Kyle Payne continues to be an ass

A whole lot of us posted about the squickiness that is Kyle Payne. The fellow is now facing sentencing for the sexual assault he admits to committing. But first, he'd like us all to hear all about his pain and his anguish. I consider myself fortunate for not posting my web address so I never got the form e-mail he sent. Suffice it to say, it was all about Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. Ugh!

Of the many wonderful responses, I've been enjoying Purtek's excellent post. Be sure to read the comments, too.

So as not to clog up her blog, there is something about this whole episode that makes me think about personal weaknesses.

Each and every one of us suffers from a weakness in regard to one thing or another. For whatever reason, we can't handle certain experiences and circumstances. For me, it happens to be cops with guns. I've had some real bad experiences with guns and I've had some real bad experiences with cops. Combine the two and I'm pretty much unable to respond effectively. Think of the concept of "triggering" and multiply it a few times.

So I avoid situations that put me into contact with cops who wield guns. Which shouldn't be all that difficult for a law-abiding white woman. Except that, in the activist community, there are a lot of good people, friends of mine, who practice the tactic of non-violent civil disobedience. They break bad laws in order to make a point. They get arrested, spend time in jail and use their court cases to argue for a greater good. This is a valuable and useful political activity.

I won't do it. I would be ineffective at it. It would be about my personal fears, my issues with guns and cops. I could really blow it if I wasn't able to contain the impulses and the alligator-brain responses that I learned as a child. It's important that I protect other activists from having to deal with my inappropriate responses.

Guess what? That is not a huge sacrifice on my part. It is basic common sense. It is honest self-assessment. It is basic respect for the goals and ideals of activists who are working to change the world for the better.

If Kyle has a problem with abuse issues, then he needs to protect other abuse survivors from his inappropriate responses and actions. That's simple common sense. That's basic decency.

But he won't do it. Because everyone has to deal with the problems of Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. Except for Kyle, of course.

Another Quiz

Stealing from Renegade Evolution who stole it from Daisy. I am such a wuss! Personally, I believe my sloth is greatly underrated in this quiz.

Greed:	Very Low
Gluttony:	Low
Wrath:	Medium
Sloth:	Medium
Envy:	Very Low
Lust:	Low
Pride:	Very Low

The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com

The work week from Hell

I just had one of those crappy work weeks. And it ended badly. Very badly. I basically fled the place with my tail tucked between my legs. Crying.

And I hate that. Some day I'm going to write more about this. This will be just a start.

My job? Not such a bad thing. Parts of it are deeply satisfying. I like what I do. It requires skill and creativity. I produce a quality product.

A lot of people have worse jobs. A lot of people get paid less. A lot of people have to deal with more shit than I do. I'd say at least 90 percent of the world has it worse off than me when it comes to employment. Letting it get to me seems like the whining of the privileged. It's unseemly.

Most of the time, I forget about work once I've punched out. Most of the time I have more important things to think about.

But every now and then I get caught up in the hype. I start thinking that my contribution of time and effort to this endeavor is important. I buy that hype that what I can do personally makes a difference. That I need to focus and devote myself to finishing this task or that task. And I give it more attention than it deserves. I let other things slide.

I disappoint myself when this happens.

The thing is. On Monday it starts all over again. Who came up with this crappy system anyway?

Whine time

Warning: do not read if you can't stand immature self-pity rants!

You've been warned.

Wednesday morning I got up feeling bad. But I trudged into work anyway. Spent a lot of time in the bathroom having the runs. Finished all my hot projects by 2 pm and went home. Sucked down some Immodium, which finally took effect after the 6th or 7th event. Then I slept. 15 hours straight. Got up feeling slightly better, but with no appetite. At all. I can barely eat an entire bagel before I'm full. Slept some more. Laid around reading. Got up on Friday feeling more like myself, except I still have no appetite. Which is very strange for me.

So big deal, right?

Wrong. Because Thursday was my birthday, dammit! Fifty-two and counting!*

Not to worry. Celebrations will occur tomorrow. Just needed to whine.

Ravenmn

*If I had been born 5 hours later, Leap Day would have been my Sweet 16 Birthday!

Home Ownership Blues

OK, this totally qualifies as a privileged post. I (and the bank) bought my house in 1987. It's a decent house built in 1911 with high ceilings and nice touches. But I am not a model homeowner. In fact, I pretty much suck at it.

So last night we discovered water in the basement. We tracked it down to the unheated half bath that we close off in the winter. Unfortunately, we were wrong about the water being turned off. So the pipes froze and the pipes burst and we waited 8 hours for a plumber. Which meant waking up every 45 minutes to empty a bucket overnight.

The plumber came this am, fixed the leak, but not the overall problem. More plumbers will have to be called. More money will have to be spent. And a big chunk of change was forked over for the emergency service.

I am so lucky I was able to purchase this house when prices were low. My mortgage payments are much lower than rent would be for a similar house. It was a great place to raise our daughters and a home to a herd of wonderful cats.

Still, I am not a good home owner. I can't decorate for shit. I let things go to hell and don't really care. I barely manage to follow most of the city codes about mowing the lawn and keeping the weeds at bay. There are rooms of this house that I don't enter for months.

All I need is a place to sleep, keep my clothes and stack my books. I've been blessed with much more.

