breezeshadow: WTF TIMES ICON (WTFCat)
Apparently I'm posting a lot today; apologies. I just really need to get a rant off of my chest.

TW for end-of-earth apocalypse, sociopathic assholes )

So I think I'm just going to hide his posts, possibly unfriend him altogether. I don't have time for this kind of nonsense.

breezeshadow: FML TIMES ICON (FMLBear)
Traffic on the highway to IKEA? Annoying but whatever.
95lb dresser, need help getting it down? No big deal, it happens. Needing help from a random sympathetic stranger to get it to my apartment? No big deal, just shows that my town is not full of the evil people everyone claims exists.

Can opener won't open can and keeps getting jammed? Attempts to use the churchkey to slice away pieces of can stuck to lid result in can splashing and soup going everywhere?

"STUPID FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT HANDHELD CAN OPENER WHY DO THESE THINGS EXIST THEY NEVER WORK! *wipes up kitchen, tries again with hand can opener, fails, throws thing onto ground and then kicks it*"

I lose my temper over things that matter.

(Though seriously, this thing ALWAYS jams, it's once in a while that I get it to work. WHy do these pieces of shit exist? All they do is make one pop, and then just sit there while the wheel rotates uselessly. EVERY single one of that design that I've found does this. What the hell is the point?)

A part of me half-hopes I broke it because then I'd have an excuse for the OCD to let me buy a new one, but it's solid metal, I imagine it's fine. Which means there will be another day of Me vs. Butterfly Can Opener.


Edit - To make this seem a bit less like I'm slowly going over the edge, here, have something cute:

I want to cuddle it.
breezeshadow: FML TIMES ICON (FMLBear)
So I already had to postpone exercising today. Because last night when I went to bed, almost every last joint I own hurt. And my lower back. And my inner thighs even though that doesn't even make SENSE.

I wake up this morning and ended up laying in bed because I was a) exhausted and b) my shoulders have decided that this? This shit isn't okay. This shit is going to end in a pile of knotted pain that is not solved by trying to stretch them but instead makes them hurt MORE.

Also my elbows are making their presence known (What the fuck did I do to make YOU guys sore?), my left knee is just unhappy probably just to join the fun, my neck is stiff, and all in all I'm wondering if I walked away from bed at night to sleep on a rock.

Hopefully work activities will convince most of these to unknot and sort themselves out, so I can try something low-weight-bearing tonight. But this?

This is why I don't exercise.

First off I don't get endorphins from it, ever, no matter how long I exercise for. I always just end up panting, sweating, and pretty much never with that supposed ":D" feeling you're supposed to get. I think my mother is the same way, we're just genetic flukes like that.

And second my joints can't handle it. Not even stuff that BARELY INVOLVES THEM.


Time to finish my breakfast and start working.

breezeshadow: Is it not adorable? (PumaKitten)
Feeling a bit bitter about some things today -- while plenty of things in my life are going the way I want them to, or at least just progressing well enough, some things still on my mind have me kind of upset and hurt and I'm not sure my method for dealing with it will remove that some, in the end.

In other news:

a) I have freakin' 45 recipes from the internet to go through because Hari can't stop sending me stuff. So: for a month, starting next time I get money, I will be going through one recipe a day, and likely posting them here for my Dinner Time sub-blog. If I gain a few pounds doing this, then MISSION ACCOMPLISHED-- I mean, uh, added bonus.

b) Going to try getting some exercise in my routine to build muscle, because contrary to Gannett's belief, just eating is NOT encouraging my body to do this. At all. I don't even KNOW what it is doing with that food. I miss having even a tiny bicep and I think the only way I can convince my body to put it back is to use it a crapton and trick it into thinking I need it. I really like lifting weights so I may buy some small ones from Target at some point, but for now, swimming once a week for about 15-30min as I can handle, and also just some sit-ups/push-ups. Maybe more of the sit-ups because unfortunately my right wrist is so damn weak that even 15 light push-ups with breaks every 5 may have killed it -.- (I stopped the second it hurt badly, of course). I may also try incorporating a small amount of yoga as well, but that'd be an end-of-the-day exercise routine. It should help my joints if I'm careful.

