Depression Part 2 at Hyperboleandahalf - an illustrated guide to depression. Possibly the most hilarious, most painful, most metaphorical, most literal, most everything description of depression I've read in--ever. With awesome illustrations.

Most of still live with the knowledge that there are great swathes of the population--we'll call them 'idiots'--who at some point decided the depression in it's entirety can be expressed as 'not happy' and also, that it's something that can be cured with bootstrap puppy macros on the bright side of it's a wonderful life. I don't call people idiots for not understanding depression--frankly, I've lived with it over half my life, and I'm still fairly unclear on what the ever-loving fuck is going on--but I get tetchy on the subject when they believe 'understand' is a required prerequisite for 'believe', because I personally didn't sign up to be the professor failing to teach 101 adequately and then worry how they'll survive when they stop believing in air, as they seem to think 'believe' is a key facet in the existence of reality.

For everyone else, however, there's this post; if you don't understand depression, if it's still hard to get your head around, if you have family or friends who live with it, if you just want to know--this might help. Depression is vast and individualized and no two people who have it will conceptualize or experience it the same way. However, I've noticed that no matter how differently people describe depression, they're always right, possibly because for me, they all say the same thing--that depression is less a thing that's there, but a word that encompasses the vastness of absence, knowing perfectly well the scope of what should be there and no longer is, and realizing you'll have to wait forever while living without it. It can be weeks or years or a matter of months, or so the calenders say, but while you're waiting, it's always forever.

...somehow, I have ended up in the Experimental Cat Breeds category of Wikipedia. Honest to God, I have no idea how I ended up here, and I can only partially blame scy for her talk on her cats, because I was already reading about the Cat Genome Project and am now staring at the cat that steals souls with its steely glare. I'm saying, when you look into the abyss, the Ukrainian Levkoy is looking back.

I don't even own a cat. And yet, suddenly, I deeply want one that two generations back would be very likely to attempt to a.) eat me or b.) consider eating me if I were somewhat smaller and so would simply maul me like a lot.

Uncomfortable realization: I become more deeply sympathetic to Crowley in proportion to the amount of facial hair he's sporting in any given episode. It's this entire combination of accent and scruffiness that's doing something terribly unhealthy to me, symptoms of which may or may not include thinking Kevin's being really, really mean about not just telling Crowley what he wants to know.

I feel the entire cast should have a no-shaving episode so as to evaluate how I would react to them. By that I mean, I wouldn't survive. Purgatory flashbacks alone are watch with caution--Castiel manages to pull off filthy like showers should be banned.

This has been a message from my libido, which currently is really confused, since before now, I can honestly state none of my kinks included less than minimum hygiene requirements. Goddamn television.

Totally random observation while uploading fic to AO3 today.

( I literally had no idea until now )

As two of my coworkers, my aunt's husband on one side of the family, my aunt and cousins on the other side of the family, and several close friends are Catholic--and because the election of the new spiritual leader of 1.8 billion people worldwide is kind of a big deal, not to mention the election of a new major head of state--I got very lucky and refreshed right when the white smoke appeared, which means none of us got any work done for about an hour while we watched the live feed on my phone for the naming and emergence of the new pope.

Pope Francis, born Jorge Mario Bergoglio, of Argentina, the first Latino pope, the first from the Western Hemisphere, the first non-European since the election of St. Gregory of Syria in 731, and the first Jesuit ever to be sit on the papal throne. And also, the second pope in over a thousand years to choose a totally new name. And what a name.

About
Pope Francis on Wikipedia
Who is Pope Francis on NPR

Record
Positions on Moral and Political Issues - no surprises on his social conservatism to be found, but his stance on economic injustice and poverty make some really interesting reading, especially in context of his history.

Human Rights/Controvery
Questions remain over Pope Francis’ role during Argentina’s dictatorship
'Dirty War' Questions For Pope Francis

(Note: The use of 'Dirty War' is apparently extremely questionable, so I'm only using it here because it's in the title of the article.)

Origin of Name

CNN Vatican analyst: Pope Francis' name choice 'precedent shattering'

Pope Francis chose his name in honor of St. Francis of Assisi because he is a lover of the poor, said Vatican deputy spokesman Thomas Rosica.

