Personal


It’s that time of year again. Time for the Holiday_Wishes Meme. Yay! STEP ONE – Make a post (public, friendslocked, filtered…whatever you’re comfortable with) to your blog/LJ. The post should contain your list of 10 holiday wishes. The wishes can be anything at all, from simple and fandom-related (“I’d love a Snape/Hermione icon that’s just for me”) to medium (“I wish for _____ on DVD”) to really big (“All I want for Christmas is a new car/computer/house/TV.”) The important thing is, make sure these wishes are things you really, truly want. – If you wish for real life things (not fics or icons), make sure you include some sort of contact info in your post, whether it’s your address or just your email address where Santa (or one of his elves) could get in touch with you. [Note: Your home address is not required!] – Also, make sure you post some version of these guidelines in your blog, or link to this post (it’ll be public) so that the holiday joy will spread. STEP TWO – Surf around your friendslist/links (or friendsfriends, or just random journals) to see who has posted their list. And now here’s the important part: – If you see a wish you can grant, and it’s in your heart to do so, make someone’s wish come true. Sometimes someone’s trash is another’s treasure, and if you have a leather jacket you don’t want or a gift certificate you won’t use–or even know where you could fulfill a wish for someone–do it. You needn’t spend money on these wishes unless you want to. The point isn’t to put people out, it’s to provide everyone a chance to be someone else’s holiday elf–to spread the joy. Gifts can be made anonymously or not–it’s your call. There are no guarantees with this project, and no strings attached. Just…wish, and it might come true. Give, and you might receive. And you’ll have the joy of knowing you made someone’s holiday special. 1. A ring that says love in cursive. I had one and lost it while I was in the grocery store a few weeks ago. It was the only ring I’d ever regularly worn. My parents had bought it for me for Christmas years ago. 2. Donations to AARDA, Alzheimer’s Association, Planned Parenthood, Pro Publica, & RAINN. 3. Cosmetics that don’t contain nickel. I love wearing makeup, but I have figured out that my super-sensitive skin is picky about makeup that contains nickel and other metals. 4. A makeup bag. I go to the gym, and I would like to take my makeup with me, but all I have to put it in is my purse. 5. Surprise me. 6. To have better sales in my jewelry and accessory business Silver Sky by Janet. If you can’t afford anything, just sharing the link to my store or sharing posts & following on social media (Facebook, Instagram, Twitter) would be helpful. 7. Jewelry and accessory supplies. Beads, fold-over elastic, buttons, lace, jewelry makings, wire, leather/suede, fabric, perler beads, etc. 8. A professional-looking website for my jewelry and accessory brand. I would love to not have to redirect my domain for the store to Etsy, but my website designing skills have just gone South. 9. Anything from my Amazon.com wishlist. Seriously. Anything. 10. Gift cards to Fire Mountain Gems, Etsy, and Torrid. ALLERGIES: Caffeine, Nickel, Orange Juice, Peanuts, Raw Onions/Alliums

Holiday Wishes Meme: 2017   Recently updated!


