Well, did anybody else cry through the damn season finale of Grey's Anatomy this week? Embarrassing but true. And yes, the pair mentioned below enjoyed a very fulfilling, if not too surprising, kiss at the end of the show.

I enjoyed it but I'm suspicious of the writers' motivations. Everybody just wants money, everybody. Even me.

By the way, Lilybug is down to a svelte 11.5 pounds... my betrothed says it's because she's not allowed in the kitchen anymore. I think it's because of our excellent disciplinary skills and ignoring when she acts like she's starving...well, one or the other.

Oh yeah, I guess I should clarify. I have a betrothed now, I'm getting hitched.

Speaking of...

Ha ha, when I got the comment on my last post I laughed, but this week on
Grey's Anatomy, there WAS lesbian intrigue, though not exactly the way she predicted. I don't know the character names, but the intrigue was between Brooke Smith and Sara Ramirez! (see 4th picture) It has all been denied so far, just innuendo followed by terror, but I'm pretty sure it's gonna end up happening. And I think they make a beautiful couple. (Well, they ARE on tv, so they better be beautiful.)

or else it gets the hose again

Dude. Did anybody notice that the woman who played the victim who gets saved at the end of silence of the lambs is now playing an assholey surgeon on grey's anatomy?

Sketch. I can't not think of her in that role.

Prrreeeciouussssss..........

Let's talk about THIS

Things of which I'm tired:

-The Tyra Banks show. I keep watching it because it's better than the judge shows
-The several hours of judge shows on network tv. Didn't mind them for a couple of days, but after the same 3 or 4 stories about 25 times, I realized how depressing they are. Why are there so many? Where is this demand coming from?
-Vocational school commercials. Yes I KNOW a medical assistant makes more money than I do, especially since I'm unemployed. But for the love of god, I'm trying to be a vet, which will make more money than all of those because it requires more freaking EDUCATION so please, give me a break.
-TV in general
-Cover letters
-Resumes

-Job ads. I love you Chicago Reader but if I have to see that green and yellow one more time I swear I might throw up.





-Fucking job application forms
-Personality profiles (they only do those in job applications for big dumb corporationss like caribou coffee and petco and ... yes, I've stooped that low. I was rejected by whole foods and I don't even BELIEVE in whole foods!) [read: I don't even BELIEVE in jebus!]

Anyhow I've been here about 4.5 weeks and only had 1 week of work and I'm starting to get freaked out (and please don't think I'm not trying; I'm registered with - count them - 6 temp agencies not to mention the normal jobs I've applied for). I don't know what else to say.

I miss my NYC friends, more than I anticipated. I miss you friends. I hope things are great. I'm having a tough time (but to be fair, other than money things have gone incredibly smoothly). Please pray to whomever or yourself that I'll get some steady work soon. I'm even praying: "Dear whomever or me, please let me get some steady work soon. Okay done."

And then there were four

This is what they look like. They are the spice boys. Because they are spice finches. (again, thank you bird picture taker dude.) C (another roomie, not the Catholic) and I agreed they are probably Sporty Spice and Posh Spice. They're in their own cage because spice finches don't like society & zebra finches. I don't know why he brought them home. He doesn't think too much.

I wanted to name them Rudy and Tig but the Catholic's girlfried didn't thing that was cute enough or something. I think she named them Falcor and Chesty. (one of them has fewer of those bright feathers on his chest, I think that's Chesty but I can't even remember.)

But our Lucky boy is the alpha finch. We chose well with him. It's pretty fucking awesome; you can tell he's a badass from looking in his eyes. Though he loves his Joey boy too, he's taught him everything he knows. Already one of the spice boys doesn't look so good. I kind of think he might die. The Catholic doesn't usually cover their cages at night and the apartment sometimes gets below 50 degrees in the common space, with all of us shut up in our bedrooms keeping warm. That's a pretty shitty thing to do to birds. Yeah I know, he's busy with an unwanted baby and unwanted marriage on the way, but what the fuck. That doesn't mean the birds should suffer.

I'm being a little harsh, maybe. I suppose I'm sick of hearing about unwanted babies that are still being born lately. If anybody wondered, I am pro-choice. I'd go so far as to say I'm actually pro-abortion. That's nice happy end to the birdblog, eh?