Above and beyond everything else, I'm very curious about a man who takes his name from Francis of Assisi, patron of the poor and disenfranchised and--right, here it gets interesting:

After a pilgrimage to Rome, where he joined the poor in begging at the doors of the churches, he said he had a mystical vision of Jesus Christ in the country chapel of San Damiano, just outside of Assisi, in which the Icon of Christ Crucified said to him, "Francis, Francis, go and repair My house which, as you can see, is falling into ruins."

I don't even know if it's possible to adequately comment on that.

Question: does anyone have an English language reference or workable summary for the Aparecida Document? I mean, this was from 2007 condemning child abuse, child exploitation, and child prostitution as demographic terrorism, which is a term I haven't heard before, and even if it's introduced as culturally (in general) a problem, the timing on its release is kind of breathtaking.

Okay, it's not called Protect the Plastic Bag.

HB 2416 'THE SHOPPING BAG FREEDOM ACT'

Because dude, it is not Texas if we can't make it sound like this can and will involve something not unlike the Alamo and rugged individualists with steely gazes, patriotic hearts beating passionately beneath their man-quiet exteriors. I have to admit, however, his courage in willingly donning that shade of yellow tie to say this speaks volumes, though the language being spoken eludes me.

So this is gonna be fun. The contrariness, it stirs.

I don't think any company should be able to create a policy that literally prohibits its employees--that would be staff, including trained medical staff at a senior living facility--from trying to save someone's life and perform CPR. When I say "I don't think" what I mean is, are you fucking serious?

Below cut for triggering material, including links to information about the death of a patient in an independent nursing facility, links to audio and partial transcripts of the 911 call.

( Glenwood Gardens, et al )

A.) American Horror Story

Two eps left in season one. Still totally did not call at all what happened in this last ep. I cannot believe I didn't even consider that.

B.) Work

Refactoring SSP has been added to the current build at work, so it's going to be Retest All of SSP, Plus New Things Added to It, All the Time, as well as testing for malware uploads. I was assigned the latter, which I will be honest, I asked for because it looked like fun to test. I have no idea yet how I will be testing it. We just began system testing (to be followed by Joint SIT, to be followed by UAT, to be followed by acceptance, to be followed by Regression, to be followed by Prodfix. This actually in theory won't be as complicated and weird as the build that went out this month. Fingers crossed.

I had a C but right now there is no C, there is (hopefully) taking off work on Friday for no particular reason but doing my taxes, which does sound like fun, in a very federal requirements way.

Also, forgot to put this in last entry:

Richard III found under parking lot.

I'll be completely honest; I had tears in my eyes reading that he's been found. Richard III is my number one historical crush, with Caesar and Elizabeth I taking second and third (I have like, forty of these, but they're mostly unnumbered, but these three are the loves of my life, okay?).

For all your woobie Richard III professional novel needs:
The Sunne in Splendour by Sharon Kay Penman - this is one of my buy-in-all-formats books. I have bought it twice in paperback and once in ebook for my Kindle. This is the epic story of Richard III, who is the bestest brother, husband, and father ever, and everyone who hates him is just like, stupid, okay? Stupid.

I have many varied feelings on Richard. All of them are about how everyone else sucks.

Dear Henry Tudor (and Stanley, you fucker),

Suck it.

love,
seperis

While monitoring the ziploc bag situation in the area of the garage which hosts the storage shelving unit, I noted we are officially at a point where we can call that area inventory and by my count, we're about two toilet paper rolls, one deep freeze filled with deer meat, and a small arsenal away from being listed on a survivalist watch list and people saying that we were quiet and kept to ourselves.

This is not, I repeat, not a dream of mine, but at this point, it may be a future reality I have to deal with. Also noted:

1.) Ungodly number of zip ties.
2.) More hand and power tools than I think anyone not building their own secret bunker could possibly need.
3.) Two shovels, which only tells me that the future bunker digging is gonna be a bitch.
4.) Extra wood furniture in the attic, I suppose for the coming of nuclear winter?
5.) A disturbing number of AA and AAA batteries.
6.) A lifetime supply of scissors in more sizes than I thought existed.
7.) A toolbox that cannot be opened by any conventional means.
8.) A stunning variety of Cup O'Noodles (delicious) in both chicken (awesome), beef (not bad), and shrimp (an abomination unto God).
9.) Uncountable Ramen secreted in various places throughout the house (I don't know why an unopened package of Ramen was under my bed, and dude, I am not stupid enough to ask.)
10.) A giant stuffed animal who may or may not have shown up on Sesame Street.
11.) Box of unused yarn, horrific colors.

