A Smaller Target

I like this one...

 As I wrote a while ago, I'm bipolar 1.  For eighteen months I was a good girl and took lithium twice a day -- had bloodwork for it on schedule once a month.  The drug worked, in so far as my mind and body were quieted by it. And goodness I slept well.  But maybe it worked too well.   My body gained 40 (yes, FORTY) pounds, something I was not happy about.  But worse still, I lost the ability to think in a complex theoretical manner.  My then doctor, a very nice older man, seemed to think this was a valid trade-off.  I didn't and stopped taking my medications.

My body, my science experiment, right?  Okay, yes but maybe not a great idea.  Without a mood stabilizer, which is what lithium is, my moods were, well unstable again.  The anxiety and fear began to creep back.  My sleep was disrupted.  And the feeling that the inside of my bones were buzzing came back too.  Even though no one around me complained (Paul is good that way), I could also feel the rise of mania.  It comes with the warm weather for me. 

After 6 months I realized I couldn't keep living like this and went back to talk to my doctor only to find he had retired.   I was given a new doctor.  At that point, before my first appointment with her, I almost gave up.  I'm so glad I didn't.

My new doctor is great. I love her. 

She's younger than my first doctor, about the same age as me actually.  No judgement about kink stuff, just wanted to know how it made me feel and how I see bipolar disorder in connection with kink.  They do connect for me, and that's fine.  Even more importantly, she understood that my academic work matters a lot to me, that not being able to think in a theoretical manner or read philosophy wasn't a trade off I wanted to make for sanity's sake.  So we're trying a new drug called geodon.  Three months in and it's looking good.  It's not ideal -- I feel achingly drowsy on it sometimes and it cost a lot, even with my insurance-- but I can take it and still write, still focus and feel like myself. 

These are good things.

Now to try and do something about these forty extra pounds of me.

What, me worry?

This past week I spent a lot of time at Cedar Sinai Hospital. My mother was in having surgery on her stomach and esophagus (it went very well, thank you for asking). It's a wonderful hospital and her care has been amazing. However, I did see this sign in the main elevators. If this is intended to reassure, I'm not sure that this sign serves its intended purpose.

I mean, I'm not usually at all nervous on elevators, but this sign left me imagining plunging to my death just before the car runs out of air.

(Note: I did not take this picture. Someone else had already done so and loaded it to Flicker.)

A Christmas Meme

A Christmas edition of a getting to know your friends meme. :)

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper with ribbons except where the gift makes it impossible.

2. Real tree or artificial? Can be either depending on the year. Real the years we're at home, fake for the years we're traveling.

3. When do you put up the tree? Early to mid - December.

4. When do you take the tree down? Twelvth Night.

5. Do you like eggnog? Yes, but only the commercial kind, over ice and without booze.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? A Spirograph when I was 9. I've never wanted anything so much before or since. It was the most perfect gift ever.

7. Hardest person to buy for? Paul, not because he's difficult but because I want the gift to be just right and that rarely happens.

8. Easiest person to buy for? My father. He loves getting presents and is thrilled by everything he gets.

9. Do you have a nativity scene? Yes -- a creche which passed to me when my grandparents died. I love it in all its chipped and glued-back-together glory.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail -- about once every 5 years or so.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? You know, I'm so spoiled that I don't think I've ever gotten a bad present. Or maybe I just love presents!

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? Ooo... so many. In order: "The Thin Man," "Love Actually," "Nightmare Before Christmas," "A Christmas Story."

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? The week before Christmas, finishing on Christmas Eve because I love shopping on Christmas Eve (seriously). I can't shop early because as soon as I have a present for someone I have to give it to them. The idea of shopping a month or more ahead of time sounds like torture.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? See's chocolate a few times.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Tamales and homemade Christmas cookies.

16. Lights on the tree; colored or white? Colored

17. Favorite Christmas song? "The Christmas Song," "Baby It's Cold Outside" "There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays" and "River" But I like almost all Christmas songs / carols. Except "The Little Drummer Boy" -- that one makes me want kill myself.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? I don't care, so long as we get to be with lots of family and friends.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer's? Yes, though I need to sing the song in my head to do it.

