In the city

28 06 2015

When I was a kid I remember a poster of a black cat on a cement sidewalk.

“City Cat”, I think, was the title.

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A variation on a theme: “Windowsill Cat”.





Smile, everything is all right

25 06 2015

I mentioned earlier an infected, broken tooth—which both infection and tooth were dealt with on Monday.

Which is good. And I’m neither in pain nor allergic to the antibiotic, which is also good.

I did notice something, though. When I went outside prior to the oral surgery, I was incredibly fucking conscious of how misshapen my face was. It was not just embarrassing, it felt like I had done something wrong, and everyone could see I had done something wrong.

I mean, by Sunday (I didn’t leave the apt)  I looked like this:

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And no, that bulge in the cheek and neck is not a normal look for me.

Walking home after the surgery, however, I wasn’t the least self-conscious.

True, I was still groggy from the anesthesia, so wasn’t conscious of much beyond “one foot, then other foot, then that first foot”, so maybe that’s not the best example, but even later that day, when I went down to Target to pick up the antibiotic, I knew I looked like hell and I didn’t really care.

Okay, again, I was reaaaaalllllllllyyyyy tired and in some pain, so probably also not the best example.

BUT I HAVE A POINT HERE, somewhere, if not a point, exactly, then certainly an observation: being all swollen pre-op seemed shameful, but the post-op swollen-ness (which on Monday and into Tuesday, when I went back for a checkup, was just as bad) was just sorta, “yep, looks bad”.

So, to recap (not that that’s necessary but indulge me, wouldja?): Looking like a lopsided chipmunk due to illness? NASTY! Looking like a lopsided chipmunk due to oral surgery? Eh.

That’s some fucked-up level of moral reaction to an infected tooth, and its treatment.





Sincerely, oh yes, sincerely

23 06 2015

Sincerity is overrated in politicians.

It’s not that I don’t care at all about the dimensions of their beliefs, but I’ll take a right act for the wrong reason over a wrong act for the right reason every damned time.

So, all those Southern Republicans who have had a “change of heart” and now support the removal of state support of the Confederate Battle Flag?

I don’t care what’s truly madly deeply in their hearts. I care that the flag of treason and white supremacy is finally, finally, being stripped of official honor.

~~~

Taking down the flag is one thing, not every thing, and in the long slog to dismantle white supremacy, certainly not the most important thing.

But that it is now, finally, being treated as a symbol of white supremacy by those who have long profited from the active denial of white supremacy, matters.

And if they don’t truly madly deeply believe, in their hearts, that it is such a symbol, and are now just pandering to distance themselves from those who might cause them trouble?

I’ll take “pander” for the win, Alex.





The world is unfair, wah

21 06 2015

Sore back, abscess, broken tooth, and broken fridge.

Great fuckin’ start to summer.





Brother, brother

18 06 2015

The names of the dead:

Clementa Pinckney, 41, the primary pastor who also served as a state senator.

Cynthia Hurd, 54, St. Andrews regional branch manager for the Charleston County Public Library system.

Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, 45, a church pastor, speech therapist and coach of the girls’ track and field team at Goose Creek High School.

Tywanza Sanders, 26, who had a degree in business administration from Allen University, where Pinckney also attended.

Ethel Lance, 70, a retired Gailliard Center employee who has worked recently as a church janitor.

Susie Jackson, 87, Lance’s cousin who was a longtime church member.

DePayne Middleton-Doctor, 49, a retired director of the local Community Development Block Grant Program who joined the church in March as a pastor.

Myra Thompson, 59, a pastor at the church.

Daniel Simmons Sr., 74, a pastor, who died in a hospital operating room.

—compiled by Andrew Knapp, The Post and Courier

~~~

Nikki Haley, South Carolina’s Republican governor, made a curiously obtuse statement on Facebook in the aftermath of Wednesday’s massacre at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston. “While we do not yet know all of the details, we do know that we’ll never understand what motivates anyone to enter one of our places of worship and take the life of another,” the governor said.

[. . .]

On the same program, former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani also confessed to being baffled about possible motives. “We have no idea what’s in his mind,” he said. “Maybe he hates Christian churches. Maybe he hates black churches or he’s gonna go find another one. Who knows.”

South Carolina Senator and presidential candidate Lindsey Graham questioned whether this was a “hate crime” and tried to suggest factors other than race were involved. “There are real people who are organized out there to kill people in religion and based on race, this guy’s just whacked out,” Graham said on the TV show “The View.” “But it’s 2015. There are people out there looking for Christians to kill them.” (Via)

“I have to do it,” the gunman allegedly told a survivor. “You rape our women and you’re taking over our country. And you have to go.”

https://twitter.com/historianess/status/611540914947948545

In response to the Boston bombing of 2013, Senator Lindsey Graham demanded that the government do everything it could to learn from the attack and prevent future attacks.

This man, in my view, should be designated as a potential enemy combatant and we should be allowed to question him for intelligence gathering purposes to find out about future attacks and terrorist organizations that may exist that he has knowledge of, and that evidence cannot be used against him in trial. That evidence is used to protect us as a nation.

[. . .]

Graham’s reaction to Wednesday’s attack on a black church in his home state of South Carolina was very different. . . .

“I just think he was one of these whacked out kids. I don’t think it’s anything broader than that,” Graham said. “It’s about a young man who is obviously twisted.” (Via)

https://twitter.com/jbouie/status/611554282718957568

Oh yes, and this:

Indeed.





