I was on the bus explaining to myself that I'm not real. Silently. I'm only so crazy.
But really, I thought, for no reason at all, "It's reverse solipsism; everyone is real but me. Only it's not fair, cuz I shouldn't have to eat or drink or shit. But eventually, everyone will catch on that I'm just a bit of imagination and I'll disappear. Not like a real person, homeless or mentally ill that no one acknowledges so it's *as if* they disappear. I would dissipate like a breath and integrate with the clouds. Maybe I'd retain enough self-awareness to look down from time to time and check out people I love.
Then the bus reached my stop and my feet didn't work quite right. Extra clumsy is not supposed to be a side effect of the steroid I'm on (again, fuck). It's generally a side effect of being me, I remembered, so I went with it and didn't try to collect my dignity.
The moon poked out of the clouds, all bright and then hiding, only to peek out again. I stopped to take some blurry pictures and breathe in the blue hour.
I've got this thing for the blue hour...
So I continued just to the foot of my stairs. That put my and the adjoining yards at about head level. A strange black and white cat ran through my neighbor's gate and paused, staring. I stood still to let it know I was no threat, and it ran down the stairs after about a minute. It stopped behind a parked car. Still not a threat. It moved just a few more feet, stood in the middle of the toad, and watched me.
Of course, for a moment, it seemed like it was doing more than making sure I wouldn't change my mind and chase it. There was just the slightest possibility that the remarkably fat stray was a cait sidhe and he had something to show me if I had the guts to come look...
Then I turned and headed up the stairs. When I glanced back, he was trotting into someone else's yard.
But really, I thought, for no reason at all, "It's reverse solipsism; everyone is real but me. Only it's not fair, cuz I shouldn't have to eat or drink or shit. But eventually, everyone will catch on that I'm just a bit of imagination and I'll disappear. Not like a real person, homeless or mentally ill that no one acknowledges so it's *as if* they disappear. I would dissipate like a breath and integrate with the clouds. Maybe I'd retain enough self-awareness to look down from time to time and check out people I love.
Then the bus reached my stop and my feet didn't work quite right. Extra clumsy is not supposed to be a side effect of the steroid I'm on (again, fuck). It's generally a side effect of being me, I remembered, so I went with it and didn't try to collect my dignity.
The moon poked out of the clouds, all bright and then hiding, only to peek out again. I stopped to take some blurry pictures and breathe in the blue hour.
I've got this thing for the blue hour...
So I continued just to the foot of my stairs. That put my and the adjoining yards at about head level. A strange black and white cat ran through my neighbor's gate and paused, staring. I stood still to let it know I was no threat, and it ran down the stairs after about a minute. It stopped behind a parked car. Still not a threat. It moved just a few more feet, stood in the middle of the toad, and watched me.
Of course, for a moment, it seemed like it was doing more than making sure I wouldn't change my mind and chase it. There was just the slightest possibility that the remarkably fat stray was a cait sidhe and he had something to show me if I had the guts to come look...
Then I turned and headed up the stairs. When I glanced back, he was trotting into someone else's yard.
My thoughts go to odd places in the morning. I usually try toward the creativity, but I barely have any control when I'm solidly awake; in those first minutes between one state and another, I take what I get. This morning, I got thoughts on welfare reform.
A woman on my Facebook feed recently declared that she would never go to Walmart again due to being in line behind a woman with an expensive cell phone and her nails done in a French manicure buying brand name clothes with her EBT card. I tried to put it out of my head after silently congratulating her for getting her frustration out without a clearly identifying bigoted label. We can come to our own racist identifiers from experience or stereotype, but she put all the blame on "Walmart."
I thought I'd let it go, but apparently it's been simmering under the surface because, in those post alarm-pre-coffee moments, I decided that the welfare system should be reworked to take and investigate such complaints. Tax payers *shouldn't* be defrauded with impunity, and the poor-but-not-on-the-dole should have their say. BUT. There should be fun punishments for those who report on race or class rather than real fraud.
The young lady who falsely insisted that EBT is to be used for FOOD and not for name brand name clothes(, nails, and smart phones) should be able to declare this beyond Facebook. But if it turns out that woman in question spent just a few dollars on press on nails instead of big bucks at the salon, got her phone before she fell on hard times or in a super cheap promo, and had her real bills taken care of before clothes (and let's be real, this was Walmart, not Saks...what'd she spend $10 a pop on Baby Phat t-shirts?), the young lady should have to giver her pedicures for a year.
Similarly, my right wing high school buddy who always spots the Cadillac in the projects should be able to report it. But if it belongs to, say someone who can legally afford it rather than the welfare mother with six kids that he imagines, he should have to wash the car for a year. And crime shouldn't save him from penance to his imaginary welfare mother. If it belongs to a pimp, say, he should have to provide security to the prostitutes...