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Depends on the year.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Christmas Eve, after Midnight Mass.

23. Favorite ornament theme or color? Red is a favorite color, but my favorite ornaments are the ones Paul's bought for me over the years.

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? Roast Beef and Yorkshire puddings with chocolate yule cake for dessert.

25. What do you want for Christmas this year? My mom's total recovery from her surgery on December 8th.

26. Who is most likely to respond to this? Sentimental sorts like me.

On Monsters and the Election

From Nobel Prize winning economist Paul Krugman in his blog at the New York Times:

[F]or the past 14 years America’s political life has been largely dominated by, well, monsters. Monsters like Tom DeLay, who suggested that the shootings at Columbine happened because schools teach students the theory of evolution. Monsters like Karl Rove, who declared that liberals wanted to offer “therapy and understanding” to terrorists. Monsters like Dick Cheney, who saw 9/11 as an opportunity to start torturing people.

And in our national discourse, we pretended that these monsters were reasonable, respectable people. To point out that the monsters were, in fact, monsters, was “shrill.”
Four years ago it seemed as if the monsters would dominate American politics for a long time to come. But for now, at least, they’ve been banished to the wilderness.

Amen.

I smiled this morning at the sight of an American flag and realized it was the first time I'd done so since the horror of Abu Ghraib.

Today I'm very proud of my country.

I voted! Hopefully you did too.

How did I vote? Over a longish period of time while sitting outside Coffee Bean (it was a long mail-in ballot that I carried in in person because I wanted to watch it go into the machine).

Among other things,I voted for Obama (I voted for him in the primary too).  I wish I could find the words to express the emotions that washed over me as I marked my ballot. Maybe later I'll be able to express it.

Finally, but not in passing, I voted NO on Prop. 4  and No on Prop. 8.  I generally vote "no" on propositions on principle, but I feel very very strongly about the NO vote I cast on Prop. 8.  So much so, I don't think I could even have a civil conversation with someone who voted "yes."   The idea of people voting to take civil rights away from other people is obscene and shouldn't even be legal.  If Obama wins tonight but Prop. 8 passes, I'm afraid my celebration will be bittersweet. 

Anyway, hope you got your sticker!

Less Than Twenty-Four Hours to London

Weight: 192

After a weekend spent caretaking an elderly friend so his wife could have a bit of a break (they have a pool so it's been fun as well as a bit challenging), Pablo and I are off tomorrow for a trip to Britain. Though we're only going to be their two weeks, the time seems packed with an almost disorienting combination of visits with relatives and friends and a trip to the Edinburgh festival.

I'm not planning on bringing my laptop -- my mac powerbook is a creaky 10 this year and I can't justify the 8 pounds of excess weight (maybe Santa will bring me a macbook air) so my internet access will be only as frequent as I can pry Paul's laptop out of his selfish, hard and large hands.

It's been a great weekend though.  My birthday present finally came. It's a new bike -- a hot pink Hello Kitty beach cruiser (picture here -- you can click for a larger version).  It's even cooler in person and speaks to my Hello Kitty desires which I will try and remember to write to you about another time. 

Sadly, I've barely had a chance to actually ride it yet and only just around the block, but whenever he's missing me, Paul goes into our friend's garage and finds me stroking it in a loving yet slightly disturbing fashion.

Anyway, we're about to leave for London as I write this.  I'm bringing a journal so with any luck I'll be able to write some dispatches as computer and 'net access allows.  In any case, if I go silent for a few weeks, you now know where I am.  If you miss me, tell Paul to share his computer.  (Note: he's not selfish.  We share everything else.  But our computers seem to be a share too far.

Fitday & Hostess: WTF?

Weight: 195

Log into Fitday to record food / protein.

Cue ghostly fading in of cream-filled cakes both below and to the right of the journal feature.  Have them repeat at every new screen.

3 cakes = 100 calories. 

Wonderful.

This new relationship is not helping my carb issues.  What's next Fitday?  Ads for diet Snicker bars? 

