Oh God I gotta read all this

Get ready for a lesson in boredom.
3 guesses what this fucking blog is about.

i'm not very good at understanding friendships. i am really good with boundaries primarily because i'm cautious as shit. it was really recently that i found some of my friends really liked getting physical, so i went from "i only touch and fuck my (now ex-)girlfriend" to "i cuddle some friends, i compliment and am affectionate to a lot of my friends, i have fucked some friends, i have made out with some friends" etc. etc. etc.

and it's very confusing.

Entitled "one moment while I say this" like anyone cares.
Ever been in a college class and there's that person that prefaces every answer with a personal story?
Welcome.
Welcome to that in blog form.

i can't tell what the hell love is. romantic love, specifically. i just kind of show mass affection for the people in my life as a whole, but focusing on a single person, making one person special, that's really difficult. and i suspect the answer may be just stopping the physical affection. making it so that i focus on a partner, you know?

This is about the time you start affixing labels like they're going out of style.
I'M A POLYAMOROUS SEX-POSITIVE CISGENDER--

i've recounted this story to friends enough to feel tired of talking about it, so i will just keep it brief.

i work at a book sale on campus; i've done this used book-selling job for the past two years. and this year, for the big big sale this past month, i worked bag check. and by chance i was assigned to partner with a new girl. and by chance this new girl and i got along really fucking well. she and i seemed to immediately form a total understanding. i have a number of neurotic tendencies when i meet new people; i micromanage the conversation, i overlook how i'm coming off, i try to control the image from the inside. and after the shift, when she wanted my number to keep in contact and to go out for coffee, she did the same thing, and it was refreshing to just say that it's totally fine. i'm the same way.

So I guess this is a guy but goddamn.
Like I still can't believe it.

and this continued into a lot of areas regarding thought patterns; i mean, we have a lot of differences in how we use technology, the books we like (to a degree), etc. etc. i got the impression at first that she was crushing, but apparently how she acted -- playfully, physically affectionate -- was just platonic. and i felt okay with this, after we clarified everything. but a part of me is like, well, shit, sophia, are you crushing on a straight girl?

Oh.
I'm glad, actually.
Good. It's a woman. At least we know sometimes up is up and down is down.
CRUSHING ON A STRAIGHT GIRL!?
Are you sure you're in college?
You just used "crushing" as a verb and you didn't mean to press.
This is like middle school psychology.

i don't know what crushing is anymore.

the fact that i even read what she did as something beyond friendship is just some token of my understanding of male-female relationships; i have had little experience talking to other women, as in, from scratch, who read me as cis.

WOOO LABELS.

it's so easy to wax poetic, to speak like i'm ginsberg, without buddhist transcendentalism or the pedophilia apologism. 

You know it really is easy to wax poetic about pedophilia apologists.
I'm speaking from experience.
As a poet and a pedophile and a pedophile apologist.
Wait--

okay, so, i am beginning to detest the transgender label. but i feel somewhat ashamed of that, because, well, i am transgender. it feels way more right to wave my freak flag, to represent who i am, on a technical level, in reality. it only came to mind a half hour ago, though — i was writing up some kind of biography for this site, and was about to write "trans girl," or "trans lady," or "trans woman," but all of them conveyed a not-me image. it felt like it was giving the reader the wrong idea, the imagination of myself as some tall, skinny, flat-chested person looking for pity? and i mean, that's just my own image, that's just my internalised transphobia, my self-hate. 

So the biological gender iiiiiiiiiiis...
I don't know.
This might be the first time (maybe, don't quote me on that) that the biological gender has been explicitly stated but it's too confusing to read correctly.

but that doesn't mean ditching a label entirely, does it? like — it's not like i am just distanced from the reality of eighteen years of manhood and testosterone, etc. it's that i feel weird about how seeing the words, and not seeing me, can influence people into believing i am less attractive than i am. bam! vanity.

so really, the issue is that inside, i believe i am hotter than the trans label would imply. wow i'm awful.

So biological man who claims to be a straight woman (so that means--)
and--
UHHHHH--

but i can spill some secrets.

i had a girlfriend once; I was seventeen and she was eighteen and we were classmates in a high school film class. the class focused on symbolism and framing and characters, like an applied English class; she focused on me one day and started talking and i focused on her and we fell in love like a recovering agoraphobe. we took a few steps and slowly learned to breathe. 

And like a man with his one week chip from anger management I am quivering with repressed fury.
I was informed by my biggest reader that Monday's entry was phoning it in and I can't disagree so I'm trying to bring it today.
Can you believe that was a fucking serious attempt at an analogy?
Our romance is like a recovering agoraphobe because it's one step at a time and breathing slowly HUE HUE HUE HUE
I mean fuck off, Jesus.

who was i? hard question, i must have been some smug douche: the high school had uniforms, it was catholic, i wore a sweatshirt every day. i had a pea coat and a flat cap and thick black glasses, i had bushy black hair and no facial hair. i was male, but ashamedly so, and i thought i knew everything (i was mistaken; now i know everything).

Oh good.
Glad to see lessons were learned about being a smug douche.

and her? she had hair down to her ass and she was two inches taller than me. we were scared of intimacy but looking for partners. she liked Monty Python so I bought the complete collection to fake interest. we went to libraries and watched movies together and slowly grew closer together; her mother's couch cushions felt like opposite shores at first but easily turned into street block demarcations and then individual sidewalk pieces. it was easier to meet; and we were stuck.
but so much happened. university, and I had to gender transition, and her mental illnesses were coming to a head. we needed each other but it was destroying our self-care.
she dumped me last month and we fucked in her back seat a week later

This is a great story.

and we're meeting again tomorrow, after a week of her telling me to never talk to her again
christ, anonymous, I love her but I don't know where my head is. I envision us as this super cool duo of hot ladies, sipping coffees and reading cool books and dismantling the patriarchy okay I realise that phrase has become diluted and cheapened by casual use. 

Jesus Christ can you believe that was a sentence someone typed?
Like in all your years
of living on this earth
as a person
did you ever think you'd read something that pretentious?

but in this fantasy are we lovers or friends? or lovers and friends. or lovers but friends.
I don't know where the lines are or what they mean, I just want to keep her safe from harm and fuck her brains out. I just want to laugh with her and make out on the couch.
I want us to be the beautiful art that creates other beautiful artworks
one big tribute to some creator; but let's face it, I made myself — body and identity — myself. 

I WANT TO BE BEAUTIFUL ART
come on, me. If this wacko can get a girlfriend surely I can manage somehow.

and what am i doing here, you ask. you are me, but you are also a potential reader, god save your soul. i am yet another pseudo-intellectual twentysomething transgender woman on livejournal; i am the antidote. 

Antidote?
To fucking what?
You know any antidote taken in excess becomes poison.
I kind of feel like that's where we are now with this kinda blog.
There's so much of it surely the wound has become septic and it's time to just cut blogging from the internet entirely.

i am implausibly awake at 3 in the morning and i possess a 6am wake time. i am a masochist, a beautiful disaster, and i have feelings to share; we all have spare blood to shed and the internet has so many containers for it. the internet is not a series of tubes it is senseless bloodshed and the emotions of a billion people coalesced. 