Lucky Boy

He is quite a beauty and his song is really different from Joey's. He is also the alpha male, but it's fun to watch Joey halfheartedly try to compete. They're a great pair and they love to snuggle; in fact, Lucky likes to sort of lean on Joey so you only one of his legs is on the perch. They are fast friends and maybe lovers.

It's sad to feel like Lulu has been replaced. And she hasn't, but since Lucky is more lively than she was in her last few weeks, the Catholic and I, not to mention Joey, have been having a really good time with him.

Note for later: anthropomorphization of animals and their habits + queerness + the reality of gender schema in animal communities. Or rather, animal societies (better, ipj?)

Anyway. He's a love.

Freak

Nobody at work made even the slightest reaction to my haircut. This is fairly interesting, since the new hawk is even extreme to me. I believe it shows how I have affected these folks either by:

-making them afraid of me + being extremely unapproachable
-leading them toward this freakishness a little bit at a time until it's not really so noticable
-seeming invisible?



But really, freak is pretty much what I was GOING for. I kind of look like a punk rocker.

I am going to choose a combination of the first two possibilities. I was informed recently by the good direct supervisor (from here known as Good) that the bad big boss (from here known as Bad) is afraid of me, and it brought a big damn smile to my face. I love this because Bad's entire presentation is that s/he is intimidating, hard, totally invulnerable, inhuman, i.e. scary. But I intimidated shim! Fuck yes. Yes to the power of tears against people who fear them. Good said that one day Bad came to Good's office and asked if I was okay, to which Good replied, "I don't know, have you asked her?" And Bad just walked away without responding. Or maybe responded with "Never mind." I can't remember.

Maybe it's because when I was crying multiple days each week because of the stress Bad was putting me under, Bad would say it looked like I had ALLERGIES! I didn't have fucking allergies, I was crying, in duress, you big hoser. Ooh, scary, tears, emotion! Better pretend it doesn't exist and is therefore totally invalid. (and s/he thought s/he was doing me a favor trying to un-embarrass me.) Bad is like a Skeksie who cannot handle real people. But with better posture.

Anyhow after that digression, I have indeed tried to be scary and unapproachable to Bad and Bad's little flunky too. Apparently it worked.

Othernews

Oh wait in other news the Catholic knocked up his girlfriend and they shouldn't get married they don't even like each other but they're damn well gonna because abortion is not an option and WHAT

HE thinks it's just fine, a jumpstart
SHE sees it as a major problem, mistake, accident, it's interrupting her whole life plan
I know plans don't always work out and you have to deal however you can but
it's fucking convenient for HIM not to see it as that big a deal
HE's not the one whose body will never be the same nor will HE be staying home with the little one unable to pursue her career and yet
SHE makes far more and more reliable money than he does

and that makes me angry and it makes me realize that while I can't say it 100% because I'm not literally in the situation, it makes me more able to imagine myself in the situation and
if I got pregnant now I am reasonably sure I would have an abortion

and it sucks that they ever have to happen but
I don't have a problem with the fact that I would choose it.

EXCEPT THE PROBLEM THAT THE RHYTHM METHOD DOESN'T WORK, YOU fucking MORON.
if you'd thought of that there wouldn't BE a problem.




But it's not that I don't like babies. I like them too much

Because I am apparently not smart enough to customize blogger to its full extent, here is a picture of my face all fucked up in photoshop. I tried to put it behind the header but it made it all wonky.



I feel grumpy because tonight was designated for a Lily photoshoot for my holiday card but I didn't do it right and the film got messed up and I even went all the way to the pharmacy to get a special battery and this nice latina dyke went out of her way to help me find it and all but I didn't want to go back for more film just because I'm a medium idiot for ruining the first roll. and all I have is little sister's point and shoot 35mm which she handed down after buying a digital for her special time in PA.

Damn it. Lily is too fat. The vet told me so. Which has led to her being hungry since I'm feeding her less and making an absolute fool of myself multiple times a day to make her race me down the block instead of the usual leisurely stroll. She is a fussbucket but every morning we have special Lily & mama time sitting on the couch. I drink my coffee and eat my breakfast and she sits on my lap trying to drink my coffee. But not if it's too hot.