Thoughts anyone?

Added 7/17/08: Alison is right in her second reply.  Below is a screen shot of my journal entry page as of this morning (you can click on it for a larger version).  The words "not really helpful" do leap to mind. 

For anyone about to helpfully suggest I consider paying for Fitday's software so I don't have to put up with any ads, let me just say I'd love to and have twice tried to do so.  Unfortunately, as they told me 3 years ago, Fitday doesn't think writing a version of their software for the macintosh is worthwhile as "such a small number of people" use them.  I think I know all of you.  Much as I like Fitday, I don't think they're worth breaking off my 22 year relationship with my macs.

Okay, enough.  Grumpy is going to get some iced coffee and a walk.

Blimey! England in August

Weight: 193

You know how it is.  The exchange rate dollar to pound is worse than it been for most of my lifetime.  Airfares at record highs.  And August is high season for travel to the UK.  What does this mean? 

Paul and I are going, of course.  The reasons are involved, but they have to do with his family.  I was dreading the trip at first, mostly for the expense but also because of the time involved.  Now that we have tickets ($1400 RT by STA on Air New Zealand and trust me that was the best fare by far) and are starting to make plans, I'm feeling really excited about it. 

The trip's coming up fast too.  We'll be gone for two weeks (that's all I can be away) from August 5 - 19.

Oh, and the little video below was one that made me laugh so hard that iced freedom bag water almost came out my nose.  It would have, except I wasn't drinking at the time.  (A side note is that it's filmed all around West LA so I was busy noticing what locations were used when.)  Enjoy!

http://view.break.com/530967 - Watch more free videos

Normal For Norwich?

And now for some news from our friends across the sea.  In the Daily Telegraph today, an article about a 19 year old girl who found a bat in her bra. 

"In her bra" as in "in the bra" she was currently wearing.   At work. 

Abbie Hawkins, a hotel receptionist, thought her mobile phone was ringing when she felt vibrations coming from her clothes.

But she later discovered the tiny creature tucked away in the padded pocket of her underwear.

As staff and colleagues crowded around, Miss Hawkins, 19, produced the frightened bat, which was the size of her hand.

Yeah. 

I once had a cockroach on my foot at work, but this definitely trumps it.  Young Abbey seems very kind hearted as well, commenting that

"Once I realised it was a bat I was shocked, but then I felt quite sorry for it really.
It looked very snug in there and I thought how mean I was for disturbing it."

I'm not sure what I'd do if I found a flying rodent in my bra, but I suspect I wouldn't spend time feeling guilty about removing it.  If my reaction to the roach is any indication, I'd be too busy screaming.

If it's Tuesday...

Weight: 193.4

... I should try and answer some of the questions so kindly asked in the comments. 

• Many thanks to everyone for the good wishes.  It's true, I was down for a while.  I'm not anymore.  In fact, quite the opposite, despite the lithium. 
• Alison and *S*: I'm still afraid about the loss of both productivity and general brightness with the taking of medication, but I've promised myself to try it for a year (assuming it remains a good medical choice). The fact is, even not feeling especially smart, I seem to be able to work, something which was impossible for months.  As I've thought about my past more over the last few months, I've realized that my highs are associated with some behaviors that make me cringe even to remember let alone talk about.  Basically I'm trying to do what I'm told here and not think about it too much.  Easier said than done and all that.
• *S* - I like Power Crunch bars more due to their texture because they're structured like a wafer cookie rather than a big chewy blob.  Cinnamon roll isn't my favorite flavor (that would probably be strawberry cream or vanilla) but isn't bad.  The protein in them comes from whey not soy so they'd probably be okay for you in that sense. GNC carries them (at least the ones in Oregon and California do) so you might want to pick a couple up before deciding you want .  We're all different, but they do work for me.
• About Theo:  I am going to talk to Dr. Friend and ask that Theo be sent home should he not be interesting to the child anymore.  I've also had the offer of another Theo (who had been a gift to Harriet) but I think she needs a bite-y T-Rex as much as I do.  Finally, as Paul mentioned to me after reading my post, I do have a female version (a T-Rex named Dora) so even if Theo doesn't return, I'm not without an attack dino when one  is needed.
• Finally -- I'm back from Portland.  My dad has gone from getting ~14 mpg to getting ~27-30mpg. 