We all have spare blood to shed.
I have no blood.
Instead of blood I have boiling acid and piss.

i have to stop talking to boys entirely, apparently.

is there some kind of sign on my back that says “sophia’s single, boys! have at her!” ? why the hell is it that whenever i just have a conversation with a guy they think i’m picking them up?

i was at the u of t computer shop and got to talking to the clerk about old tech and how i’m nostalgic for 1999 cd burners and then we talked about gattaca and other sci-fi movies and he called a 90s movie “old” and i said that’s not very old, i’m a film major and we look at way older stuff all the time. 

Older than the 90s?
Impossible.
Also who wants to bet none of this fucking happened?

and he talked about how at sheridan he used to make movies and then gave me his contact information to “talk movies sometime, i know a lot about movies, trust me, ok see you film major girl”

and then i went to the robarts media commons like right after and watched ‘mean streets’ to try and catch up in some capacity, and the guy beside me started talking about how he couldn’t understand his film much, so i try and talk it out and help him like critically engage with film and then when i was done my film and i left he came out and we kept talking and then when i said i had to go home he said “can i take you out to dinner” and my mind went, what

Don't end sentences on italics, thanks.
Blogger has difficulty taking no for an answer once they're on.
Also: none of this shit happened. I was making a joke before but now I am 100% convinced.

and i didn’t know how to shake him, i didn’t want to break his heart. i let him have my number and told him my name and he said he liked my last name and i said i don’t really like it, it’s so italian, and he asked if i was italian and i said i’m half italian and half french and he said “oh that’s why you’re so beautiful” and i’m like no stop hitting on me please i am not in a headspace to date right now and he said no pressure, take it easy, he kept touching me and saying take it easy, and said i’m so interesting, i’m so fascinating, he really wants to take me out sometime, it’ll be great.

and now he’s texting me and i just don’t know what to do, a boy has never asked me out before
Oh I know a good way to shake them:

I HAVE A BIG SWINGING DICK WITH 8 INCHES OF FORESKIN.
Also you might not have noticed due to the sneaky way I don't copy entire entries (ain't no one got time for that) but the second-to-last entry was actually the intro entry.
Because, you know, talking about getting hit on by boys (!) is far more important than a proper introduction.
Further proof this shit didn't happen.
Also har har not to cut an entry short or anything but that is the end of this blog.
I have read all there is.
I wrote a paragraph about banning transsexuals from this blog but then I realized I'd have nothing to review so I deleted it.
Never mind, never mind.
Also I tried to find something as pretentious and fucking gay as this blog and I think I did it.
Yeah that's Kajagoogoo.
But wait, you might be saying. Kajagoogoo isn't obscure. They had their one hit called Too Shy.
Yeah that's true, I'd say, but this is their OTHER HIT.
Oh yeah, Kajagoogoo. The one hit wonder with two hits.
Also I realized in my desire to phone it in as hard as I could I forgot yesterday's song of the day.
Well. If Kajagoogoo got you rock hard it's not too late to start bringing yourself to climax.
Like I realized yesterday you're not getting the full experience of what it's like to listen to music with me.
Kajagoogoo, Girl's Generation and Geto Boys will often play back to back to back or combinations that improbable.
Ohhh goodness.
Anyway fuck blogs.

The Gaze

Oh boy here it is--

This is a fully-public journal starring a 41-year-old American expat in Ireland. I'm polyamorous and a pagan atheist- a naturalist really.

Pagan atheist, what?
I know agnosticism runs rampant in Pagan circles but wouldn't a Pagan atheist just be someone who has read the Odyssey?
Also what the fuck is polyamorous?
Like I know what the word, broken down, means but what is it actually?

I have Asperger's syndrome (among other more-or-less invisible disabilities), a son with Asperger's and a daughter with autism. I'm currently fighting- and winning- a long (nearly lifelong) battle with severe refractory depression. 

Them hits keep rolling.
I just looked up polyamory and apparently it's someone who has multiple partners in an open relationship kinda thing--
Yeah, I believe it.
You have a harem.
Got it.
Loser.

BTW, if anyone wants to add me on Origin, my ID is lilirose72. I log in as invisible but I have Origin (and Steam, where I am lilirose_ie) running as long as my computer is on.

That's like the most feminine username ever.
What it is with you?

Okay, I am catching up on my reading list after all, because Origin didn't save my game installers to my data drive, even though I told it to, and so I am having to download Sims 3 

>Sims 3
>father of 2 children
>father
WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH THIS BLOG?

I'm here on the old clunky laptop, for tonight, watching six million Windows updates because I haven't turned this machine on for months. 

Who the fuck updates windows?
What planet is this?
Is this the real life?

I don't think I will set it up tomorrow because I plan to do a million things to work out precisely what's wrong with my PC.

After reading the entry it sounds like a RAM issue.
What kind of FAGGOT has a computer issue today?
Especially monitors breaking.
Ha ha am I right?
AM I RIGHT OR WHAT?
;_;

What is your first memory?

I have no idea how old I was, but I wasn't two yet. 

No one has memories from then fuck off.

I guess a lot people have joked about "manflu", which is when a man is slightly ill and lays in bed moaning about how they feel like they're dying, etc.

Well, I'm not a man, but I get manflu.

Ohhh not actually a father.
Ha, ha you sure fooled me with this entry.
I read "manflu" and I said "holy shit this is a dude."
Should have kept reading--
And paid attention to all the signs that pretty much pointed to it being a woman--
but in my defense how many times has that not been a clear indicator?
More often than not.
It's gotten to the point where the most logical thing to do is assume the opposite of whatever the clearest choice is.

What's your favourite quote?

Eeek, this one is so hard- there are so many I love. But I guess the one I keep coming back to is the Litany Against Fear from the Bene Gesset in the Dune series:

"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain."

You're not allowed to have a cool favorite quote.
After all that other shit I have deemed it.

I have a feeling I'm about to get into an oddly polite battle with S.'s teacher over reading material.

S., who once had a very severe language delay (which is now mild instead of "severe") has had some problems with reading comprehension. Especially when she's made to read things that she doesn't find interesting. She just tunes out, as any smart kid would do, and then can't answer questions about what she was forced to read, because her language skills aren't quite good enough to let her pretend that she was paying attention.

Welcome to life I guess.
Fuck blogging.

DEJA VU

This blog seems familiar to me. I don't think I've reviewed it, though?
I could check but let's not do that. I think it's best to let me go until I catch myself.
Pantryslut.
This seems so familiar--

1. I found my copy of Les Miserables. For some reason I feel compelled to note here that I am not a fan of the musical and that's not what inspired me to pick up this tome -- I have been meaning to read it for decades, actually, since before the musical became popular. I think I say this partly out of reflexive "I'm not trendy" punk attitudes, but also partly so you all know I am not going to be disappointed that it takes a full novel's worth of words before we even meet any of the more famous characters. And that's before the digressions about the sewer systems and such.

>1200 pages
>takes decades to read
just admit it's boring and you don't like it and you don't have to like everything classical just because academia tells you to.
I don't like Shakespeare. I think he's overwrought, his plays have serious pacing issues and all of his underlying ideas are ripped right from Dark Age writers with barely a thought given to adapting the underpinning philosophies of them for a then-modern audience.
He was a competent dialogue writer.
Know who else writes competent dialogue?
Stephen King.
I don't like Stephen King's writings either but he seems like a decent enough dude. I don't have a problem with him.
But to call him the Bard and devote high school classes to him?
I think not.