Put together....well, I don't know what this means. I just feel that under the circumstances, it should make me nervous because I'm going to be honest, not really a survivor myself. I'm of the weak who will perish during the survival of the fittest when I lose access to Amazon.com and DW and have a psychotic fit when AO3 breathes its last. I'm saying this won't end well for me.

Not only that--I can shoot. I'm from Texas, and what wasn't passed in my bloodstream was taught early on. I can shoot, but not well. I can hit something, but I can't guarantee what it will be or where, and the answer is as likely to be 'my own foot or some appendage' as anything. I can fish, but that assumes the fish are proactive about biting and the bait very, very still. And someone else is holding the fishing pole. I am strangely--almost surreally, to be honest--better with an actual longbow, which literally makes no sense to anyone living, except for the fact that the first time I tried it was with a hot guy watching and weirdly enough, I am that shallow. And I paid for that shit for days, since I didn't have my arm guard on right and oh my God, gritting my teeth through the pain in a fit of vanity was such a mistake.

Yet, I do not see a post-nuclear-fallout world that is going to need a lot of bowwomen, especially since my requirements will be "and send a hot male along with me for eyecandy purposes". I mean, by then, humanity will be so mutated, if I don't have a taste for face-tentacles and superfluous arms, well--I don't, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. I suppose if we can find a costume store that's survived, I could request he wear some kind of mask a la Phantom of the Opera, but if they don't have any in black, well, there goes that idea.

In other news, Dean the phone has been replaced and is being cared for and coddled beside me while I tell him he's a very, very good boy. Our love is pure.

Like all parents, marking the milestones of my child's development is very important. I'm usually fairly careful about checking what normal is first in milestones (and what those milestones should be) so I can be sure I can tell people he is way advanced, as one does when one cannot tell normal people "My child thinks Derek Hale is a role model and there's a rat outside who can crawl straight vertical walls and you don't know why I think these two things are related, but they are, because you have never met my kid."

However, this is a big one. He's going to build his first computer this year. I will supply the parts for his birthday and appropriate mocking (and blood sacrifice to the board, as the computer gods demand), and before my eyes, my child will assemble the first of many computers that will one day inhabit his skull-shaped island in the vaguely Pacific direction. Also, he's sixteen or something, I don't remember, it's been a while since the birth thing.

In case anyone is thinking of building a computer, Frye's is doing something weird with their motherboards, start value 90 cents if you live in Palo Alto, with some making you money if you use the rebate (not kidding) in other cities. I have no idea what's going on, but I am beyond words peeved I can't get that damn board from Palo Alto. Jesus, ninety cents, I'd find something to build with that.

Computer part shopping commences next weekend, but he gets a portion of his computer money on his birthday, just because I am teh kind fo parent who will love to watch him spend a week not buying X-Box video games with it with desperate willpower. I make my own entertainment.

Because sometimes, people are fucking sociopaths.

Westboro Baptist Church Wants to Picket Connecticut School Shooting

Because sometimes, it gets much more interesting.

Time Magazine: Anonymous Targets Westboro Baptist Over Newton Picket Plans

Forbes: Anonymous Targets Westboro Baptist (Again) Over Threat To Picket Newtown - UPDATED

Anonymous: YourAnonNews Twitterfeed for all your Anonymous needs.

So far:
1.) Twitter feed of Shirley Phelps hacked (currently showing as suspended!)
2.) Current down status of their website
3.) Doxing of all Westboro members (this link is to anonpaste where the information is currently stored, link retrieved from The Wired article).
4.) cosmothegod seems have been inspired to break probation and join in the fight and claims responsibility for the twitterfeed hack.

(Note: All links taken directly from articles and SFW and my work's system is not blocking any of them.)

I have to say, the designers of Anonymous's messages knows how to make an impression.



Because sometimes, numbers matter.

Petition White House to have Westboro declared a hate group here. Currently at 183,347. When I signed an hour ago, it was at 179K. They have already been so identified by Southern Poverty Law Center and anyone sane with a working understanding of not being a sociopathic, greedy, depraved dick who commits crimes against humanity. Emotional torture is still torture. Doing it for the lawsuit and money potential means you're just a sick fuck.