Having grown up in Alabama, I understand that bigots will go to extraordinary lengths to justify their rage and their hate. When I have supported groups like Black Lives Matter, I have been accused of only having sex with black men. When I supported marriage equality, I was labeled a lesbian. So I guess that it makes sense that my support of rights for transgender/non-binary people means that, drumroll please, I am a man. No, you didn’t read that wrong. In the middle of the night last night, a stranger accused me of having male privilege. I cackled as I read it. Who knew that I’m a dude?! I would have expected my parents or my gynecologists over the years to have told me if I was a dude. I’m especially disappointed that the gynecologist who performed the hysteroscopy/uterine biopsy and D&C didn’t say, “Uh. This procedure can’t be performed on you.” My family and doctors didn’t call me a dude because… I’m not one. Whether you subscribe to trans-exclusionary feminism’s1 reductive view of gender as being based on body parts or the inclusive view I subscribe to that admits gender & sex are not one in the same, this conclusion that I have male privilege makes no sense. I don’t have the body parts of a dude. I don’t feel I am a dude. Therefore: A dude I am not. In case you can’t speak Yoda, let’s try the standard English: I’m not a dude/man/guy/boy/male. I doubt I can put it any more clearly than that, but I’m sure that that won’t satisfy some of these individuals. Calling me a guy because I disagree with what you feel a woman should believe is as hysterical as it is sad. But it’s not the first time that a TERF has gone this route. I would bet that if any woman spends any length of time debating them or disagreeing with them that TERFs would start questioning their biological sex. Or if they don’t question the sex of the person, they start saying that she is somehow incapable of thinking for herself and that men must have brainwashed her. The internalized misogyny is strong with TERFs. How are they “liberating” women2 by denigrating women that don’t agree with them and suggesting that they are somehow unable to use their cognitive processes to come to their own opinions? It’s almost like their own version of a savior complex. They feel the need to “rescue” the poor little women who disagree with them from making informed decisions about their own lives and making conclusions about the things that they believe based on their own experiences. That’s not liberation. That’s oppression. You can’t replace one form of oppressive system with another. That just doesn’t work. Or, more correctly, it doesn’t actually liberate anyone. Also, misrepresenting what people say so that you can perpetuate hatred and encourage a pile-on is not the action of those intent on liberating. The original angst fest by this “liberation” force began after I defended a male friend on Twitter after a female follower of mine said something about him being harmful because he uses the term TERF to describe people who are, well, TERFs. This was the tweet that was being responded to: It’s becoming blatantly obvious where the adage “separate the artist from the art” came from, and we probably should stop using it. — Soyter Krampus 🔑 (@petercoffin) November 5, 2017 I cannot share the text of the tweet that I responded to as the user was reported3 to Twitter several tweets later for threatening to dox multiple individuals. But it is the threat to dox that alarmed me so much about this particular group of TERFs. I tried pointing out what was going on to Helen, which led to the response4 by Juniper that I have male privilege. Helen and other TERFs had insisted that their ilk couldn’t be behind the doxing threats or the ableism, racism, and other vitriol that I had seen while conversing with them. When Juniper came along, she decided that my outrage was due to my either having a penis or a feeling that I should have one. I’m really not sure how a person who has never been a man and who never wanted to be a man somehow has male privilege, so I asked. I think one of the reasons is because you stated that you would fight to get a man who posts picture after picture of his come covered cock into safe spaces for women and girls because he says the magic words ‘I am a woman’. — helen staniland (@helenstaniland) December 2, 2017 The tweets that Helen was referencing were from a different Twitter user who had offended her sensibilities by posting, on her own timeline, nude pictures and video. Helen encouraged a mob of individuals to report Meisha, even though Meisha’s posts do not violate the Twitter rules. She had already given me a hard time for pointing out to another individual that reporting Meisha would only lead to that person being punished by Twitter. No. women don’t post pictures of their come covered flaccid cock. What mental gymnastics do you have to go through to tell yourself he’s a woman? Would you fight for him to be in spaces with women and girls? — helen staniland (@helenstaniland) December 1, 2017 When Helen had discovered the tweet she dislikes so, she had made sure that all of her followers could join in on her hate. Anyone who didn’t had to be shamed. I just didn’t want to play that game with her, so she went full-on with the faux outrage against me and even challenged my gender and biological sex because I supported a person who she didn’t like & who she was simply using to gain prominence amongst her TERFy peers.5 I was familiar with her technique because of the past disagreements with her,6 so I told her to leave me alone. Repeatedly. She thought […]

I’m A Guy?   Recently updated!



