default -- (n. or adj.) white cisgender heterosexual male non-disabled neurotypical non-poor person, or a person who lacks only one of those privileges. It's a quick way of saying "relatively quite privileged."
"what's your number?" -- a way of gauging relative desire. If I want to go to the movies and you want to go bowling, we compare numbers from -5 (super-loathe) to +5 (desperately-want). If I am a +5 on movies and you're a +1 on bowling, we'll go to the movies -- unless I'm a 0 on going bowling and you're a -5 on going to the movies (because in that case I can still be happy with bowling since it will make you happy but you can't be happy with movies). It's a more efficient way of asking how much you want to do or avoid something.
poopsicle -- (n.) imagine it's a hot day and someone gives you a fudgesicle. It has that frosty sheen on the sides and you know it's going to be so cool and creamy and make the heat actually feel good because you'll be all refreshed inside. So you take a bite, and it turns out to be made of warm poop coated in a fine mold. Now apply that feeling of hideous disgust and happiness-become-revulsion to a person. They're a poopsicle. Most people are only occasionally a poopsicle, but some make it a full-time job.
pripoi -- (adj.) privilege-poisoned. People are pripoi when they can't relate to, acknowledge as valid, or respect people who do not have their privileges.
"slush time" -- time that is not one thing or the other, time that passes without meaning. Usually this is in the context of a relationship, when you are spending time in each others presence but not really 'together.'
"focus time" -- the opposite of slush time: time spent with the deliberate, mutual intention of connectedness and learning each other.
nnta -- "no need to apologize." I got sick of saying this phrase so I shortened it.
welks -- "you're welcome" (a shorter cuter way of saying it)
I mean, it’s not like I have any illusions about the privacy of anything I do or say online, but this one surprises me. Go head, put your street address into Google. (If you’ved moved recently, use the address of someone you know who has been in one place for a while. See what comes up – not on Zillow, that’s meant to guestimate the value of al houses, but on actual real estates like Trulia or homes.com. I hadn’t realized this, because we bought our lake house in 2010 and our house here last year, so it’s reasonable that real estate sites would still have the info from previous sales.
Mom told me there’s now a real estate site on her lawn. (I am very happy about her moving, though there is some nostalgia since that house was home from when they brought me home from the hspital at a week old until I moved into a college dorm, and then for breaks until I graduated college and moved away. Still, it’s just a bit of misplaced saudade – I was eager to leave at 17 and wouldn’t live there again if you paid me.) Anyway, her house clearly isn’t listed yet – there’s no firm price, just an estimate. But there’s a picture of the outside (and they got the right house on a street of identical rowhouses), an accurate statement of the house’s size and features, number of rooms and so on, and an estimated price. They’ve lived there since 1966; it’s not like the house has been for sale in the entire lifetime of the internet. I checked out my in-laws’ house, too: same deal, complete with mention of the fireplace and type of heater. They built that house in the 1970s – it has never been for sale. THere’s a picture that’s quite recent; I can tell because it shows the landscaping they did a while back, all nicely grown in.
I knew Zillow had most of this, but the detailed info on houses that haven’t even been sold in decades, on sites that exist just to sell houses, just feels intrusive. I suppose they’d justify it by saying the information is on public record and that anyone buying a house nearby would want to know neighborhood values.
ETA: I just checked, and if you’re signed in (which you can do under your Facebook or Google ID without having to set up an account) Redfin will actually show you pictures from inside the house. At least, they will on houses like mine, that were sold recently. Luckily, the pictures aren’t exactly of our house here; it was newly bult in a community of townhouses, so the pics are of the model houses. There are a few actual pictures from inside our lake house – terrible ones taken before the renovation work that was done before we even saw the place.
Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.
What do I write about?
Therapy is okay. I don't know where I'm going with it. I have a hard time being vulnerable. I have a hard time telling someone I need them. I have become so independent that most people don't think I need help, or need someone. People don't worry about me. Ever. I guess that's a good thing, but overall it makes me feel alone. Maybe because I don't REALLY need anyone? I am okay when people walk out of my life or don't want to be friends. I guess I just got tired of chasing after people. Especially friends. I don't know.