3. I love that Les Mis can be considered lightly abridged when one leaves "only" 100K words out of it. (I am reading the whole unabridged enchilada.)

For the record: 120-130k words is considered a full length novel.
You can omit an entire novel of text from Les Miserables and it's still considered only lightly abridged.
So clearly Victor Hugo had trouble getting to the fucking point.

A zillion and a half of you have probably already seen S. Bear Bergman's article in Slate today, on "gender-neutral" parenting and suchlike; if not, it's here.

Link cut because not on my blog--
and clearly EVERYONE is up on the latest gender-neutral parenting techniques.

In my very early 20s, I was deep into fairy-tale revisionism. Especially feminist fairy tale revisionism. Back then it wasn't as popular as it soon became, and most of the examples of what I was interested in were poetry. Lisel Mueller. Sandra Gilbert. Olga Broumas. Anne Sexton, of course. Of course.

Of course.
Rape rates in India?
Nah man, we're about women's rights here. Revising 3000 year old stories.
The amazing thing to me is how I'm an asshole for not caring about this shit while feminists ignore actual issues women have.

I've talked about this a little bit before, about how fairy tales offer both an alternative logic to organize stories around than the usual narrative thrust, and how fairy tales teem with ordinary girls being active. I was constructing my alternative canon, even though I didn't know it at the time.

Many of these texts -- and the spec-fic stories that were soon to follow, which I also read a lot of, hello Tanith Lee I still heart you like blazes -- liked to posit what happened after "happily ever after." What happened after the end? What really happened?

Also in my early 20s, I ran across a magazine called On Our Backs. I was smitten. (I blame photographer Phyllis Christopher, mostly). I was struck with a dream. It was a silly dream and I didn't take it seriously -- not to the letter, anyway. It was meant more symbolically. Someday, I would move to San Francisco. I would move to San Francisco and I would work for On Our Backs.

(I also thought I would go to grad school. I won't tell you here how many times and types of programs I've applied to. Just to put a pinprick in the way this is about to sound.)

Yes the heavy hitting issues.
I'm going to be a bigger women's right activist than almost every individual blog on Dreamwidth today:
I think rape in India is a serious problem that needs intense scrutiny and assistance from watchdog agencies and human rights organizations.
I know I've shit on raising awareness before (because it doesn't do anything) but at least I've actually talked about a serious issue women face and shouldn't and it has reached more people than read an average Dreamwidth.
Me: 1
them: 0

I moved to San Francisco in 1996.

In 1998, I went to work for the newly revived incarnation of On Our Backs.

In 1999, I quit after they failed to promote me.

Here's where the story ends.

What next?

Well, at the time, I got picked up by Black Books and spent five or so happy years doing lots of different tasks for them, from proofing manuscripts to editing anthologies to tons of publicity work. I also ran sex parties, which were our main fundraiser.

I ran sex parties for a while even after Black Books went bankrupt. And then I got pregnant and stopped. And the world changed, and the world moved on, and the owner of Black Books jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge last year, and I am still here, once again trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. With my time. With my talents.

"talents"

5 Must-Haves for Absolutely Fabulous Sex

Turkey baster--

1. Easy and Affordable Access to Reliable Birth Control

It's no coincidence that the so-called Sexual Revolution debuted shortly after the invention and dissemination of the Pill. And don't think social conservatives haven't noticed this, too, and this of course is behind their attempts to roll back access to birth control of all sorts. Pregnancy is only one of many health perils associated with partnered sexual activity and it's only a risk if you engage in a very narrow – but very fun – range of sexual acts with parts that are biologically compatible for facilitating human reproduction, but still. Even if you don't have any cause to use it yourself, birth control, cheap and easy, means more fun for everyone. A rising tide floats all boats, as it were.

THE MORAL DECAY
OF AMERICA
>implying societies didn't have (relatively) sophisticated forms of birth control since the Roman days
someday people will finally learn that there really is no new idea.

2. Affordable and Accessible Child Care

So, you used those anatomical parts of yours to facilitate human reproduction anyway; that doesn't mean you're not still entitled to a robust and varied sex life. As many people in this room already know, I am a parent of twins and thus this issue has particular relevance to my life at the moment. But seriously, folks. Child care. 

So you didn't take the cheap birth control effectively and now it's the state's fault?
Take care of your own fucking kid you spoiled prat.
That's a British term I am desperate to shoehorn into American language, incidentally.
That and poofter are the two terms I regret not being able to say unpretentiously.

So you can go see the gynecologist when something's up down there or you can get to the imaging lab when it's time for your annual mammogram. Actually I think my mammography lab does have a little waiting room with coloring books off to the side. But it also has a quiet room with waterfalls and plush white robes and lots of oversized photo prints of flowers and butterflies. You know. In case standing around half-naked without your bra on doesn't make you feel feminine enough. But I digress.

But while I'm digressing, how about number three?

That's not child care.
That is prenatal care.
Hey I'm not about to tell a mother what's what on birthing babies but you know you probably should check your terminology a little.
I've learned in these past few weeks that to a feminist words can mean whatever the fuck you want them to mean and dictionary definitions are for the patriarchy but seriously child care and prenatal care and neonatal care are different things.

3. Universal Health Care

Because being able to pay for annual mammograms and trips to the gynecologist and a little prostate probing and whatnot is really quite handy when it comes to maintaining a long-term healthy and happy sex life.

Hey, I can hear you thinking. Isn't this mission accomplished? Didn't we just get that, along with a buggy government web site and an ugly and stupid Congressional tantrum and all that? But no, dear listeners, I am not referring merely to the Affordable Care Act, better known as Obamacare. I am talking universal health care. I want single-payer and I want the death of insurance companies and their metaphorical heads mounted on pikes. Yes. I want well-funded public health initiatives and I want vaccines and I want everyone to get equal coverage because I'm a radical like that. You were starting to get that clue, right?

Good, because number four is…

>Metaphorical heads
WHY NOTHING WILL EVER CHANGE IN THIS COUNTRY.

4. Guaranteed Minimum Income

Because nothing is quite the bone-killer as economic insecurity and anxiety. Except maybe actual poverty. So yes. Food stamps help you get laid, but they're not enough. A guaranteed minimum income would relieve so much misery and allow us some of the leisure time needed to pursue truly fulfilling sex lives. Or at least practice masturbation until we've really got it right. Right? Because nobody should have to choose between lube, and food.

That just leaves…

What does this have to do with sex, again?
I can't believe it took me until #4 to realize this but what the fuck am I reading?

5. An End To Rape Culture

Not, please note, an end to rape – although that's certainly helpful too – but an end to rape culture. That is, a social culture which defines some of us as sexual actors…and some of us as sexual objects. And you don't have to be concerned with objects granting consent, see? They're objects. What's more, only some folks even get to aspire as high as objects – if your body or your gender or your personality is nonstandard – or you're old -- forget it. So. An end to a culture in which it's OK to say something like "I'll donate a hundred dollars to breast cancer awareness if you let me motorboat your boob." Does that not seem like a clear-cut example of rape culture to you? Think it through. 