The past week has been rough. Seeing political leaders in my state make excuse after excuse for Roy Moore has made me want to scream. Seeing people I know in real life dismiss the claims has made me want to cry. Seeing “conservatives” attack the character of victims has been disgusting. Seeing “liberals” talk about how my state is a festering limb ready to be amputated or how we should be targeted with nuclear strikes because of the reactions by some residents has been infuriating. It’s just been overwhelming.  I believe the accusers.1 That should not be shocking. I try to always believe the accusers, even if it’s someone I (once) adored or respected.2 I’m not going to go into specifics, but the whole idea that it’s a conspiracy against Moore is just pretty irrational. There is no conspiracy by the left or by the “GOP establishment” to malign him. If anyone just wanted to discredit the man, they needn’t make up sexual abuse allegations. His career is enough for most reasonable people to determine he’s not qualified.   I don’t like Roy Moore. I never have. I never will. He’s not someone I think deserves respect. He definitely shouldn’t hold a public office of any sort. I thought that before these allegations because I’m familiar with how abusive he can be when holding office. I don’t believe people who have a history of violating constitutional rights and who want to turn the country into a theocracy are fit for public office. I don’t really understand why there have been so many concern trolls from out of state trying to tell me how wonderful Moore is. They don’t even know the first thing about him. They just view this as an attack on their principles. And I just cringe because I know how horrific his principles are, so I have to hope they really don’t share them because the alternative is, well, horrific.  This is not a left vs right issue. It’s an issue of wrong vs right. Most people understand this. Many of Moore’s biggest critics have been Republicans, as have the accusers, so this idea that it’s Democrats plotting against him just underscores how out of touch his supporters are when it comes to politics and to acceptable human behavior. How can it be controversial or overtly political to oppose child abuse?  I don’t know how anyone could think a person accused of sexually abusing, harassing, and stalking teenage girls belongs in the Senate. That just completely baffles me. And I can’t see any political issue being important enough that it would justify a vote for someone so vile. What issue could make it okay to vote for someone accused of abusing kids?  Listening to the stories of the women and hearing the reactions by people across the aisle has just made it difficult as a child sexual abuse survivor to deal. It’s everywhere I look, and it triggers my obsessive tendencies to seek out more about the story. That just leads to more stress which leads to unhealthy coping techniques. I had gone a week-and-a-half without chocolate when the story broke. Within two days, I had started on a chocolate binge and I’ll have to work myself back off the candy. I know that sounds like a ridiculous thing to blame on this story, but it’s the reality.  And when I see people choosing to dismiss the allegations because they were from decades ago, it makes me think that they would not believe me or any of other survivors that wait years before talking about it—if they ever do. It makes the world feel more frightening and foreign. It makes me feel alone. Every time they tear down an accuser because she’s not perfect, it makes me feel like they won’t believe any survivor. It’s just a lot to deal with and sometimes I just want to scream until my throat is raw because I know these reactions by his defenders are harmful and wrong, and I hate them for making recovering from the trauma of sexual violence that much harder. I just have to figure out how to deal with this story and allo its dredging up. I don’t see it going away any time soon. I have to hope that my state will do the right thing in the end.  Have I just agreed with Mirch McConnell? The end must be nigh. ↩Al Franken. ↩

#NoMoore


A couple of weeks ago, I had to see my rheumatologist. I was past due for my annual visit where he would normally tell me how I was a waste of time for him. He didn’t say that this time. Instead, he was focused on my lab results from last year.  These were results that had “positive”1 results for scleroderma-70, ANA, and SSA-Ro, or as the rheumatologist called them, “the lupus test.” No, I don’t have lupus…yet. He said I may never develop it or several other autoimmune diseases. He did say that I definitely have Sjögren’s syndrome. It’s not the first time he has said that, but it has been a while since he last diagnosed me with that.  Part of me knows not to trust that that’s the diagnosis, since he’s changed his mind before, but it’s still kinda scary. When you’re the grandchild of someone who died from complications of a disease, it’s hard to deal with getting that diagnosis. Mamama had 2 children, 3 grandchildren, and 4 great grandchildren, but I’m the one who drew the short straw in getting this problem. I want to ask why, and I want to scream and say it isn’t fair, but I don’t want another relative to have it. I don’t want them to suffer, but I feel selfish because I don’t want to have it either.  I want to cry.  I want to scream.  I want to know why I’m the one who gets the potentially fatal diseases.  Does being angry & sad make me a bad person? Does it mean I’m too whiny? Do I have a right to be upset? Any result that indicates someone could have a life-threatening or life-changing disease should not be considered positive. ↩