Matthew tells me I've become a guarded person. I don't know why or when that happened.
I don't know. I felt like writing but now I don't.
They moved him to hospice / palliative care yesterday. Thank God, the independent-living community my mom is planning to move to had an opening for him in one of their palliative-care rooms. I think trying to do hospice at home would have been an untenable burden on Mom (two-story rowhouse, only bathroom is upstairs – and he can’t move one leg). Of course my brother and SIL would have helped as much as they could, but they have to be at work all day. I will visit in a few weeks – I was going to go sooner, but it turns out my brother and SIL (who work together) have a business trip they can’t get out of, so I’ll go be supportive while they’re gone. I’ll have to go back again, whenever …. afterward, but Ted will go with me that time. It turns out the state of Oregon has family leave policies that are much better than the FMLA, so I should be able to use some of that leave. It applies after you’ve worked for a company for six months – I couldn’t have used FMLA< because that requires a year and I haven’t worked here that long. Also, they offer up to two weeks (unpaid) leave for bereavement, which is a huge relief when you have to travel across the country.
I am really pleased that Mom is still planning on selling the house and moving to the independent-care place, even though it will be just her. She’s a bit worried about being too young for it (they take people from a full ten years younger than she is, but of course there aren’t many of those unless they’re ill). There are a lot of good reasons for her to move, though. For one, the neighborhood is going downhill; there were two shootings on the next block a month ago, and her car got broken into last year. For another, she hates being there alone. She gets lonely, and none of the old neighbors (the ones who were there the whole time I was growing up) are there anymore. The older ones have died and their kids moved away; the last one (someone my age who bought her parents’ home) moved a few years ago. There are still a couple of newer neighbors Mom likes and talks to, but it’s not the support system it was (there’s a reason I was allowed to babysit for my brother from the time I was 11, during our parents’ occasional nights out). Mom is a very social person; she likes planned activities and people around her. She also worries about what would happen if something was wrong with her – she’s in good health, but she’s had a few issues (broke an ankle a few years back, for instance). This new place will provide lots of activities – she can even have a garden plot if she wants. Three will be carers nearby if needed; everyone gets an “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” bracelet. She’ll have people to eat with, and won’t have to cook but has a kitchen if she does want to. I think it will be very good for her, and now he won’t need to worry about whether she can get in later when her health does require it.
The other thing she likes, for now, is that Dad’s hospice room is in the same complex where her apartment will be. She can stop by anytime, leave if he’s sleeping, ask the nurse to call her when he wakes up, and go back.
Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.
I was born 31/12/78, in Melbourne, Australia, the eldest of two children. I was reading English by the time I was a year old and Russian by the time I was two (I have since forgotten it).
My family thought I was going to be some sort of prodigy and apparently I did test as having some very high IQ in childhood, but my abilities are and always were incredibly polarised. Yes I was born and have remained hyperlexic, but I am also dyscalculic to the point of intellectual disability. My numeracy is perhaps at seven year old level and has never risen above it.
I am and always was also extremely unco-ordinated both in terms of fine and gross motor skills. I have always lacked social awareness and been poor at reading people. I was an obsessive child and am an obsessive adult, with a history of Anorexia Nervosa and other eating disorders.
My first memory is of my first and only overseas trip, at the age of one, to Hawaii. I recall staring down at the red carpet on the plane for hours. The patterns in it fascinated me. This is all I recall from that trip.
I have excellent recall per se and remember a lot of my childhood. I would go from obsession to obsession - most of them lasted quite some time - and have always been a hoarder.
I was an introverted child and teen who preferred to spend my recess and lunch breaks reading. I was also a social misfit who did not get social rules and was heavily bullied. School was a really miserable time for me and I was glad to finish.
I did very badly in sports, mathematics, science and handwriting at school. I received remedial help but nothing changed. I could not - and cannot - retain numerical or spacial information. I excelled in humanities and would be referred to as 'a genius' by other children, which only made me feel like more of a freak.