Glitch players:

Would anyone be interested in doing a DW/LJ-Glitch group snap in Glitch of all of our avatars?

If yes, tentative date 11/24/2012, with a time between say 8AM CST to 2 AM CST (which would technically be 11/25/2012) translate to your time zone - Time Zone Converter. If interested, please reply so we can set up a time period for everyone--well, and a place as well.

*hopeful*

ETA: If enough people are interested but can't make the 24th, a second date will be added here.

Also, added time zone converter link above for those in different time zones.

Sharing pseudo-childhood trauma, one cartoon at a time.

Scroll down to Thomas the Tank Engine

You might think the plotline there sounds vaguely familiar--and horrifying. Read the full plot summary here. I'll give you a minute.

Okay.

Does this remind you of:
a.) The Cask of Amontillado (Wikipedia Cliff Notes)
b.) Why are you doing this? Does my insomnia make you happy? (secret answer: yes, of course it does)
c.) ...did that guy seriously say "always and always and always"? Also, fuck you, Seperis.

Anyone else see his terrified eyes over the edge of the brick wall as he slowly runs out of steam and, cold, alone, and helpless, is unable to even scream out his horror?

Dear UK,

...what do you mean he deserved it?

love,
Seperis

You're welcome.

I have a four hour headache that won't go away and is just low grade enough to mostly ignore but distracting enough that sleep and functional concentration are out of the question. This is the kind of night where I read up on the history of Dadism versus Surrealism because why not?

Brief Diegression

This has to do with something I read that threw out Dadism as a movement that encompasses the idea that the world doesn't deserve art. Or maybe just western civilization, because nothing like exoticism of the east to really round that out.

(Note: I'm saying that was the impression I got from what I read first. I'm still processing what I've read since then.)

And because the connection between art and social movements fascinates me. Not so much each of them in themselves, but because of the arguments that pit art-for-art's-sake against art-for-politics and art-for-social-movement and art-for-propoganda and the idea of dishonest art. Or for that matter, to jump mediums dramatically, poetry versus prose. I think I fundamentally lose the argument since I wasn't socialized well as a child when it comes to the fine arts and creative process and art to me was always filed away under communication of an idea; you can do it badly in a variety of ways, granted, but you can't do it wrong. I sometimes come out of intensive reading feeling this is the equivalent of someone saying French is better than Greek and everyone should speak French; that's as close as I've ever come to getting a handle on the idea; it always comes across as depersonalization and homogeneity of something that should be intensely personal and idiosyncratic at its most ideal.

( sketching )

the dangers of headache-induced night surfing

I don't have any idea how I ended up reading about the etymology of y'all on wikipedia. I can't even blame wikisurfing; I was nowhere near wikipedia last time I looked. Yet.

Souther American English/Grammar

Y'all

Specifically, Y'all all which finally nailed down something I'd tried to explain about when you throw in that extra all because usage is contextual in the extreme.

A very specific example from experience that isn't covered in the wikipedia article:

To my aunt, referring to her family that was there with us: Are y'all going to the thing?

To my aunt, referring to her entire family both present and not: All y'all are going to the thing?

I feel validated by wikipedia, yes, so am sharing my feeling of triumph.

Cracked is cracky

If Classic Holiday Movies Got Gritty Reboots - for the record, most were awesome, but number three both fascinates me and freaks me out in equal measure. Instantly, I can see the trailer for it: the childish sing-song voice chanting Frosty's "I'll be back again someday" while in the snow-distorted distance, we see the vague shape of a snowman dragging a hammer behind him slowly approaching the oblivious group of children who watched the agony of him slowly melting and did nothing. Oh, they should have known, known the warning when they heard it: I'll be back again someday to destroy you all!

So I'm never sleeping again. Well done, me.

The 7 Most Elaborate Dick Moves in Online Gaming History and The 7 Biggest Dick Moves in the History of Online Gaming - the runescape massacre in the first one just kills me, but in the second link, number 5.

It forced the three top guilds to co-operate, which makes herding cats look easier than getting Bollywood extras to move in step. It was Sesame Street by way of Lord of the Rings, specifically the end of the third movie, since for over three hours, 180 players turned themselves into a Sisyphean Zerg horde. Resurrecting each other faster than the monster could kill them, they put in Herculean feats of teamwork that cruelly mocked the concept of "fun." They fought like warrior poets, they fought like Scotsmen and eventually ground the boss down to 22 percent health -- at which point Sony turned the whole thing off and acted like it was the players' fault.