And that's about it.  Did I miss anything?

PS.  I love the idea of everyone getting a Vespa.  Me, I'm looking for the perfect bike.  I suspect when I find it, it will be orange.

Unexpected Road Trip

I'm probably going to be quiet for a couple of days.  I'm taking a weekend road trip with my dad from LA to Portland leaving this afternoon.  We'll be back Sunday night.

He's somewhat impulsively decided to sell his Tahoe and get a smaller car.  Because the truck is still registered in Portland, they still officially live there and Oregon has no sales tax, it makes sense to him to take the truck up there and buy the car up there.  Plus he'll get to spend the holiday weekend with my mother. 

Great, but the trip is 16 hours each way.  That's a long way to drive alone and the idea of him doing it was freaking my mom out.   Me too actually when I heard about it.  In a perfect world Paul or my brother could go and share the driving.  We don't live in a perfect world and work keeps either of them from being able to sign onto this adventure.  I don't drive but I can go and be a good passenger.  So that's what I'm doing.  After work today, Sacramento here I come.  W00T!

And no, I'm not just doing this because I'm a good daughter.  I'm doing it partly because this impulsive decision is my fault at least in part (though I haven't told my mother).  You see, when he and I were walking on Santa Monica Pier Sunday, I mentioned that my very small carbon footprint (I take the bus and walk everywhere) probably means our family is breaking even despite his 14 mile per gallon gas guzzler.   

Yeah.

I'll have to remember that he listens to me sometimes.  O the power!

Childishly heartbroken

Weight: 196

The question "what's really bothering you?" springs to mind.

Last night I had dinner with my closest friend from graduate school (though she's Dr. Friend now having already completed her PhD) and her small son. She and her family are headed to Chicago for her first professional position. I'm thrilled for her -- it's a great job.


Anyway, last night they came over to our apartment after we'd eaten. I was doing my best to amuse her small son (our apartment isn't the most kid-friendly place) by pulling out whatever (vanilla) toys I could find. When they left, I gave him all sorts of cheap plastic toys I'd collected via McD's Happy Meals. He was beyond excited by them and I was pleased to see them go.

And then he asked if he could have Theo. Theo is my plastic bite-y T-Rex dinosaur. He's from the Natural History Museum in London and I tend to use him (at least in my imagination) to attack those who thwart me. I've had him for 5 years. On the other hand, the child asking is four years old, has a father who's been unexpectedly away for two weeks due to a family emergency and had just this past week had to see all his things including toys, packed up and shipped away in a truck to some place he's never been. So of course I said he could have it. I was glad to give it.

Except I woke up this morning feeling deeply sad about the loss of Theo.

Huh?

My only hope is that I'm really mourning the loss of my dear friend who's moving away. I think that's the case. I couldn't really care this much about a plastic dinosaur head on a stick.

Could I?

Product Alert: Power Crunch Sale!

Weight: 195.2

When I went to All Star Heath to order a couple months worth of my favorite calcium, I noticed that the Cinnamon Roll flavor of Power Crunch bars is currently on sale. And I do mean sale as the price for a box of twelve is currently $4.50.

This price is due to them having a sell by date of 7/24 -- but as I keep mine in the freezer anyway, that's fine by me. They're pretty yummy.

(By the way, I like buying with All-Star Health because their shipping charge is only $5.95 however much you order. Good deal!)

Okay, so I'm back

Weight: 197 (ouch!)

What's happened? Too much to discuss in one entry for sure. Details will emerge (or not) as the blog turns.

A very short summery is that I had a depressive episode that lasted much of October through March -- the longest and deepest period of depression I've ever experienced. There were some up days, but generally it was like being trapped in an abyss. By the time it finally started to end, I'd all but given up hope that it would ever end. At the time I knew I needed help, but I also knew that it was all I could do to just keep going to work and keep my life together. I also ate a lot of sugar, gave up exercise, got behind on vitamins and basically let a lot of things fall all to hell. Therefore I'm up 30 pounds. I did get as high as 202. Ugh.