In other news there's not much other news because I can't seem to make myself do even simple things I need to do. Stupid, difficult me.

Bird Story

Well. Lulu died this morning.

Turns out the things I thought were special preparing for motherhood behaviors were actually very sick finch behaviors. She's not even my bird. Wasn't, I mean. Well, isn't, depending on what he did with her tiny birdbody. I kept finding myself saying "our bird" in describing her, though.

She looked like this. thanks to the picture taker. My camera phone didn't do so well in the low light through the bars of the cage.

He, her owner my roommate the Catholic, bought her and her partner Joey (who for many weeks was of indeterminate biological sex) to cheer himself up after breaking up with someone. He just showed up with these two tiny birds a few months ago, and asked me to help name them, so I did - Joey and Lulu. Then he gave them last names, the last names of some "little saints," although I've never heard of them.

And of course I quickly grew quite fond of them, they're very sweet and mild. Their little chirps and songs are endearing and quiet, very unobtrusive. Then usually in the morning, once or twice, there would be this weird two-tone stressed out call, and a few times I looked over when that happened and he was trying to mount her...

So she laid an egg a few days ago, but I guess the environment wasn't quite right for her to nest, and she just dropped it on the bottom of the cage and it broke. Then apparently she was trying to lay another egg for 36 hours at least, and the Catholic said that when he came home late last night she was sitting on the nest trying to lay, but by the time I got up at 7 she had fallen to the floor of the cage. She just couldn't handle it, I guess it's called being "egg-bound" and happens to finchese because they're just so tiny.

She was so light when I picked her up, like nothing. Poor love. I wish it hadn't been so difficult these past few days. Now Joey is sitting and singing from his cage, probably wondering what the fuck is going on. A widower, and so young too.

Kitchen's Clean.

I told myself that if I kicked my ass and cleaned the kitchen I could sit down and blog. Incidentally I just cleaned most of my kitchen with carpet & upholstery odor eliminator. It worked alarmingly well which is why I didn't realize it for quite a while, I mean so well I decided to really scrub down the wooden counter surface. It's like 5 shades lighter, dentally speaking. Although I splashed some of the bleachified dirt on my ID Lubricants shirt, which I got for running the Bk Pride 5K. Bummer. It's like my "Don't fornicate" shirt, I like the overt sexual content in clothing.

Here is the real blog. Or whatever.

It was a morning like any other, a Sunday in my shitty neighborhood, only -
there was a weird quiet, gentle feeling around
there was no bass vibrating the sidewalk, buildings, etc.
there was no yelling
even in the park, a few kids were playing but quietly, teaching each other some little dance
but mostly it was all these routes to the same place like people were drawn by some force, mostly silent, walking slowly together in small groups
like a magnet, the church in the center, pulling people toward it along every walkable surrounding circuit the sidewalk the street the walk through the park
like a shared journey, short pilgrimage on a lovely morning
like the Mystics (you know, the anti-Skeksies) when they all start singing sort of like elephants and they all know they're supposed to go to the special place to gather
and on the hour the bells rang, kindly, and as soon as they stopped the singing started - unclear but hearty, hearted, heartful.
Together.
The older ones in dresses and ties, the younger in jeans (whoa!), supporting the oldest and youngest by linking arms and pushing wheelchairs and strollers
[disclaimer] I don't even know what kind of church it is, except Christian
and to be late is okay; there's no harried hurried steps, averted eyes and sympathetic smiles in reaction to your embarrassed look of apology (because god knows that's what I remember of church)
Late is as late does, and they all end up singing the same song
Yeah, of course it helps that I don't speak the language, but the whole thing seemed kind, forgiving, gentle-even a little bit magical

and if you know me then you know how uncomfortable the whole scenario makes me, and all the more to see it as magical. I don't even like City Year anymore because they stand in Union Square every morning doing chants and it's a scary groupthink moment

But remember, Maybe Girl, in that church there must've been some major guilt headed in from the horizon - remember, Jesus the cock-blocker? Inevitably?

I think if people ask me about religion from here on out I'm going to say not atheist, not agnostic. I'm going to say, "I'm an ascetic." Just to be good and confusing.

Facts

I got tagged by Happy or Sad.