I remember telling my mother that I would give up my abilities to be normal. My family also treated me as 'less than' for my social and spacial failings. I was apparently dragged to see a lot of doctors and therapists - I remember the therapists - but none could pinpoint anything and it did not occur to me that I might be Aspie til January this year.
I developed an eating disorder aged 13, latching onto my first diet as if there was something latent. It took me 20 years to recover and none of the therapists I saw (and there were a lot) were of any use for it. I finally recovered behaviorally, largely thanks to a book called Brain Over Binge by Kathryn Hansen.
My eating disorder basically took over my life from ages 13 to nearly my mid 20s and some of my late 20s as well (I was 33 when I got better). Everything from age 13-21 relates to the starve-binge weight fluctuation cycle for me, as well as my many attempts to break it, none of which succeeded for long until I was in my 30s.
I have spent most of my life kind of questing, looking for myself, I guess, and haven't really felt sure of who I was til being in my 30s. I have never felt like I fitted in and have felt more at home in subcultures than in the mainstream, though I don't fit in there either. I don't seem to understand social rules or people and I miss cues.
Dan had the 24 hour stomach bug, and it kind of hit me last night but not as badly. Iron constitution!! However, I did hurl and then went to sleep and had dreams of fighting with my parents at Disneyland while trying to avoid a massive vampire squid in the undersea area. Also, sweating. Also, shivering. So. Today I am weak and dizzy but probably not feverish.. I have an IEP meeting for Ty, shit to do for work, and I can't focus (as you might expect). OH well. I'm getting things done. I'm trying to prioritize said things.One cool project I'm doing is that, for kids on the Spectrum, "Social Stories" help them. It's sort of like Goofus & Gallant - stories that teach you what is expected at certain times. He was one about waiting in line, one about recess, etc. The sort of situations where there are rules that aren't necessarily written down. So I've been drawing more for him in comic book format. Dan thinks they're cute and funny. Episode 1 - don't touch people's faces, and episode 2 - The Parking Lot.
I've been writing less recently because I've been feeling swamped by school, and doing a lot of distracting to cope. My stats class has only 5 graded pieces for the whole semester and 3 of them are due the last two weeks of the semester. Even though I find the second half of the material a lot easier, just the fact that I could get an A or completely flunk and not know it until the final grades are in is exhausting and terrifying. I did finish my homework early (just have to give it one more look-over before I submit it) and I do have two whole days to finish my final project, and the final exam is mostly on stuff I like and am good at, but UGH at having no real concept of how well I am doing in the class. My other two classes are not stressful for me except that they take time I could be spending on stats.
I did manage to clean today at least. I have some stuff I want to write on but my brain is fried so I am going to go to sleep and hope to write when I wake up.
He found her at the site, both feet planted firmly on the ground. She stood at a strange angle as she stared out across the hill.
"What are you doing?"
She turned suddenly, surprised to see him there. It had been years.
"Trying to keep it all down."
He glanced down at her bare feet and saw that she was covering a pair of parallel cracks in the rocky ground. There were springs in this part of the world and you never knew where you might find one. On top of a rocky hill was a good bet though and she had her feet on two that were starting to pour and form muddy puddles.
"That won't work, you know. You can't keep it all in."
"How do you know? Have you tried?"
He cocked his head and raised his eyebrow slightly. He had not tried.
"Your feet are getting muddy."
She let out a ragged sigh and turned her face to the sky, her eyes closed and her countenance stoney.
"I have stood here on my own for this long and you show up to criticize my muddy feet?"
"It's just an observation."
"Yes, well, your observations don't do me much good, do they?"
He stepped closer. "You know I would have been here sooner, if I had known."
"I've been here in plain view the entire time."
"Why do you keep standing anyway?"
She pointed to her feet. "I am barefoot and there are rocks and it is more comfortable to stand here and get muddy than to try and find my way down."
Just then, another crack formed further away.
"There are going to be more. You have to move."
"I need to stay."
She jumped a little and more of the water escaped, pooling deeper around her feet. She had never heard him yell before, or show emotion over much anything.
"Come down! Come down with me. I will carry you if I have to, just stop all of this. You can't be here. You can't keep standing. I'll take you away from here, but you have to take the first step."