Surprising fact about this entry bullshit non-entry about sex but is really just a thinly veiled attempt at pushing an agenda: I've cut about 2/3 of it out.
Oh yeah she goes on.

The hardest thing about Simone's gender identification stuff is dealing with stereotype threat. God, how I loathe the mere idea of being seen as one of "those parents." Forcing her whacko ideals onto her poor defenseless child. It would be so much more humane to tell the dear, "no, you're just a girl," or at the very least, to pick one and stick to it.

So do that?
If it's humane, you know, she's like 5 or 6 so she might need some guidance.
If you just say "do what you think" then how will that go when she can't do what she wants?
As a kid I had all sorts of weird thoughts.
A part of growing up is getting a better perspective on life.
Along with killing all sense of childlike wonder.

The second hardest is dealing with gender policing from other children. Adults are no sweat. Other kids -- especially kids older than mine -- are tricky. A&S look up to older kids. They believe what older kids tell them. They're more skeptical of adults.

Yesterday it was April's turn to get gender policed. She was wearing Spider-Man shoes and a boy on the bus told her those were for boys. She laughed like it was the funniest joke in the world. Dodged another one. So far, so good.

No light up shoes or shoes with roller skates in them. If I can't wear anything that awesome you're not allowed to either.

1. My father has been reading Proust as part of his "now that I am retired I can Read All The Great Books" project. However, it turns out that Proust is the perfect example for my father of why hewing closely to the canon is not always so rewarding. He reports that he finds Proust a great stylist, but he is repelled by the author's nostalgia for a petit bourgeois upbringing that shows no awareness of the suffering of others such a life is predicated upon. I am laughing up my sleeve, dear readers. 

COME
LET US ESTABLISH A NEW CANON.
So we've got Homer, of course.
Dante--
Dumas--
Machiavelli--
Marcus Aurelius
Julian--
Musashi.
Luo Guangzhong.
Wu Cheng'en.
Julius Caesar.
Virgil.
Cao Xueqin.
Herman Hesse.
Frank Herbert.
William Gibson.
George Orwell.
John Milton.
Eiji Yoshikawa.
Jorge Luis Borges.
Yukio Mishima.
Catallus.
Ludovico Ariosto.
F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Gore Vidal.
Robert Graves.
Bram Stoker.
Arthur Conan Doyle.
Edgar Allan Poe.
Dan Abnett.
Robert E. Howard.
H.P. Lovecraft.
Robert A. Heinlein.
Isaac Asimov.
Arkady and Boris Strugatsky.
There we go.
I think that's a solid basis.
Yeah that's a fairly multicultural list, even. Should keep the pussy sensitives happy--
No women, though.
Well they'll be happy for a second until they realize that.
Got a few modern (ish) writers.
Oh this blog.
I did review this. Turns out the person is some kinda gender something or other I can't keep this shit straight.
Well welcome back. There are about 15 people who regularly post to Dreamwidth so expect to encounter them.
Blogging is dead as dead.
There's the other entry.
Not even that long ago--
Fuck.
2 of you kants already read this so you'll miss where I go back and edit it because I forgot the song of the now.
Unless you're diligent and reread.

TITS

I keep clicking cuts expecting typical wahms whining about drivel and I keep getting met with tits.
I'm not complaining. If this is the new face of blogging I am on board 100% but it does make reviewing blogs difficult.
Anyway this garbo looks good enough I guess.

Here's a poll:
I always assumed "Can't see the wood for the trees" meant

It means you get too bogged down in details to see the big picture.
wood : big picture :: trees : details.

 Can't see the forest because I'm too busy looking at the trees

72.7% of people agree this is the right answer.
Sounds like 17.3% of people failed the SAT analogy section.

Can't see what they're made of because I'm too busy looking at the trees

A wood is an anachronism meaning "woods".
In modern days we typically pluralize it no matter what (sort of like "pants" but there was an era where each pant leg was a separate article of clothing) so I think the answer has less to do with the material than it does the woods.
It makes less sense that way, too.
I don't mean to be an asshole about this but come the fuck on.

If you were trying to categorize, not how people label themselves (because people often use very different labels for different reasons), but what their beliefs were that might fall loosely into theist/atheist/agnostic/ignostic/christi

an/etc, what questions would you ask?

Lots of obvious questions are sort of bad -- eg. "do you believe in God" varies a lot, because people disagree about what counts as "god", and even disagree whether people do disagree or not.

Considering the main criteria for being a theist or atheist is whether you believe in a god or not avoiding that question to determine whether you do or don't seems a little pointless and impossible.

Also it's perfectly possible to be agnostic and religious.

Agnosticism just states you don't know for certain if your belief is true.

Agnostic atheist, gnostic atheist, agnostic theist and gnostic theist are your only choices.

Agnostic atheist says there is no god and I'm not sure about this

gnostic atheist says there is no god and I know this to be so

etc.

COME ON PEOPLE FUCK.

When I'm cycling, I find it difficult to look directly behind me. I'm not sure how much this is (a) glasses covering only middle field of vision (b) not being confident enough in my balance and (c) an inherent defect in non-owls.

I generally feel safe looking over my shoulder to see if there's a car about to overtake. But I can't see far enough to see that the road's completely clear behind me, and I don't feel confident seeing whether there's another cyclist there (so I can stop or do a u-turn).

Are wing-mirrors an actually sensible solution to this? Or should I practice turning safely more? Or something else?

GET ON A FUCKING BIKE PATH YOU SELFISH ASSHOLE.

Motherfuckers got places to be, man!

I have to get to work. I can't spend a minute trying to overtake your ignorant ass.

Some sentences are ambiguous without a serial comma. Eg. "To my parents, Ayn Rand and God."

Some sentences are ambiguous with a serial comma. Eg. "To my mother, Ayn Rand, and God."

I imagine there are cases where knowing that the author always uses the same style makes it not ambiguous (or makes it ambiguous?) but I can't be bothered to think of any.

WHO THE FUCK CARES?

Dear Science Fiction Author,

I love humorously circuitous circumlocutions as much as the next Three Musketeers fan, but even I have to admit that "increased the rate of those incidents by a power of two" could more easily be written as "doubled". (Or if you mean, by a higher power of two, or if you mean "squared", then I think you're using numbers wrong.)

Love Cartesian Daemon

Eat a bag of shit, cunt face.

Mark 4:2-20 Parable of the Sower

Oh good.

No, here's a good Biblical parable (for once):

HERE'S A BEAUTIFUL STORY ABOUT HOW IT DOESN'T MATTER WHERE YOU START

IT ONLY MATTERS WHERE YOU END.

I have no clue what this idiot is trying to argue.

All it's saying is that some farmers have fewer seeds to sow but end up with a crop large relative to what they plant whereas some have a lot of seeds to sow and end up with a larger crop relative to the other guy but it's all pleasing to God because they all did their work like God asks versus dumb fucks who didn't try and are now starving.

KEEP IT SIMPLE SHIT FUCK.

I've always had a strange mix of being arrogant and being insecure, both of which can be extremely annoying. But I had an idea about what the difference is.

I think, like many stereotypical smart-as-children people, I expect to have exceptionally high talent. If someone tells me a puzzle, or sets me a challenge, I expect to be able to do it easily and have people say "wow, you did it ten times faster than anyone else". 