Fun is for those who have not been playing the stupidest bubble app in history that you have spent three days on the same ridic level. This is war. Not that I'm talking about myself here or anything.

Today I got my notice regarding preordering a free range local turkey, and I don't want to brag here, but this level of preparation for the future is pretty unprecedented in me, so it was exciting. As I was pricing my turkey, I looked at the website of heartwarming turkey scenes (what a stupid thing to do) with a bio of the farm talking about the humane conditions and here's where everything went wrong, and really, there is no way it wasn't going to anyway, but: All of their livestock are in large open areas/pastures and are free to interact with each other. That's a quote.

So my turkey has friends, I thought, still holding my credit card for the down payment. Because staring at this picture of happy white turkeys, I wondered which one of them I was effectively putting out a contract on, full payment due when I got to see the denuded and gutted corpse. I have seen this on TV; people who do that are the bad guys, and no one likes them. Except I planned to get rid of the evidence via brine and roasting paired with stuffing, which dude, even the Godfather didn't stoop to eating his rivals (I think).

I've learned a valuable lesson, but it seems to imply foresight is bad and I have an alternate universe career ruthlessly running a cannibalistic cartel. And also, if the world ended and it was run down my own food or die, there is no scenario that doesn't end with me sobbing hopelessly while trying to will rocks to become nutritious, surrounded by scornful Disney animals who wonder how I failed at circle of life so dramatically.

I'm on a Trailer Kick

Red Dawn - yes, they're remaking Red Dawn. I don't know what that's called when you may or may not be completely missing the point of something that is not necessarily able to be universally themed when you look at the title with an eye for symbolism and the entire goddamn time period, but. Yeah, someone green lighted this. In case you're curious how they're handling that, yeah. I'm not even sure how to process this.

Wuthering Heights - I do not apologize for my endless kink for period drama, especially that which involves melodrama and epic love and well, revenge. And Heathcliffe, because Christ, it's fucking Heathcliffe. There are some epic characters that well, apparently canonically have killed puppies, and I just do not care. Heathcliffe.

Taken 2 - okay, who knew you could do more with this than before? Honestly, it was on the strength of the instruction scene to Kim and the possibility of seeing Apprentice!Kim doing awesome things. Okay, I hope for that, it just would be the most awesome father/daughter bonding in history.

The Lone Ranger - in the spirit of being a completionist, I--okay, what the hell? I'm hoping that's just a really bad trailer. A lot.

Work on Call

Being on call for sudden, inexplicable testing (I literally do not know why they want me on call or what it is that might be tested. That could be a problem should they text me. Strangely, they didn't seem to think so) is possibly second in boredom levels only to those days we have REALLY IMPORTANT TEST TO RUN AT NOON and you're still waiting, breath bated, at two wondering if you can dial it down to defcon three now because that level of alertness is both exhausting and weirdly frustrating. This happens a lot with REALLY IMPORTANT TESTS, you see. And you can't move an inch from your computer because inevitably, once it starts you have a narrow window to finish the test due to reasons and life as we know it will end if you fuck up, so no pressure or anything.

I don't object to testing on weekends. Much. I object to being at defcon three for twenty four hours because REALLY IMPORTANT TEST NARROW WINDOW FUCK UP END WORLD and I still don't even know what it is we are testing. It involves, I understand, mass update triggers and batching. And possibly skynet and Romulans destroying Vulcan and soylent green.

I have a feeling this is a preview for what the Oracle update is going to be like. Oracle updates require teh equivalent of simple regression testing, ie we just do a lot of tests we always do to make sure nothing is legitimately broken, you might say, because there are not just levels of broken, there are shades within those levels. One of the most important is how long will the goddamn tester argue this is a problem?

( because I can )

News

Being bored.

Students, experts recoil at alcohol enema case - the only reason I'm even mentioning the weirdness of this was that for the life of me, I knew I'd heard of something like this before. I realized just a few minutes ago it was Law and Order: Criminal Intent, specifically about a woman who organized hen parties (bachelorette parties, I think?) and she'd been using cocaine vaginally, which killed her, but at least did not involve an enema.

