrooms, I had one of my weird dreams about bathrooms again. This happens quite often to me, and I blame my Senior Girls' Tea from back in the day. The event took place at the Kerr Mansion a few miles from town. While we were there, we weren't supposed to sneak off and tour the place, but of course I did.
Even after all these years, I can still remember how thrilling it was to wonder from room to room, looking at the strange bedrooms and their absolutely fascinating bathrooms. One of them had a snail shower. It was the first time I'd ever seen one of those. Everything was beautiful and so very much more ritzy than what I'd ever seen up close.
Sadly, I've been told recent renovations stripped out a lot of the character and charm from the place. That really makes me sad. Though, I'm somewhat suspect that knowing this is what has shaped my recent version of the bathroom dreams. It used to be that I would dream I was in someone's house and decided to explore. I would always find these really wonderful bathrooms.
Lately, however, when I'm in the dreams, I'll go look for the bathrooms, but they're always really disappointing. They'll be big, yes, and clearly in places where they SHOULD be grand, but they never are. They'll be covered in putty colored plastic, with leaky showers, tacky sinks, and questionable toilets. What the hell brain?
Last night was no different. The house was beautiful and all of the bedrooms I explored were equally amazing. However, when I got to the bathroom, it was tiny and disappointing. The ceiling was low. I could stand, but it was almost claustrophobic to do so. The walls were covered in tacky, beige plastic and the shower was nothing more than just a portion of the room, with a curtain and an ugly old showerhead jutting from the wall. Ick.
To console myself, I spent some time today looking at beautiful bathrooms. It made me feel somewhat better. I hope that perhaps these will enter my mind and return next time I have one of these dreams. I would very much enjoy that.
Speaking of bathrooms, I had one of my weird dreams about bathrooms again. This happens quite often to me, and I blame my Senior Girls' Tea from back in the day. The event took place at the Kerr Mansion a few miles from town. While we were there, we weren't supposed to sneak off and tour the place, but of course I did.
Even after all these years, I can still remember how thrilling it was to wonder from room to room, looking at the strange bedrooms and their absolutely fascinating bathrooms. One of them had a snail shower. It was the first time I'd ever seen one of those. Everything was beautiful and so very much more ritzy than what I'd ever seen up close.
Sadly, I've been told recent renovations stripped out a lot of the character and charm from the place. That really makes me sad. Though, I'm somewhat suspect that knowing this is what has shaped my recent version of the bathroom dreams. It used to be that I would dream I was in someone's house and decided to explore. I would always find these really wonderful bathrooms.
Lately, however, when I'm in the dreams, I'll go look for the bathrooms, but they're always really disappointing. They'll be big, yes, and clearly in places where they SHOULD be grand, but they never are. They'll be covered in putty colored plastic, with leaky showers, tacky sinks, and questionable toilets. What the hell brain?
Last night was no different. The house was beautiful and all of the bedrooms I explored were equally amazing. However, when I got to the bathroom, it was tiny and disappointing. The ceiling was low. I could stand, but it was almost claustrophobic to do so. The walls were covered in tacky, beige plastic and the shower was nothing more than just a portion of the room, with a curtain and an ugly old showerhead jutting from the wall. Ick.
To console myself, I spent some time today looking at beautiful bathrooms. It made me feel somewhat better. I hope that perhaps these will enter my mind and return next time I have one of these dreams. I would very much enjoy that.
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