She looked at her feet and then back up at him. Her eyes were steely and her jaw was set.
I don't know man, girl stuff is a part of it, and just general fatigue from life. But I cannot do long-term or strategic thinking today. The good news about that is that there are plenty of short-term tasks that I can just man-up and do.
I've been on bupropion for ADD-PI for the last month or so now, and I think I am beginning to see positive change, but maybe with some negative change as well. On the positive side, I do find it easier to realize when I am getting "stuck" in thoughts and I can unstick them, and it's not quite so hard to get started on things (at least, for the past week that has been true), and I feel like I can manage self-care better, taking breaks that actually help me and recognizing when I am ready to get back into whatever project I'm working on (instead of procrastinating and building panic for motivation). On the maybe-negative side, my memory seems even worse, but I am not sure if that is simply a greater awareness of lost memories or actual increased loss of them. It is also impacted by the fact that I was deeply depressed all of 2012 and was recovering but not recovered in 2013; that makes my memory worse.
Memory is all that is real. I came across something that described how memory is formed and how reading fiction stores memory the same way that experiencing something does (can't find the link now). I feel this and it's why I don't watch things I don't want in my mind. I think that when you have high empathy especially, witnessing can be as powerful as directly experiencing. An experience I had and forgot has no impact on my life now, but a movie I've seen twice is there, a book I've read is there, a song I've heard again and again is there. I am composed of the things that stick.
If I lost all of my memory, I would absolutely not be the same person. The pathways in my brain might make it more likely for me to learn things I had previously learned, but I would be so different. This makes it terrifying to think that my memory is so faulty. I cannot remember my own life and so I cannot learn from it. I don't just lose unimportant memories either -- I lose even ones I would treasure, or ones that would have huge emotional impact. People have told me about experiences I had that I cannot even find a "error: memory missing" tag for, they're just 100% gone. Sometimes if the person I was with can describe in careful detail everything that happened, I can resurrect the memory, but mostly not.
That's why it's so fucking important to me to have an external memory through my journal and my photos. I cannot remember the most beautiful kiss unless I write about it (or thoroughly tell the story more than once). I cannot remember an amazing day with someone I love unless I have made memory tags for it with photos or writing. I am not a full person on my own, because my memory is a sieve that my self-pieces flow out of. I either catch them with my camera or my LJ, or they are lost forever.
Did you know that something as tiny as a grain of sand, a mere crystalline formation, could mean the difference between life and death?
My then seventy-one year old mother-in-law, Violet, found this out the hard way back in December of 2002, when she had intense abdominal pain after dining on mustard greens. Her doctor diagnosed her with gallstones.*step*
A CAT scan was performed to find out more information regarding the size and number of stones. Unexpectedly, her doctor also discovered a large tumor – about the size of a softball – growing like a bulbous mushroom on her liver.*crack*
A week or so later, while in the operating room to remove her diseased gallbladder, the surgeon performed a biopsy on the liver tumor, and found it to be malignant. They scheduled a second surgery to remove the tumor for January 2, 2003, and the expectation was that they might have to remove as much as 75% of her liver at that time.( stepCollapse )
A few more "Tiny Rhymes" to catch me up. All prompts are courtesy of (and for) minikin
. If anyone else would like to provide a ONE WORD prompt for a Tiny Rhyme, feel free to leave it in the comments. Thanks!#18: CABOCHON
your worth is much more to me
than a mere jewel.#19: BASKET
When I am empty, you blanket me
with layers of love and friendship.
Our lives are woven together,
side by side, inch by inch,
we strengthen each other.
My life would be no picnic without you.#20: SKEIN
My colorful wool,
I cast on and wonder what
we shall make today.
Took two loads of junk to the dump today. Some of it was stuff from the shed, old boxes and crud, but I also finally got rid of an old gas tank I had from a Porsche 914. Why I had this I can not tell you, but there it was, and into the dumpster it went.
So now I have a fair bit less stuff. Which is good, I have too many things in life anyway. Next step will be to get rid of some of these old computer manuals and the like...
One step at a time, one at a time.