( mild tmi anecdata )

Also, Bullied Teen Gets Last Laugh - if you need something heartwarming, read this.

ETA - thanks to green_grrl for the link:
Sikh Woman Teaches Reddit a Lesson in Tolerance - I can't think of what to say to this but amazing. She's amazing.

“When I die, no one is going to remember what I looked like, heck, my kids will forget my voice, and slowly, all physical memory will fade away. However, my impact and legacy will remain: and, by not focusing on the physical beauty, I have time to cultivate those inner virtues and hopefully, focus my life on creating change and progress for this world in any way I can. So, to me, my face isn’t important but the smile and the happiness that lie behind the face are.” - Balpreet Kaur

Last Notes

Oh look, still not called. This is going to be a long night.

Dear Anonymous Person (Unless your name is Love?),

I'm guessing you probably are aware I have not had like, the best year so far, and this last week was kind of like the moment you realize you are really Sisyphus and that goddamn rock will never just stay up there. Also, it's possible my comment about dev people lacking opposable thumbs may bite me in the ass at work tomorrow.

I just no longer care. I mean, even a little. I may even apologize to them and mean it. Mostly. If they ask or anything.

For the record, surprise!kitchenware is right up there with unicorns and I don't know, talking puppies of things that you just don't think happen to real people. I actually want to say it's more likely a unicorn shows up. Also, your thematic use of my Adam/Kris fic as dedication was hilarious. I can't even work out what the best part is; awesome kitchenware, or the sheer amazingness of the surprise factor.

Dude, Monday, whatever, bring it.

All my love,
jenn

While trying to find a female saint to patron an order of militant demon-killing nuns, I ran across this: Female Patron Saints

There is a Saint Jennifer, patron saint of disasters.

My life is prefect, jsyk.

Also, if anyone can offer up a saint to name an order of militant demon-killing nuns after, I could also use suggestions. St. Jeanne d'Arc seems a little too on the nose. This thing is over 180,000 words, so really, why not have a militant order of demon killing nuns? That's the question you gotta ask yourself, and truth? No reason at all.

Honest to God, this spn fic from hell was started as a writing exercise to get back in the mood. The mood has not yet passed. On the other hand, exciting moment; I realized because of location of some parts, I could use y'all in dialogue finally, and my God, you have no freaking idea how magical it is to finally have command of a second person plural pronoun while writing. It's beautiful.

Supreme Court upholds Obamacare 5-4

Thank you.

Get $2 in Amazon MP3 Credit - Good until 6/23/2012

Also--I love this, If you buy certain free Apps, you also get $1 in Amazon MP3 credit.

Fundraising for Texas Planned Parenthood -- with a twist - syne is raising money for ipod nanos for PP for the women who are currently being verbally tortured before they're permitted the right to exercise dominion over their own bodies. We shouldn't have to go through this to own our bodies; those women should not have to listen to this to be allowed--to be allowed, not entitled by virtue of the fact they were born in that flesh and bone, not practicing natural ownership of themselves, to be allowed--to get an abortion.

She's met her goal, but please continue to donate if you can.

Work

Code freeze is Monday, which means that it should be a weekend of some kind of breakdown, because dude, prime time ready it is not. I can always tell my stress level by whether or not I voluntarily ask a coworker for a condescending or sarcasm check when filing defects; when I have to do it three times in one day because I genuinely can't tell how normal people argue that a scrollbar should scroll, being its functionality (you would think that wouldn't even need a defense, wouldn't you? No, I had to actually explain this when they were trying to withdraw it).

( malice for high quality job performance )

Worrisome

I'm staring at 110,000 words of fic that has come to the point of worrying me. To be fair, I usually don't have a really hard time with length because by this point, the end game is in sight, or at least, telescopically viewable, and I'm writing toward a defined goal. I'm really not right now. Right now, I'm writing toward diy solar panels, which I tricked Child into researching for me pretending he would do his next science fair project on them. Which I suppose two for one?

( I'm just weirded out by this )

After many grueling years, I have (somewhat) narrowed down the time period in which my period will strike (sometime within a twenty-eight day period, more precision is needed, but this is progress, I promise you), but on rare occasions, I actually realize, with dawning shock, that this thing that has occurred monthly for over half my life (minus one year for Child) is indeed on the horizon, and I add it to the list of random-ass observations about Myself and My Body I'll forget about until next month.