In an odd juxtaposition, I volunteered to drive people to a celebration of the local Welfare Rights Committee on Saturday. I picked up and delivered two families. I heard afterward that one of the families was in a desperate housing situation and was able to resolve the issue by attending the event. That's fucking awesome.

Quiz

I took the "If You Were a Poet..." quiz on gURL.com
		I am... Gertrude Stein Do you have a thing for words? You're in good company. Gertrude Stein did too. Who else could write a line like, "A rose is a rose is a rose," and call it poetry? Read more... Which poet are you?

A near-flattening experience

Today I got a treat. Ravenhub worked late so he decided to come downtown and pick me up for a ride home. Normally I take the bus. We agreed to meet around the corner from work, since the street in front of the building is full of people picking up, dropping off, plus all manner of buses. I thought I had it timed well so that I would be waiting for him when he arrived. But he got lucky and got there first. He was waiting in the driveway to a parking lot. I was happy to see him and rushed to the car. From the corner of my eye I something flying at me. It was a fucking huge honking SUV. Some woman had found a break in the traffic and had decided she should take a left turn through a break in the traffic and barrel into the parking lot. Not bothering to notice there was a pedestrian (moi), walking across the driveway at the exact same moment.

Quick thinking that I am, I put my hand out. Because my awesome hand is the most likely thing to stop 3,000 pounds of metal, right? That wasn't going to be enough, so I jumped back and still had to push off the car before the nitwit driver slammed on her breaks.

Next I was treated to something I have simply never before seen in my life. Ravenhub came barrelling out of our car and screamed at the woman who had very nearly hit me. You have to understand. Ravenhub is the sweet and well-behaved one. Ravenhub is the one who can control impulses. Ravenhub is always trying to tell me to control my urge to mouth off in public.

The woman is mortified. The woman is wondering what the fuck this strange man is doing screaming at her. Ravenhub is at full bore, but he uses his "social worker" language: "You have no idea of the consequences of your actions!" he screams. Now who the hell screams that?

I am just staring at this car in front of my face. And at the toddler buckled into a safety seat in SUV. This woman has got some extreme priority issues. Smashing my face in is one thing. But she could have seriously injured that child as well.

Meanwhile she is apologizing over and over. I climb into our waiting car and ask the still-fulminating Ravenhub to get in with me. SUV driving woman pulls up beside our car and rolls down her window. What, she thinks we want to have a chat over this?

I tell her to be careful from now on and we slowly drive away. Whew!

The Book

I haven't blogged about this yet, but today seems like a good time. I took the day off from work to travel to the town where my mother lives. We participated in a book release party for the book that she researched and wrote and that I typeset and illustrated. The book is about our ancestors and the decisions they made as they moved from New England to the midwest in the 1800s. This book is based on letters and diaries that my mother discovered in the attic of the home where we both grew up. The letters describe the "frontier" experience for white settlers in the U.S.

My mother's academic specialty is the migration of people. What is it that motivates people to move from one part of the world to another? What decisions do they make in that process? Is the move gradual or sudden? What political, geographic and societal forces are most influential in those decisions?

What we discovered in this process is that, not surprisingly, the settlement of the "western" territories did not follow the plotlines we learned in school. Our ancestors bought midwestern land in the early 1800s but did not move there until years later. They hired other, less affluent, people to clear the land and establish the agriculture that became the basis of future wealth for our family. The family that cleared the land, built the barn, established the livestock and produced the crops was not our own. Once all the hard work was finished, my ancestors moved in and reaped the profits. The family that did the work is not longer mentioned. That's colonialism 101.

The release party was held at the retirement village in which my mother currently resides. 40 people attended, most of whom were residents of the building or friends of my mother.

This book is important because it dispels some myths and clarifies some truths. Colonialism is a messy, complicated affair. Families are affected in unpredictable ways by capitalism's need to expand and consolidate territory. The ground troops of colonialism are privileged in many ways, but they are subject also to unforgiving circumstances. Colonialism is bloody and messy and difficult. Even the so-called beneficiaries of capitalism often get a raw deal.

Moving ahead by light years

OK, I finally bought a new home computer. I've just gone from running a crippled old Imac running OS 8, to a fine and dandy new super powered Mac Pro. It's like going from riding a bicycled to warp drive. I am having me some real fun. And I can finally see other people's blogs in all their glory.

I r purring!

Pieces of Eight

I've been tagged by Veronica at Nine Pearls to participate in the Pieces of Eight meme.

Rules: Each person posts the rules before their list, then they list 8 things about themselves. At the end of the post, that person tags and links to 8 other people; then visits those people’s sites and comments, letting them know that they have been tagged, and to come read the post, so they know what they have to do.

1. I'm left handed. A lefty lefty.

2. I survived a coma when I was six. Which is why I don't gamble or buy lottery tickets; I figure I've had my quota of good luck.

3. On August 1, we'll celebrate 20 years of marriage.

4. I used to be a professional sportswriter.

5. I was a high school cheerleader.

6. I've dropped out of three colleges (so far).

7. I do two crosswords and one Soduku every day. I finish most of them.

8. I'm a member of a women's reading group that has been meeting every month for 22 years.

I tag Octogalore, Belledame, Mighty Quare Dewd, Donna, Black Amazon,