Some wise man once said the only prayer you should give to the gods is to pray for a challenge worthy of your skill.

I've been playing a lot of draw something[1] and this has led to drawing lots of stick figures.

And I realise that I fell into the traditional trap of using an unadorned stick-figure for for a generic person, but also for "man", and using a stick figure with a skirt for "woman", because those are the most recognisable.

And I really don't like doing that. What SHOULD I do?

Stop being a pussy.

How's that?

Fuck this guy is boring. What a pseudo-intellectual twit.

Anyway here is our song of the day.

I wish I could do that to this blog.

Is this the future?

The guy who made Twitter is "revolutionizing the way we read and write"--
that's not quite right. I was listening to public radio today (because the dial fell off my radio fuck you) and here's how this website was billed to me: changing the way you read and write forever.
Like whoa. There have only been a few innovations in reading and writing in history. Is this really that time?
Scrolls to codices, codices to bound books, St. Augustine realizing you didn't have to read out loud like a twat and you could keep your lips shut while reading, the printing press--
maybe arguably eReaders but I contend that's more a delivery system than an actual reading and writing innovation--
AND NOW, MEDIUM.
What the fuck is Medium?
It's Twitter and blogging and news folded into one.
Isn't that just Yahoo News, then?
This is an invention of the dude who invented Twitter so this is pretty much just Twitter again and no one seems to give a shit because unlike Twitter where you can act self important and pretend like everyone on earth cares about how good Panera was for lunch Medium appears to have something approaching quality control.
So the invention is Yahoo News again and it's further blurring the line between news and entertainment and I'm somehow supposed to be amazed.
I don't get it.
Anyway we're just going to read through some articles since it's basically blogging.
I'll link each article if you care to follow along (no one does).
So without a single thought to my own safety let's dive right in.

There wasn’t any touching or overt sex talk. But it was still harassment—just harder to talk about.

Sexual harassment often goes unreported because of fear: fear of retribution, fear of losing friends, fear of professional backlash, fear that no one will believe you. 

People are assholes.
Grow a set.
Nope don't care about this.
One neat feature is it tells you how long the article should take you to read so I'm going to time how long they say and how long it takes me to "read" it.
This article: 7 minutes.
Me: 15 seconds.
Here's "Assume Good Will"
Time to read: 4 minutes.

“Don’t you just hate Obama? He’s such an idiot.”

I was 18 years old and desperately trying to impress my new friend from Texas. I’ll never forget his response:

“Well, hate is a pretty strong word, and I have a hard time believing that the President of the United States is an idiot. I might not agree with him on a lot of issues, but I certainly don’t hate the man.”

Fisher and I would go on to become the best of friends, and that is largely due to how genuinely thoughtful he is when it comes to everything—not just politics. Thanks in part to Fisher, over the next four years, I challenged myself and my beliefs in an effort to build a strong foundation upon which I could stand in the world. This resulted in finding my way from the far political right to the very center—often struggling with compelling and opposing viewpoints. It was through simple attempts at human understanding that I was able to make the greatest progress.

With the Federal Government currently shut down, political gridlock gripping Congress, and hyper-partisanship at an all-time high across the country, I think the world could use more empathy.

>Empathy for politicians
time to read: 28 seconds.
Jesus Christ I've been sitting here for 2 hours doing everything but update this blog.
Medium is really uninteresting.
This is the future of reading, is it?
Fuck reading, then.

Power dynamics need to change, women also do not have to put up with: “Hey, nice smile!” “Not only are you smart, you are beautiful!” “You look good today in that outfit.” “Nice story — did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?”

Never compliment women.
Got it.
How to get a girlfriend.
Step 1: fuck off to a place where they don't interpret benign compliments ("nice smile") as rape.
Here's a fucking rad story about rehab that kinda makes me regret making fun of this shitty website.
Bro you deserved a better platform than fucking Medium for this garbage.
Fuck me I meant for this to be a big expose on this piece of shit Medium but I feel the life draining from me slowly as I read this.
Like as I read it I'm suddenly keenly aware of my own mortality and how much fucking time I've wasted on this crap.
I feel myself literally dying right now.
I need to inject Red Bull into my dick or something to recover from the lethargy I'm feeling right now.
UUUUUUUUUH nope I'm out.
Song of the now.
Why is this the song of the now?
BECAUSE I WISH I COULD FEEL FUCKING ANYTHING RIGHT NOW.

Thanks for fuck nothing

Jack had this to say in one of my recent entries:

Hahaha. If some random on the internet pisses you off that much, you need to take some midol and have a lie down.

Harrrr good work stealing one of my jokes, dipshit.
Then when I check to see if you have a blog I can make fun of I see your account is fucking empty.
So either I already made fun of it on Livejournal and you're the one who needs a Midol or you're a pussy who better check yourself before you wreck yourself.
Also thank you, Jack.
Anyone reading this can say GREAT POST I LAUGHED A LOT but for me to piss you off so much you had to bitch at me about it?
Wow that's like a real accomplishment.
That took additional suffering on your part to tell me that.
So thanks. Bang up job.

So the dealer is upping the antidepressant and I see him again in two weeks.

Always a good start to a blog.

I hate the pain scale. Y'know the one. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad does it hurt?" It's relative bullshit.

I had a compound fracture in my left wrist. Chipped off a piece of my radius. I looked down at my wrist, saw that it was dislocated, and tried to push it back into place. I stopped when I felt it grinding against something. I then picked up my fifty-pound bike and walked a mile home. I passed out about halfway. Dunno how long but after I came to I picked up the bike and walked the rest of the way home. I have a plate in that wrist now. You can feel it. Used to be able to feel the screws where the came out the other side of the bone but that's calcified over by now.

3edgy5me bro

So.

Here's where I open up and tell the entire internet what I haven't told anyone for two solid weeks.

I've been suicidal.

Not my normal "Gosh, wouldn't it be lovely if a meteor fell out of the sky and landed on me" suicidal, more like "I have a lot of shotgun shells. But I can't use the shotgun because I promised James I wouldn't. Damn it. The trigger pull for the Mosin is probably too hard for my toes and anyway I don't know where I put the ammo for that" suicidal.

Breach loader, yeah?
I mean not to encourage you or anything.

I seriously considered withdrawing from all my classes and checking into a psych ward today.

I'm not going to. That's running away and I am stronger than that. But the fact that I seriously considered it terrifies me.

SENSING A THEME YET?

Sometimes I wish mental illness was contagious. Not the lifelong debilitating form I've got, just that I could swap out with someone sane for twenty-four hours. They get to experience what it's like firsthand and I get to function. Win/win, right?

I'm a horrible person, aren't I?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME
READING THIS ON A FRIDAY NIGHT.
Oh here we go
no subject on this one.
Gotta agree I'm 18 or older--
let's see what this is about (as if I couldn't fucking guess)

So my management textbook has already pissed me off. Under a sidebar that reads "Most Acts of Workplace Bullying Are Men Attacking Women" there is a long rambling thing that does not mention sexual harassment once and ends with four steps to "cope with your bully."

Oh.
Actually I couldn't guess.