I swam on Saturday, laps back and forth for 15 minutes, and my legs were SO WOBBLY MY GOD. I love how people think I'm in great shape because I'm thin as fuck when actually I have no fat AND no muscle. Because my body is a moron. My legs are actually the most muscular part of me too.

I'm not going to do cardio because I don't have any fat I need to get rid of. Quite the opposite, I really need to gain fat too.

I don't really know if any of this would be triggering. If it was sorry, let me know how, I'll put up a TW.

I should finish these waffles and drive to work. Probably will wear wrist splint today; had to yesterday (pre-pushups even) because it just suddenly has been hurting. I think the stuff I do at work has it pissy.

Edit - Also guys I have a FULL-TIME JOB. AT A PLACE RELATED TO MY MAJOR. That I can't talk about at all due to the NDA I signed but SERIOUSLY THIS STILL DISORIENTS ME.

Also it's been a little over a month since I moved to CA. I will say that this certainly is not the worst decision I've ever made. I still just can't see myself staying in this state for more than 5-10 years, though; sorry CA, but so far, you have done very little to impress me. Though the cheap electricity is pretty cool. And I do like my apartment in all its coziness. But the $188 to register my car and needing to prove I was freakin' BORN to get a driver's license (I already got one in CT, do you think they just throw them around? .... Yeah okay they probably do) and the horror that is the traffic... Yeah no.

breezeshadow: It's a wolverine, hey! (Wolverine)
I want to slam my head against a wall because of this lovely article. Basically, pregnant women are given a drug, not even tested for this particular use, to "cure" babies of having ambiguous genitals.

The drug has not been tested for this use, yet "the possible benefits are clear: the treatment can spare young girls the potential psychosocial problems associated with having ambiguous genitalia as well as the ordeal of surgery to correct deformities later."

Excuse me, that's a benefit? But it gets worse.

"Research has also suggested that affected women who were treated with dex in the womb show more typical gender behavior than other women with CAH; the latter group tends to behave more tomboyishly and express little interest in having children. New told the Wall Street Journal in 2009 that the treatment further spares parents the "terrifying prospect" of not knowing whether their newborn is a boy or a girl."

Whoa whoa whoa. What are we treating her -- a disorder, or society's gender issues? Since when it is terrifying to not know what sex your newborn is? People have done that for years. Luckily, the article then goes on to say that doctors are not sure that anything is actually being treated.

I'd say.

"Other doctors and researchers have criticized New for introducing gender behavior into the medical prognosis — in two recent presentations on CAH at medical conferences, New offered medical outcome data on prenatal dex alongside data on typical gender behavior. "Maybe this gives clinicians the idea that the treatment goal is normalizing behavior. To say you want a girl to be less masculine is not a reasonable goal of clinical care," says David E. Sandberg, a University of Michigan pediatric psychologist who treats and conducts research on children with CAH."

Yes, I agree.

Best of all?

"Perhaps most controversially, prenatal dex must be given as soon as a woman learns she is pregnant, which is usually several weeks before genetic tests can determine if the fetus is in fact a female affected with CAH — the chance of which is 1 in 8 for parents who already have an affected child or know they are carriers of the genetic disorder."

Well that's great. We don't even know if the fetus is a girl and we're shoving it full of steroids. Great to know. Real great medical practice there.

This gender bullshit is already on my mind because apparently a Cornell Medical doctor is doing surgery to alter the clitoris of young girls to "treat" a disorder.

Normally I'm pretty neutral about this stuff. I don't find a gender issue in every little thing Americans do. But I do find issues with supposed "medical" treatment that is ultimately just parents trying to feel good about having daughters that are more "acceptable". And note, it is always girls going through this shit. Because apparently, a large clitoris or tomboy behavior is "wrong".

Um, pardon me?