A woman on my Facebook feed recently declared that she would never go to Walmart again due to being in line behind a woman with an expensive cell phone and her nails done in a French manicure buying brand name clothes with her EBT card. I tried to put it out of my head after silently congratulating her for getting her frustration out without a clearly identifying bigoted label. We can come to our own racist identifiers from experience or stereotype, but she put all the blame on "Walmart."
I thought I'd let it go, but apparently it's been simmering under the surface because, in those post alarm-pre-coffee moments, I decided that the welfare system should be reworked to take and investigate such complaints. Tax payers *shouldn't* be defrauded with impunity, and the poor-but-not-on-the-dole should have their say. BUT. There should be fun punishments for those who report on race or class rather than real fraud.
The young lady who falsely insisted that EBT is to be used for FOOD and not for name brand name clothes(, nails, and smart phones) should be able to declare this beyond Facebook. But if it turns out that woman in question spent just a few dollars on press on nails instead of big bucks at the salon, got her phone before she fell on hard times or in a super cheap promo, and had her real bills taken care of before clothes (and let's be real, this was Walmart, not Saks...what'd she spend $10 a pop on Baby Phat t-shirts?), the young lady should have to giver her pedicures for a year.
Similarly, my right wing high school buddy who always spots the Cadillac in the projects should be able to report it. But if it belongs to, say someone who can legally afford it rather than the welfare mother with six kids that he imagines, he should have to wash the car for a year. And crime shouldn't save him from penance to his imaginary welfare mother. If it belongs to a pimp, say, he should have to provide security to the prostitutes...
Steroids suck. I don't like the side effects of the dose I need to help me physically and I don't believe they should be used long term if there's any other choice. So I chose no meds. My stop-and-just-breathe-through-it approach to dealing with lupus flares worked...until it didn't.
This past semester became the term of the super flare. I didn't get any work done during the worst of it, and just barely--if at all--got caught up when I felt better. Then the mental break down of "Either this is an unusual effect of an auto-immune system disease or cancer"--the words of o...ot...er, ear/nose/thoat specialist after a nurse practitioner damn near killed me in "treating" my "allergies".... The term ended the 20, I was up til 3am with one late paper this morning, and still have 2 to finish....
Something's gotta give. Gotta find a way to treat this without mind melting steroids.
...After I take a nap and get back to writing.
This past semester became the term of the super flare. I didn't get any work done during the worst of it, and just barely--if at all--got caught up when I felt better. Then the mental break down of "Either this is an unusual effect of an auto-immune system disease or cancer"--the words of o...ot...er, ear/nose/thoat specialist after a nurse practitioner damn near killed me in "treating" my "allergies".... The term ended the 20, I was up til 3am with one late paper this morning, and still have 2 to finish....
Something's gotta give. Gotta find a way to treat this without mind melting steroids.
...After I take a nap and get back to writing.
- Current Mood:
exhausted
PapaVic noticed that I haven't posted in 24 weeks....and those last posts shouldn't count since they were Tweets.
Quick update because I'm working on my very last assignment for the semester and I'm hoping to avoid a repeat of last night's all nighter...
Actually, that's the update! I'm the same wife, mother, fangirl that I was last I posted, but I'm now I'm an American Studies major trying hard to feel like a scholar and hoping that by the time I earn my masters (still working on my bachelor's for another three semesters) I'll know what the hell I'm doing with the degree.
No worries; it's the same lament of everyone foolish or passionate enough to major in the humanities.
I'll make a point to show up more often and peek at all the posts from you lovelies. Now, back to cultural anthropology!
Quick update because I'm working on my very last assignment for the semester and I'm hoping to avoid a repeat of last night's all nighter...
Actually, that's the update! I'm the same wife, mother, fangirl that I was last I posted, but I'm now I'm an American Studies major trying hard to feel like a scholar and hoping that by the time I earn my masters (still working on my bachelor's for another three semesters) I'll know what the hell I'm doing with the degree.
No worries; it's the same lament of everyone foolish or passionate enough to major in the humanities.
I'll make a point to show up more often and peek at all the posts from you lovelies. Now, back to cultural anthropology!
- Current Mood:
determined
- 20:45 last Airbender? Total suckage. Wasted good babysitter time. #
- 12:54 Taking the kindergarten grad to Applebee's! #
- 18:09 A Writer's Block: Just Anita Blake and Me. anagain.blogspot.com/2010/06/just-anita-b
lake-and-me.html?spref=tw # - 21:19 Yes, I retweeted. I love Felicia Day more than you hate retweets! #
- 13:47 A Writer's Block: Connections... anagain.blogspot.com/2010/06/connections.h
tml?spref=tw # - 19:20 Pop grilled. X bought tequila. Spades will start soon. #
- 12:19 @neilhimself They should definitely fix that quiz! #
- 22:36 Just took "Which Crazy Writer Are You?" and got: Tom Wolfe! Try it ➔ bit.ly/beQ513 #
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