It has not been a good month. Somewhere around the beginning the Madness Season hit and hit hard. I faked it. Thought it was situational because there was (is) some stress in my life and the lives of the people around me and I wasn't handling it well so the mental shit must have been related to that, right?

Problem is, if I don't catch it early enough, and I did not, it doesn't matter if it's situational or not. My brain goes spiraling down the garden path and there's really jack shit I can do to stop it except fuck around with medication.

So we fucked around with the medication. We moved two up, then moved one down, then decided it wasn't working entirely and moved me over to something that has similar side effects of possibly coming down with SJS (YAY) with the added bonus of possible seizures. Haven't seized yet so I seem to be good so far. I have to take the new pill every 12 hours. May pick up a keychain pillbox because this is one of the larger pill bottles I've seen.

YEAH THERE IT IS.

I don't know why I'm bothering to post this because I'm damn sure no one reads this at this point but there's a small smidgeon of hope that's the depression talking so here ya go.

I've been oscillating since Saturday. Not yesterday, last week. Not a mixed episode, those are different. Flipping between the poles rapidly. It's fun.

Had a depressive episode on Friday. Reached out for help and it was gladly given and gladly received.

UUUUUUUUH.
So how about that stock market, huh?
Can you believe that shit?

Yesterday was bad. I thought I was doing okay and there was a party I felt obligated to go to so I gathered up whatever shreds of willpower I could find and willed myself as close to sanity as I could. I was still twitchy because I was manic yesterday but I was doing okay at the party until everyone and their fucking dog showed up. 

It's the government closing, you know.
Shaken the faith in the system once again and it has had ripples across the entire world.

All I want is someone to hold me when I feel like this. I want to feel their skin against mine, feel their breath in my ear as they lie to me that everything's going to be alright. Is that too much to ask?

New Pokemon tomorrow.
You guys pumped?
It's going to be off the fucking chain.

I feel like I'm the eye of a hurricane. There's all this drama, all this bad shit going on around me. It's affecting my friends. My friends. The people I care most about in this world.

I don't give a fuck if bad shit happens to me. Bad shit happens to me all the damn time and has my whole damn life. I deal. I get up. I move on. (Okay, I dwell but that's neither here nor there.) But you fuck with my friends?

I will hunt you down. I will kill you in the most excruciatingly horrible way I can think of and, believe you me, I can get pretty damn creative about that stuff. I will then desecrate your corpse.

Avatar choice: Sephiroth from FF7
Easy there, boyo, almost cut myself on all those fucking edges.
You know at first I was thinking "maybe this entry is finally one step too far" but then I read this and I feel better about my decision.
He's just being way too edgy.

But there's no one I can blame for this. No one I can hunt down and slaughter. And it's leaving me feeling weak and incompetent because there's also so very little I can do to help.

This is probably a learning experience but my learning experiences should not come at the cost of my friends.
 I just woke up from a dream that was extremely realistic. Hell, at one point during the dream I blogged about my experiences to help clarify my thoughts. Since I can remember so much of the dream it means it was Important and was trying to teach me something.

Here's what I took from it. I'm a racist and I don't know what to do to change this. I shut up and listen when POC speak and I try to ask questions when I need something clarified but I don't always expect an answer because, hey, I might be catching them on a bad day when they're fed up and they just don't have the energy to educate yet another annoying white man.

Stop calling them POCs.
They're fucking human like you you ignorant twat.
When will people realize this is what is ruining race relations?
THE BEAUTIFUL POCs
No asshole.
They're fuckfaces just like you and your kind. We're all shitty, miserable people.
Also pick one, asshole. Are you 3edgy5me threatening to kill people or are you a special snowflake who sees the noble plight of the POCs?
These are basically mutually exclusive categories.

I am getting real sick of using the transitioning tag.

I am on maintenance medication. Every couple weeks something runs out and I have to get it refilled.

I can tell when the pharmacy has someone new working. I am there that much.

Today, there was this new chick and she thought I was picking up my meds for someone else. On the one hand, ysy, passing! On the other, she technically didn't have to give them to me. I'm lucky that she did.

WWWWWhat
well let's go study the transitioning tag.

So last night I went to a Repo/Rocky double feature shadowcast. And I had a hell of a lot of fun.

But there was a problem. During the intermission I had to pee. So I go to the boy's room and there's this line of urinals and this stall and someone's in the stall and I don't know how to work a urinal and even if I do, what if someone notices I'm packing? I mean, I was at a double feature at the Lakewood so it's unlikely I'll get mugged but that fear is still there.

I know a lot of folks aren't going to get this. The fear, I mean. I'm going to be told I'm being irrational or some such shit. But if you think about it, bathrooms are public places that are truly private at the same time. Trans guys do get the shit kicked out of them for being there. Or worse.

GOT IT NOW.
So what starter are youuu guys picking?
I'm going with the frog.
OH SHIT ALMOST MIDNIGHT MUST POST AAAH
SONG OF THE NOW

Praise Russia

So for a long time I've let this phenomenon go unnoticed. With no thanks these selfless knights of the internet admirably perform this duty tirelessly.
Russian blogs on Dreamwidth are mostly just pictures of tits.
Anyway:
develish1 provided the following reason why this journal should be viewed with discretion: Some of the content here may contain swear words, discussions of, or videos featuring, adult situations, and occasionally adult images which should only be viewed by those over 18.
It is worth noting this is not a Russian tit blog.
Unfortunately.
I haven't read any of it but already I don't like the cut of its jib.
I mean the Russian guy had no warning and whamo, tits.
This fuck gives a paragraph warning before she whines about the new Yahoo Mail.
Who the fuck uses Yahoo Mail in 2013 besides me?
Get a Google Mail.

 Yes we're still in London, and no I still don't have any pics to hand...

Today I awoke to raging toothache again, but given hubby is suffering with his back I was in good company. Since we had plans to meet people today though, we were both determined not to let it stop us and headed off into the city...

We met up with two more of my lj friends today, in the Embankment Gardens, serenityslady who is over from the US and who I'd never met before, and bas_math_girl who is a fellow Brit who we met for the first time a little over two years ago.

WAAAAAARNIIIIIIIIING
SWEAR WORDS
This blog is literally nothing but warnings, whining about bullshit and pictures of David Tenant.
QUICK! Am I talking about this blog or every single blog I've ever fucking reviewed?
"Reviewed"?
Remember when I first started this and I gave actual advice on how not to be shit?

Life is annoying, and confusing....

First the annoying bit;

I still have toothache.

OH SHIT.
SO GLAD I WAS WARNED ABOUT THIS.
TRIGGER WARNING: TOOTHACHE.

Apparently I've discovered a new pet hate tonight, one I've thankfully avoided for the most part, until now it seems....

But I swear...............if I EVER see another instance of this;

"Who would of ever thought?"

when what they actually mean is this;

"Who would HAVE ever thought?"

I may well scream!! Loudly and repeatedly.

Seriously people, I know spoken English is pretty lax these days in many cases, especially among the young (and goddess doesn't that make me sound old) but if you said that to my face I'd still want to correct you, so I sure as hell don't want to see it when I'm trying to lose myself in a fic!

Ok where to start?
Let's start with "spoken English is lax" when "would've" versus "would of" would be largely pronounced the same.
Second who the fuck says "goddess knows"? Like who are you to judge with that level of affectation?