The Cornell Medical doctor is doing hordes of unethical nonsense I won't get into, because wailing about him is not my point.

I'm wailing about a system that thinks that "gender issues" is something that the medical field should be concerned about.

It's not.

Children's genitalia shouldn't be messed with for the comfort of normality and yes I am including circumcision in this. If it's not medically required -- and circumcision is NOT -- it should not be performed. End of story. If an adult willingly wants to go through that kind of thing, well fine, I won't stop you, but forcing children and nonconsenting adults through it is screwed up.

And the drugs to help with gender behavior?

Sorry, what? Gender is not biological or medical. Therefore, nothing should be done to influence it medically or biologically. I'm of the opinion that gender shouldn't be shoved on people through society either but hey, one thing at a time.

And the FGM performed for studies by Cornell? Is pretty much another damn gender swipe, because in America, we want women with clean, tidy genitalia to the point that we cut and shave them apart until it looks like a freakin' five-year-old's. Then we turn to the boys and cut them and inflate them because we want clean, MASSIVE men.

What the fuck, America? What the fuck? Personally, shaven pubic areas freak me out. It makes my skin crawl. I threw a pretty decent fit when my then-boyfriend got grossed out because I had hair down there, oh noez. It's supposed to be there, okay, and for pretty decent reasons (unlike leg hair, which is stupid. I don't like really hairy-legged men either so it's not a gender thing.), so I medically don't see any reason to get rid of it, though I may trim it a bit for hygienic purposes.

But this wasn't supposed to be about my private grooming life, so hey! Medical "cures" to ultimately gender-centric issues. Bad.

Real entry possibly after this one, just had to get this out there. I'm a biological engineering major with an interest in biomedical practices, so shit like this really gets me going because it's a) medically unnecessary and b) biologically unfounded.
breezeshadow: Is it not adorable? (PumaKitten)

My car.

My poor car.

I have always told people I hate to drive, that I view cars not as useful machines to get me somewhere but as deadly, dangerous things, that one little mistake could result in the death of someone.

No one died in this accident. But just because I did not pull out far enough, and did not see the 2006 Honda Civic speeding down the corner, she smashed into me as I went to turn.

Just one little, simple mistake.

The turn I was at is obscured by trees, and no one goes the posted 25 mph speed limit. She was probably going at least 40. It's okay. So do I. But I didn't see her, not once that I can recall, and pulled out. I don't know what I did. I remember nothing of the actual accident. I just remember staring at my car smashed up against the other car's right taillight.

My first thought was to go into reverse, pull myself off of her car and free the road. But when I went into reverse and stepped lightly on the gas, my car crunched forward. I put it into parking and, horrified, walked up to the other car. The driver was alive, unharmed, and crying hysterically. A witness called 911, and slowly cars began to drive around us, about a quarter of those who passed by slowing down and asking if we were okay.

The other driver had forgotten her cell phone and I let her use mine. It took me ten minutes to realize I could call my father since I couldn't get in contact with my mother -- her key had snapped in the ignition and so she wasn't even available.

At one point I just sat down and started crying. Of course, the police came shortly after that, and seemed to think I was delirious. No, officer, my life is just THAT strange to have my mother's car being towed, and my insurance card resting at home, since my car had been in the shop almost since I got home.

My cousin came to get me, and he had gone to school with the girl whose car I had hit. I looked at the damage. Her passenger-side headlight was gone. What remained, down to the tire, was smashed and crumbled metal and plastic. I remember scrapes, dents, and scars leading up to where my car was stuck.

The other driver told me to turn off my car, as it was leaking fuel all over the road. I put my keys in my pocket afterwards without even remembering doing so. Everywhere I stepped, my shoes met plastic, glass, metal remains of headlights.

I remember wanting to cry when the tow truck pulled the cars apart. The bumper of my car trailed on the ground, leading a thin white line on the road. My first thought was to warn them about it, but I said nothing, realizing how useless that would be.

Apparently this was the third accident this girl had had with that car alone. She had decided to get a new car, since that one was apparently jinxed.