(To be fair, my thyroid for the last few years did a serious number on me when I'd tentatively nailed down that my abrupt interest in Breakfasts #2 and Lunch #3 and sleeping like an Olympic sport as indicators; when I now get a I Must Eat Until Something Breaks and Rip Van Winkle My Life Away, I call my doctor and get a medication adjustment, so you see how this isn't my fault. Sure, that's only in the last five years, but go with it.)

I am suddenly, for no particular reason, terribly, terribly attracted to genderswitch. Like, I am completely uninterested in what fandom; I just want that label. And I'm going to be blunt and say it's not the exploration of the complexities of sexuality and gender and privilege; even if the storyline never explores it at all, somewhere in my mind is a soft, quiet satisfaction that these characters will have a moment while buying tampons thinking that taking the entire store hostage for some goddamn Ben and Jerry's is a legitimate life choice. Hell, just taking the store hostage sounds like a pretty good idea.

Recognizing that the cliche of PMS for women is a cliche and perpetrates harmful stereotypes about women is there, I know that; I also know living it changes my perspective on this phenomenon dramatically. Example, one may or may not be standing in the freezer section realizing in dawning horror that they are out of chocolate covered cherry ice cream and torn between tears and assembling an army; I am not saying this has happened to me, but so far, HEB has not run out of chocolate cherry covered ice cream either. I cannot promise that I wouldn't start an Occupy: HEB splinter group that will lead a bloody revolution down the frozen food aisle. I may outfit everyone in Vendetta masks, like Anonymous and Occupy got very drunk and had some seriously unprotected sex by the frozen vegetables (where else?) and the monstrous offspring grew to maturity reading feminist literature authored by Vlad the Impaler's sister who paid attention to his penis issues and didn't like it (work with me here).

A friend sent me an email about PMS being added to the DSM V, which I was thinking about in theory until, you know, today and it hit me that I will not, in real life, admit to PMS to save my soul, even though I totally acknowledge it exists for other women. Admitting the cliche isn't entirely false sets up the really strange dichotomy of perpetrating a harmful stereotype (and boy, I have actually read blogs that made me feel guilty about the ice cream, fuckers) while also betraying the entire my body does these things and that's okay. Far easier not even to address it at all than be torn between worrying what I'm doing for all women by admitting homicidal urges (crazy bitch) and worrying I'm like, denying a legit medical condition that I have literally minimal control over other than embrace ibuprofen and time when I will write the scenes that involve blowing up shit to intersect (fantastic stuff).

Combining this with all the nightmares occurring right now with women's health rights, it hits me all over again that every woman is a living, breathing ambassador for her gender/sex, all the time, with every breath they take. I was horribly, bitterly upset with legislation women's rights as introduced by women in a way I'm just not when men do it, because my expectations of men that I did not personally give birth to (read: one) is something less than sea-level. This is because I continue to look at this as just a feminist issue, and I think I need to remember intersectionality because the women who introduced this legislation and most of those who perpetrate it will never be affected by it. And it just hits me all anew how much of this is perpetrated specifically on women to make sex itself an economic issue.

To put it another way; in some states, they are trying to pass the my religion require me to check the state of your vagina and fuck HIPAA, prove your birth control is about anything but preventing pregnancy. Looking at the FPIL (Federal Poverty Income Limit) and doing some quick math assuming basic hormonal birth control, a family needs--very, very roughly--2 to 3 times FPIL to (probably) afford it (I am leaving out so much here it's not even funny, but I'm using my state's median average income and the income limits for Medicaid and Food Stamps to work out a rough equation on how this would work). I don't think any legislation worries about middle to upper class women, who seem to surprisingly not have a child a year; women in middle to upper class also don't have the same problems getting an abortion.

To clarify this, no man or woman who has the power to introduce this legislation will be affected by it. Even a little. Minimum income for legislators is usually well within the buy as you go zone, and I bet you don't know this, but after reading the bill, I don't think it applies to the health care of the actual legislators, which just shocks me beyond words.