I'm in what I'm told I should call my mid-late 40's.

You're almost 50 goddamn years old and you write fanfiction and are a fangirl for Dr. Who.I don't think you have the right to be casting stones.

Back when I was at school we were still taught English in a way that emphasised correct grammar, sentence construction, and punctuation above all else. I still use an Oxford comma and I'm PROUD of that, no matter what current trends seem to lean towards.

Emphasized*

This fic is definitely not that. There's a lovely slow build to things, with a subtle seduction built in, and yes it's hot, but it's not overly graphic, and is in fact more realistic than most. It still had me reaching for my fan of course, or I wouldn't be singing it's praises. 

WOULDN'T BE SINGING
IT
IS PRAISES.

I've worked for several very large companies over the years, in retail and utilities, so I should be used to this level if corporate idiocy by now, but sometimes they can still amaze me, in all the wrong ways.

Before I start I should probably say that I don't even pretend to understand all the finer points of banking in general, or the legislation surrounding it. This is simply a gut reaction from someone with their own financial problems who is amazed at what she sees....

oh shit
incoming news: banks are corrupt!

Almost every UK bank has received "bail out" money in the last few years, millions and millions of pounds of tax payer's cash diverted their way to help them stay afloat, mainly because if we lose too many of them our whole economy will fall with them.

Ah you are British.
I thought that was an affectation like everything else about you.
In that case I take back correcting "emphasised".
Your grammar is still shit, though.
She never actually gets to the fucking point about what pisses her off about banks.
Lots of shit with sending cards--
How's this?
They steal your money.
There.
Fuck this blog is boring.
I'm going.
Also I forgot last time but the song of the now is this.

I got your Kant right here

Let's get ready for pretention!

To my Republican friends (and you know who you are):

It begiiiiiiins

My sincerest sympathies to you on the death by suicide of your Party.

I'm not being snarky or nasty, I really mean it. The Republican Party has a grand tradition that goes back to Abraham Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt and Robert Taft and Everett Dirksen. I honor and respect that tradition.

The truth is, though, that the Republican Party has been sick for years -- at least since the Nixon Administration. It probably became terminal sometime in the mid to late '80s, though it wasn't clear until the '90s that the Party was cancerous, devouring sustenance to all else in favor of its own growth.

If someone started an apology with "I'm not being snarky or nasty" I'd have his teeth for a necklace.

Some of you probably refuse to believe that your Party is committing suicide. That's understandable. Denial is one of the important stages you have to go through in the grieving process. But you should get through it as quickly as possible.

Others are in the bargaining phase, thinking that if only Obama would make a deal this wouldn't have to happen. But the truth is that it's way too late for any deal of that sort to do the Republican Party any good.

This isn't suicide for either party but assuming it was the death of the Republican party then why wouldn't it be the death of the Democratic party?
Granted this government shutdown wasn't technically their fault most people seem genuinely put off by the government period anymore.

If you like urban fantasy at all, you gotta read this one. 

Nope.

DC Comics: Your chance to break into the big time... ...is to draw a naked woman committing suicide. There are times I'm really glad I don't buy comics anymore, and this is one of them. How can they -- I mean seriously -- not see how disgusting this is? Betcha this would never have happened under Jeanette Kahn.

Oh, wait. She ran the "Kill Robin" 900 numbers, didn't she?

Oy.

What's disgusting about that?
The suicide or the nudity?
The combo?
I guess the implication is it's somehow sexist but people kill themselves all the time.

Some years ago I tried to read Kant's Critique of Pure Reason: I was unable to do so. I might be able to do so having read this book -- which is in itself quite difficult, but which spells out in plain(er) language many of the ideas (as opposed to Ideas, of course) which Kant was striving for in the CPR. 

OF COURSE.
What has happened in your life that you decide to read Kant then post on your Dreamwidth about it?
What occurs that allows those two events in succession to be a good idea?

bobdole is 90 today, and Kay Bailey Hutchison is 70. Celebrate accordingly.

... By doing nothing outside of what you normally do.
Anyway fuck blogs.

Pey Heem

This post is basically just a pretext to show you how awesome I am at trading stocks.
I know there are people with like 300% net profit in this game called fantasy stock trading but fuck them they appear to be professionals.
I am an English teacher with no formal education on this matter.
I've been doing this less than 3 months and 2 of those months were spent flailing around like a moron.
Like when I thought Time Warner was a good investment?
Holy shit.
Proven to be one of the worst trades I have made.
Also I hardly think investing in an EFT that happened to go big and not ever actually playing the game is indication of a good trader.
You could have gotten lucky.
Whereas 80% of my trades have proven successful.
Incredible risk for not much profit but I usually win.
Is it risk when you're usually right?
That's a legitimate question, by the way. I'm not trying to gloat.
Because if that's how day trading usually works I think I see why no one can get a job.
I have a strategy, too.
It's not like I go all in arbitrarily.

I'm a 34 year old environmental scientist; my work is related to air toxics and climate change regulation. I'm also a mother of three boys (ages 10, 11, and 14), and partnered to an excellent nerdy and handsome gentlemen who happens to be my best friend of 15+ years and who happened to move into our lives 2 years ago (and hasn't run yet!) 

Would that be the father of your children or just some poor dope you roped into it?
Because going by how you phrased this it sounds like the latter.

I'm into voluntary simplicity, green living, and gardening, and I spend a lot of time cooking - I'm vegan, although the rest of my family is not. I'm currently trying to reintegrate yoga into my life and learning to run through C25K. I'm trying to teach myself to play guitar. I'm passionate about science and astronomy, and have a love of math.

I'm also a voracious reader and an occasional writer (I'd like to get back to that more when my life is not so crazy).

Yeah, fanfiction and books written for tweens.
Environmental scientist, 34 and mother of 3?
Her reading habits have not matured past middle school.
I would bet all 11.35% of my growth in real money on this.

I have a fondness for poetry. I'm not hugely fannish but I occasionally enjoy reading fanfic (I don't have a lot of time to write it). My current guilty pleasure is Syfy's Defiance. I also am mildly fannish over Avatar: The Last Airbender and Adventure Time, The Walking Dead, and Person of Interest.

BOOM.
See that's what I mean. Is it a risky investment if you know what'll happen?

A couple of days ago, I started looking around the 'net to try to find some good body-positive, even fat-positive vegan blogs, that still focused on providing some healthy recipes (for me this means low-sugar, low-fat, low-refined carbs/processed foods, as I'm predisposed towards diabetes).

Predisposed to diabetes but BEING FAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS.
Also fat positive come on m8 chek urself b4 u rek urself m8

So I've posted elsewhere about it, but yesterday I made it to (and through) the Color Run 5K in Raleigh. L. came along to provide support and take photos, because he is awesome.

When I woke up yesterday morning, I started wigging out because my left shin was bothering me (just below the knee), despite the fact that I hadn't run since Wednesday. But I got ready, and my parents came to stay with the sleepy boys, and then we were off. I had a temporary tattoo that the event organizers had handed out, so I put it on for fun.

The fake tattoo is "happy".
Not even if it washes off am I putting that on my body.