The police officer gave me a warning. There was a bit of ironic hilarity when, as I explained I had been stopped at the stop sign, the officer had to actually make sure there was a stop sign there. I had already taken blame for it, and I still do. I pulled out, so it doesn't matter if she likely hit me first. It was my fault.

And I HATE it.

I have very poor depth and distance perception. I have a wandering right eye, which is likely the reason for the perception issues. I really can't tell how tall something is, or how far away it may be. I have never had a real desire to drive. My parents forced me to get my license at 17. I have driven only from time to time since, as I do not bring my car with me to school.

This incident only makes me more certain that I should not be on the road. But no one will grant me that wish. If I am going to be an engineer but still live in the rural suburbs, I won't have much choice but to drive, unless I find decent public transportation.

But I'm still going to hope that someday, people will realize that putting me behind a large, fast, dangerous vehicle is a dumb idea, and will finally stop pushing me to "just get used to it" or "get experience" and realize that after the equivalent of two or so years of driving, I have gotten no better.

Did I mention we owe around $200-300 for the repairs my car got before the crash? I had just been picking it up, and had just looked at the cost and thought "Oh, that's no big deal. I can afford that."

And then bam.

Now I have no damn car to get to work, and I feel like in this family I am forced to just smile and nod. My father tells me to "keep smiling".

I'm tired of smiling. I've rarely felt happy since I've gotten home. I hate being home. I don't hear from any of my friends from Cornell, as if I just wink out of existence for a few months. And I don't have enough friends at home to make up for it.

I don't want to be told to smile. I don't want to hear some false happiness about how our family can figure it out.

I want someone to actually acknowledge that maybe I exist, maybe I'm lonely, and stop feeding me happy shit. Because false happiness? It has a terrible stench.

And it doesn't help me anymore.

(Man, imagine if I wrote AG right now? A house would probably fall on Rose May and Mahli as they walk to the coffeehouse. I'll be good to them, I promise.

Also I am perfectly aware that maybe I should try telling my friends I miss them, no need to repeat yourselves KTHX. Honestly, I have no clue how I'm supposed to go to these people and go "Hey, how are you doing, how's your summer, please talk to me" without seeing stalker/desperate/rude, but hey)



May. 13th, 2010 02:55 pm
breezeshadow: It's a wolverine, hey! (RogerAlone'd)
So I've noticed that racism and bigotry is coming back into style, but only very specifically.

If I criticize Israel, then I'm an Anti-Semite.

But if I criticize Iran or Saudi Arabia, I'm just calling for freedom.

If I criticize Christianity, I'm am oppressor.

But if I criticize Islam, I'm just calling for free speech.

If I criticize women, then I don't think women deserve equal rights.

But if I criticize men, I'm just a feminist touting for equal rights.

If I criticize homosexuals, I'm homophobic.

But if I criticize heterosexuals, I'm just calling for equal rights.

If I criticize science, I'm a backwater Bible-touting Christian.

But if I criticize religion, I'm just reasonable and logical.

Honestly. I have seen so many blog posts out there screaming all sorts of generalizations that would be considered racism or bigotry if they weren't aimed at Muslims, men, or heterosexuals. But since they are, everyone just nods and thinks it's a-okay.

It's not.

It stuns me that it's okay -- no, encouraged -- to draw Muhammad with a bomb in his turban, and that we get pissed at Muslims for being mad. How about I go draw Jesus with a bomb in his robes? Oh, you're mad? Why? It's just freedom of speech! And don't give me that crap that Christians wouldn't call for my death; some would.

I am all for freedom of speech. I'm not saying any of this should be made illegal or otherwise. I'm not saying that the extremist reactions are okay. But for crying out loud, these generalizations are getting ridiculous. Extremists do not make up most of the population of any group.

Not all men are sexist, not all Muslims are terrorists who will shoot someone for drawing Muhammad, and not all heterosexuals hate gay people.

Get over it.


breezeshadow: It's a wolverine, hey! (Default)

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