Since the depression ended or rather ebbed, I've seen a psychiatrist at my university's hospital. He's great and has helped a lot. He's also diagnosed me as bipolar. This wasn't a surprise -- I think I've known for years and just been resisting believing anyone else could tell. To be honest, I feel like I'm only smart when I'm in a manic period and I worry that without those times I won't be able to get any work done. I'm on lithium now and still afraid. But I also can't bear to go through that sort of depression again.

I'm also really, really tired of seeing doctors. I wrote the following for somewhere else about just this problem.

-----

I'm tired of talking about me.

I should qualify that statement a bit -- don't get me wrong. I find myself utterly fascinating. After all, I spend a lot of time with me. I write about me (what else is blogging after all?). I sometimes meet friends for coffee and talk about myself at least some of the time (at least during the time we're not talking about their children).

So what do I mean?

Basically I'm complaining about having to go to the doctor. Or rather, about going to doctors for the first time. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I've been seeing a psychiatrist. He's great -- I like him a lot. But he's not a long term therapist. Rather, he's the one who's diagnosed me (bipolar I with anxiety disorder in case you're keeping track) and keeps track of my lithium dosage and blood readings.* Anyway, he's been great and wants me to find a therapist. Ever the obedient patient, I determined to do as told.

However, rather than just taking a referral, I decided it would be far easier to use the student counseling services on campus. This would mean, thought I, that I could just go to therapy once a week on my lunch hour. So I made an appointment (explaining the situation on the phone to the intake person), filled out yet another pile o' forms with statements about my feelings, past treatments, family history and the like. When I got to the office yesterday, I was met with yet another pile of forms. This is a university and I work here so I knew better than to argue. I just filled the damn things out out and turned them in.

My next step was a meeting with Rebecca, a graduate psych student doing clinical practice (like, she'd be practicing on me). That's cool, she seemed nice enough. We went through 45 minutes of discussion about why I was there, questions about my history, my goals and then my feelings. I had no thoughts for her on my feelings -- I felt fine (other than being a little hungry due to the lack of lunch).

Then she started talking in that very gentle, I-hope-you're-not-going-to-be-angry-or-melt-down way. Rebecca told me she wanted to refer me off campus to a counseling psychiatrist or psychologist. That the center now had a policy of only doing 12 sessions with any student in a given year and she felt I'd be better off with someone who I could see in an on-going fashion without needing to worry about running into the that limit. Plus, since I have a medical diagnosis of a specific disorder, there would be no problem with insurance coverage even off campus. As I listened, I wasn't in danger of melting down, but my first thought was "damn, I so don't want to introduce myself again."

There's nothing for it of course. She's right -- a private therapist is definitely the way to go. Before anyone says it, I know I'm really fortunate. I live in Santa Monica where there's no shortage of mental health professionals and I'll be able to take my pick. My insurance coverage as a student is good. Pablo's coverage as a university employee is even better. But even when I'm feeling good, this sort of intake is agony. I hate talking to strangers**, especially about myself. Especially about what's going on in my head, which is my own private domain. I keep myself feeling safe a lot of times by making sure to let people talk about themselves and not talking about the things that I feel are private and important to me. I'm not just introverted -- most of the time I'm shy too.

This blog entry is just a little whine, there's nothing for it and the appointments will have to be made. I'm just glad that I won't get the referrals until Thursday. With the Friday holiday that means the earliest I can even start making appointments is July 7.

---

*this is apparently very important as there's a rather fine line between the therapeutic and toxic blood level of lithium. Knowing this does not help with my anxiety issues, but the lithium does seem to be a helpful mood stabilizing drug.

**writing to strangers in a blog is apparently a completely different matter.

Not Dead Yet

...and I will begin blogging again very soon. Tonight was spent deleting much comment spam -- mostly about gay porn for reasons that bemuse me.

Thanks to everyone for the good wishes expressed here and via email.

What do I feel?