Again, all this legislation is about women's reproductive health, which is sexism, no question, but there's this weird current that keeps making me wonder if there's an actual, if unspoken, idea that sex should be--I have no idea how to put this--a reward for personal economic prosperity. Like, you have to work to afford food, shelter, clothes, and the idea that there's an entire facet of the human experience that you can do for funtimes without attaching some kind of tax to it is just wrong. Rush Limbaugh's queries for Sandra Fluke to webcam her sex life was beyond words creepy-creeper sexist, but for me, reading through the transcripts and staring blankly at the destruction of WHP, of Arizona's birth control nightmare, of everything to do with the attack on reproductive rights and I wondered why a party that lip services religion would want, in any way, to institutionalize de facto prostitution, that sex, like shelter, food, clothing, should be something that you have to, in a capitalist society, meet a minimum income level to afford to have.

In related news, AZ Central Political Blog reports that HB 2625 (Jesus says I have a right to know about the state of your uterus) has been pulled from the Senate Rules agenda as of 12:40 AM today. Can anyone confirm I'm reading that as something that happened today?

ETA:

On a more personal note, this has been a very, very bad few months in my vocation, which possibly may have shown up here a few times; the shootings at HHSC local offices, the legislation, watching my former clients, my friends, my family, my community, the working class, single mothers, the poor, being fucked over.

My mother has been a lifelong moderate Republican. This week, she told me today, she changed her party affiliation at the demise of WHP. My mother has never voted for a Democrat in her life; this year, this election cycle, she is voting for Obama.

Last week, I told svmadelyn that I needed just one good thing to happen now; I didn't care what. Arizona tabled a birth control bill that violated human decency as well as women's rights; my mother, born and raised in an intensely conservative Christian household and married to an intensely conservative man, will vote Democrat in the fall.

So I got two.

For very irritating personal reasons that do not need to be explored at this juncture--or possibly ever--I ended my self-imposed ban on Supernatural and started where I left off in season four, which amounts to watching the entirety of season four and the beginning of season five in less than forty-eight hours. Even for my media consumption habits, that's like, a lot, and I feel as if I should like, be slouched in some kind of bean bag chair talking about the colors man. The colors.

I also didn't realize fanfic really understated a few things.

In other news, Child got the first of his three HPV shots and whined like he'd been beaten with sticks that his hip hurt while I stared into eyes that are exactly level with mine, because that shit only works when you aren't officially 5'9", except when seconds later you lose control of your limbs and fall over your feet, at which time fine, I shouldn't have laughed that hard.

My medication was adjusted again and I have an appointment in two months to check again, which may be a warning that Thyroid Bill (ie, my thyroid, new name!) may either not be long for this world or is at least going to embrace sloth as a lifestyle choice more and more.

That reminded me of the debate ongoing between using Temporarily Abled or Currently Abled for the able bodied that pops up every so often; sitting in the doctor's office after the last couple of months of slowly growing lethargy that took off like whoa a few weeks ago to the point where it would take hours to completely wake up even after I got up and went to work, constantly starving and constantly freezing and sixteen hours of sleep didn't ever seem to even touch the huge well of exhaustion made me think my stance on CAB as a working term. Hypothyroidism isn't disabling at all until it is, and even knowing the signs to look for, it still took me literal months to really believe this shit was happening again, that my body lost that little skirmish and I lost a tiny bit of functionality that seems so stupid because it's so small a thing, but it touches everything; how I sleep, how I eat, how I work, how I interact, how I feel, my ability to think. I really should have sat down and played sudoku a month ago; when my speed drops and I can't hold the numbers in my head, it's time to visit the doctor.

Links!

From comments in a recent sf_d post, The Itch, Its mysterious power may be a clue to a new theory about brains and bodies. - advisory for about half of paragraph of very mild squick on page two.

The account of perception that’s starting to emerge is what we might call the “brain’s best guess” theory of perception: perception is the brain’s best guess about what is happening in the outside world. The mind integrates scattered, weak, rudimentary signals from a variety of sensory channels, information from past experiences, and hard-wired processes, and produces a sensory experience full of brain-provided color, sound, texture, and meaning. We see a friendly yellow Labrador bounding behind a picket fence not because that is the transmission we receive but because this is the perception our weaver-brain assembles as its best hypothesis of what is out there from the slivers of information we get. Perception is inference.

I'd not sure how to summarize this; using several accounts, they put together an intriguing theory that may cover problems as diverse as phantom limbs and obsessive scratching as a problem not with nerves or a mental illness, but a misfire in interpretation of sensory data. I need to research this more.