Eyes So Dry



If you followed my Twitter account or my Facebook profile during the 2016 election, you may have learned that a guy I had a crush on in high school is a huge Trump fan. You might know that Richie and I got into skirmish after skirmish over political and social issues. He would randomly post on things and say rather cruel things to me. He would encourage friends of his to do the same. You might know that I eventually blocked him.  In high school, I liked another guy a lot more than I liked Richie. From early in tenth grade until sometime in college, I was convinced that I was in love with John Allen. I even blogged about him all those years ago. John Allen was a pothead at the time and thought it would be hilarious if I ever got drunk. He never saw me drunk.1  After I quit high school, I sent him a sort of love letter in a birthday card for his seventeenth birthday. I confessed my feelings in it. I gave him an ultimatum: we either date or the friendship was over. For almost two years, we’d confessed a lot of our secrets and stressors to each other, but he would also talk about his relationships in front of me. I thought he must not know how I felt before the letter. It wasn’t like I wrote him notes every day and apologized profusely on the days when he’d show up to class & there’d be no note.2 I’m sure I flirted without subtlety.3  Anyway, when I never heard back after the letter, I tried to move on. It took a while and I finally did. When Facebook came into existence, I looked for him. After Matt died, I found him on Facebook and we were finally  “friends” again.4 I realized friends was all we’d ever be. And I was thankful it had never been more.  Now, I’m doubly thankful because I stumbled onto this. I was looking for something totally different, but I knew as soon as I read it that it was him. What a douche.  I told my mom that I realized now that teenage me had bad taste. She said she’d known that for years. That’s when she told me that that’s why she didn’t push me to start dating as a teenager. She knew I’d pick someone who could either hurt me emotionally or in some other way. I get why she didn’t tell me back then. I would have probably more actively pursued a harmful relationship.  I always knew teenage me would a been a bit on the slutty side, but now I think I would have been reckless. I just needed to grow up and get perspective.  I’ve never been drunk. ↩He never wrote one for me. He did write half a page in my 10th grade yearbook & he said he kept every note I wrote him. ↩I may be shy, but when I’m into someone I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. ↩Until he got married and deleted the account. ↩

This Is Why I Didn’t Encourage Teenage You to Date


On late Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning, I fell on the kitchen floor. I didn’t hurt my left hip, but I banged up my right knee and both arms & wrists. My left wrist is still swollen and hurts like crazy. I’m probably going to get it checked this next week if it’s still hurting on Monday and if I can get an appointment. I hope it clears up before I have to do that.  Between pain from falling, spotty internet & phone access, my iPod getting crankier and crankier, Facebook’s Messenger app acting antisocial, and other “fun”, this week has been rather unpleasant. Hopefully, the next one will be better. It has to be, right?

I Keep On Falling



I am trying to get some supplies for Silver Sky by Janet, and I need some help. I know, I know. I’m always looking for help, but please give me a second to explain.  The easiest and cheapest way that you can help is to join Ibotta using my referral code. I get $5 when you join, and a $10 bonus if two people join. I get $50 if five join and $100 for every 10 who sign up. And all you need is the referral code and a smartphone.  Right now I have $30 worth of rebates in my account with that app. I can get that money transferred to my PayPal account so that I can use it on Beadaholique. Beadaholique uses a rewards system where you earn points for each item you buy or for some tasks you perform. For every 100 points you receive, you can get $1 discount. For every $50, you also get an extra 250 points, so if I spent $200, I could a $10 discount. That basically translates into free stuff/shipping upgrades.  Other ways you can help out is to donate directly to my PayPal or to send me gift cards for Amazon, Beadaholique, Hobby Lobby, Joann, or Michaels. Like I said before, the Ibotta method is cheapest for you. I don’t really have an expiration date for the help, though Beadaholique is running a 25% site-wide discount through tomorrow.  I could purchase jewelry supplies from any of the stores, but some of the stores also sell wreath making supplies, which I also need. If you can help me get enough money together to make these purchases, I will: Be forever grateful.  Give you a discount on purchases you make for a two months/every gift card, donation, etc. you send/make.  Name an item in honor of you.  Please help if you can and consider sharing the link with friends who might help. Thanks!