This should be an entry to remind myself that at 40 I should know better than to try and set between friends who are either disagreeing or don't like each other.  Especially when I don't know what's going on.  The only thing both people could end up agreeing on is that I should mind my own business.

Why I apparently don't know better and keep making the mistakes the got me in trouble in junior high, why I need everyone around me to get along and to love me are questions that will probably take the next 40 years to resolve. 

I can't muse on my crazy insecurities today. 

Today I'm at work, working in bursts because the mindlessness of my job makes it an easy place to hide..

Today I've turned off my phones and am ignoring my email.

Today I'm trying to find the courage to walk into my boss's office and tell her about the call I just got from my mom.  But I can't do it.  That call which I should have been expecting has somehow ripped a hole in me.   

My grandmother is dying.  She's been going by inches for the past year, but her inches are running out.  At 101 her life is terrible -- even the smallest acts of independence are being stripped away while her mind has stayed horribly alert and aware of every loss.  Over the past year, as it's become clear my nana can never get well, can only decline, I've hoped and prayed for her to pass peacefully.  Dying peacefully is the right thing for me to want here and the kindest and most merciful outcome.  I know this.

But I don't want it and so maybe I haven't really prayed for either.  I'm selfish and I don't want to let her go.  At the worst moments of my life, childhood and adulthood, she's been there for me, making me feel loved as unconditionally as it would be possible for anyone to be.  Her very existence and love for me saved my life, not just once but repeatedly, including one time when I was 10 years old and she confronted my parents about their abuse of me and threatened to take me away from them. 

When I was a child and she was taking care of me, I worried often that she would die.  Back then, 70 seemed very old and she used to play a bit with guilt, telling me when I rolled my eyes at being told to push my bangs out of my face when I read or not to bite my nails that I wouldn't have her to bother me much longer.  One summer when I was 11, the thought of losing her made me burst into tears and in comforting me she swore she would be here with me as long as I needed her. 

That's right.  She loved me me so much and was so distressed at having hurt me by her teasing she swore not to leave until I was sure I could let her go. 

My nana is in Portland -- more than a 1000 miles away from me.  Her weight down to 65 pounds.  She has cancer that's spread throughout her body and for which there is no treatment.  Her younger sister and older brother are both dead now.  Last summer my grandfather, her husband of 70 years, died and left her alone to mourn him.  My mom told me today Nana can't hold down food or water.

She has always been safety and home to me and soon  I have to travel north to say goodbye.  Somehow very soon I have to let her know it's okay for her to go, that I'll be fine.

But I don't believe it.  And selfishly in my heart, however much she wants and needs to go, I don't want her to leave.

After So Long

...I'm writing a post about almost nothing.

First off, I'm so sorry for worrying anyone and so humbled by the fact you would be worried.  I'm fine.  Nuts, not in a bad way, but fine.  I didn't intend it to happen this way,  but I must have needed some time away from the 'net.  Also, the longer I was away, the harder it was to figure out what to say when I came back.

I wish I had time to write a full update, but it would probably be quite boring.

Highlights:

• Brother is getting married in two weeks.
• Turned 40.
• Got an orange iPod shuffle for my birthday.
• Am lusting after the iPhone.
• Father is now working most of the time in Los Angeles and staying with P and me during the week.
• Parents house is on the market.
• Rejoined the gym and am struggling back to working out on a regular basis.
• Work has been insanely busy.
• Am running the summer short story contest for soc.sexuality.spanking (the group where P and I met).
• Have gained back what weight I lost immediately post op from the tummy tuck.
• Have become addicted to Pinkberry (I suspect this may bear some responsiblity for the above).
• A metal staple worked its way out of my new belly button.
• Discovered today the the surgeon who took over at USC from Dr. Kauffman has gone on indefinite leave and I'm now one of Dr. Crooke's patients (hey, at least I'm in good company).

So there you have it.  Nothing wrong except that I'm a flake.  Thanks for caring.

Due Consideration

Yeah, this is going to be a rant.  It's been building for a while.  You have been warned.

Lately lack of consideration has been bothering me.  Maybe it's the fact it's almost summertime or something, but it sure feels like there's been more than usual. 