1. I thought about getting Kurt Vonnegut's self-portrait sketch (the top right of this series of pictures) tattooed on my body somewhere, and I was serious. For a few of minutes anyway.

2. I spend at least an hour each week on the phone with jewelers and/or moving companies, trying not to argue. Some times are more successful than others.

3. I haven't had a television for over two years; however, if there was one show I could watch at this point, it would be Meerkat Manor. I think I would watch it religiously.

4. I'm mediumly obsessed with my dog. Her new nickname, as of this week, is Funky Noodle. I don't know where that came from.

5. I'm far more likely to greet a baby, animal, or pretty flower on the street than another adult person. I say, "Hi, Baby" or "Hi, Dogger" or "Hi, orchid (or whatever flower)."

6. I sleep an inordinate amount compared to most people. I mean really a lot.

7. Funniest quote of the week: "I stopped hanging out with Jesus because he's a cock-blocker." -from my coworker

8. 001..0211211 1110122 [that fact courtesy of Lily's dog-butt on the keyboard trying to distract me from typing]

Was it supposed to be 8? I guess I wasn't paying attention to the tag too well. I'm really behind. Oh well. What is this tag again? Just any 8 facts? I need to go back to the source but it's taken me this long to get this far so whatever.

I tag

Sissy
Bionic (who has a new gf and i'm feeling neglected)

I guess that's all.

This is a fun game but...

I don't want to be Aesop the Spider Boy. So I did it again, trying to be more conscientious, trying to see myself more as how others do, and lying about my "gender." Interestingly, on the website, in one place it says your daemon is "usually" the opposite sex as you, and in another it says your daemon is "always" the opposite sex.

You know how I feel about this dependency on biological sex. Or if you don't feel free to ask and I'll expound in probably more length than you'd like.

Anyhow this is her:



I think I love her, just from the picture. That's great, yeah? A show of self-love?

Also can I just say that for once I find this a worthy, creative, and effective advertising ploy? I had the chance to read these books and didn't, but you can bet I will now, not to mention see this movie. And you probably know how I feel about advertising, too, so -

Oh yeah, p.s. I don't in fact feel very flexible in many ways, but like I said I love her and I don't want to turn out a spider again, so whatever. P.p.s. ipj rocks for finding this

Well, sucks to blogging

I've been overwhelmed with shit to do and not getting it done and trying to sleep a lot and riding trains and buses and such.

I've always said, I may be small but I'm scrappy. Someone agrees - this comic is entitled, "Scrappy"


nataliedee.com

Day before yesterday I was meeting with a couple of bosses in a corner office in our building on Park South and we heard a very loud crunch outside. We went to the window and found a car accident on the corner opposite. One cab had swerved and busted a phone booth right out of the ground, and most Manhattan phone booths are sturdier than the ones you think of. The other cab had swerved and rammed into the building of the bank across the street. Basically, about 1/4 of the cab was smashed into the building. Two pedestrians were trapped between the cab and the building, and someone else, maybe a passenger or another pedestrian, was kind of loopy and shaky and they took her away in an ambulance after checking her out.

One of the trapped people was moving his hands and appeared to be conscious and talking as they put him on the ambulance, though they wrapped him up pretty good first so it seemed he was failry well-injured. The other dude didn't move at all, seemed unconscious, and they worked very gingerly with him so I'm sure he was seriously banged up. I mean, in a fight between a brick wall, a Lincoln, and a normal guy on the street, who do you think is gonna win? I'm guessing he probably died, but it's just conjecture.

I know people would say it's freakish but this is comforting to me. I think in my life I often feel like there's not much you can really hold on to, but there's nothing as stable as...as, well, horrible things going on. The macabre is grounding. Like when I saw the dead and bloated homeless man on 58th Street after an appointment one day. Somebody else's tragedy but one I momentarily shared - one that I'll never forget. Solid.

I say I'm sort of "into" pain but it's not a sexual thing, it's just that - it's grounding. It's real and I can touch it and I don't have to have faith in it because I can feel it. When so much is fleeting, it's predictable.

I find myself to be very inflexible these days, but in need of flexing. And scared.

I don't have a mirror, you know - at least one any bigger than a hand mirror or the bathroom mirror in which I can only see my head & shoulders because I'm small.

