I know, I know. I've been a real Debbie Downer (you should excuse the phrase) recently.

But. But!

Things are better.

Period has started, so the hormonal bombardment has eased. Food and medication in regular doses is happening. I actually have energy and motivation to tackle the disaster area my house is at the moment. And my syllabus. Oy vey, gevalt, even. My syllabus. I'm trying something new incorporating Lies My Teacher Told Me and I'm getting very A Beautiful Mind meets Fred Burkle in season 2 of Angel with the writing on the walls. (Is it so bad that I want an entire wall of the office done in blackboard paint? Is it so very weird? Don't answer that.)

Thanks to everyone who commented, either here or in some other medium. It's not why I make the posts (okay, it's mostly not why I make the posts), but they're appreciated anyway.

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.

In my neverending quest to de-stigmafy (it's a word now, dammit) mental illness, I need to be honest. I haven't been particularly well. I haven't been back to my self-harming, stay in bed all day levels, but I've been... meh. Sleeping when my body isn't tired, mindlessly watching the Cooking Channel, even avoiding Facebook because it's just too damn much work.

When clicking the little squares to "harvest" imaginary crops is too much work, it's time to take inventory.

Some of this is my own damn fault. I haven't been taking vitamins, I've occasionally been somewhat spotty in taking my meds. They get taken 95% of the time, but of that maybe only 75% of the time am I taking them at the times I should be, which screws further with my sleep patterns. I'm not eating enough protein with breakfast or drinking a cup of coffee in the morning, two things I absolutely must do to overcome the sedative effects of the Lexapro I take.

Some of this is not my fault. I lost an aunt last week, and buried her at the beginning of this one. I was not particularly close with her, but have found that there is a hole in my inner patchwork where she's supposed to be. Her loss was also incredibly hard on my other aunt, with whom I am very close. To say nothing of my father and my uncle. Dealing with my mother was stressful, to say the least, as her stress levels rose above what her anti-anxiety drugs could deal with.

Also there has been a significant hiccup in my home life. Since some of you readers do actually know me in real life, I'm going to abstain from details, at least for now. I will say that it did not involve infidelity, and that my husband and I are going to be putting some really nice therapists' kids through college. That being said, though, it has sucked. It has sucked royally. It has sucked like Queen Elizabeth's very own private Dyson vacuum cleaner. It's left me sad, angry, and frustrated. And, quel suprise, depressed.

On top of this, it has become readily apparent that adjuncting just isn't bringing in enough money. I love doing it, but I can't afford to anymore. So I have begun my first active job search in about 9 years. God, I'd forgotten how much I loathe it.

So where do I go from here? I called mein guter Ehemann and told him how overwhelmed I felt. As always, he stepped up to the plate. We have made plans. Trader Joe's is a godsend for breakfasts you can grab and go. We're going to work on the practical aspects of our problems together tonight. I will double down on my self-care efforts, including getting my behind into the gym on a regular basis.

Sadly, I am not one of those people who get depressed sometimes, or who have one or two episodes in his or her lifetime. Those are awful enough, don't get me wrong. But this is an everyday struggle and it just gets so old sometimes, and I feel so powerless. But as I said about a year ago, onward I go. It's hard, but it's the only way to go.

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.

Dreamwidth just gave me about 9 invite codes, if anyone's interested.

Okay, to help everyone understand the true import of what I'm about to relate, I must elaborate on my current living conditions. My husband, BFF, daughter, and I all live in a row house in Baltimore. We like to call ourselves the House of Neuroses.

Now, the BFF and I have been hemming and hawing over a small container of Greek yogurt in the refrigerator. The husband has washed his hands of the situation. You see, I ate some of BFF's yogurt, oh, about two months ago. I then bought her replacement yogurt, but it was the wrong brand.

It has been sitting in our refrigerator since. Impressive, considering its sell by date was Tax Day. Neither of us wants to eat it, but we hate to waste it, and couldn't we use it in something, really?

Fast forward to ten minutes ago. Once again, I tripped over this yogurt, so to speak, while rummaging around for something else. I knocked the container out of the refrigerator, and it quite literally went "splut" as it hit the floor and busted open, squirting yogurt.

My thoughts? Huh. You know, splut shaming is really horrible. People who drop things are no better or worse than people who don't.

This is what happens when you pair social consciousness with a twisted sense of humor, folks. You may fire your rotten tomatoes at will. No, really. That guy over there, Will...

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.

I swear, if I see one more person respond to the phrase "women should be able to wear whatever they like without fear" with "while you have the right to wear whatever you want, wearing a meat dress for a walk through a dog park may not be the wisest of choices" I cannot be held responsible for my actions. First of all, way to compare me with meat. Very nice. Secondly, most, if not all, women have learned this lesson, painfully (whether through humiliation or Worse) by the time they're sixteen. Really? I shouldn't wear a deep-V belly shirt, a micro-mini, and 4-inch heels down a dark street in Druid Hill? The devil, you say! I would never have thought such a thing! Lastly, you're responding to a gender equality issue with a public safety tip. Apples and oranges.

As a few of my friends (wave to commodorified and ducinbradbury)around these parts have written lately, how about we make sexual assault prevention about, you know, people not assaulting others? It's degrading to both men AND women to keep the status quo. Men[1] are human beings perfectly capable of keeping their hands and genitalia to themselves. Such assumptions that they can be oh-so-easily turned into assaulters by a flash of skin is incredibly demeaning. Additionally, women[2] should not bear the responsibility for keeping themselves from being assaulted by determining what they're going to wear on a given day (or evening) based on what might (or might not) attract a would-be attacker.

A perfect example is the poor man who was beaten at a Dodgers game for wearing a Giants jersey. No one has ever said he "asked for it." No one has done anything but completely denounce the people who assaulted him so terribly. Not even the usual trolls have come out to play in the comment sections of these news stories. It says something. And it's nothing good.




1. That's not to say that men are the only people who sexually assault others, but all too often, in common discourse, this is how the roles get boiled down.

2. Same goes for women--they're not 100% of the victim base by a tragic long shot.

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.

As with every other hot internet mess I've either been a part of or witnessed (if you weren't there, don't ask. As someone else has said, your blood pressure doesn't need the workout.), I've at least made some nifty new internet acquaintances. :)

And, oh, yeah, I'm alive and stuff.

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.

So, I was browsing a friend's archives, and found an entry in which I reminder her of a badger. And I thought, "Huh. Badger. That's an odd one."

Then I Image-Googled "badger and got this as the first picture:

From Random blog images

And then there was this:

From Random blog images

...

Yeah, I could be a badger.

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.

Because everybody's sick of Matthew and Luke at this time of year (Mark starts with the ministry of John the Baptist and doesn't do a nativity story). And, honestly? John got it most right out of the four of them. Stables and shepherds and kings are great and all, but the Light is what Christmas--and Christianity--are really supposed to be about, for us.

in principio erat Verbum et Verbum erat apud Deum et Deus erat Verbum
hoc erat in principio apud Deum
omnia per ipsum facta sunt et sine ipso factum est nihil quod factum est
in ipso vita erat et vita erat lux hominum

...

In the beginning was the Word: and the Word was with God: and the Word was God.
The same was in the beginning with God.
All things were made by him: and without him was made nothing that was made.
In him was life: and the life was the light of men.

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.

Tonight, I turned off automatic payments over at LJ.

I've migrated 15 of my most often used icons over here.

I'm probably always going to crosspost, but after this, my LJ is going to be pretty boring looking--same userpic on most (if not all) the entries, no spiffy extras, etc.

Onward into the new frontier!

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.