Some examples?

• Heidi and the Wooden Shoes: The guy who lives upstairs has a girlfriend (yay for him) who stays over sometimes every night.  How do I know this?  Not because I'm the sort of neighbor who peeks through lace curtains to note the gossip-y comings and goings of those living around me.  No, really I'm not!  I know because she runs stomps up and down the stairs wearing wooden shoes.  Seriously, she couldn't make more noise if she tried -- it's damn impressive especially on the days I've noted that she's wearing running shoes.   Maybe I'm more sensitive to this one because when I weighed 200 pounds more than I do now I worried a lot about Being The Fat Girl and Making Too Much Noise when I walked.   So how much does la chica weigh?  Mayby 110.  And that would be after a heavy dinner.  So why haven't I talked to her about  it?  Because she seems really nice.  Seriously, this has been going on for a year now and I feel like if I tell her she'll be embarrassed to know she's been bugging us for this long.  Paul thinks I may be wrong for assuming she'd care.
• Graduate students who come in at 4:55 PM with either very complex problems or "issues."  What is wrong with these people? Did no one ever tell them that when they're coming to an office to ask for favors and special help it's a good idea not to do it when people are trying to either leave for the day (hello? We close at 5 -- how many offices on campus have you noticed open until 7?) or have lunch.  Today I had a sign up on my office door "at lunch, back shortly" which did not stop three different people from knocking.  How do I know this?  I was inside trying to choke down my tuna salad. 
• Hot Flash Woman: She gets on the bus at the very last stop before we get on the Santa Monica freeway.  The bus is snug and filled with about 100 people, many reading and getting ready for their work day.  She rants (seriously) at anyone who happens to be using their phone (I don't do it, but hey I don't care what anyone else does) and then sits down, generally somewhere near me (why I don't know).  She then starts fanning herself and opens the window.  Okay, it may be summertime, but we're in June gloom here people.  It's like 55 degrees in the morning.  She then throws open the window.  People start to shiver, pull on sweaters and the like.  One older man has the gall to ask her to please close the window -- we're on the freeway and it's freezing.  She refuses stating "I'm hot." In the words of the young man near me "that's what you think lady."

I know there's more.  Lots more.  But I can't remember them now.  Feh!

About Andrea

[I wrote this just after my DS surgery for another blog.  Since I've been having a tough time putting content up here, I thought this might be fun to read.  Especially since, in its own way, this entry is about weight and feminism.]

Sorry friends, I've been away... surgery and recovery requiring the watching of a full season of 24 to bring me back to health. 

Anyway, A. wrote me last week to ask if I was going to blog about Andrea Dworkin.  Until then  I hadn't really thought about it, even though twenty years ago I would have named Dworkin (and even more so radical feminists Catharine Mackinnon and Audre Lorde) as having inspired me to read feminism and identify as a feminist.  I'm not sure who first called her the Malcolm X of the women's movement, but it was a great line  -- Malcolm X said the problem was "white people" -- Dworkin said the problem was "men."  She was able to inspire and bluntly name names.

More than that though, as Susie Bright writes in her own blog entry about Dworkin, as someone coming of age in the 1980s, Andrea Dworkin and Catharine Mackinnon were the first women to look at pornography and erotica (not that they would have made a fine distinction between the two) with a critical eye.  It existed for them -- they showed clips in classes.  True, they showed it as examples of women being degraded by men (and they frequently were) and exploited, but they showed it.  I found it brilliant and so clear when they wrote (and said, for I heard both speak live several times in the 1980s when I was an undergraduate) that one of the reasons men were able to rape women and get away with it was that (heterosexual) sex was always assumed to be consensual.  They then posed the opposite question -- what if it was assumed to be rape until the man proved otherwise (quotes that were so often misused to claim both women saw all sex as rape).  Then, they argued, rape trials could be about the man's actions rather than the women's history.