Why no mirror. I dunno. Whatever, maybe it's psychologically rooted maybe it's laziness rooted.

But I guess maybe it's an excuse. For, you know, looking like a hoser. I don't have a sense of how I really present or how I might be perceived overall. In fact pretty much no idea.

NSP went away but I don't like people so I didn't add anybody else.

Happy birthday to me it's likely an ulcer. Or something else. One of those two.

And yet, to make sure, I must wait another two weeks and then have an endoscopy.

I still feel pretty crappy.

And after I finished typing the above, I went on the internet to find a link to some ulcer pictures to really gross you out, but they grossed even ME out! So I won't make you look. Man.

Hm. I guess I haven't felt like blogging lately but I've been thinking a whole lot, about a whole lot of stuff. But I guess I do that all the time.

Anyhow I've been pretty sick for three weeks now, in a way where I can avoid symptoms by not eating solid foods, so I'm functional but hungry and irritable. My grandfather died last week and I went to Utah for a couple of days. Had a random and frustrating neck problem, went to a chiropractor (which I've never been before but I needed immediate relief to get through the trip to Salt Lake), and it's resolving itself nicely. My apartment smells bad because of my dog and my dog smells bad - I thought the roommate who was watching her while I was gone had quit smoking, but aparently not quite. I don't like my dog smelling like cigarette smoke. But I like my dog. Got to do something about the fucking rug, though. I know how to keep her from peeing on it but my roommates can't be bothered to go along with it and she's used to peeing on it now, so. Ew. Doin my best.

Bandwagon

These are very very delicious. I mean it, so, so tasty. They might be the only really good reason for Easter to exist. Well, that and time off work or school. I would definitely bow down to them, maybe even pray to them. Ok, not really. But anyway.

Honor Code Update

[the BYU (private Mormon-run university in Utah) Honor Code comprises the rules you have to live by on campus or you'll get kicked out of school]

I never really thought this would happen. I feel ambivalent.

Check it out.

But I do want to say, unequivocally, that I hate Provo. That will never change. Also I like the phrase "ecclesiastical endorsement" just because it's sort of fun to say.

Okay done.

A Note About the Pronouns

Thank you for your thoughtful question, MNS (see preceding post). So as to give credit where credit is due I pulled "sie" (pronounced like "see") and "hir" (pronounced like "here") from Dean Spade's recent article in the Berkeley Women's Law Journal, "Resisting Medicine, Re/modeling Gender." Spade, founder of the Sylvia Rivera Legal Resource Program, cited them from Leslie Feinberg's 1998 Trans Liberation: Beyond Pink or Blue 1.

Alternatively I recently found a quote by James Green, in an email to Patrick Califia (regarding trans activitism at the 1995 Michigan Womyn's Music Festival) which Califia used in his Sex Changes: Transgender Politics, using "s/he" which I've always liked, and "heesh." If I remember correctly, Green was letting the Festival's leadership know that Feinberg would make their discrimination public "in every public speaking engagement heesh does" if it continued.

Now forgive me, as I'm a grammar freak but may not use the correct terminology. I'm still not sure what a dangling participle is, though I'm quite sure I rarely if ever use them ;) But it seems the personal first and second person pronouns are safe - I, me, you - as they are not and have never been gender-differentiated. As are their respective possessive versions - my, mine, your, yours. And now I'm good with the basic third person - in sie, s/he, and heesh, if I'm reading them accurately. They overlap, yes? Third person possessive is probably my favorite with hir. But what about her/him? Am I missing it? I don't think I've found it yet, maybe I need to go back to the original Feinberg. Shim?

The bottom line: if I become interested in having myself referred to with neutral pronouns, I'll let you know. I have some internalized misogyny to work out before that time, if it comes. [God damn it.] But I think I will continue to use sie and hir in referring to unknown or generalized individuals. I prefer them to s/he and heesh because they are further from the gendered originals - s/he and heesh, to me, imply more that a choice can or should be made, whereas sie and hir feel more definitively neutral, identity in their own right. Which is the point. At least I'll do so as long as I remember. And, I guess, thank my lucky stars that I have the luxury of forgetting. And try not to forget.

Comments? I'm sure I'm overlooking some strange thing. Or not strange. Anyway.