We picked up some athletic tape for my shin along the way, and then we searched for a good while for parking, even though we'd arrived an hour early. Finally, when we arrived, I pinned on my number with giddiness while L. taped my leg. 

Athletic tape.
This is rich coming off the post about why alternative medicine is bullshit.
But athletic tape?
Clearly not a placebo pill in tape form.
Muscle strain likely comes from micro tears so the tape holds the muscle perfectly still and keeps it from tearing, duh.
Dense motherfucker.

I read a blog post today that, for all intents and purposes, would have been an awesome post deconstructing the sexism, body shaming, and unhealthy attitudes in "fitspiration" photos. However, I got sidetracked at the beginning when the author decided his first attempt at humor would be to draw a comparison between the absurdities spouted in the meme he was deconstructing with the image of a mentally ill homeless individual. 

BODY SHAMING.
Also can I get a T-minus on the phrase "this is problematic"?

I haven't linked to the article here because it's really not my intent to write about this particular author or his post. He's just one fish in a very big, big pond of otherwise informed and awesome fish, looking to make a few waves by pointing out the hypocrisy and ugliness that lies beneath society's (ever-thinning) veil of politeness/encouragement. It feels like a lot of would-be-great (often oppression- or ignorance- fighting) posts I've read lately have fallen into the same trap - that you need to write humorously to be heard, and that it's perfectly acceptable to poke fun/randomly rope in an example of mental illness to get a cheap laugh. It pops up in academic posts deconstructing racism, sexism, homophobia. It pops up in amazing geekgasmic posts outlining the fine details of an amazing cosplay costume.

Who cares?
Also "this is problematic" appears in an earlier post but not this one. I searched.
Oh well.
I even quoted part of that post.
It should go without saying I don't read through all the posts I quote.
No human could hope to read all that shit.

I stumbled across an article in Persephone Magazine that discusses the "feminist hat", and am contemplating the ramifications of consuming media and entertainment whose values run controversial to my own.

Persephone magazine is a good name for a feminist magazine.
Queen of the underworld indeed.
SHE'LL TRAP YA M8
Anyway that's the start of this garbo.
I leave you today with the song of the day.
New feature maybe?
Tell me what you think of the idea or the song.
Whatever.
Plz comment ;_;

Yeah I knew

Anonymous said...
I just got done fucking a broad like six months who is like 95% this bitch. Didn't know how deep the rabbit hole was, but should have known I wouldn't like. Hindsight's 20/20, and we're not made of stone (though sometimes I wish it so).

Maybe I oughta read this blog before I get shacked up with terrible broads. Hell, you saved my ass once before.

Cheers!

-A Fan

Yeah you're welcome.
Saving one poor soul at a time. 
Remember: no mercy for the misguided.

 just before I forget that I actually had an idea haha

okay so, Irrbloss has always been a standalone character, but the idea is that he's the embodiment/maker/representation of will-o-wisps, so what if I did more things like that?
I mean irro is and will forever be my baby but amorabosk could be something like the embodiment/maker/representation of forests?

I mean hell I could do that with everything, mist and water and earth and moss
it could be pretty cool.

like, back in the old ancient times, they were all like little gods that helped shape the environment together, but as more and more things grew and became independent and intelligent they've become forgotten and scarce? but they're all still there, more or less. just the world is bigger now so they're disappearing into it.

like, they're the ~old ones~. and the flowers and birds and animals are all the young ones.

Sounds gay and stupid
Also like a knock off of Ents.
Seriously that sounds fucking stupid. Whenever you have to put an idea in writing and say "gee is this a good idea?" It really sounds like you're trying to convince yourself.

Could use a hug. Never intended for this journal to be my [personal/rant/mute] space, but it became that, so that's what I'm gonna use it for.

Alice taken to the emergency.
I texted mom asking if she was gonna watch Sherlock, and she called me saying "No, we're not watching Sherlock, we have to take Alice to the hospital, she's coughing blood", and I said "Then why aren't you already", and she said "We're going to, bye" and I said "Bye".

And then I watched Sherlock.

It's the Reichenbrach episode.

COLD AS ICE.
Also you could use a hug?
Not Alice who is vomiting blood?
I hope Alice is like a cat or something because if not your reaction is remarkably callous.
That's coming from me, who routinely tells people to kill themselves and is only mostly joking.
My sister may be dying of internal hemorrhage but RERUN OF SHERLOCK, WHAT?
I watched an episode of that show, incidentally.
I enjoyed it but it was way too long. Hour and a half an episode.
Granted each season is 3 episodes but I dunno. It didn't feel like I was watching a movie. It just felt like an hour show padded out an extra half hour.
And this is British television, too, so each 90 minute episode is like 88 minutes.

Then I texted her, asking what's wrong with her, and I got back, "Really high fever for 2 days... now vomiting blood..."

I haven't texted back.


I'm relieved I'm having a reaction at all. Which is sick.

I'm a fucking soldier.

I guess Alice is a person.
Also you're a soldier?
Not Alice, vomiting blood?
Ice cold, lady.
Ice.

Sometimes I hate my head.

She'll be fine, because that's how it goes. I notice I have a hard time admitting that I'm worried, because I'm not sure how it feels anymore, but I'm pretty sure I am. Same heavy feeling that I vaguely recall from back then.

Worry. worry worry. there are tears.

Alice may be vomiting blood but Christ forbid you're a bit worried about her.
I see the serious issue here.
Also not worried enough to actually visit her in the hospital or even call.
Flowers, maybe?
Nope.

Okay, caught CSI Miami on tv a few hours ago and have spent the last few hours in a kind of nostalgic haze reading fanfics, because that was basically my life when I was fourteen. RPing and CSI and CSI fanfiction. And Wire in the Blood, but no one remembers that show, so that never had any fic and I had no one to talk to it about and it's still really sadmaking because it's one of the best shows out there.

I remember Wire in the Blood.
Never saw it but I remember the commercials and I remember thinking "what the fuck does 'wire in the blood' mean?"
Guess you have to watch the show.
It's an interesting name, though, so I can't call it shit or anything.
It certainly creates an image.

Musing on the whole LJ/DW thing - right now, definitely in favour of moving here. Everything seems friendlier. The staff, the userbase and the site itself from a using standpoint. It's all a-okay to me whereas LJ has made it clear that they're not listening and that the fandom/RP userbase isn't welcome.

I respect Livejournal for taking a stance against this garbage but man, that's a ballsy move.
Remember when the owner of that brand of champagne, Cristal, said he didn't want black people to drink it?
Like damn, that's 95% of your consumer base.

 Anyway, gonna finish fiddling with this later - icons, styles, all of that good stuff. Still have to create a musebox and accounts for Tulio and my Lodge playground, and start importing the old journals at some point.

In the meantime, I'm going to keep watching Lord of the Rings. And sleep a lot. It's good to be back home. c: 

K BOO HIT ME BACK LATER
Like what the fuck?
This isn't an IM. You don't have to tell me what you'll be doing.
Anyway fuck it made it to the first entry.
I've been having a run of these lately.
They're really douchey but really new.
I guess most people jump ship to Dreamwidth, last about a week then say "nope not losing all my shitty RP posts from Livejournal" and move back to LJ or quit.
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THERE ARE NO MORE SHITTY BLOGS TO REVIEW?