We’re sailing on a strange sea

15 06 2015

A friend who I thought Had It All. . . doesn’t.

She’ll be okay—she’s the most resilient person I know—but the next few months will be rough for her, and it’s unclear what her life will look like once matters do clear.

I’ve been lucky with friends. My life doesn’t look much like theirs’, but it’s not an issue. Some are married, some own homes, some have kids, some are, like me, alone in a rental, but I’ve never gotten the sense from any of them that how I live is inferior to how they live.

I often think that I live an inferior life. I do compare myself to others, as well as to what I think I could have if-only, and I preface any invitations to visit with the warning I live like a graduate student. Almost 50, and I live like a graduate student.

But what I missed in seeing only my own shortfalls was that the Having It All can be a kind of front. Not a false-front, but the kind that seems sui generis—as if it just happened, and that there was no work, no struggle, no falling-short behind it all.

I think we are all so separate and our lives so distant, and in some ways, we are. But we’re also all just bobbing alongside one another in the wavy deep.

 





Delilah

10 06 2015

I. . . I don’t know what’s going on here.

But I can’t stop watching.

The Leningrad Cowboys, ladies and gentlemen.

~~~

h/t lankypanky (commenter at Gawker)





Sleep tonight

9 06 2015

Places in my apartment where cats sleep:

On the desk.

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Annoyed that she is no longer sleeping.

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On the bed in the sun.

014In a file box on my socks.

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Again, annoyed I woke her up.

At the threshold to the bathroom.

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Yep, also annoyed.

These are not the only places the cats sleep.

No, these cats are pros, and can sleep anywhere.





Looking out my window

8 06 2015

Finally got the basil in:

Okay, so I should have taken the picture before replacing the screen.

Okay, so I should have taken the picture before replacing the screen.

I would have done this earlier in the week except that I was a) sick, and, as a result of a, b) tired. And it was rather cool here last week.

Anyway, I only planted 6 plants this year and it seemed a bit sparse, so I checked last year’s blog posts (search=basil), and it looked like I crammed in more plants (which, given that they pretty much gave up the ghost by mid-summer, might have been too many*).

I’m thinkin’ that the nursery last year sold them in 4-packs (and I bought 2) and this year in six-packs, hence the six.

(I did have two 6-packs in hand at one point, but was dubious, so I finally read the little plastic info thingy the nursery sometimes includes in plants, and it said to *plant ’em 8″ apart. Yeah, 12 plants in a 16″ box woulda been too many.)

Anyway, the basil box is back. One of the few unreservedly good things about summer.





And everybody knows that the plague is coming, 18

4 06 2015

I can get fed up with snark—it’s often obvious, lazy, or just plain jerkish—but sometimes it’s so well done I can only say “Ahhhh”.

I “ahhh” a lot when reading C.A. Pinkham’s “Behind Closed Ovens” series—and these are the types of stories for which you definitely want to read the comments.

Anyway, that’s the happy news.

The less-happy news are the terrible conditions under which restaurant staff too often labor, which Pinkham also (righteously!) highlights:

Afternoon Delight:

Almost the exact thing happened to me. I was working at a cheap sushi restaurant and got food poisoning in the middle of my shift. I began vomiting over and over, about twice an hour. I was literally running in and out of the bathroom between taking orders because I couldn’t stop, I was so ill. What did my manager say when I asked if I could go home? He said no, we were short staffed because he’d already let a girl go home because she’d stayed up too late the night before doing cocaine. It took 4 hours from the point I started vomiting for him to finally let me leave, and he demanded I apologize to all my coworkers for “making them work harder”. Btw I didn’t even make it the 6 block walk home without vomiting in the gutter. I didn’t get fired right away, but I mysteriously stopped getting shifts about two weeks later despite being the oldest and most experienced server (at 20 years old, btw). Fuck the way restaurant workers are treated in this country.

catslightly:

Not surprised. I came down with the flu once when I was working at a cafe and they told me I couldn’t leave. When a customer complained that I was clearly ill, my manager just moved me to the kitchen so the customers couldn’t see me infecting them all.

acornprincess:

This reminds me of one of my roommates in undergrad who worked at the dining hall – She somehow got pink eye and tried to call out sick after going to the doctor, since, you know, pink eye is hella contagious. They said she couldn’t and that they would just keep her in the back on dishwashing duties so she would be “out of sight”…like, as long as the other students didn’t see her inflamed, seeping eye as they were being served their fucking turkey tetrazzini all would be well. Anyway, there was a subsequent MAJOR breakout of pink eye. Enough so that the President of the university had to send out a campus-wide email about it outlining tips/directions about what to do to prevent the spread and how to get treatment. Fucking ridiculous.

jennnnn:

I once worked super sick through my lunch shift and went to a minute clinic on break for a strep culture. Came back positive, with a dr’s note, and my boss sat and watched me call everyone off that evening to cover my shift. No one would so I sat and cried, feeling terrible, sick, and defeated, and shaking from my fever. Finally after watching me crumble he said go home. What a dick.

There are many many many more, in both the post and in the comments.*

We Americans have an awful attitude when it comes to wage-work, namely, that more is always better** and too much is never enough.

Madness.

~~~

*If you don’t want to feel terrible, stop after you read the “Strega Nona” comment. That one’s nice.

**Of course we also rebel against this puritanical sensibility by pretending that we’re busier than we are. Because busier is always better, natch.