Help a Ginger Out


Have I mentioned on here before that I’m allergic to raw onions? I think I have. It’s something I discovered about five years ago when I ate something with raw onion on it & broke out in hives across my face. I confirmed it a few times after that to make sure; usually I had Benadryl on hand.1  Since then, I’ve been extremely careful about not consuming raw onions. I try to make sure to only order onions that I’m sure have been thoroughly cooked. And before you ask: Yes, it is absolutely possible to be allergic to raw onions and not to cooked ones.2  Today, I went to Quizno’s and had a sandwich that had “sautéed onions” on it. I took a bite & found they had the taste & texture of raw onions. I spent minutes taking apart my sandwich. My dad talked to the manager/franchise owner who said the onions were “sautéed” in the microwave. I know you can do that to a certain degree in a microwave, but the onions on my sandwich were either raw or barely cooked. Either way, they were a danger to me & a lesson learned.  I should just skip all onions & mention I’m allergic to them when I’m at restaurants—advice that was given to me a few years back by Anna. She’s a smart lady.  Because I’m me. ↩The theory is that the things that cause the allergy are broken down by the heat of cooking it. ↩

Locked Me Out and Threw a Feast



This Thursday was my first day of post-op physical therapy. So far there’s not much I’m allowed to do. I’m not allowed to bend past 90°. I’m not allowed turn my leg out to the side for long. I physically can’t do straight leg lifts with my left leg yet.1 The therapist was a bit exasperated because I’m not allowed to do most of the early exercises in the hip & knee program. She literally had to rip the first page of exercises off because all six are not safe for me to do yet. She’s having to do most of my PT for me; moving my leg around to stretch the muscles in a way that shouldn’t injure me.2 It’s weird.  The program that my orthopedist wants me to go through is a six month rehab meant for athletes. That’s kind of funny because he told me at my first appointment that he thought my issue was due to not being active. The labral tear made it obvious that I’m not the stereotypical lazy fat chick.  The tendon that was released was the one that helps the body do those lifts. ↩I worry that she doesn’t seem to understand what Ehlers-Danlos is and why my “amazing” flexibility in some joints is not a good thing. ↩

A New Kind of Hipster


I think I mentioned that I had hip surgery last week. My recovery has been going pretty well. I’ve has a few mishaps. Last week, for example, I accidentally pulled on one of my sutures & it loosened. The next day1 I found out that it was barely staying in when went with my mom to physical therapy & asked Erin2 to check it out for me.3 While she went to find a band-aid, it worked its way the rest of the way out. Since then, that incision has had a little yellow discharge, which I’ve told the orthopedist’s team, but has done well otherwise. Everything has been goin well. The only hard part is a hard spot in my left arm.  Calling it a spot is a misnomer. It’s a hard, raised area stretching from my wrist to my elbow. It runs right along the vein that my IV from surgery was put in. Somehow they inflamed that entire segment of my vein. It’s a bit sore, red, and warm, but the family doctor thinks it’s just a little phlebitis.4 I should be okay.  It’s just a little bizarre for me to know exactly where the vein is now.  Thursday ↩A physical therapist who has worked with me for 3 or 4 years. ↩She’d once told me that they could check or even remove stitches. ↩Phlebitis is literally the inflammation of a vein. ↩

Baby, Now We’ve Got Hard Blood (Vessels)