I broke intellectually with both as I tried to make sense of my own desires (especially the ones connected to BDSM) and found the framework both writers created to be limiting -- in the manner of a young girl thinking about her heroes and wanting their approval, I would imagine sometimes how horrified they'd be (especially Dworkin with her history as an abused wife) with my embracing masochism.  I went on to discover Dorothy Allison and found a new way to think about my sexuality and desires.  And slowly over the last decade I've come to see these first feminist writers of mine as part of an earlier, more naive feminism. Something I've outgrown.

But of course, what's been lost in this more subtle, nuanced feminism is the ability to hear someone  bold.  My favorite Dworkin moment was the story of her longtime rivalry with Allen Ginsberg, who apparently said (I've always imagined) pompously "you know, the Right wants me in jail."  Dworkin supposedly responded, "yes, I know. They're so sentimental.  I'd kill you."  Where are the women now pointing out sexism?  I feel sometimes like we've all become so timid. Afraid, perhaps, of being labeled naive ourselves.

Or worse.

When I'd listen to people (actually, mainly male professors and their students) raging against Mackinnon and Dworkin's writings (and, as often, things neither had actually written, but thoughts that were attributed to them anyway), it was horrifying how often Dworkin's appearance was used to explain her being "anti-male".  She was "fat" and "hairy" and so interested in rape because no man would ever want her.  I remember pointing out to a male undergrad who commented that Dworkin was utterly undesirable and that it was impossible to imagine any man might be attracted to her, that (at the time) she'd lived with the same man for close to 20 years, he refused to believe me until what I'd told him was confirmed by one of our professors.  Mackinnon, on the other hand, was considered "almost pretty" by our classmates and that seemed, somehow, to make her support of Dworkin's theories incomprehensible. 

I've wondered sometimes how much fear of being called feminist that vilification of Dworkin created.  interestingly, Dworkin is blamed for that too -- basically for daring to be fat and ungroomed in the public eye.  For being an icon of feminism and not being beautiful.   Who are we left with?  Naomi Wolfe?  Camila Paglia?  Feh!

I know who I'd rather read or listen to, however much her inflexibility might anger me.

For all that they might well have disagreed with where my feminism has led me, and even more so for the choices I've embraced in my sexuality, I mourn the passing of Andrea Dworkin as I did that of Audre Lorde.  There is a beauty in the radical.  And, Andrea had something far more important than a perfect body.  She had a brilliant mind and a quick wit and the world is poorer for her loss.

The Three Things Meme

Sorry it's been so quiet here.  I started a blog entry about this the other day, but quit part way through.  I'll be trying to work on something about it over the next few days. 

But anyway, on to today's meme...

Three Things That Scare Me:

1. seagulls
2. thunder
3. small enclosed spaces

Three People Who Make Me Laugh:

1. Paul
2. my brother
3. George Carlin

Three Things I Love:

1. Katamari (because everybody love Katamari)
2. Doctor Who
3. QI and News Quiz

Three Things I Hate/Severely Dislike:

1. spam
2. being lied to
3. beets

Three Things I Don’t Understand:

1. logarithms
2. where May went
3. cruelty

Three Things On My Desk:

1. a cup of water
2. a reporter's notebook
3. a pencil

Three Things I’m Doing Right Now:

1. blogging
2. evesdropping
3. waiting for 5pm so I can go home.

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

1. live a long time
2. travel everywhere (yeah, I know, but the list is too long)
3. finish my PhD.

Three Things I Can Do:

1. read on the bus (seems minor but impresses Paul).
2. make pavlova
3. italic lettering

Three Things I Can’t Do:

1. math
2. spelling
3. clean things as I go

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:

1. good music however you define it.
2. people you love.
3. your heart.

Three Things You Should Never Listen To:

1. anyone who wants you to do something in God's name.
2. anyone who makes you feel less than you are.
3. Fox News.

Three Things I’d Like To Learn:

1. organization / time management
2. rollerblading
3. dancing

Three Favorite Foods:

1. Pho
2. kettlecorn
3. sashimi

Three Shows I Watched As A Kid:

1. Sesame Street
2. Muppet Show
3. Little House on the Prairie

Three Things I Regret:

1. - 3.  times I've been too afraid to do what I really wanted to.